The Birdcage (30 page)

‘Good idea.' Felix stepped in, yet again. ‘Although we must let Lizzie decide for herself.'

‘Of course.' Tilda looked stricken. ‘That's so typical of me. David used to say, “Do try to engage the brain before clutching in the mouth.” Sorry, Lizzie.'

‘It's very sweet of you to invite me.' Lizzie imagined – just for one mad moment – accepting the invitation and telling Piers about it over lunch. Wild laughter threatened to choke her. ‘It sounds terrific fun.' She caught Felix's warning glance and pulled herself together. ‘Shall we see how it goes? I'm sure we'll meet again, either way.'

‘I hope so.' Tilda clearly meant it. She kissed Felix, grinned at Lizzie and went out, carrying Jake's little chair carefully. They heard the street door close.

‘That was . . . tricky,' said Felix.

‘I'm getting really good at ad-libbing,' observed Lizzie. ‘What a perfectly lovely girl. And just wait until you hear about my latest gaffe with Piers.'

‘Are you really having lunch together?' Felix sat down opposite.

‘We are. He telephoned the hotel this morning and, naturally, when the receptionist said it was Mr Hamilton I assumed that it was you. I can't remember exactly what I said to him but he must think that I ought to be certified.'

‘And he was friendly?' asked Felix anxiously. ‘He sounded natural?'

‘He was very polite and very charming, and his laugh sounds just like yours.' Lizzie smiled at him reassuringly. ‘Is there anything you feel I should know before I humiliate myself any further?'

‘I am just so pleased,' said Felix happily. ‘It's such a good sign that he wants to meet you again. It means that he's slowly letting go of all his resentment.'

He shook his head, as if words were beyond him, and she reached out to touch his hand.

‘I was rather pleased too,' she admitted. ‘So come on. Teach me my lines, give me my cues, I want to rehearse this scene before I play it to an audience.'

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Tilda made her way between the dawdling holidaymakers, enjoying the sensation of belonging; happy in this awareness of her own permanency amongst so many visitors. David had often railed at the indecision of strolling couples blocking the path, at being unable to park his car outside his grandfather's flat at the height of the season, but Tilda took it in her stride. The warm sunshine washed the pretty village scene in yellow light, carving sharp black strokes of shade across the sunken cobbled pavement and touching the hanging baskets with their bright splashy colours. She'd had to park in West Street this morning and – as she passed beneath the long, three-tiered, slate-hung walls of the old nunnery, holding Jake's chair carefully away from the traffic – she considered the possibility of starting her own little business here, in Dunster. She hesitated outside the second-hand bookshop, wondering whether she should check with Adrian to see if his holiday let might be free for Lizzie, and decided that she mustn't interfere; paused to look at the display of antique linen-wear in the window of the Linen Basket, which had once been Parhams grocery shop, and resisted an urge to try on one of the gorgeous straw hats that hung in the doorway.

‘Can't afford it,' she told Jake, who watched wide-eyed as he was swung along, his own linen hat cocked rakishly to protect him from the sunshine. ‘I've got your future to think of, haven't I?'

As she put him into the car, her mobile sang out its silly little tune and she snatched it from the pocket of her satchel-bag.

‘Saul!' Her voice was so full of delight that the young man might have been forgiven for imagining that she was more than usually pleased to hear his voice. ‘How are you? You're still coming on Friday?'

‘Of course I'm coming.' There was nothing to betray the lifting of his heart at that tone in her voice. ‘I want to see my godson, don't I?'

‘Oh, Saul, you'll never guess who I've just met!'

‘No, I probably wouldn't.' He sounded cautious now, trying to disguise a flash of dismay. ‘Brad Pitt? Pierce Brosnan? Homer Simpson? I give up. Who have you just met?'

‘I was having coffee with Felix and who should stroll in but Lizzie Blake, the actress. Remember that sitcom?
Family Values
? David adored it. And she does that advert with the terrific dog . . .'

‘Yes, I know who you mean.' He sighed with silent relief: no gorgeous new man, then. ‘How come Felix knows her?'

‘He didn't exactly say and I didn't like to ask but she is just
so
nice.'

‘And am I going to meet her?'

‘I don't know. She's only booked in for a few days at the Luttrell Arms but we're trying to persuade her to stay longer. I hoped she might come to Michaelgarth. Wouldn't it be fab?'

‘It would,' he agreed. ‘Meanwhile, I shall be down about tea-time, if that's OK?'

‘It'll be so good to see you, Saul.' She suddenly realized how very true this was. ‘Oh, listen, I nearly forgot. Did you know that Gemma's down?'

‘At Michaelgarth?' He was clearly surprised.

‘No, they're at the cottage. Guy had some sailing job postponed and we'd had a cancellation so they're there for the week.'

‘That's nice.' He sounded non-committal. ‘How are my nephews?'

‘Oh, she left the twins with your ma so that they could both have a real break. Guy's getting some sailing with a man he sold a boat to last year.'

‘So Gemma's spending time with you and Jake, then.'

‘A bit. She's got a few chums over here, you know, but she and Guy will be coming to supper on Friday. Drive carefully, won't you, Saul? Give me a buzz on the way down.'

‘Of course.' He heard the rising note of anxiety – ever since David's accident, she'd been abnormally fearful when her friends were making long trips – but kept his voice light. ‘Everyone sends their love and tells me that I must bring you back with me.'

A little silence. ‘Yes,' she said, rather bitterly. ‘I'm sure they do.'

‘Tilda, they really miss you.'

‘I know.' She controlled that flash of resentment: that a cruel quirk of fate should have suddenly removed her so completely from the company of her friends and the world where she'd been so happy. ‘Give them my love, won't you? And we'll see you on Friday.'

She drove carefully away: driving was something she'd had to make herself do immediately after David's death, knowing that, if she lost her nerve, her life – and Jake's – would be impossibly restricted. She was cheered by Saul's call, part of her mind planning the weekend ahead, part still wondering how she might occupy her time and her talents. She'd reached Alcombe before it quite suddenly occurred to her that Piers' high spirits might have been caused by the prospect of his lunch with Lizzie Blake and nothing at all to do with Alison.

‘Oh, how I do hope so,' she said aloud. She glanced in the mirror at Jake and then at her watch. If she dashed round the Co-op here in Alcombe, instead of going into Tesco's, there would be plenty of time to see the new golden Labrador puppies over at Huntscott. She'd reserved one charming little fellow several weeks before and the breeder, an old friend of the Hamiltons, had agreed that if Piers really was not ready to have another dog then she'd take him back.

‘Don't worry, my dear,' she'd said. ‘I'm sure he'll want him. Joker's litter brother is his great-grandfather but I understand how you feel. I shan't have a problem finding a home for him.'

‘You won't tell him, will you?' Tilda had asked anxiously. ‘I want it to be a surprise for his birthday.'

The breeder had given Tilda's shoulder a friendly squeeze.

‘Not a word,' she'd promised.

Tilda put Jake's chair into the trolley, her mind made up. Seeing Bertie had confirmed her conviction that it was time for another puppy at Michaelgarth. Piers should have his present on Saturday at the party whilst Saul was with them to give his support. Saul, like David, was a man of positive action and she could count on him to keep them all going if the moment became too emotional. Tilda made a happy little face at Jake as she pushed him along the aisles, choosing treats for the birthday supper. Her heart gave a tiny jump of excitement: perhaps Lizzie Blake might be one of the party too.

All that morning, Piers was aware of a barely subdued excitement: he worked with one eye on the clock and his thoughts elsewhere. When he arrived outside the hotel there was no room to park and he could only lean across to open the door for Lizzie before driving on again as quickly as he could so as not to cause a traffic jam.

He said: ‘Sorry about that, I couldn't quite think where else to meet you,' whilst she was telling him that she'd been nearly run over whilst hopping in and out to look for him. They both fell silent, neither looking at the other, both anxious not to behave as if they were inexperienced teenagers on their first date. It was Lizzie – knowing so much more about the past than Piers – who was able to assume control; to drive the conversation carefully away from banality towards the intimacy that they both needed.

‘I love this part of the village,' she observed, as Piers took a short cut up St George's Street. ‘It's so incredibly quiet. You can't believe that all that busyness is happening in the High Street when you're sitting in that beautiful little garden.'

He smiled, slowing a little as he passed the school and turned into Priory Green. ‘It's rather special,' he agreed.

‘It was so odd,' she continued, almost as if he hadn't spoken, ‘to see Felix sitting there on that bench. I thought he might be dead, you know, and I needed to see him so much.'

‘Why?' asked Piers after a moment. ‘Why now?'

‘It's one of those trigger points,' she answered. ‘I'm sure there are all kinds of clever names for it but I think it's fairly common. Something pretty grim happens, some terrible loss, and you find that you're reassessing your life, trying to understand why certain things happen, but to do that you need to fill in a few gaps and sometimes you don't think of asking questions until it's too late. Well, I didn't. Angel, my mother, died quite young – she was barely sixty – so she hadn't got to that age where you begin to look back and start all that “Do you remember?” stuff. And I wasn't old enough to want to know then.'

‘But why should you think that my father would know things about your life?' It sounded abrupt, even aggressive, and he frowned, frustrated by his lack of tact. ‘I'm not getting this right.'

‘Don't worry about it.' She felt strangely at ease with him. ‘I can't tell you how glad I am that you wanted to do this. For us to have lunch together, I mean. I always felt that I knew you, you see. Felix talked about you and I imagined how you might be, as children do. I expect he didn't talk about me.'

‘No,' agreed Piers after a moment, moved by the rather wistful note. ‘Not as such.'

Lizzie was looking at him curiously. ‘Not as such,' she repeated reflectively. ‘Do you remember seeing us in Parhams that day, Piers?' She saw his hands tighten on the wheel and bit her lips. ‘Sorry,' she said quickly. ‘I'm getting this all wrong, aren't I? We come from different standpoints. You saw me as the enemy and I saw you as a friend. We – me and Angel and Pidge – were happy to share Felix but, since we had no choice in the matter, we just accepted the fact that we were lucky to have anything of him at all. You, on the other hand, had all the fear of losing him and we constituted a threat. I can quite understand that, but I just want us to be friends now.' She shook her head, sighing. ‘I always go bull-headed at things,' she told him regretfully. ‘Putting my foot in it, making assumptions . . . Where did you say we were having lunch?'

The sudden change of subject, the light social tone, didn't deceive him at all.

‘I'm having trouble adjusting,' he admitted, refusing the opportunity she was offering him. ‘Every time I think, that's all over, it's in the past, another memory or some old tug of loyalty jumps out of the woodwork.'

She turned towards him, relieved and grateful for his honesty. ‘Of course it does. Goodness, how else could it be? That's what I meant when I said we're coming at it from totally opposite positions. I'd decided to track down the past so I was prepared for it, as far as I could be, hoping to meet Felix . . . and you. Mind you, I was pretty nervous. After all, you can't just turn up after thirty-odd years without expecting a few surprises. But for you, this is a bolt from the blue. I'm sorry about last evening, Piers. I was unbelievably stupid and tactless. It must have been such a shock for you.'

He began to laugh. ‘I felt such a prize idiot. I really thought I recognized you – well, I did, of course – and feeling a real hell of a fellow, chatting up a famous actress . . .'

Lizzie was laughing too. ‘You should worry. I behaved like a total prat . . .'

He turned his head, still smiling. ‘Shall we take it from the top?' he suggested. ‘New readers start here?'

She grinned at him, settled in her seat and stared straight ahead as if at a set. ‘Clear,' she said in a sharp high voice. ‘OK. Act One. Scene One . . . Take Two. Action . . .' and waited. This time he must call the shots.

‘Start at the beginning,' he said after a moment, ‘and go on until the end and then stop. Tell me everything you can remember about Angel and Pidge and the Birdcage.'

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR