More Than You Know (112 page)

“Ah, there you are at last. What have you been doing, woman? Come along; here’s Mrs. Frost; she’s doing wonderfully well, but she could do with a bit of gas and air now, and then you can examine her, see how she’s getting on. Got all the gear, have you? Contractions every four minutes, getting nice and strong; I’d say a couple more hours and the baby’ll be here.”

“Matt, Matt, there you are; Scarlett’s having her baby.”

“Scarlett’s what?”

“She’s having her baby.”

“What, here?”

“Yes. It all happened very fast, and she’s up in Mummy’s room—I was born there, you know, so rather lovely—and no, I don’t think you should go and see her; she’s quite far on, apparently, and the doctor’s there and the midwife, and—”

“Louise, there you are. Look … we can’t go yet. Apparently my sister’s having her baby. Here, in the house. The doctor’s here and a midwife, so she’s all right. I hope. What on earth would Mum say … Christ, I need a drink.”

“Right, one more push, that’s right, good girl, good girl. Well done. Here we are—and it’s a … it’s a girl, a lovely little girl. Oh, you have done well. There you are, my lovely; there she is—whoops, and there goes the daddy; head between your knees, sir; that’s right. Your wife’s done so well; now, you look at your daughter; isn’t she lovely?”

“She’s beautiful,” said Mark, looking at his beloved wife holding her baby, their baby, so safely and sweetly delivered, after all his fears. “Simply beautiful, yes.”

And, “Yes,” said Scarlett, smiling tenderly down at the baby’s squashed, grimacing, little old man’s face, “yes, she is absolutely beautiful.”

“And … any ideas what you’re going to call her?”

“Oh,” said Mark, “that’s easy. She’s called Larissa.”

“That’s unusual.”

“Yes, it is. It’s Greek. It’s the name of a very beautiful Grecian lady. Without whom our Larissa would not be here.”

“Matt, come in, come in; come and say hallo to your niece. Isn’t she lovely?”

“She is beautiful,” said Matt, smiling down at the tiny Larissa. “Yes. Well done, Scarlett. We’re all so proud of you.”

“Oh … it was fine. Not nearly as bad as I feared. I think … I really think being here, in this lovely house of yours, helped. It’s so peaceful, such a special place, Matt, and somehow, being with the family … Sarah’s so lovely, so calm; she made me feel safe.”

“Yes,” said Matt, “yes, she is very … nice.”

“I’m going to stay a few days, until I’m strong enough to go home. She’s so excited, me having the baby where she had Eliza. And, of course, Emmie is just over the moon. She says Mouse is Larissa’s uncle.”

“Indeed?” said Matt. “That’s a first. Oh … Mark. Congratulations. Well done. I hear you were magnificent.”

“Well, I managed not to faint until it was all right to,” said Mark modestly. “And Scarlett was so brave. I feel I should thank you for hosting the baby’s birth …”

“Oh … don’t mention it,” said Matt. And grinned.

They were all eating Sarah’s famous cottage pie round the huge kitchen table.

“Lovely to have the house so full,” she said happily.

“This is splendid pie, my dear,” said Archie Northcott. “Christine was never much of a cook. How’s your cooking, Mariella?”

“It’s marvellous,” said Jeremy, “especially her tiramisu. We always enjoy that.”

“You should come down with the young people one weekend, Sarah,” said Archie. “Not sure you’ve ever seen the house. Very fine, Jacobean, you know.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you. Mr. Connell—Alan,” said Sarah, “another helping of pie?”

“I won’t say no. Thank you. Really excellent. Compliments to the chef. And may I say again, it’s extremely good of you to put us up. So nice to be part of such a delightful gathering, isn’t it, Heather?”

“Yes, Alan, it is.”

“And I won’t say no to another beer,” he said to Matt, “since you offered.”

“Of course. Then we must go. I’ll just go and say good-bye to Scarlett. You coming, Louise?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Eliza, “make sure she’s got everything she needs.”

They went up; Scarlett was drifting in and out of sleep, the baby lying on her breast, Mark sitting rather gingerly on the edge of the bed, gazing at them both. It was a completely charming picture.

“Well … bye, sis. Well done again. Let me give you a kiss. Take care of her, Mark.”

“I will. See you back in London.”

Matt bent over the bed to kiss Scarlett; Eliza suddenly looked at Louise; she was staring at Matt with a look of naked yearning on her face, her eyes bright with tears. She saw Eliza looking at her and flushed.

“I’ll just … just go to the bathroom,” she said.

Eliza followed her out.

“Are you OK?” she said.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

A tear rolled slowly down one cheek; she brushed it impatiently away.

“Louise—”

“No, don’t say it. He doesn’t know; he’ll never know; he’s so … so impossibly emotionally stunted … and so … wrapped up in himself. Oh, sorry, Eliza; I sometimes forget—”

“Louise, you’re right. I should know. But he needs someone. And if anyone could put up with him, you could. You know him better than any of us. How you stuck by him all those years, I’ll never know.”

“Well … you did pretty well.”

“No, I didn’t. I was crap. He’s much better off without me.” There was a silence; then she said, “Louise, you should tell him. Because he’ll never see it for himself, never. Go on; what have you got to lose?”

“Him,” said Louise. “At least at the moment I have him as a friend. Not that I’m sure that’s exactly a good thing. He’s so bloody bad tempered, always furious about things—”

“Yes, but you’re so good for him; you deal with him without getting cross back. We—Oh, hell, that was the phone. Who on earth can that be? I’d better get it. Matt,” she called, “don’t go without saying good-bye. It’s been such a lovely day; thank you so, so much for all you’ve done. I’m … I’m sorry about the orangery. And the beer tent.”

He shrugged. “It’s OK.”

“No, no, it wasn’t.”

She came back into the kitchen, having taken the call. Matt was waiting there impatiently.

“Matt … that was a man who said he was ready to make an offer to
buy … buy Summercourt. He was told you were here by your mum; she was at the … your house, apparently. He said he’d like to speak to you. Would you … would you like to take it in the study?”

“Could you tell him I’ll call him back?” Matt looked round the room; everyone was pretending not to be remotely interested. Sarah was suddenly very busy with the coffee; Mariella slipped her hand into Jeremy’s; Charles and Pattie started piling up plates; Jeremy poured himself a very large glass of wine and another for his father; Anna pushed her glass forward imperiously. Only Emmie was concentrating on him, her small face dark suddenly, her blue eyes alarmed.

“Daddy?” she said. “That’s not right, is it? You’re not selling Summercourt?”

“I … Emmie, let’s go and have a talk. Just you and me.”

She slithered off her chair very slowly, walked towards him as if she was sleepwalking. He held out his hand to her, but she shook her head; he turned and walked out of the room and she followed him into the hall.

“Emmie, sweetheart, listen: I’m sorry, but I have to sell Summercourt.”

“Why? You can’t. You can’t.” The blue eyes had filled with tears.

“Sweetheart, I have to. Listen—”

“You can’t. It’s mine and yours and Mummy’s; you promised the judge—”

“I know, Emmie, but … listen. It’s very, very expensive.”

“You’ve got lots of money. Anyway, what would the judge say?”

“I … asked another judge. And he said I could.”

“But why? And what about Mouse; where would he go?”

“I’ve found another house, much nearer London. It’s got a stable; Mouse will be fine.”

“He won’t; this is his home. And it’s my home too; you can’t sell it; you can’t; I won’t come; I’ll run away; I’ll hate you forever. I shall go and find my judge and tell him what you’ve done. You’re horrible; you’ve spoilt today; you’ve spoilt everything—”

“Emmie …” It was Eliza’s voice. “Darling, listen to me. Daddy has done everything else the judge said; this house is so expensive, and he doesn’t get to spend much time here—”