The Dream House (26 page)

‘But what about this child – her son?’ Kate remembered suddenly. ‘I wish we hadn’t had to leave the papers behind.’

When they pulled up outside Paradise Cottage, Dan killed the engine and sat back in his seat. He looked at Kate and smiled. Then he touched her hand in a tender gesture.

‘If you give me the key, I’ll rescue those papers for you. Assuming Mr Suspicious isn’t hanging around, that is.’

‘Oh Dan, thank you. Don’t get caught though, will you? I wouldn’t like you had up as a diamond thief.’ She tipped the key out of the envelope into his hand.

Dan laughed. ‘I could always take Marie Summers with me. She’d see him right. But I reckon he’ll be back in Norwich tonight. Got a legal practice to run, hasn’t he? Can’t always be popping down to look after his inheritance!’

‘You don’t like him, do you?’

‘I think he’s straight, he’s got Miss Melton’s interests at heart. I . . . just feel he’s judging me, that he’s made up his mind before knowing anything about me. I hate that.’

‘I do, too, but I think it’s just an unfortunate manner. Perhaps we’re making judgements about him, too.’

When she got inside, Daisy, Sam and Bobby greeted Kate as though she had been away for a week. ‘Come in the living room, Mummy. Play with my trains,’ whined Sam. But Daisy wanted to show her mum her reading book. Kate realized they must sense her misery, her distractedness, and immediately felt guilty.

‘Let Mummy sit down, then she can cuddle both of you,’ Joyce said, rolling up her embroidery and picking up pieces of thread from the floor. ‘They’ve had a big tea and both of them played football with the boys. And the garage rang to say the car’s ready. Oh, and Daisy, you’d better give Mummy her letter.’

The letter was the one promised by Mrs Smithson the previous morning, but Kate wasn’t quite expecting the precise nature of its contents. It was signed by a Mr Overden, chairman of the board of governors, and explained the situation regarding the school, but then went on to say:

Following a conversation with the County Council Education Department this morning, a representative has agreed to find a date to come and address us all. After consultation with Mrs Smithson and some of the parents, we have decided to appoint a Save the School Committee. Any parents who are interested to help, please would you contact me
.

All well and good. But then there was a handwritten message enclosed with the letter.

‘Oh, but I can’t do this, can I?’ She passed the letter to Joyce, who read it quickly.

‘Don’t be silly, dear.’ Her mother-in-law was brisk as she passed the letter back. ‘You’ve got children at the school. You want it to stay open, don’t you? And you do know about how to get publicity.’

‘Yes, but that’s for books. I don’t know how the education system works. And I don’t really know people round here.’

‘Then it’s a good way of getting to know them, isn’t it? And it would be excellent to have someone fresh instead of the same old blokes from the board of governors and the parish council. You said this morning, didn’t you, that people seemed defeatist. Here’s your chance to stir them up a bit.’

‘But I’m not the stirring kind of person.’

‘Nor are most people until something like this happens. Think of all those cases of people who start charities after some tragedy happens to them, and they organize appeals and get on the telly. Kate, this is something useful you can do. It may help you to be doing something. And it’s for Sam and Daisy, after all.’

‘What’s for us, Mummy. Mummy, are we having a present?’ asked Daisy.

‘No, dear, your mummy’s going to help do something important in your school. Aren’t you, Kate?’

‘I’m feeling bullied, but I’ll think about it. We could at least have this meeting with the guy from the council and see exactly where we stand. For all we know, it might just be a question of some fund-raising. We could start an appeal – that shouldn’t be too difficult.’

Despite her natural reluctance to push herself forward, Kate was already thinking of ideas.

But then her mind snapped back to thoughts of Simon. Suddenly a great wave of misery swept over her. Why hadn’t he even called her since he left?

The call she had waited for came at ten o’clock that evening. Kate had been out for a drink with Debbie and the phone was ringing as she walked in. Joyce must have gone to bed. She threw her cardigan over the newel post and grabbed the receiver.

‘Kate. It’s me.’

‘Simon. Where are you?’

‘The flat, just got in from the office. Well, I stopped for a curry with Gillingham.’

‘Oh.’

Neither of them seemed to know what to say next.

‘I think – I can’t be home till the weekend.’

‘Can’t you? But it’s Sports Day on Friday. You said you’d be there. Sam will be really upset if you miss the fathers’ race.’

‘I know, I feel terrible, but no can do. Too much going on here. Look, maybe we could get away somewhere Saturday night, you and I? I mean, if you’d like to.’

‘I . . . don’t know.’

‘It’s important we have a proper talk.’

‘Yes.’

‘So I’ll see you Friday night.’

‘Are you sure you can’t come before then?’

‘Look, the pressure’s on here. I’m working late all this week and the trains are up the spout with the Ipswich tunnel works. I’d be tired and that wouldn’t help. Kate – I want to see you. Don’t get me wrong. I – I want to make a go of things. With us.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’ve made a mess, I know. Kate, please, could you book us somewhere for Saturday night – ask Mum to look after the kids? We’ll have a quiet time by ourselves in the country somewhere. Would you?’

‘Oh, Simon.’ Kate sighed. ‘Yes.’ She was still angry with him, but her main feeling was relief. He was coming home. Perhaps it was going to be all right.

After a night restless with dreams about Simon and Agnes, muddled up together, Kate was glassy-eyed with weariness. She couldn’t remember taking the children to school, just arriving at the school gates. She kissed them briefly and watched them run into the playground, planning to slip away without speaking to anyone. But halfway to the school doors, where his teacher waited, Sam stopped and turned back. He put out his arms and hugged Kate’s legs, rubbing his face in her stomach.

‘I love you, Mummy. Don’t be sad,’ he said, then released her and blew her a kiss before racing off once more for his classroom.

Those few extra seconds were enough for Mrs Smithson to spot Kate and come hurrying outside.

‘Did you get my letter, dear? Will you be able to help?’

Kate looked hard at Mrs Smithson. She, too, bore the evidence of sleepless nights. Her short fair hair looked greasy and ruffled and one eyelid twitched. In her head she heard her father’s voice: ‘Mustn’t let the side down, must we?’

To Mrs Smithson, she simply said, ‘If you think I can do it, yes, I’ll do it.’

‘He’s suggested we go away Saturday night. Did you mean what you said? Could you manage with Daisy and Sam?’

Joyce was driving Kate down to Halesworth to fetch the family car from the garage before going shopping.

‘I was going to that concert—’ Joyce broke off. ‘No, of course I’ll help. I said I would and it’s important. You get off as early as you like and I’ll hold the fort. Don’t worry about me. Where are you going to stay?’

‘I don’t know yet. I was going to look on the Net for hotels. We haven’t been to the North Norfolk coast yet. Maybe Burnham Market way if we can get a room on a Saturday this time of year.’

Joyce nodded. ‘It is beautiful up there. You might get a cancellation. Kate, I probably shouldn’t say anything, but I’m so glad you’re doing this, giving it all a chance. Simon can be difficult at times. His father . . .’ She stopped, noticing a stubborn expression cross her daughter-in-law’s face.

‘Don’t go counting chickens, Joyce, please. I don’t know how I feel about things yet. I won’t until I see him. Till I know what he thinks.’ Kate pulled at the hem of her skirt where a loose thread had puckered a bit of the embroidery. ‘We’d better just see how it goes,’ she ended lamely, not taking to the idea of discussing her deepest feelings with her husband’s mother. The embroidered flower began to unravel altogether.

On the way back home in her own car, she thought of Dan repairing the library window and, on impulse, turned down the road that led to Seddington. She wanted to read some of the diaries before she went to see Agnes next.

Good, she could see his van parked there and the library windows were open. There was a bicycle there, too. She pulled up alongside the van, switched off the engine and got out.

‘Hi,’ called a voice and Dan scrunched round from the direction of the kitchen, wiping his hands on an old tea-towel. Before she could answer there came another voice: ‘Daddy. Daaadeee!’

Dan turned and put out his hand. A tiny girl with ruffled blonde hair trotted round the corner and placed her hand in his. When she saw Kate, she stopped and pressed her face against Dan’s arm, but peeped sideways at Kate, looking her up and down.

‘Hello, who’s this?’ Kate said gently. A child, he did have a child. Why hadn’t he said?

‘This is Shelley,’ said Dan. ‘Shelley, come on, lovey, say hello to Kate.’

‘I didn’t know you had . . .’ Kate said.

‘She’s not exactly . . .’ Dan said at the same time.

‘No, you go on,’ said Kate.

‘This is my . . . girlfriend’s little girl. She’s two, aren’t you, Shelley?’

‘Mmm,’ said Shelley. ‘Big girl.’

‘Oh,’ said Kate, prickly. His girlfriend. He hadn’t said he’d got a girlfriend. Or a little girl who called him Daddy. But then, so what if he did? What was it to her? Still, she was unaccountably crestfallen.

‘Linda had to go to work this morning – she’s a receptionist at the health club. Her mother usually has Shelley, but she’s at the doctor’s today. So I’ve got her. Right nuisance she is when I’m working, aren’t you, Shelley, darling? Won’t leave the toolbox alone.’

‘I’ll stay a bit and help you with her if you like,’ said Kate. ‘I only stopped to get the diaries, but after that I was going home.’

‘That’s kind. I’ve nearly finished now. Just got to find some primer in the shed.’

‘Will you come with me, Shelley? We can play in the garden.’

But the little girl shook her head vehemently and hid her face behind her hand. Dan reached down and scooped her up to perch in the crook of his arm. She sat there as though she belonged, peeping at Kate through her fingers.

‘Look,’ he said, reaching into his pocket with his other hand, ‘here’s your key. You might as well find the stuff, put it in the car.’

‘No sign of Max this morning?’

‘Nah. I wouldn’t have noticed anyway. Too busy looking after this rascal. Eh, are you a rascal, Shelley? A nice little rascal?’

Shelley giggled and kissed him, then nuzzled into his neck, from where she surveyed Kate as if to say, ‘He’s mine.’

‘Anyway, Conrad’s here as well, keeping an eye on things,’ Dan told Kate.

‘Ah, the bicycle,’ she said.

Just then, there was the sound of a door opening and shutting and a burly young man traipsed round from the direction of the kitchen. Marie Summers’s son Conrad was in his mid-twenties but his muscular frame was already over-padded with fat, and his hair was receding. He grinned bashfully at Kate.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m not staying. Just come to pick up something Miss Melton wanted.’

He nodded shyly then said to Dan, ‘I’m off now. Job interview this afternoon. You’ll lock up, will you?’

‘Of course, Con,’ Dan said, and he and Kate watched the young man mount his bicycle and wobble off down the drive.

Kate took the safe key Dan held out and walked round to the back door. This time she lingered sadly as she entered the house. Perhaps, with Max’s plans to sell up, this would be the last time she saw it. To her it had become so dear, her dream house. In some part of her mind it was hers.
But you’re wrong, Kate. It was never yours and it never will be
. It would be way beyond their pocket, even if she and Simon did patch up their marriage and get round to buying a home. She tried to see Seddington House as a prospective purchaser might. It would attract a lot of interest although there was serious clearing out and modernization to be done. After all, who would want a library these days? Or an old-fashioned formal dining room? And there were sure to be hardly any bathrooms.

The white-washed scullery was much as it must have been when it was newly built. There were two huge stone sinks on one side, with a wooden draining board that looked as though it had been scrubbed down by generations of skivvies. As a concession to the times, a washing machine and a chest freezer were both plugged into the single old socket.

The kitchen was a hotchpotch of elderly wooden cabinets and more recent Formica-ed surfaces. There was a stainless-steel sink under the windows where Kate had climbed in that first time, a bright new fridge-freezer and a modern Rayburn in the original fireplace. The vinyl floor and the surfaces were clean, but anyone coming into this house would want to throw most of it out and install something state-of-the-art. There was a particular Smallbone farmhouse-style kitchen Kate had been looking at in a magazine last week . . . No, she told herself, don’t even think about it. This house was beyond their means. Not with, what – eight bedrooms? she reckoned. And two acres of land? And all the fittings required to bring it up to the standard of a comfortable family home.