Summer on the River (38 page)

She puts down the phone and draws a breath. She feels delightfully nervous, excited by the prospect of change, of challenges and new opportunities. Strength, simplicity and freedom: perhaps she can regain them after all.

AN HOUR AFTER
he sets out for Dartmouth, Charlie sends a text to Ben telling him that he'll be later than he hoped. The traffic is very heavy, there's been an accident on the M6 creating long tailbacks on the southbound carriageway, and by the time he gets through it he's running an hour later than he hoped.

It's funny, he thinks as he turns off the A38 at last, how he and Benj share this contentment when driving alone, listening to the radio, stopping whenever it feels right. Even being stuck in the traffic isn't really a problem with only oneself to worry about.

He can see that this is why the odd set-up down in Dartmouth works so well. Benj, Evie, Claude, are all people who are content to be alone, to be independent, and are prepared to allow each other space. Yet they enjoy the company and the friendship that they share; and Jemima is part of that picture: she fits in with them. He remembers meeting her on the Embankment at regatta, and he still feels the shock of it. There has never been anyone like her. How might it have been if she wasn't part of the Dartmouth set-up? If they'd met at a party, in a pub? Regatta was a one-off, a magical interlude, and during half term there was no opportunity to see her alone; just that brief exchange in Alf's. Even then, though, there was that vital connection, a sense of belonging, of being known, which he can't explain but for which he still yearns.

Funny that ever since that morning, Ange has been so … well, so much easier. Less sharp and abrasive and controlling. Of course, she's the same old organizing Ange, nothing will change that – and he doesn't particularly want it to – but there's a new gentleness that makes life very much easier all round and reminds him of the early days of their marriage. She was always a girl who knew her own mind, who liked to lead rather than follow, but back then their relationship was more relaxed. Of course, the births of the girls changed the balance: Ange has a strong maternal streak and the absolute need to be a perfect mother. She's worked hard bringing up the girls, keeping her hand in with the business. He has a lot to be grateful for, he knows that.

There's no doubt, though, that the news about Evie's will has put her mind at rest. If Ange is unhappy about the Merchant's House being left in trust to old Benj then she's hiding it pretty well. Knowing that it will eventually revert to the estate seems to have removed her terrible antagonism to Benj and to Evie, which was beginning to poison their lives. It's odd that the news should have quite such an effect but property means a lot to Ange and he's just grateful that she's happy now so that he can relax, too.

But he still doesn't quite know how to manage his feelings for Jemima. He can just about control them whilst he is in London, busy, occupied, but now he longs to see her alone, away from his family: on neutral territory. On an impulse he drives into the town, slides the car into a space in Victoria Road, gets out and walks towards the river. He turns into Foss Street, but it's not Jemima he sees coming towards him: it's Benj.

‘Hi,' he says, and they exchange a brotherly hug. ‘So here I am. How's everyone?'

‘Great,' says Benj. ‘Really good. I was just on my way home. You can give me a lift.'

Charlie hesitates and gives another hopeful glance along Foss Street, towards the office.

‘No Jemima?' he asks almost diffidently, a bit jokily. ‘Is she around today?'

‘No,' Benj says, rather abruptly. ‘She's already gone on holiday, I'm afraid.'

‘Gone?' Charlie repeats. ‘What, gone already?'

Ben stares at him. ‘Yes, already.' His voice sounds odd. ‘She always goes to her sister for Christmas.'

Charlie is silent. Yet, after all, what had he expected? That Jemima should sit around waiting for him to give her a few precious moments of his time? Even so, he is incredibly gutted and says so.

‘And there's something else,' Ben adds gently. ‘She's applied for a transfer to the Truro office so she'll be moving down sometime in the New Year. There's no doubt she'll get it.'

‘Truro?' Charlie stands quite still, shocked.

‘Evie and Claude don't know yet,' Benj warns him. ‘She told me because I work with her and she knew I'd hear something about it, but she decided not to tell anyone else until after Christmas.'

‘Did she say I could know? Did she ask you to tell me?'

‘Actually, she did. She made a point of it. And she sent her love.'

And then, as they walk back to the car, Benj begins to tell him about Laura, and Charlie tries to pull himself together and concentrate; to enter into the joyful expectation of Laura's arrival with Billy for Christmas. He listens, offers words of congratulation on the prospect of their coming engagement, but just somewhere in the back of Charlie's mind a tiny flame of hope and excitement is flickering. Jemima wanted him to know that she would be moving to Truro, she sent her love to him – and Truro isn't very far from Polzeath.

Ben heaves an inward sigh of relief. The bad moment is over and he has survived it. Seeing Charlie walking towards him was a shock, even though he was expecting him. The real flesh-and-blood Charlie, hugging him, smiling at him, brought all kinds of emotions flooding up: affection, guilt, shame. When Charlie said, ‘Gone? What, gone already?' Ben was reminded of Jemima turning up at the Merchant's House, asking the same question, and all that followed it. But Charlie's expression of terrible loss, so like Jemima's, somehow filled Ben with immense love and compassion for them both, which seemed to wash away any negative emotions. He remembers regatta: those suppers up on the terrace, the singing and the laughter, and Charlie's face when he said, ‘I think I just fell in love, Benj'. He sees again Jemima's expression when she said, ‘You'll tell Charlie I'm moving to Truro, won't you, Benj? Give him my love,' and Ben wonders if, somewhere in the future, there might be, for Jemima and Charlie, another time to laugh; a time to dance.

And now, as they drive home together, Charlie seems to have grown calm, even cheerful. He listens when Ben talks about Laura, and manages a joke, and by the time they arrive at the Merchant's House their old comradeship is restored and they are ready to celebrate Christmas with Evie and Claude.

‘Stop fussing, Claude,' Evie is saying. ‘The Christmas tree lights are here in a separate box. Those are just the decorations.'

Claude takes the string of lights carefully from the box she hands him, puts the plug in and switches on. The lights flicker and glow in their nest of plastic wire and he heaves a sigh of relief.

‘Could have gone either way,' he says. ‘Never can tell if they're going to work.'

‘Ben or Charlie will have to put them on the tree,' says Evie. ‘They've got nice long arms.'

Claude switches the lights off again and carefully disentangles them. Ben's idea that he and Charlie should decorate the tree is rather a good one. It will tide them over those first emotional moments of arrival, get Christmas under way, and begin these few precious days on a high note.

‘I'll make some tea,' Evie is saying, ‘and we'll cut the Christmas cake, shall we?'

‘Good idea,' he says. ‘And Ben's bought a CD of Christmas carols. He says he always has to have carols when he's decorating the tree. It's a throwback to when Laura was small and they did it together.'

There is a little silence.

‘It's strange to think,' says Evie, ‘that Laura and Billy will be here soon. We've never met him and he's to be her husband. One of the family.'

‘Strange,' he agrees, ‘but nice, too, don't you agree?'

‘I do,' she says. ‘Of course I do. It's just odd, isn't it? You make plans, get things sorted out in your head, and then wham! Between one minute and the next everything changes.'

‘But that's the stuff of life,' he tells her. ‘Stops us settling comfortably into ruts, stiffening into old age. The unexpected keeps us on our toes, ready for anything.'

She looks at him, half smiling then – unexpectedly – she puts her arms round him, hugging him tightly.

‘You are a blessing, Claude,' she says, and she goes downstairs. He hears voices calling and he knows that Charlie is here and that the party can begin. This will be the real Christmas for them. Of course, on Christmas Eve there will be Midnight Mass at St Saviour's and on Christmas morning they will have Buck's Fizz while they open presents and then they'll eat a long and delicious and probably a very late lunch and watch the Queen. But this is the real Christmas; these few special days with Charlie.

He checks the room: the fire is lit and there are sprays of holly fixed around the big ornately framed mirror above it. Meanwhile the tall tree waits in its painted tub, brightly wrapped presents piled on a chair beside it.

Evie comes into the drawing-room carrying a tray. Charlie follows with Ben, gives Claude a hug and then sees the tree.

‘Wow!' he says. ‘Now that's some tree. This is just like the old days. Are these the decorations? Benj says that you've kept them all these years, Evie, since when we were kids.'

‘Of course we did,' she says. ‘Remember, we used to have a tree, too. TDF loved his Christmas tree.'

Charlie kneels down by the box that contains the decorations and begins to unpack them.

‘Look,' he says. ‘I remember these painted glass ones. They're really old. They used to belong to the aunts. Oh, and look, here are those Victorian bells your mum gave us, Benj. Come on. You need to get the lights up first.'

‘Hang on,' says Ben. ‘I've got to put the carols on. Here we go.'

He presses the button on the CD player and the choristers' pure clear voices fill the room: ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem'. Ben goes across to join Charlie, picking up the long string of lights and threading them carefully through the branches of the tall tree.

Evie begins to pour the tea, whilst Claude watches her and pushes the mugs around the low table in rotation for Evie to fill.

‘Who made the cake?' he asks.

‘Not I,' promises Evie. ‘You can eat it quite safely knowing that Mr Marks or Mr Spencer is responsible. Ditto the Christmas pudding for tomorrow. Damn. I've forgotten the milk. How silly of me.'

‘I'll get it,' says Claude. ‘Don't worry.'

He's surprised at how emotional he feels, how lucky to be a part of it all. He's sad that Jemima isn't with them but, at the same time, as he and Evie agreed, it's probably the best thing all round that she's already gone to her family in Falmouth. She was certainly very cheerful when she came to say goodbye; very upbeat. This was a relief.

They were both anxious about how she and Ben and Charlie would have managed – if there would have been awkwardness and embarrassment – but as far as Claude can tell there is no constraint between the two cousins. They both seem determined to make the day a special one. He pauses in the kitchen so as to pull himself together, sees the jug of milk and carries it upstairs.

When he arrives back in the drawing-room, he stands at the door for a moment looking in. Evie is sitting forward at the low table, cutting the cake, whilst Ben, who is on tiptoe, precariously reaches to place a fragile bauble on one of the higher branches. Charlie kneels at his feet, sorting through the decorations, keeping up a running commentary on the history of each one.

The choir is still singing ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem': they've reached Claude's favourite verse.

Evie glances round, sees him standing there and smiles at him, and Claude closes the door behind him and goes in to join the party.

Marcia Willett'
s early life was devoted to the ballet, but her dreams of becoming a ballerina ended when she grew out of the classical proportions required. She had always loved books, and a family crisis made her take up a new career as a novelist – a decision she has never regretted. She lives in a beautiful and wild part of Devon.

FORGOTTEN LAUGHTER

A WEEK IN WINTER

WINNING THROUGH

HOLDING ON

LOOKING FORWARD

SECOND TIME AROUND

STARTING OVER

HATTIE'S MILL

THE COURTYARD

THEA'S PARROT

THOSE WHO SERVE

THE DIPPER

THE CHILDREN'S HOUR

THE BIRDCAGE

THE GOLDEN CUP

ECHOES OF THE DANCE

MEMORIES OF THE STORM

THE WAY WE WERE

THE PRODIGAL WIFE

THE SUMMER HOUSE

THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL

THE SEA GARDEN

POSTCARDS FROM THE PAST

INDIAN SUMMER

For more information on Marcia Willett and her books, see her website at
www.marciawillett.co.uk

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