Precious Time (58 page)

In the meantime, Gabriel took it as an encouraging sign that Caspar had agreed to join the party today. He had expected his son to turn down the invitation, denouncing it as in poor taste. Instead, he had said he would try to put in a brief appearance.

Jonah was the only person who didn’t know what was going on.

He didn’t even know that Clara would be here this afternoon - he had been deliberately misled into believing that she was arriving tomorrow. Revelling in all the skulduggery, Gabriel had phoned Jonah and told him to get here when school was finished because there was something important they needed to discuss. Which was partly true, there were things he needed to say this afternoon. Things he should have said and done a long time ago.

It was reading Val’s diaries that had clinched it for him. Jonah had given the notebooks to him last week, saying Clara had found them when she had been sorting out Val’s room. Seeing the anxiety in Jonah’s face, Gabriel had guessed that he wouldn’t be the first person to see the journals. They had made for difficult reading, and it saddened him to know that Val had felt such an outsider at Mermaid House. What moved him most, though, was her determination to try to understand a family that had, in her words, ‘had its heart ripped out of it’. More graphically, she had written, ‘I’ve been brought in as a plaster for this family, but what they really need is a tourniquet to staunch the flow of their misery. I doubt they’ll ever know peace of mind. Because, perversely, they don’t seem to want it.’

After he had finished arranging the flowers on Damson’s grave, Caspar straightened up. He flicked at a hover-fly that had landed on his sleeve and then stood still, his head bowed, his eyes closed.

Anyone seeing him would have thought he was praying, but he wasn’t. He was remembering Damson as a young girl. Vital and beautiful. Sharp and funny. Wilful and passionate. And dangerous to be with at times. ‘I’m just like my namesake,’ she would say to anyone meeting her for the first time, and commenting on the uniqueness of her Christian name. ‘I have a dark and bitter-sweet soul.’

That darkness of the soul of which she had spoken frequently as a teenager had frightened him. She talked endlessly about death, and what it might feel like when you knew the end was near. Around the time of their twentieth birthday, she had taken to disappearing for weeks at a time. He hadn’t liked her doing that, had hated not knowing where she was, who she was with, or what she was up to.

Selfishly, he had felt excluded. But when she surfaced again, she was the same old Damson, ready to party and stir up some fun. In view of what Hall had told him at Rosewood Manor, it was possible that these absences had been connected with the abortions.

He opened his eyes and sighed. How was it possible to be so close to someone, and yet so far from them?

Checking his watch, he saw that he would have to leave soon. He wasn’t in the mood to be sociable, but he had made his sister a promise, and he would do his damnedest to keep it. He had let her down when she was alive, he would not do the same now she was dead. So a party it was.

He knew exactly why his father had chosen today to throw a party, and he supposed it was about time, but it was a woefully sentimental and symbolic gesture. And what a lot of fuss he was making about it. New clothes. A haircut. Not to mention the bedrooms that had been tarted up for the benefit of the shrewish Clara Costello - the angel in the copse - and her son, who were coming to stay for the rest of the summer. Bizarrely, it seemed that his brother had fallen for the woman’s sharp-tongued charms, and stranger still, their father was keen to play the part of Cupid and encourage the blossoming romance.

‘Oh, Damson,’ he murmured softly, ‘I wish you were here with me to witness this madness.’

He turned and walked away, back down the gravel path and out on to the road where his car was parked in front of Jonah’s house.

He was now the not-so-proud owner of a second-hand Rover. The Maserati had been sold, and his beautiful loft apartment was on the market. The bank, the creditors, the taxman, they were all feasting greedily on his remains, but he didn’t give a monkey’s. It was gone.

Another chapter in his life dealt with.

Bruised and battered he might be, deserted by his so-called friends and treated as a social leper, but he was far from being down and out. Oh, not by a long chalk. It would take more rope than that to hang Caspar Liberty.

Ironically his father, after stubbornly refusing to help him, had changed his mind the other day and offered to bail him out when he discovered the mess he was in, but Caspar had rejected the offer.

Pride had made him sensitive to pity. Besides, Damson had left him her pretty little house in Bath with a sizeable amount of money, which she had made from shrewd investments from her two divorce settlements. He planned to move down there and start afresh. A new beginning was what he needed. And, thanks to his sister, he had been given the opportunity to do just that.

Damson’s will had been clear on two points in particular, that (a) she had been of a sound mind when she had written it, and (b) Caspar was to be the main beneficiary of her estate and that he was to agree to her instructions that Rosewood Manor was to receive a modest annuity from a trust fund she had set up.

He had no problem with this. He might not like Hall and all he stood for, but he would always respect Damson’s wishes.

Darling Damson. How dull his world was going to be without her.

Ned was so excited, he was in danger of bouncing out of his seat. If he hadn’t been strapped in, he very nearly would have when Clara swerved to avoid a large pothole. They juddered on, and suddenly Mermaid House appeared over the brow of the hill. It was the most welcoming sight, made her heart beat just a little faster. For the coming months it was to be their new home.

Before they had set off first thing that morning, Louise had threatened to come up in the next week so that she could see Mermaid House for herself.

‘You’re all talk, Louise,’ Clara had said, giving her a huge hug goodbye. ‘You’ve never been further north than the Cotswolds.’

‘Yes, but I’m prepared to make an exception in this case.’

Guy had moved in for a final hug and produced an envelope from his jacket pocket. ‘For you, Clarabelle.’

‘What is it?’

He’d smiled. ‘A bet’s a bet. Open it and see.’

She’d laughed when she’d seen the cheque for two hundred

pounds. She’d forgotten all about the bet he’d made with her that she would be crawling home within a month and applying for her old job.

Saying goodbye to her friends this time round had been tough, because in her heart she knew she wanted to give Deaconsbridge her best shot: she wanted to stay there and really make it work. Other than the brief sojourn in the States and her time at college, she had never lived away from where she had grown up, she hadn’t felt the need to break away.

But now she did. And tied into this was the realisation that she wanted to give herself the chance to discover what else she was capable of doing. The Clara Costello she knew was - and to paraphrase her friends - smart, unflappable, hard-working and supremely resourceful. Less flattering, and to paraphrase her brother, she was a regular bossy boots. ‘Give it time and you’ll turn into a formidable old battle-axe,’ he’d said to her not so long ago.

Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t. But unless she allowed herself this chance to find out what other talents she had, she would always regret it. She had never liked the expression ‘down-shifter’, but in essence that was probably what she was opting for. A simple life that would enable her to spend more time with Ned had to be more enriching than the hectic one she had tried before.

And if it didn’t work out? Who was to judge and condemn the path she had taken? And was there really such a thing as a wrong path? Critics were ten a penny. They were people too scared to try it for themselves. Too scared to break with convention and enjoy life to the full.

But she wasn’t without a back-up plan. Gabriel Liberty’s part in all of this was crucial. In letting her and Ned stay at Mermaid House for the rest of the summer, he was giving her the luxury of time and space to reflect on her next move. For now, she had only vague glimpses of the future. She saw herself living here, having traded in her overpriced executive house for something old with character, and odds on, in need of some work. If she let her imagination break free, she pictured herself running a bed-and-breakfast. Okay, she might be deluding herself that she could scrape a living from it, but it was an idea that refused to budge, despite common sense waving a

threatening stick at it. It would take a lot of thought before she committed herself to it, and she might even come up with something else but the big plus was that she saw herself being happy. Ned, too.

And she would be the biggest liar that had ever walked the planet, if she didn’t admit to wanting Jonah to be a part of that happiness.

Just to see if he fitted into her life. And if she and Ned could fit into his.

She pulled into the courtyard, and before she had yanked on the handbrake, Ned was out of his seat. She watched him hurtle across the cobbles and pound on the door with his small fists.

When Clara caught up with him, it was all noise and laughter in the kitchen. Archie was there, and so was Shirley. Wearing a PVC

apron over a tight-fitting black dress, she was sliding a tray of sausage rolls out of the oven, her face flushed from the blast of heat.

With Ned held aloft, Gabriel came towards her. He stooped to kiss her cheek. ‘Welcome back. You’re late.’

‘Well, well, well. And who might this handsomely rakish stranger be with the smart haircut and snazzy blazer? Where’s the scruffy Mr Liberty I know and love?’

‘But, Mummy, it is Mr Liberty! Look, it’s him!’

She smiled. ‘I know, Ned. I’m only teasing.’

‘Ah, I see the first of the honoured guests have arrived.’

They all turned. It was Caspar. Brandishing a bottle of champagne, he said, ‘A contribution towards the merriment.’ He put it on the table and held out his hand towards Clara. ‘We didn’t ever really introduce ourselves properly, did we? Caspar Liberty, the family ne’er-do-well.’ He clicked his heels together and bowed elegantly.

Clara shook hands with him, seeing him as other women might: handsome, charming but, above all else, dangerous. For a lot of women that might be his appeal. But he held no attraction for her.

‘We need to hide your van,’ Gabriel said, some minutes later, when the kerfuffle of their arrival had died down.

‘I’ll help you bring your stuff in if you like,’ offered Archie.

They went outside together, and after Clara had put Winnie out of sight, and was passing Archie Ned’s bag, she said, ‘How have you been since I last saw you? You look much better, if you don’t mind me saying.’

‘Thanks, love, I’m feeling great, on top of things again. And you were right about Shirley.’

‘No kidding?’

He smiled shyly. ‘And I’ve moved into what she calls my bachelor flat. It’s quite comfortable, really. Less to fret over, if you know what I mean. It’s been quite liberating throwing off a lifetime of clutter.

You’d think I would have sussed that long ago, given the work I do.

Funny thing is, I needn’t have moved. Bessie left me her house over in Derby and the money it’s going to fetch, much more than I’d ever thought, could have been used to pay off Stella.’

She touched his arm. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing in moving. Leave the memories behind.’

‘Oh, aye, I don’t regret selling up. It was the best thing I could have done. Now I’ve got a bit of spare cash to enjoy myself. I’m thinking of taking a holiday. Do a bit of travelling.’

‘Good for you. Hey, I don’t suppose I could interest you in a campervan, could I? Generous rates for friends.’

He laughed. ‘Oh, that sounds dangerous. I might do a Clara Costello - find somewhere I like and never come back.’

She wagged a finger at him. ‘Not dangerous, Archie. Adventurous.

Living life to the full. That’s what you must do from now on. Just think of the fun you and Shirley could have in a campervan.’

Jonah wondered what his father wanted to see him about. He had sounded serious on the phone and he hoped it wasn’t bad news.

There’d been enough of that recently.

He drove into the courtyard and parked alongside his father’s Land Rover. He knocked on the back door, then entered. ‘Dad,’ he called, ‘it’s me, Jonah.’

There was no reply.

Passing the gun room, he caught the smell of cooking. Bit early for his father to be getting his supper ready, wasn’t it? He pushed open the kitchen door, but stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Clara! What are you doing here? I thought you were arriving tomorrow.’

She put down the tea-towel she’d been using to dry some plates. ‘I could go away and come back in the morning if you’d prefer.’

‘Don’t even think about it!’ He moved forward, was all set to put his arms around her and kiss her, when he held back. ‘Are we alone?’

he asked. He glanced over her shoulder towards the hall. ‘Or are we likely to be interrupted by a curious son and a jealous father?’

She smiled. ‘We’re alone. And you have full permission to make the most of it.’

He did.

Afterwards, he said, ‘It’s so good to see you again. When did you change your mind about coming?’

‘Oh, days ago.’

‘But you never said anything. We spoke on the phone last night and—’

‘The plot thickens, Master Liberty.’ Grinning, she took his hands in hers. ‘I think it’s time you came with me. But you have to promise to close your eyes.’

Puzzled, he did as she said and allowed her to lead him outside. He knew they were crossing the courtyard, but all too soon he became disorientated and didn’t know where they were heading. ‘No peeping,’ she said, just as he was tempted to open an eye.

He heard a door creak and she told him there were two steps in front of him. He lifted a foot exaggeratedly. Then the other.