Summer on the River (3 page)

Claude stands up, lifts down his bag, makes his way along the carriage. He never brings the car to Dartmouth. Parking is difficult and, anyway, he enjoys the train journey, always taken very early – and always first class. This is a very special perk he allows himself as part of the treat. Evie keeps her own car in the garage that belongs to the Merchant's House and with it, tucked well out of the way, is Claude's small motorbike. He loves his little red and white Peugeot scooter. He uses it to potter round the town or for sorties out along the coast. Sometimes Evie will come with him, clinging on like a monkey, roaring with laughter as he negotiates the steep hills and narrow bends through Strete and Stoke Fleming. They'll stop at the beach café at Strete Gate, enjoying the surprised glances when he takes off his helmet and reveals his grey hair. He likes to whizz along Torcross Line on their way to Stokeley Farm Shop for a cream tea, and then back again to Slapton Ley to park up and go for a walk.

As the train slows down he peers through the window to look for Evie. He catches sight of her waiting by the gate. She's in her usual rig: jeans, a loose shirt with the sleeves rolled up, deck shoes. Her thick greying fair hair, slightly curly and rumpled, is clipped back at the temples and she is deeply tanned. She looks more like a sailor than a writer – and nothing like her sixty-odd years.

He smiles and raises a hand, though he knows she can't see him, and he's suddenly filled with the usual mix of emotions – of relaxation and anticipation; of peace and excitement; of homecoming.

They climb into Evie's small car and drive out of the station yard, up the hill and away to Dartmouth.

‘So how's the family?' asks Evie.

‘The kids have friends staying,' he answers, ‘with small children and babies of their own so that the place is filled with young. Lovely, great fun and all that, but very nice to get away from for a bit of peace and quiet.'

‘Well, Dartmouth is filling up,' warns Evie. ‘But at least we have a bird's-eye view without having to leave the house.'

‘You could rent the Merchant's House out for regatta. You'd get a small fortune for it.'

‘But Ben is staying there,' she protests, ‘and now Charlie's talking of coming down. Ange wants to bring some friends, apparently.'

He stares out of the car window. ‘Still treats it like her own, doesn't she?'

‘Well, in a way it is, isn't it?'

‘You mean she expects you to leave it to them?'

‘Well, after all, who else would I leave it to? I have no family of my own. Even so, it's not quite that simple …'

He is aware of tension and he backs off. He was slightly puzzled when TDF left the house to Evie, given the strong family tradition and given that Evie was very well off in her own right, but he hasn't spared it much thought.

‘How's Ben?' he asks. ‘What's this about his marriage breaking up?'

‘It appears that Kirsty has grown tired of living in a small garden flat without the prospect of ever moving up and on. But, much more to the point, on one of her visits to Scotland to see her parents she met up with an ex-boyfriend and is now seriously involved with him.'

‘Good grief,' says Claude. ‘So it's really over?'

Evie shrugs. ‘The flat in London is up for sale and she's going back to Edinburgh as soon as it's sold.'

‘Well, that's sad news. What about Laura?'

‘Darling Laura got a First, which was terrific. I told you, didn't I? Ben is so proud. She came down to see us all a few weeks ago and then went off backpacking with some friends.'

‘And how has she taken all this?'

‘When she came down to stay she and Ben had a long session. You can see that she's gutted but she's trying to be very sensible about it. We all had supper together.'

‘I'm glad Ben's here in Dartmouth. At least he's got some moral support.'

‘He doesn't seem to blame Kirsty – I think he must have seen it coming for quite a while now – but the ex-boyfriend was a bit of a shock. Ben has that optimistic, easy-going Fortescue streak but even he's having to face that it's really over.'

‘Ben's always worked hard. I'm glad he stuck to his art and his photography,' says Claude. ‘He's very talented and he's made a good living at it.'

‘Mmm. Not ever quite good enough for Kirsty.'

‘Does Charlie know?'

‘I'm sure he does. Ben's probably looking forward to talking it over with him.'

‘Will they be coming by car?'

Cars always cause problems during regatta. The funfair will take up the whole of Mayor's Avenue car park, the ‘No parking in the town' signs will be posted beside the entrances to all the approach roads, and Park and Ride is the only means of getting into the town. Garages and driveways, or any space where a car can be squeezed in, will be at a premium. Evie has a friend who lets her use her driveway when Charlie comes down for regatta, but this year there's Ben's car, too.

‘Ange wouldn't dream of coming on the train,' says Evie. ‘Charlie does sometimes when he's on his own but not with Ange. You know that.'

‘But then Ben hasn't been living there before, has he? How does he feel about them turning up? After all, the house is yours and you're letting Ben use it. Does Ange still feel they have the divine right to stay whenever they want to and turn your car out of the garage?'

‘Well, she does actually. She rather insisted that our old bedroom with the en suite should always be kept for them and the other one across the landing for the girls or for guests.'

‘That's a bit rich, isn't it?'

Evie shrugs, turning off the main road at Halwell. ‘Ben is very happy up on the second floor. He's got fantastic views and there's the little hobbies room next door to his bedroom where he keeps his computer and all his artist's materials. He's been making some lovely greetings cards, which he's had a bit of success with locally, and he has his photographic work, of course. He can muck in with us if he feels
de trop
occasionally, but I don't think Charlie will allow that to happen.'

Claude snorts. ‘I still think she's out of order.'

Evie looks sideways at him. ‘That's because you don't like Ange. We'll sort it somehow. We've got nearly another week yet.'

They travel through the familiar countryside for a while in companionable silence. He's always found it easy to be quiet with Evie; no necessity for banal chatter. He knows that she will drive him through the town though it isn't her usual route to the boathouse. It's become a custom, on his arrival, to drive down College Way, along the Embankment, turning right into Oxford Street and up to Southtown, so that he can experience a true sense of homecoming. Memories crowd in: crab-fishing off the Embankment with TDF during school holidays; out on the river as a new cadet with his oppos in a picket boat; the final Passing-out Parade and Summer Ball as a midshipman – more than fifty years ago, he reminds himself – full of pride, with Jilly in her pretty ball gown.

In the town, busy as a hive of bees, there are already signs of the preparation for regatta. Bunting is strung across the streets and a few houses are draped with huge Union flags. Evie drives slowly so that Claude can see the small boats out on the river, visitors wandering happily along the Embankment in the sunshine, children fishing watched by noisy vigilant gulls. There is an empty parking space almost opposite the Merchant's House and Evie darts into it with a whoop of triumph.

Claude climbs out and stands, leaning on the wall, gazing down-river and out to sea. The lower ferry edges out from the slip at Kingswear, nudged by the tug hooting to warn the other river traffic, performing its graceful turn midstream as it meets its fellow coming out from Bayard's Cove so that they seem to be executing a slow, elegant dance.

‘Coffee?' Evie suggests, as she opens the hatchback.

This is another little custom. They will have coffee and
pains au chocolat
in the boathouse – on the balcony if the weather allows – and then he will go for a walk around the town on his own. Because of his early start he's always hungry when he arrives. He takes his bag from the car and slams the door.

‘It's good to be back,' he says.

He roams about while Evie makes the coffee. His room isn't very big but he's used to cabins, wardrooms, living on warships, and it's quite comfortable enough for him. Evie has had the third bedroom converted into an en suite and small dressing room off her own room, so he is able to use the bathroom without any anxiety. He unpacks quickly, tidies everything away into the appropriate spaces; he travels light.

Back in the kitchen Claude is drawn to the great glass doors open to the sunlight and the river. He steps out on to the balcony. It is as if he is in the prow of a boat sailing down-river amongst the smaller craft: a fleet of little dinghies with brown sails; the blue-painted passenger ferry – the old pilot boat
Achieve
– ploughing out to the Castle; one of the College yachts,
Martlet
, heading out to sea.

As he turns round to look up at the Merchant's House he hears the ring of the doorbell.

‘Might be Ben,' calls Evie. ‘I suggested he came over to say hello.'

And it is Ben, coming in through the great light-washed spaces all dappled with sunshine, looking so like TDF that Claude almost wants to weep.

‘Ben.' Their hands meet in a strong warm clasp. ‘Good to see you.'

Claude remembers what Evie has told him and can't quite think what to say. Each conversational gambit seems loaded with what might cause Ben embarrassment.

‘Great to see you back,' says Ben. He is calm; no stress here. ‘Did Evie tell you that Charlie's coming down for regatta?'

‘She did. And I told her that I think they're out of order still using the house as if it's theirs.'

Ben bursts out laughing and Evie, arriving with the tray of coffee, shakes her head at Claude.

‘Not that it's any of his business,' she says to Ben. ‘I've told him, it's a family house.'

Claude grunts his disapproval, sits down at the wooden table.

‘And,' adds Evie, filling his mug with coffee, passing it to him, ‘you will be polite to Ange. This is not a subject for negotiation.'

Claude makes a face. ‘I can't get on with her. Makes me feel I'm back at school.'

‘Ange is all right,' says Ben tolerantly. ‘She just needs to be in control. It's only for a weekend, after all, and I've had a text from Charlie saying that the friends can't come after all. I think he and Ange are going on down to Ange's mother in Polzeath. The girls are there already.'

In the face of Ben's good humour Claude's irascibility fades. It was the same with TDF, his calm optimism defusing Claude's wrathful outbursts. He sips his coffee, accepts a
pain au chocolat
and relaxes, stretching in the warm sunshine.

‘God, it's good to be here,' he says.

Suddenly he feels immensely tired. The early start, the journey, and then this magic place always have this effect, as if his taut strings have been cut. In a moment he'll go out and walk around the town and his energy will surge back, but just now it's utter bliss to sit here at the river's edge with Evie and Ben drinking coffee in the sun.

‘
HE'S LOOKING GOOD
, isn't he?' says Ben as Claude goes striding away, down the hill and into the town.

He's very fond of Claude. He and Charlie regard him as a kind of uncle but without the constraints that are bound up in the relationship with someone who is actually a blood relative. Claude wouldn't dream of remonstrating with them or giving them advice but there is a comfortable familiarity, a sense of security, in his company. It's much the same with Evie. Ben knows that Charlie doesn't in the least regard her as his stepmother but there is a close, easy relationship between them that he, Ben, has benefited from almost as much as Charlie has.

He and Charlie are good mates. His own mother died when he was fifteen and Charlie's mum always made sure that Ben was included: invited to parties and at Christmas, taken to Dartmouth for nearly all of his holidays. His own father was a photojournalist, living on the edge but happy, and he bore no grudge that Charlie's father – the darling fellow – had inherited a thriving wine import business, the Merchant's House, a house in Kensington and all the comfort that went with it.

‘It would have been wasted on me,' he'd say. ‘I'm no businessman. Our side of the family was always artistic. And anyway, TDF is always ready to help out if the chips are really down.'

Ben has inherited his father's artistic talent. He is well known for his work in the glossy ‘gardens and interiors' magazines, but he has never earned enough to pay the mortgage on the kind of house Kirsty aspires to and, once Laura was born, the need to contribute became even more critical. Recently he's borrowed from Charlie so as to update some of his photographic equipment.

‘For God's sake don't tell Ange,' Charlie said. ‘We'll sort it out somehow.'

Well, now it seems that some of his one-third share of the flat in London – not very much once the huge mortgage is paid off – will belong to Charlie. Thank God for Evie and the Merchant's House, a regular trickle of photo-shoots, and his new project. He loves a new project.

Ben glances at Evie and sees that she is watching him.

‘So what's the plan?' she asks cheerfully.

It is his theory that she can read his mind as easily as the screen of her laptop, and he grins at her.

‘I've got a few new outlets lined up for the cards. Some art shops and galleries I haven't tried yet. I imagine you won't want to come along? Not with Claude here.'

Sometimes she goes with him for the ride when he visits the bookshops and galleries that are beginning to display his cards. She chats with the booksellers who know her very well, though it is five years now since she's had a book published.