Mulberry Gin Chapters 13 & 14

Chapter Thirteen.

James hadn’t had a day off for a long time. He had holidays but there was always work to do, phone calls and emails to deal with. He had blessed the person who invented the Blackberry. When he told Henry to go to hell he had given no thought to what he was saying or what he was going to do. All he knew was he didn’t want to be working with Henry anymore, or for a while anyway. Now he suddenly had time he had no idea what to do with. At the moment he was sitting in the kitchen in his pyjamas with his third cup of coffee. The first morning he had taken his coffee back to bed and tried to have a proper lay in, it didn’t work. This morning he had got up at his usual time but with no idea what to do. He lived in London for goodness sake there were hundreds of things to do. He could take a whole year off and still not do it all. When he was working he often thought about all the exhibitions he was missing. Now he could go to them he couldn’t think of one he wanted to see. There was one thing he knew he should do though and that was speak to Olwen. Maybe there was something she would like to do? He decided he would take her out for the day to say sorry.
Olwen’s car was in the drive, which was a good start. He rang the doorbell and waited. He could hear the sound of a vacuum cleaner. He rang again. The hum continued. Well she must be there so he went around the side of the house to the back garden. Through the sitting room window he could see Olwen vacing. He knocked on the window and saw her jump and spin round. She glowered at him and indicated for him to go back to the front door.
‘Sorry, I did ring the bell, twice.’ He said.
‘You scared me. You don’t expect people to watch you vacing through the windows. Come in.’ She turned back and walked through the house. James followed. She continued to talk over her shoulder. ‘What can I do for you?’ Her tone was clipped and he could hear the tension in her voice.
‘I’ve got a free day and I wondered if I could take you out, to apologise.’
Olwen raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
‘I was very rude the other week.’
‘Yes you were.’ She was standing to her full height and he could quite see why Jonathan didn’t always stand up to her.
‘You were right of course. I snapped because I knew you were right and didn’t want to hear it.’
‘So what’s happened to change your mind?’ She asked.
‘Lots of things. You always did see me for what I was didn’t you?’
‘I could see the mess you were making of everything. And Jonathan told me about Lizzie so I knew you were capable of being a human being.’
‘Thank you, I think.’
‘All though I have to say I had started to think I was wrong, you seemed to be slipping further and further into gittage.’
‘Ok… And do you think I can be stopped from slipping, can I be pulled back?’
‘Probably. Now you’ve started to see the cracks you might be able to patch them up.’
‘I hope so but I don’t think I know how.’ He sat down on the sofa with a sigh.
‘Well apologising to me is a good start. You’ve never done that before.’
‘And I told Henry to go to hell the other day. That’s why I’ve got some time off. I might have a lot of time off, he might be sacking me, or I might be resigning.’
‘Good for you! You may have noticed I’ve never liked him. How Imogen can be his daughter I always thought a mystery. So what brought all this on? Something must have happened?’ Olwen sat back in her chair and studded her brother-in-law. He certainly did look different. He was thinner but he looked less dishevelled than he did in the pub gardens. He seemed to have gone from an arrogant idiot to a complete mess to what, something in between? This hadn’t happened on its own, something had triggered it, just as Imogen leaving had triggered his decline, so something had triggered this new phase.
James mulled this question over and wondered whether or not to tell Olwen about Mandy. If he did it would mean admitting to the others, and that would open up a whole new box of frogs. On the other hand it might be best to get it all out in the open, and sounding things out with Olwen would be good practice for when he finally had to talk it over with Imogen. He took a deep breath.
‘Do you remember Kelvin and Mandy Colsanto? The couple from New York who were at that dinner party last autumn?’
‘Oh yes, very loud.’
‘That’s them. Well Mandy came to see me a couple of weeks or so ago, on her own, at home.’ he raised an eyebrow to give enfaces. Olwen sat without speaking. She was going to make him spell it out. ‘She made advances.’
‘Advances? You mean she tried to shag you?’
‘Olwen!’ Although he should be used to it by now it still seemed wrong for a woman to come out with such things.
‘Am I wrong?’
‘No. She all but dragged me up the stairs. But this time I couldn’t do it. All I could think about was Imogen. I just kept seeing her face. I used to be able to turn it all off and flirt right back, but this time I couldn’t stand her smell even. It was so false, so heavy and I just kept thinking how soft Imogen always smelt. I had to get her out of the house, out of Imogen’s home, as quickly as I could.’
‘Hang on here, you said this time you couldn’t do it, so there have been times when you have slept with your clients wives?’ Olwen was sitting forward on the edge of her chair, both feet square on the floor as if she was preparing to launch herself, which she might well be.
‘Yes I have.’ There it was said. He knew her reaction before she said anything. Her face was a picture of horror, disgust and anger.
‘Before you throw me out or slap my face I know how it sounds and it probably is all of that. But I honestly didn’t think Imogen knew.’
‘And if she had known, would that have made any difference, would you have stopped?’ She was trying very hard to keep her voice level and stay in her chair.
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly.’
‘No, not back then. I thought nothing of it. It was business. It’s part of the game. You be nice to the wives and they tell their husbands to be nice to you. I didn’t see it as being unfaithful. They were clients and it was part of the job. I’m not telling this very well am I? But I’m trying to explain that nothing was done maliciously. I would never have an affair, not a proper relationship with another woman, not while I was married. And that was what I realised when Mandy was trying to get her hands down my trousers. I realised that being married to Imogen did mean something to me. I realised that, even though it would have just been another ‘shag’ for another deal, I didn’t want to sleep with anyone else except my wife. The fact that she wasn’t there somehow made it worse. I realised that… I think I love her.’ He flopped his hands in his lap and slumped down in the chair.
Olwen opened her mouth to say a whole stream of things, but closed it again. There would be little point in having a rant at him. He’d more or less admitted he was in the wrong. He still looked tired and she knew he had probably been sleeping badly. He had come to her to confess and talk it over, not to be judged or shouted at.
‘You know how bloody stupid you’ve been don’t you?’
James nodded.
‘So what are you going to do about it?’
‘I don’t know. Any advice gladly welcome.’ He tried to give a smile but only managed half. ‘I’m out of my depth. If the company was about to go bankrupt or I had to fire a dozen people then I could do it with my eyes closed. But love? No idea.’
‘What have you done so far, if at all?’ Olwen was calming down. If he was man enough to ask for help then she mustn’t throw it back in his face.
‘I wrote to her.’
‘Saying?’
‘Saying I wanted to know what was going on and what her plans were. She replied but she was talking about divorce. I don’t want that. I don’t know why she thought I did. I said nothing about it. I thought I had made it clear that I wanted her to come home. I don’t know what to do next. I did think about going down to Cornwall.’
‘Is that were she is, Mulberry Cottage?’
‘Yes. Rowena left it all to her.’
‘I’m not surprised. I assume Henry doesn’t know?’
‘Good God no! And please don’t tell him.’
‘I wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire, unless the children’s lives depended on it. He’ll find out though. You need to get things sorted before he does, at least make a start. What changed your mind about going to Cornwall?’
‘I didn’t think I would be going for the right reasons. I’d be going because I wanted something. I thought it might be better to wait to be asked.’
‘It would. Why don’t you contact her again and ask if you might come down for a few days to talk. If she says no then you know you need to give her more time. If she says yes then you can go with a clear conscience can’t you?’
‘Yes that might work. Yes that’s what I’ll do.’ He nodded.

Imogen took the floral dress off and threw it on the bed. She picked up a pair of jeans and a white shirt and turned them over in her hands. By now almost her whole wardrobe was spread across the bedroom. She was going to spend the whole day with Philip but she had no idea what they were going to do. She picked the dress up again. It was lovely, pale pink with darker pink roses all over it. It was quite smart, but if she wore it with flat ballet pumps and her denim jacket, a recent purchase from the local market, then it should look more casual. She wanted him to know she had made an effort but not too much effort. Boris came in, had a quick scout around and jumped up onto the white shirt, covering it in a mist of black hairs. Well that put pay to the other option, so it had to be the dress.
There had been no real boyfriends before James. She had been out with one or two boys but Henry had always managed to scare them off. Even before James had come along Henry had seen her as on the market waiting for a good match to come along. It was such a shame they had come to this because when she was very small all she could remember was how much she loved her father. She could clearly remember him throwing her up in the air and catching her. They were out in the garden of that first house next door to Mrs Thing. It changed when they moved to the house her parents still lived in. She was too young to understand. As soon as things started to go his way and his fathers modest company started to take off he started to change. By the time she was old enough to notice it was too late and the father who had thrown her up in the air in the back garden had gone forever. Sometimes, if she tried very hard, she could remember odd bits of the old Henry. Of course she knew now that the Henry he had become must have been there all along under the surface. He must have been driven and selfish to have built things up the way he had. It was just such a shame that that side had to take over so completely.
She shook her head; she wasn’t going to think today. Today was going to be a good day. And tomorrow her mother was coming down. She was happy for the first time in years and she was not going to let anything spoil it. She was still messing about in the bedroom when she heard the gate squeaking. Her heart did a huge flip-flop. She told herself she was a grown up woman of twenty-six, but she didn’t seem to be listening. The soft knock on the windows made her jump and she hurried out into the sitting room. He was standing outside the open French windows waiting to be asked in. He was formally calling for her! He was dressed in a smart white shirt and clean jeans. Oh it wasn’t fair that one man should be so gorgeous.
He was looking down at his boots, clutching a small bunch of wild flowers and looking very nervous. He saw her coming across the room and looked up. He grinned.
‘You look lovely.’ He held out the flowers. ‘I thought you’d like these more than shop bought.’
‘I do. They’re beautiful, thank you.’ She put them to her nose and breathed in the scent of the fields and banks, fresh and clean. ‘I’ll put them in water. Come in.’
Imogen went through to the kitchen. Philip followed. He sat on the edge of the table while she busied about finding a vase and filling it with water. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Every time she moved the sun caught at her blonde hair and bounced off it sending stars across the room. He thought about the previous day, when she had been where he was now. When she turned she saw him watching her. She wished she hadn’t got the vase in her hands.
‘So where are we going?’ She asked as she carried the flowers back through to the sitting room.
‘Anywhere you like.’
‘Oh I don’t know. There are lots of places, but I can’t think. Do you want people or quiet?’
‘Quiet I think.’
‘That’s the Eden Project out then.’ She smiled.
‘Unless that’s what you want to do?’
‘Not particularly. There are some standing stones about five miles away?’
‘Sounds good to me. Those things are fascinating.’
‘The stones then. There’s a nice pub near by that used to do good food. We could have lunch there?’
‘Even better. So shall we go?’ He held his hand out to her. She hesitated a moment but took it.
If she had been worried about any embarrassment then it was for nothing. She felt so at ease with him. There was still a small part of her that wanted to hold back, but she knew she didn’t need to. They talked non-stop the whole of the short journey.
‘So do these stones have a story?’ Philip parked the Land Rover in the small car park on the edge of the field.
‘I expect so. I have to say if I ever knew then I can’t remember. I do know they’ve been used for all sorts of things over the years. People have been married here, well had the party anyway. All sorts of celebrations. At one time people believed that if you made love in the middle of the ring then you would have twins. That’s all I can remember.’
‘Cool. We have ancient sites in Oz of course. You have to go right out into the outback to find them. We live in the middle of town so we never bother. It’s a hell of a drive. That’s what I love about this country. You can be anywhere in a few hours. It can take days to drive some places back home.’
‘And we complain when we have to drive a couple of hours. It must be lovely though, all that sun.’
‘Sometimes. It can get a bit monotonous though. When you know you can spend everyday on the beach then you somehow don’t. Like you were saying about people not going to the cove because they know it’s there, same thing. You’ll have to come over some time.’
‘You sound like you’re inviting me round for lunch. It’s half way round the world! I’d like to see it though.’
‘I could show you it. We could hire a VW and go on a road trip around Australia.’ He grinned.
‘I thought you had college? I’m not getting in the way of you finishing your education.’ Imogen frowned.
‘You sound like my mother. She wasn’t too keen on me coming back here. Everyone has a year out these days.’
Hearing Philip talk like that reminded her how young he was. She bit her lip and looked away. It wasn’t realistic to have any kind of future with him was it? A few months travelling around Australia in an old VW might have appealed ten years ago, but now she would want air-con at the very least.
‘No I’ll be a good boy and go home at the end of summer, then I’ll go to uni and make mum proud.’ He turned to her and smiled. He knew what she was thinking and however much he might like the idea of them carrying on after the summer he knew. She was meant to be here and he was meant to go home and get his degree.
‘And what about you? What will you do when summer’s over?’ He asked.
‘I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it just yet.’
‘Fair enough.’ He grabbed her hand and started running towards the stones. ‘Let’s have some fun.’
They spent the next ten minutes running round and around the stones like children. Eventually Imogen halted next to the tallest stone and collapsed against it.
‘Enough.’ She puffed. ‘I’ve got stitch.’
He came up along side her barely out of breath and laughed. ‘I’ve got a bottle of water in the car, hang on.’ He jogged off back across the field. Imogen leant against the stone and slowly got her breath back. Her head was spinning and the heat wasn’t helping. She took her jacket off and sat down on the grass. This was what she had come down here for, to run round standing stones for no reason, to sit on the grass in the sun. It was magical. She could feel a warmth coming through the stone into her back. Rowena had believed in all those sorts of things, magic stones, crystal healing, herbal medicine, but it had never really rubbed off. She had been interested but never taken it all seriously. Sitting here though, on her own, she could see why people invested so much in places like this. There was an energy coming from somewhere for sure. She closed her eyes and let whatever it was wash over her.
‘That’s the second time I’ve caught you napping.’ Philip was standing over her holding out a bottle of water. ‘You ok?’
‘Fine. I was just taking it all in. It’s so quiet.’ She took the bottle. ‘Thanks.’ They sat for a few minutes in silence drinking and looking. Beyond the stones was the cliff path and then the sea.
‘Shall we walk for a bit?’ Philip stood up and brushed himself down. He knew if he stayed there he would have to kiss her again.
Imogen got up and smoothed her dress down. ‘You know the coast path runs the whole way around from North Somerset to South Devon. It’s hundreds of miles. Some people walk the whole thing for fun, mad buggers.’
Philip reached out and took her hand. They walked like that until they got to the cliff path. The path itself was too narrow and they had to walk single file. Once or twice hr reached his hand back behind him and caught hold of her hand or elbow. Suddenly he stopped, Imogen bumped into the back of him.
‘What’s that?’ He was pointing down into the water.
Imogen squinted over his shoulder. ‘A seal! And another one over there look.’ She pointed a little further out. ‘I’d forgotten! Oh aren’t they wonderful!’ She clapped her hands together like a child.
They stood together watching the seals playing in the water, bobbing and chasing each other. Imogen was still behind Philip, pressed lightly against his back and leaning over his shoulder so she could see. She wanted to stay like that forever. Philip moved his arm around behind him and put it round her waist. She felt her body tingle all over. She put her hands out and stroked his arm. He slowly turned around to face her. He moved his arms so both were now circling her waist. He put a hand up and brushed some hair from her face. She lifted her own hands up and cupped them around the back of his neck. Philip dipped his head and kissed her. They stood entwined on the edge of the cliff and Imogen didn’t care if they never moved again.

The gallery was packed. James gestured to Olwen that they should go, she nodded. They headed out into the not so fresh air.
‘Well I’m sure the paintings were worth seeing.’ James said.
‘Just a shame you couldn’t actually see them. It was a nice idea though. Shall we head home?’
They were walking towards the river and James realised that he hadn’t been in this part of the city for years.
‘I’d like to walk for a bit if that’s alright.’
‘Fine. I like it here. I bring the kids down to the river whenever I can. They love to go on the boat trips.’
‘A boat trip! Let’s do that. I haven’t done that since I was a child.’
They made their way to the Thames. It was buzzing. There was every kind of tourist cliché you could think of. There were the Japanese with their matching beanie hats and little cameras hanging from their belts. There were the Americans with their inappropriate clothes, large bodies and even larger cameras hanging from every part of them. There were the exchange students all huddled together giggling and talking rapidly in what James thought might have been Italian. Then there were the Brits who were trying desperately not to look like they were tourists on a day trip but that they actually lived there, trying to be so cool and looking completely ridiculus. With the assuredness of someone who actually did live there James went up to the naffist stall, selling the worst tat and bought them both a plastic union jack hat.
‘There you go. Let’s pretend were tourists.’ He plonked the hideous thing on Olwen’s’ head.
‘The kids love these and I never let them have them. They’ll kill me.’
‘We’ll take them some back.’
They got on the first boat they came to offering river trips. Olwen was giggling and James couldn’t help breaking into a smile. They did look stupid sitting there in their plastic hats.
‘This is fun.’ He admitted.
‘Steady on James, you might start enjoying yourself if you’re not careful.’ She nudged him with her elbow.
‘I should have done things like this with Imogen.’
‘Yes you should. You will. Come on you were having fun a second ago.’ She nudged him again.
‘I know, and I am. I miss her that’s all. But you’re right this is fun and I’m going to enjoy it.’ And in spite of himself he did. The boat took them past all the usual sights that he had seen a thousand times from the roads. They looked so different from the river. He was seeing his city as if for the first time. It seemed like a metaphor for his own life. It sounded cheesy but every time he saw a familiar building from such a unique angle he saw his own reflection bouncing back at him. They were telling him that however old you are, however set in stone you seem to be, you have more than one side. Maybe people saw only the flat façade that you chose to show them. But there was more going on if you let them see it. He knew he had only let Imogen see the façade. It all came back to Lizzie didn’t it? He had shown her everything, laid his whole self out before her and she had walked all over it, wiped her feet and then disappeared. Imogen was not Lizzie, she would never do that to him but he still wouldn’t let her in. Instead he had kept the best part of himself hidden so as not to expose it, and what had happened? The same thing. Now he knew that neither option was the way to go. Expose yourself too much and you get hurt, keep yourself boxed in and you get hurt, worse, you hurt other people.
When they got back on land Olwen decided to call it a day. She knew how much it had taken for James to do today and it was best not to push him. He looked shattered.
‘I think I should head off now. Thank you for this morning.’ She gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘You should smile more you know, it suits you.’
‘Thank you. And thank you for coming. I did think you might not want to speak to me again. And thank you for understanding. I know I don’t always express things very well. Mind you if you ever need to know about spread sheets or the stock market then I’m your man.’ He gave a half smile.
‘You see your taking the rise out of yourself. You should relax more often. Tell Henry to go shaft himself. Why not set up on your own?’
‘It’s a thought.’
‘So think about it. Anyway I’d better go I have some shopping to do while I’m out.’
‘Can I drop you somewhere?’
‘No I’ll get the bus. Or I may be really decadent and take a taxi. Thanks anyway.’
James watched Olwen disappear into the crowed. Spending time with her did make you feel like you had been hit around the head with a blunt instrument, but he no longer felt offended. He used to bristle every time she made one of her pithy comments. Now he saw it for what it was. All those times they had ended up glowering at each other with Jonathan looking uncomfortable. He smiled. They had been as stubborn as each other. She wanting him to listen, him not wanting to hear. She could see what was happening and could see that he needed to change. He could only see an interfering woman who should keep her opinions to herself. He shook his head as he walked back to the car. If he had listened to her a couple of years ago things might be very different now. Never mind, he was listening now. And her idea about setting up on his own wasn’t such a bad one. There were several clients he was sure would come with him. But that could wait.
Words started forming in his mind, stringing themselves together, breaking apart and bumping into each other. As soon as he got home he was going to call her. She might put the phone down, but he had to try. If he could just talk to her.
He hurried in through the front door and went straight to the study. His address book was on the desk and he riffled through it for Rowena’s’ entry. He hoped Imogen hadn’t had the phone cut of or changed the number. He diled. Well it was ringing which was a good start. He stood fidgeting from one foot to the other, twisting the wire around in his fingers. He should have got a hands free for in here like they had in the rest of the house. Then he could pace up and down as well. It just kept ringing and ringing. Eventually a clipped and formal automated woman told him that the person he was calling was unavailable and would he like to leave a message after the bleep? No, not really, he wanted to speak to Imogen. But if she wasn’t there, which she obviously wasn’t, then leaving a message was the next best thing. Now he had come this far he wanted to feel he had done something. He took a deep breath.
‘Hello Imogen, it’s James. I was wondering if it would be possible to come down and see you? I really do need to talk to you. Please could you call me back? If you say no then that’s fine. Bye.’ He stood in the middle of the room and tapped his fingers against his leg. He exhaled deeply, then kicked the desk leg. She was supposed to be there so he could say all the things he had rehearsed on the way home. He kicked the desk leg again.
He breathed in sharply and pulled himself up straight. Never mind, she‘ll call back and then he can say it.

The pub was small and full of all manner or oddities. There were pictures and framed photos all over the walls, books and china on shelves that ran the whole length of the walls. In any space left there were bits of old farm machinery and bits of metal that were unidentifiable to most people. Philip and Imogen found a table in a far corner and studied the menu. They sat close together, their knees touching, even though there was plenty of room on the bench seat. They were both flushed from the sea air, but Imogen’s’ racing heart had nothing to do with the long walk they had just had to get here. Every time someone looked across in their direction she felt herself blush. She was scared to death and ecstatically excited all at once. When Philip had looked at his watch and suggested they find the pub she had mentioned and get some lunch food was the last thing on her mind. Now they were sitting reading the menu and smelling the wonderful smells that were coming from the kitchen she realised she was starving.
‘So what do you fancy?’ Philip didn’t seem to realise what he had just said.
Imogen couldn’t help but laugh. Philip looked skywards.
‘I mean to eat.’
‘I’m sorry. I knew what you meant. Something with chips. I haven’t had chips for ages. Let’s see. Oh battered cod and chips, that the one. What about you?’
‘That sounds good to me. You’re closer.’ He nodded to the bar.

When the food came they both gasped. They were the biggest plates of food either of them had ever seen.
‘We should have ordered one between us.’ Imogen said in awe. ‘I’ll never eat all this.’
‘Course you will.’
‘I’ll get fat.’
‘Not that again. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You could put a whole stone on and no one would notice.’
‘That’s rubbish, but thank you anyway. I am hungry.’
‘So eat.’ He dived in and she joined him.
They sat in silence for a long time just eating and eating. It was the best fish and chips Imogen had ever had and she knew this was a day she would remember for a long time.

It was nearly dusk by the time Philip dropped Imogen off at her gate. All the way back she had been wondering if she should invite him in. She hopped out of the Land Rover and turned to face him. He didn’t move from the driver’s seat.
‘Thank you for today. Um…’ She bit her lip.
‘When can we do it again? Your mum’s coming down tomorrow right?’ He still wasn’t moving.
‘Yes. She’ll be here a couple of days.’
‘I’ll stay out the way while she’s here then.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’d better go. I’m on morning milking tomorrow, five o’clock start.’ He smiled that smile.
‘Ok. Good night then.’ Imogen breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Good night, and thank you.’ She smiled.
‘For what?’
‘For it all.’
And off he went. Imogen watched the backlight as they turned into the farm. She walked slowly up to the cottage, passing the Mulberry tree.
‘You’ll sleep with him eventually you know.’ Rowena’s voice came in on the breeze.
‘Maybe.’
‘Maybe nothing. It was all you were thinking about all the way home. And I bet he’s been thinking about it a lot longer. Sex is not a crime you know.’
‘Do you have to be quite so direct?’
‘Oh definatly. I always found it was the best way. If you want him and he wants you then where’s the problem?’
‘I’m Married?’
‘Rubbish. You know my feelings on that subject. And you said it yourself. James has slept with other women.’
‘I only said I suspected he had.’
‘Don’t split hairs. He’s been shagging his way around the world on all his various trips you can bank on it.’
‘Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I can do the same.’
‘Oh for Gods sake it’s hardly the same thing! He was doing it while you were still married. Now you are separated, you’ve left him, you’ve asked him about a divorce. If you have found someone to have some fun with then that’s no longer any of James’s business.’
Imogen knew her aunt was right. She should not be feeling guilt over something that had no guilt attached to it.
‘Ok. How would you feel if James found out about Philip? How do you think he would feel?’ Rowena asked.
‘He’d be cross.’
‘But would he care?’
‘Only in as much as it would dent his pride.’
‘Exactly. So stop thinking about James and think about your own happiness. I didn’t leave you all this for you to let that man spoil it.’
‘He’s not really that bad.’
‘Oh Gin!’
Imogen carried on up to the cottage and let herself in. Boris was waiting for her and trotted off towards the kitchen.
‘Meow!’ Imogen didn’t know how a meow could sound cross but some how Boris managed it.
‘You want feeding I suppose. Fair enough. Come on then.’ They went into the kitchen and she filled his bowl. ‘I expect you have an opinion on what I should do with the rest of my life as well?’
‘Meow’ he started to purr and rub around her legs. If he could have said ‘more food please’ then he would. Imogen went to the pantry and got another pouch.
‘You might as well you know. My dead aunt is giving her views so I don’t see why a cat shouldn’t.’
‘Well if you really want to know then I like Philip and I never liked the sound of James, but hey, it’s your life.’ Imogen shot round and looked hard at Boris, who had his head in his bowel and was busy eating. She shook her head hard. She needed to get an early night, now she was hearing the cat talk.
She went back into the sitting room to lock the French windows. She walked past the phone but didn’t see the little red light flashing to tell her there was a message.


Chapter Fourteen.

Cherith nodded in all the right places while Henry was giving instruction. So and so might phone and she needed to take his mobile number, nod. She must check his emails every morning, nod. She must call him if she gets any trouble from James, nod. By the time he had finished she felt like one of those dogs that sit on the parcel shelves of tacky cars. She wasn’t listening to any of it. She had heard it all a hundred times.
‘What time are you supposed to be meeting the others at the club?’ She asked lightly.
‘Nine. I’ve told you that.’ He snapped.
‘Well it’s twenty to. I know what to do and I have all the numbers.’ She was trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. She wanted him gone. She wanted him gone an hour ago. She had hoped to be on the road herself by now. Why did he have to faff about at the last minute? He did it every time. Mostly she would bite her lip while he had one more look at a map or one more cup of tea before they left. Today she was biting so hard she expected to see blood any minute.
‘Bloody hell. Why didn’t you say so?’
How did he do that? He was the one buggering about. Telling her things she had heard countless times before and making himself late. She rolled her eyes.
‘If you get off right away you won’t be late. I’ll see you in a few days. Have a lovely time.’ She was edging him further and further towards the door as she spoke.
He gave her a cursory peck on the cheek and finally crossed the thresh hold.
Cherith waved him off up the drive and out of the gates. Then she closed the door and exhaled deeply.
‘Thank goodness for that!’ She said out loud. She decided to give him ten minutes to get clear of the area. Her bags had been in the under stairs cupboards for two days and she had been praying Henry wouldn’t suddenly decide to take an interest in the Hoover. She lugged them out and into her car. It was such an un-Cherith thing to do and she knew it could all backfire spectacularly.
Before she set off she decided to call Imogen.
‘Hello darling, it’s mum.’
‘Hi mum.’
‘Just to let you know I’m about to leave. I wanted to get an early start but your father did his usual tricks. He’s only been gone ten minutes. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
‘There’s no rush mum, take your time. Molly said she’ll expect you when she sees you.’
‘Well I was hoping for lunchtime but now I’m not so sure. Oh dear. It seemed such a good idea. Oh well, I’m doing it now. I’ll see you later.’
‘See you later, and don’t worry too much.’
Cherith put the phone down and went straight out of the door before she changed her mind. She wanted to see her daughter and she wanted this whole mess sorted out.

Imogen put the phone down and saw the little flashing red light. She pressed the button and James’ voice came out at her. She jumped, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting to be leaving her messages, but it wasn’t James.
She listened, then she rewound it and listened again. She stood rooted in the middle of the room with a strange sense of de ja vau. Why could he not just leave it? Just when she seemed to be settling down here he was again. The letter was one thing, but wanting to come down was quite another. Her first thought was to lock herself in the bathroom for the rest of her life. She picked the phone back up and diled Cherith’s number. No reply. She had left already and she wouldn’t have her mobile on, she never did. Her next thought was Philip, but he was working and was probably in the middle of a field. Bother. Not even Boris was any help. She hadn’t seen him yet this morning, which normally meant he was sleeping it off under a bush somewhere. A cup of tea, she would make herself a cup of tea.
Boris wandered in half way through her second cup. ‘Meow.’ He came and brushed around her legs. ‘Meow.’
‘Oh Good morning, just. Where do you think you’ve been?’ She looked at her watch.
‘Meow?’ The look of innocence on his face told Imogen he had definatly been up to something.
‘Don’t come that, it’s nearly twelve and you’re only just home. You are a dirty stop out.’
‘Meow.’ He jumped up onto the table and started a very leisurely wash. It was the cat equivalent of the morning after the night before. He’d been sleeping off a hangover and now he needed a shower and a full English breakfast. Being a cat he would make do with a long wash and a bowel of cat food.
Watching Boris meticulously lick every inch of himself Imogen’s mind wandered. She sighed. She didn’t want James here, of that she was sure. What good would it do? He would make a scene, shout a lot and go home. She would let it all get to her and she would have to start all over again. And then there was Philip. It wouldn’t be fair to let him get caught up in her marital disintegration. James could dam well wait until the end of the summer.
She went through to the sitting room and sat down at the little desk. She took out the writing paper.
Dear James,
You left a message yesterday asking if you could come down and see me. I’m sorry but I must say no. I accept that we need to talk this over but, at the moment, I can’t offer you more than this letter.
I have a new life now James and it would not benefit either of us for you to come down. I can give you the name of my solicitor if that is of any help? If you want to get things going with the divorce or if you want some kind of formal separation then go ahead. And if you’re worried about what I might try and claim then don’t. I know I’ll be advised to go for half of everything but, to be honest, that doesn’t seem fair. You had that house long before I came along and I took everything I wanted with me when I left. Rowena has left me well set up so I won’t be bothering you for maintenance.
I’m sorry if this has made things difficult for you with Henry, but you understand each other well enough to sort it out I’m sure.
I don’t know exactly how these things work but you should be free of me soon. I’m sorry that things have not worked out and I hope you can forgive me.
Best Wishes,
Imogen.
She added details of the solicitor who had dealt with Rowena’s estate on a separate sheet of paper. With luck that would be an end of it.

Cherith turned the radio up and tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel in time to the music, this was almost fun. If she could just stop herself thinking about Henry she might find herself enjoying it. She liked driving, always had, but she didn’t get to do it on this scale that often. Henry liked to do the driving whenever they went on holiday or trips and, if she was honest, she was happy to let him. She had driven him a few times when he broke his ankle, how anyone can break their ankle playing golf was beyond her but he had managed to. He had been confined to the passenger seat for four weeks and Cherith counted down every day until he could drive himself again. On more than one occasion she had come so close to stopping the car and kicking him out. She had had to grip the steering wheel so hard she thought she might become attached to it. If she wasn’t getting too close then she was not keeping up with the traffic. If she wasn’t going to fast then she was too slow. She stuck it for the first two weeks and then rang for a taxi every time he wanted to go anywhere. By the time the plaster came off she had been through every taxi firm in the yellow pages. The first time he took the car out by himself she allowed herself an extra biscuit with her tea to celebrate. So most of her driving was confined to trips to the shops or to friends. Now she had three hundred miles all to herself.

Imogen picked Boris up from the armchair and carried him out to the garage. She plonked him in the basket of the bike.
‘Meow!!’
‘Don’t start. You need the fresh air. And so do I. And we have to get milk, post a letter and get things ready for mum. You’ll like mum. Now sit still.’ Something in her tone told Boris not to argue so he settled himself down.
Imogen peddled hard until she picked up as much speed as she could. The wind on her face almost made her eyes water and caught at her breath, it felt fantastic. By the time she started to slow down into the village her whole face was tingling and she was out of breath. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to carry on for ever. She got the milk, bread, cat food and tea in record time and turned the bike for home. She was going gently uphill on the way home so she was unable to get such a speed up again. It was probably for the best. Instead she settled to a gentler pace and took in the landscape. She had been there weeks now and did this ride at least three times a week, but it still took her by surprise. It was just so beautiful. You couldn’t have a big fast car down here. It would be an insult to the views that demanded to be looked at. Everything about life here demanded you took your time; they wouldn’t have broadband for at least another year. You couldn’t rush if you tried. Stress was a word rarely used and everything would be done ‘dreckly.’ It was what Rowena had left London for all those years ago. And what hundreds still moved down here for. There was a smug feeling to be had when you saw all the holiday makers going off home on a Saturday morning, knowing you were staying for good. Imogen was starting to know that feeling. She would see the latest batch of ’grockles’ in the post office buying their postcards and smile to herself. Never again would she have that sinking feeling on the Friday night knowing she was going back to London on the morning train. If she wanted she could stay here for the rest of her life. This thought calmed her down and she slowed the bike to Cornwall speed. Boris, who had been fidgeting and meowing in objection, now tucked himself up for the rest of the way home.

James stood staring out of the bedroom window, he was still in his pyjama bottoms. All night he had bee thinking about the possibility of starting up on his own. It began as a means of stopping himself thinking about Imogen, who still hadn’t called back. Now it was taking hold as a thought on its own. It had been a flippant remark on Olwen’s part but it wasn’t such a flippant idea. He hadn’t spoken to Henry since he told him to go to hell so he was assuming he no longer had a job. That was fine, but he couldn’t not work. He knew some men of his age who had already retired, as could he from a financial point of view, but he knew it would drive him mad. He saw one of those early-retired men from time to time and he didn’t recognise him. What had once been a fit, good looking and vibrant man was now a bath sponge, soft and not very interesting. James had no intention of becoming a bath sponge just yet. He had another twenty years before he reached the statutory retiring age, and he fully intended to go on well beyond that. He would die at his desk if he could, or he would have done once. Now he was not so sure about going on until he dropped, but he did want to go on for a while longer. It would take a lot of organizing though wouldn’t it? Although maybe he could do it from home. If he hired offices that would be rubbing Henry’s nose in it. That might not be such a bad thing but it might not be worth the hassle. Good God what was happening to him, suddenly worrying about what Henry might or might not think. Offices would look more professional, but working from home would be more flexible. Well standing in his jammies at lunchtime was not going to get anything sorted.
Fully dressed in the study James sat at the desk and went through his address book. He highlighted about a dozen clients he was sure would leave Henry and move on with him. On the second run through of the book he noticed that ninety five percent of the entries were business. He came to an entry for a chap who had once been a good friend. What had happened to him? He thought for a moment, trying to think how long it had been since they were last in touch. It must be five years, he was at the wedding, why they had lost touch he had no idea. He had punched the number in before he had really thought about what he was doing. It was unlikely he would still be on this number anyway.
‘Hello?’
The familiar voice made James jump. ‘Oh… Hello. Clive?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s James. James Lampress.’
‘Good God! I thought you were dead.’
‘Not quite yet.’ He gave a funny laugh, which he had never heard himself do before.
‘So how are you?’ Clive still sounded like Clive, but there was something different in his voice.
‘Well. Thank you. And you?’
‘Good, good. And how’s that lovely wife of yours?’ What was her name? Pretty though, good cook to.’
‘Imogen…Umm ok. She’s in Cornwall at the moment.’ Well it wasn’t a lie.
‘Very nice to.’ Clive had spotted the umm and was already putting two and two together. ‘So to what do I owe this honour? It’s been years you miserable bugger. I was wondering what I’d done to piss you off.’
‘You didn’t do anything, I don’t think. I was calling because it has been so long. I was wondering what you were up to these days?’
‘Retired old chap, about a year ago.’
‘But you’re only…?’
‘Forty nine.’
‘It seems to be happening a lot.’ James shook his head.
‘Best thing I ever did. I know it’s a cliché but I don’t know how I ever found the time to work. You should try it.’
So that was why he sounded different, James thought, the stress had gone out of his voice. ‘What brought all that on then?’
‘Maggie was fed up with never seeing me. And I was getting fed up with her getting fed up. Then Sara went off to America. She got such a good degree that she could have had her pick of jobs. But she fancied the states. Once she left I realised just how much I didn’t know about her. My own daughter and I hardly knew her. She kept emailing, telling us how fantastic it was out there and asking us to go and visit. I couldn’t remember the last time we had a holiday together.’
‘Sounds familiar.’
‘Exactly. Eventually she and Maggie ganged up on me and we went. Big mistake. As soon as I took two weeks off that was it. When I came back I couldn’t settle. Six months later they sent a memo round asking for people to take early retirement. I didn’t need asking twice. With the settlement we bought a little ‘apartment’ near to Sara and a cottage in Sussex, sorted.’
‘Nice life if you can get it!’
‘Very nice. So what about you? Still with Henry?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I mean I’m thinking about going it alone.’
‘Good for you. Rather you than me, but why not?’
‘Well it’s only a though at the moment.’
‘Don’t think too long is my advice. When an opportunity comes along you take it, first rule of business remember?’
‘I don’t think I will ever forget it.’ James gave a chuckle through a grimace. It was something Henry had drummed into everyone who came to work for him, one of his mantras. ‘If someone’s stupid enough to let his guard down, get the knife in quick. Don’t wait, don’t think, it’s all about impulse.’ It was irritating to admit that the last part was true.
‘I tell you what. We’re having a barbeque on Sunday. Why don’t you come over? Maggie would love to see you I’m sure. And it would be good to catch up.’
‘That would be good, thank you.’
‘Ok then, see you Sunday.’
‘See you Sunday.’
James put the phone down on Clive and immediately started drafting two letters. His official letter of resignation and a letter to send out to all the names on his list. Telling them all about his new company.

The gate squeaking told Imogen her mother had arrived. She went out into the garden and met her coming up the path. They threw their arms around each other. She had been worried about seeing Cherith. She knew her mother had every right to be angry for all she said she was not.
‘Look at you!’ Cherith stood back a little and took a good look at her daughter. ‘You’ve changed so much! You have a tan. I’ve never seen you with a tan. It suits you. And your hair, so blonde! All that sun on it I suppose. And what are you wearing? New clothes too. Still I don’t suppose Prada is really appropriate anymore. You look lovely.’
‘Thank you.’ Imogen took the opportunity to give her mother a good look over to. She was not looking so good. She looked tired. It had been a long journey, but it was more than that. She was thinner. She was still the epitome of the term ‘smart casual’ and her hair and make-up were immaculate as always, but she had aged since Imogen saw her last. She smiled and gave her mother another hug.
‘Come in. I’ll make tea.’
‘Lovely. I’m exhausted. I’ve never driven that far on my own before.’ Cherith put her hand up to her hair and gave it a little pat. Then she smoothed her cream linen trousers down, although she was sure they would never recover from six hours in the car.
‘So how are you darling?’ Cherith asked as she sat down at the kitchen table. She watched Imogen moving around the kitchen as if she had always been there. The last time she had been in this kitchen it was Rowena who had been busying about making tea. Imogen looked more relaxed than she had ever done in that huge kitchen in London, and Cherith noticed that the teapot was being brought out especially.
‘Well. Better than I thought I would be.’ Imogen replied.
‘You seem very settled.’
‘I am. I love it here.’
Cherith grimaced a little. ‘We should never have stopped you coming, I’m sorry.’
‘Well I could have started coming down on my own once I could drive couldn’t I? But I didn’t. It’s not your fault mum.’
‘So you keep saying. Oh well we’ll agree to differ shall we?’
‘Fair enough. So how was the journey?’
‘Not too bad actually. I was quite surprised at myself. I was scared to death for the first fifty miles, but once I got used to not having your father barking directions I started to quite enjoy it.’
‘How is dad?’ She wanted to get the question out of the way.
‘You father is your father, what more can I say? He went off quite happily this morning. His planet has been bumped and he’s cross that’s all. He’ll make everything revolve around himself again and things will go back to normal. He’ll brood about it from time to time I dare say, but he’ll get over it.’
‘When’s he home?’
‘Day after tomorrow. All hell will break out then I’m afraid. Or maybe not, he might supprise us.’ They looked at each other.
‘All hell will break out.’ They said together. Then they burst out laughing.
‘Oh dear, poor Henry. He really doesn’t understand why no one is playing his game anymore.’
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Boris came in and had a good look at the visitor. He came in slowly and went up to Cherith. He jumped up on the table and sat looking at the two women. Then he went up to Cherith and bumped his head against her cheek.
‘Hello.’ Cherith gave him a tickle behind his ear and he started to purr.
‘This is Boris. He came with the house.’
‘He’s adorable.’
‘And he knows it.’
Boris turned and gave Imogene a ‘who pulled your chain’ look.
‘Hello!! Are you there?’ Molly’s voice came through the sitting room windows, closely followed by Molly herself. Imogen was a little disconcerted to begin with. She had never seen Molly without Eleanor before. She knew they lived their own lives but they also did such a lot together, especially gang up on her. Thinking about Philip made her blush. Then she remembered she hadn’t asked Molly not to mention him to Cherith. This could become embarrassing.
‘Hi Molly. Mum you remember Molly?’ She squeaked.
‘Of course I do. Hello.’ They gave each other a little peck on the cheek and Molly sat down to join them.
‘No Eleanor today?’ Imogen asked.
‘She’s gone into Truro shopping. Not proper shopping, or I may have gone with her, but Sainsbury’s.’ Molly pulled a face to indicate her disapproval of supermarkets. ‘Did you have a good journey Cherith?’
‘Yes thank you, I did.’
‘I bet the traffic here feels a bit different to London?’
‘Oh yes I’ll say! It took as long to get out of London as it did to do the last seventy miles or so.’
‘I can quite believe it.’
They would carry on like this all day, Imogen thought. She was glad they were getting on. Mind you it was just as well if Cherith was going to stay with Molly.
‘Have you thought about what it is you might like?’ Molly asked.
‘Sorry?’ Cherith didn’t quite understand the question.
‘Your bequest.’
‘Oh I see. No I’ve no idea. It will have to be something Imogen will let me have.’ She gave a light laugh.
It was a good job Eleanor wasn’t here, she would be bound to make some comment about Cherith not wanting to take Philip home as he was spoken for. There, she’d done it again, and she was blushing again. She turned away in case Molly should see her.
‘So do you want to come back with me now or have you got plans?’
‘I don’t know.’ Cherith looked across at Imogen.
‘I don’t mind. You can come back over later.’
‘Yes, I’ll do that. I’ll come with you now then Molly, if I may.’
Imogen walked them down the garden path and watched as they carried on chatting, without letup, while getting into their cars. They would still be going if they could. Imogen could imagine a bizarre kind of CB system so that they could carry on.
As she turned to go back up to the cottage she saw Philip lurking by the farm gate. When he was sure she had seen him he came out into the lane.
‘Do you make a habit of skulking in hedgerows?’ She laughed.
‘Only when there are beautiful women around.’ he grinned.
‘Oh that’s awful.’
‘But you’ll kiss me anyway won’t you?’
‘Probably.’
And he was right.
‘So what brings you here?’ She asked when she had finally put him down.
‘I can’t remember now.’
She gave him a light shove on the arm.
‘Oh yes. It was to tell you Mr T needs to turn the water off for a couple of hours tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh.’ So it wasn’t to see her then. For some reason she felt disappointed, which was stupid.
‘He was going to pop a note in the post box on his dog walk tonight, but I said I’d pop over and tell you.’ He grinned.
She couldn’t help the smile that sprang across her face. She should know better by now.
‘Have you got time for a cuppa?’
‘Oh I should think so. What is it about you Brits and tea? Mrs T is always saying it’s time to put the kettle on, then Mr T tells her it won’t suit her and they laugh as if it’s the first time he had said it. Sweet really.’
‘I was amazed how they hadn’t changed. I think they’ve been like that forever and will always be, for eternity. He used to tell that joke when I was a little girl, and I admit I always laughed.’
‘You hear of people like that. People that have been together forever and you can’t imagine them without each other, never thought I’d ever meet some though.’ Philip hopped up onto the kitchen table and started swinging his legs. I used to do that when I was little, Imogen thought.
‘Doesn’t happen these days. Their generation married for life no matter what. These days we clear off to Cornwall after six years.’ Imogen said.
‘The Tragowen’s are the exception. There are a lot more of their generation who would have left after less than six years if they could’ve. There was this couple down our street back home. Both in their eighties, married for sixty years. They hadn’t spoken for forty of them, so they say. But they weren’t happy, that was for sure. You never saw them together and they had a fence dividing the garden so they didn’t have to sit outside together. That’s no life. These days they would’ve divorced and gone on to have happy lives with other people. When it’s gone wrong it’s gone wrong.’
‘I know. He wants to come down and see me. There was a message on the machine.’
‘You didn’t say.’ He sounded hurt.
‘I only found it this morning. I wanted to tell you as soon as I found it. In fact my first thought was wanting mum. But she was travelling and you were working and I couldn’t come and disturb you…’
‘You can come and find me whenever you need me.’ He snatched hold of her hands and gave them a hard squeeze.
‘I know. But I didn’t know where you would be this morning. So I wrote back to him telling him no. I made the decision and I did something about it, on my own.’ She couldn’t help smiling, she was starting to feel rather proud of herself. All this making decisions was rather liberating and she was getting rather used to it.
‘Good on ya.’ He kissed her.
‘Well if I can handle that dam mower then I can do anything can’t I?’
‘Bloody right. Talking of which it’s about time it was done again, the grass I mean.’ He nodded towards the garden.
‘I’ll decide when to cut the grass thank you very much.’ She gave a theatrical toss of the head and poured the tea.
Philip watched her and thought his heart might burst, ‘that’s my girl,’ he whispered to himself.

Mulberry Gin Chapters 11 & 12

Chapter Eleven

Boris jumped up onto the pillows and gave a loud meow. Imogen groaned and without opening her eyes reached out to stroke him. It had become their morning routine, when Boris became too hungry he came in and started waking her up.
‘All right sweetheart, just five more minutes eh?’
‘Meow!’
‘Two then.’
‘Meow!!’
‘Ok, ok. Come on then.’ She swung her legs out of bed and tried to make the rest of her follow. After several yawns and several stretches, she made it to her feet.
‘Meow!!!’ Boris was now at the door, Imogen was sure he would tap his foot with impatience if he could.
‘I’m coming!’ Together they would go to the kitchen where her first job was to fetch Boris his morning milk. Once he was busy she could get on with the equally important job of the first cup of tea. There was nothing like that first cup in the mornings, although she had never smoked she could fully understand it when it was said that the first cigarette of the day was the best, the first cup of tea definatly was. She leaned against the kitchen table and looked out of the window. On the other side of the hedge she could see Fred on the tractor bumping off towards the end field. He would have been working a couple of hours already and was on his way back from breakfast in the farmhouse. It was the same every morning and there was something comforting about seeing Fred going about his routine. She wondered if it changed through the year, if he did things differently in the winter when the weather was against him. Probably just wore a thicker cap she thought with a smile.
‘Meow.’ His milk gone it was now time for some proper breakfast. Imogen went to the pantry and produced a pouch of his favourite food, and a jar of raspberry jam. She put the cat food in Boris’s bowl and the jam on the sideboard next to the toaster. She was sure one day Boris would get the jam and she would get cat food on toast. On her way back to the teapot she put two slices of toast on. If anyone had been watching they would say this little ballet had been rehearsed over years.
After breakfast Imogen went for a shower. He must have called around while she was in there because when she came into the sitting room there was a note pushed under the French windows. She started to read while she unlocked them and flung them open to the July sunshine.
Ginny,
Just dropped by to see what you were doing later. I’ve got to go into town this afternoon on some errands and wondered if you’d like to come along? I’ll be in the lane about two; I’ll wait for you. See you later.

Phillip.

Cheeky bugger, what did he think she did all day, sit about and wait for young Australians to offer her trips into town? But she couldn’t take the smile off her face, and went straight back into the bedroom to change.

Phillip walked back to the farm wondering if he’d done the right thing. He was sure she liked him, but she was still married. Yes she had left James but the way she talked about him he knew she was hurting. He also knew that she wasn’t yet sure exactly what she was doing here or what she was going to do next. Maybe he could help her decide, maybe he could help her find whatever it was she had lost, or maybe he could just give them both a fun summer. Either way he knew he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. And was that so wrong? Really who wouldn’t want to be with her? Well James clearly. What was that mans problem? He shook his head. If he were married to Imogen he would thank God every day. Maybe he shouldn’t judge, he’d never met the guy after all, and Imogen might not be perfect to live with, though he doubted it. If there was one thing he had learnt growing up in his neighbourhood it was that you never know what goes on behind closed doors.
That couple from three doors down proved that. Bloody hell that was a shock. If he hadn’t seen them with his own eyes he would never have believed it. He’d only popped round to borrow a screwdriver to fix the lawn mower. There was no answer at the front door but he could hear sounds so he went round the back. Through the open windows he could see his neighbour chained to the wall being beaten with a riding crop by the lady from across the street. They saw him before he had the chance to dart around the corner. Trying very hard not to look at either of them he made his request and was told to help himself from the shed. He grabbed the first screwdriver he saw and bolted. He was pretty sure James wasn’t in to that kind of thing but it just goes to show.

When Imogen finally came back out of the bedroom she saw that the postman had been. He never came as far as the cottage but, American style; there was a post box by the garden gate with a little flag which he put up if he’d left anything. She could see it from the French windows and wandered down to see what there was. Normally it was just junk. The first week there was still the odd letter for Rowena but a couple of curt replies had put a stop to them.
She was surprised to see her own name typed on one envelope. She hadn’t given anyone this address, and only her mother knew where she was. With a slight tremble she opened it as she walked back to the cottage. Opening it out she gave a cry of shock and horror. It was from James. She closed it back up and took it over to the Mulberry tree. If she was going to read it then she wanted some support.
Pressing her back hard against the trunk she opened the letter out again and started reading.
Dear Imogen,
This is my sixth attempt to write to you. I don’t even know if you’ll get it, but I’m pretty sure you’re there in Cornwall.
Imogen I need to know what’s going on. Your note was very vague. For the first three weeks I waited for you to come home, then I started to realise that maybe you wouldn’t be. Do you think it is fair to stay away so long without getting in touch? Please talk to me, I’ve stated to realise things about our relationship and myself. I was angry but not anymore. You must have had your reasons to leave and I’d like to know what they were. I’d also like to put my side across, to be given the chance to defend myself.
Please reply to this letter. If you don’t want to call me then at least write.

Yours,
James.

Well it was short and to the point. Her first thought was how he had found out. She thought about Cherith, she was the only person who knew, but she wouldn’t give her away would she? Surely she was immune to such manipulations. Maybe it hadn’t been fair to ask Cherith to keep it a secret knowing what the men were like. But it must have come from Cherith. She had made sure there was nothing left behind that could give a clue to her whereabouts. It was such a childish thing to do to think she could hide out here and never be found so long as she didn’t tell where she was. Of course people would find her sooner or later. She had hoped it would be later and she never thought she would have been given away like that, not buy her own mother. Well however it had happened it had happened, and now she had to decide what to do about it. She went back into the house and, with a trembling hand, picked up the phone.
‘Hello?’
‘Mum it’s me.’ she tried to keep her voice level.
‘Hello darling how are you? I’ve been thinking I should call you.’
‘Was that before or after you’d spoken to James?’ Imogen pulled her spare hand into a tight fist and thumped it against her thigh.
There was a short silence. ‘How did you know I’d spoken to James?’ Her mother’s voice was pale and quiet.
‘Because he wrote to me. Mum how could you?’
‘But darling I didn’t….’ Cherith squeaked.
‘You must have.’
‘I promise you I never said a word. He called me about three days ago and asked me if I knew where you were. I crossed my fingers behind my back and said no. He said he thought you might have gone down to Cornwall. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. Oh dear. I got the impression he didn’t believe me, but I honestly didn’t tell him anything.’ Cherith was nearly in tears. She had betrayed Imogen, but not by telling on her to James. She should have called her as soon as she had spoken to him.
‘Sorry. I just…’ Shit. She unclenched her fist.
‘It’s all right. I would have probably reacted the same way. I really have no idea where he got the idea. He said he’d been thinking, not something I thought men ever did a lot of, but there you go. Still it’s better that it’s out in the open isn’t it?’ Cherith said hopefully.
‘Maybe. Did he say anything about the money and the shares?’
‘He asked if you’d been left anything. I told him that, as he well knew, we hadn’t been told anything about the will. And we haven‘t, officially.’
‘Thanks mum. I wonder where he got the idea?’
‘I hate to bring it up, but I think there’s a high chance he’ll tell your father.’
‘Oh bugger, sorry. Yes I suppose he will.’ Imogen sighed. So soon, her bubble burst so soon. As soon as Henry found out that would be it, game over. ‘Will he come down do you think?’
‘Not if I can help it darling.’
‘Thanks mum. But what about you? When are you coming down to choose your, whatever it is you’re having?’
‘I still don’t think it will be possible, especially now. And Grace has broken her leg, so I can‘t use her as an alibi. Maybe I could sneak down the next time your father goes on a golf trip, there must be one coming up. I’ll give you a ring.’
‘That’ll be lovely. Molly says you can stay with her.’
‘Molly? Do I know Molly?’
‘One of Rowena’s friends, Molly and Eleanor, they’re inseparable. You must remember them.’
‘Yes I think I do, nice pair. Which one was Molly?’
‘The quiet one.’
‘Oh yes.’ Cherith laughed. ‘They were so funny, like an old married couple.’
‘They haven’t changed.’
‘Oh bother, that’s the doorbell. I’m sorry darling I’ll have to go. Please keep in touch won’t you.’
‘Of course. Bye mum.’
‘Goodbye darling.’

James flicked another paperclip into the waste paper basket, that made twenty-three, he wondered if there was a world record and if he’d broken it yet. He was thankful Henry would be out of the office all day. His secretary, Flora he now knew she was called, had been acting strangely since he asked her how she was. She’d been noticeably avoiding him. His driver too had given him a very dirty look when he said thank you for opening the door. It was like they thought he’d gone mad. It wasn’t that out of character surely? He sighed and flicked number twenty-four, direct hit, that must be a record. He should get on with some work. She wasn’t going to call today. He didn’t expect her to, not yet. He looked at his watch, eleven thirty, she might not have even got the letter yet, rural deliveries could be very unreliable. Give her a couple of days, a week perhaps. And do some work, do what you’re good at, screw some money out of an unsuspecting client. He picked up the phone and made a couple of calls. He didn’t press for answers, just left messages, he never left messages. It wasn’t fun today. If he was honest it hadn’t been that much fun for a long time. There were moments when he remembered what it was like, the thrill of nailing a deal he had been chasing for months, but it had become too easy, his reputation went before him and they caved in almost before he said hello. The money was still nice, sometimes it was the only thing that kept him interested. It used to be the other way around, it used to be the business, the challenge, that kept him going and the money was a nice extra. When it had changed he didn’t know. Long before Imogen came along he was sure. She had helped for a while, thinking how proud she would be of him gave him some drive back. But now she was gone and so had the last of his interest. He could do something else perhaps, but there was nothing else he knew anything about. And at his age there was little chance of breaking into anything new. It had taken him ten years to get this far; at his age he couldn’t do that again. Mind you there were perks. This week was the second week of Wimbledon and he had some of the best tickets to the two finals. Imogen always loved going to Wimbledon. Who could he take this year? He couldn’t turn up alone. Some of the best business was done under the cover of a nice day out, Wimbledon, Ascot, the Chelsea flower show. Now that had been a good day, he had come home with some very useful phone numbers and at least three appointments with new clients. What Imogen had done he didn’t know. He had gone off with some cronies and she wandered around on her own. He hadn’t asked her what she’d done, just spent the whole journey home bragging about all the good contacts he’d made. He hurled the box of paper clips across the room.

Imogen was standing in the middle of the room with the letter in her hand when she heard the Land Rover coming out of the farmyard. She had forgotten about Philip and their trip. She looked down at the paper in her hand wondering what to do with it. The sound of the cars horn jolted her. She shoved the letter into a draw and grabbed her bag.
‘Hi, I thought you’d stood me up.’ Philip was leaning out of the window, the sun playing with his hair and bouncing off his bare, toned arms.
‘Sorry.’ Imogen swung up into the passenger seat wishing she hadn’t worn a skirt.
‘Everything ok?’ Philip frowned. ’You look a little pale.’
‘Fine.’ She didn’t meet his gaze.
‘You can tell me about it later. I’ll buy you an ice cream.’
How did he do that, how did he know? All she had said was ’sorry’ and ’fine’.
‘So what have you got to do in town?’ She tried to sound bright.
‘Pick up a couple of sacks of feed, pay a couple of cheques in; buy you and ice cream while you tell me what’s happened.’ He smiled his best, most disarming smile. Imogen couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Is mind reading something they teach you in Australian schools?’
‘Yeah, it’s compulsory. We also learn how to put out bush fires and save dolphins.’ Now he was laughing to. ’Well we learn about bush fires anyway.’
‘Very useful I should think, in Australia.’
‘Maybe in the bush, not so much by the ocean.’
‘But do the kids in the bush learn how to save dolphins?’
‘Probably. Bt you’re changing the subject.’
‘Oh you’re like a dog with a bone.’
‘And I’m just going to keep on gnawing so you might as well spill.’
‘What about my ice cream?’
‘Alright we’ll pick up the feed and then go get ice cream.’

Imogen was glad they had the trailer, the chicken feed smelt appalling. She sat in the Land Rover outside the bank waiting. She could see through the window there was a long queue. She sat back and fiddled with the radio, finally getting some soothing classical music. Closing her eyes she tried hard not to think about James’s letter.
‘Caught you napping.’ Philip tapped on the window. ‘So ice cream then.’
He parked in the square and they went in to the little café on the corner. Without asking what she wanted Philip went to the counter and ordered for them both, it was ever thus Imogen thought.
‘I thought I’d got away from that.’ she said when he came back to their table.
‘Sorry, but it’ll be worth it I promise. So come on then.’
‘I had a letter this morning.’
‘From James?’
‘From James.’
‘Saying?’
‘I don’t really know. He wants to know why I left. He said he wants a chance to defend himself.’
They were interrupted by the waitress coming over with two of the biggest knickerbockers glories Imogen had ever seen. She sat with her mouth open while they were carefully set down.
‘One each! Oh my goodness.’
‘You see if I’d asked you’d never have chosen it, even though you would’ve wanted to.’
‘I’ll be sick.’ she protested.
‘No you won’t.’
‘I’ll get fat.’
‘Not from one Ice cream.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
They sat in greedy silence for several minutes until they needed a break.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Where’s the letter?’
Imogen grimaced. ‘In a draw.’
‘Oh Gin.’
‘I know. I panicked. I thought if I hid it it might go away. Pathetic isn‘t it?’
‘Not pathetic at all. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up all the time.’
‘I know. I suppose I should reply.’
‘Not if you don’t want to. You need to take some time to think about what you want to do, not what you think he wants. You’ve done the hard bit. Don’t let him spook you anymore. Why not reply to him telling him you’ve got his letter and that you’ll be in touch soon, how does that sound?’
‘I suppose you’re right. In fact bugger it you are right. I’ve left him why should I let him frighten me. Sod him he can wait until I’m good and ready.’ She took a huge spoon full of ice cream and shoved it all into her mouth, nearly chocking. Philip burst out laughing.
‘You go girl.’
Imogen tried not to laugh with her mouth full, but failed and sent pink gloop across the table. This made Philip laugh all the harder. Soon they were both hysterical with the rest of the café staring.

Cherith’s heart pounded and her hand trembled on the study door handle. She knew he was at the office for hours yet, but still she felt a little sick. She came into this room almost every day to bring the post in, but never before to break into Henry’s desk. Why he kept his diary locked away she could not imagine. They both knew she would never look in it. And she wasn’t really looking now, not for anything important. If Henry had got a golfing weekend coming up then the details would be in his diary. He would tell her about it as an afterthought the day before, but she needed to know now.
There it sat, a vast Victorian roll top job in the darkest and most menacing mahogany you could imagine. She took a deep breath, here goes. She had heard of women who did this kind of thing all the time. One of her bridge friends claimed to go through her husband’s desk, post and pockets at least once a week. How on earth they managed it Cherith could not think, it was terrifying. She gave the roll top a little shake in the hope it would have been left open, no, unlucky. She tried the draws, locked. She sighed. All right then she would have to be very careful. She took her metal nail file and started jiggling it in the lock. Well it might work in films but not in real life. Ok then maybe he kept a key somewhere. She felt all around the back and sides, no. She looked behind the curtains, but she knew she wouldn’t find anything, she had spent more years than she cared to remember dusting this room, Henry would not allow Mrs Davis, the cleaner, in in case she saw something she shouldn’t, heaven knew what. Then she noticed a slight fray in the edge of the carpet under the window. Stooping down she gently pulled it back, bingo. There was a little brass key. With a trembling hand she fitted it in the lock and gave the top a push. The lid rolled back with a terrifying clatter.
‘Shhhhh.’ She whispered to it and shot around to check the door. Stupid woman he’s at work, now calm down and find the diary. She stood and looked for a moment, making note of exactly where everything was in case she had to move it. She was in luck. The fat leather book was sat right on top of a pile of old letters. Carefully she lifted it up and took it into the kitchen.
Sitting at the table she started to flick through, keeping an ear open for the door. He really did record the most ridiculous things in here. There were several entries about the time keeping of various people, including James, who was in trouble Cherith noticed. There was a list of what he had had for lunch and dinner each day with a tick or a cross beside each dish, her mushroom risotto got a cross, she noted, but a bread and butter pudding from his club got three ticks, she harrumphed and flicked through a bit further. Today was the sixth so she started from there. Oh please let her be right, there must be something coming up. Yes! There it was. He would be gone for three days. With relief she jotted the dates down and carried the book back. She put it to bed on its mattress of letters, what were they? She leaned over to see. They were old, going brown around the edges. With a little shock she recognised her own, much younger handwriting. They were the letters she had written to him before they were married. She turned a little pale and put her fingers out to touch their edges. She thought he had binned them years ago. She never thought he had kept them in the first place. By their state they had been read and re-read many times. She was close to tears when she rolled the top down and locked the lid. He did love her. For thirty years she hadn’t been sure, but you didn’t keep letters from someone you didn’t love for all this time did you. Oh bother. She was about to plan a secret trip to Cornwall to visit their daughter, whose whereabouts she had also been keeping secret from him. In fact she had been considering not coming back. She had promised Imogen she wouldn’t tell Henry about Cornwall or leaving or her own bequest. Now she didn’t know what to do. If he loved her then he would be hurt by her deception.
‘Oh Henry’ She said to herself.
The terms of Rowena’s will were very specific, under no circumstances was Henry to accompany her to Cornwall, but it didn’t say she couldn’t tell him. If she told him that she was planning a little trip to Cornwall to collect a bequest left her by Rowena, and told him of the terms then she couldn’t be blamed if he chose to follow her, and if he happened to see Imogen then that couldn’t be helped either could it? She wouldn’t be breaking her promise to Imogen would she, or would she? She had said she would try and get down without Henry knowing. She leant her cheek against the cool glass of the study window.
She was still there when she heard the back door open. It wasn’t Henry, not by the back door. It would be Mrs Davis, the cleaner.
‘Oh Mrs M. You gave me a start.’ Mr Davis put her hand up to her chest to reinforce her surprise. ‘It was so quiet I thought you must be out.’
‘Sorry Mrs Davis. I was just having a think. Shall I make some tea?’ Cherith led the way to the kitchen.
‘Oh lovely.’ Mrs Davis pulled up a chair to indicate that tea and work did not cooperate. ‘Can I ask what you were thinking about?’ Any excuse for a bit of gossip.
‘Going on holiday.’
‘Lovely. Somewhere nice?’
‘Not me. Henry. He’s got a golf trip coming up, West Sussex.’
‘Nice. I have cousin lives out that way, nice country. Are you not going with him?’
‘Oh I’m not allowed, none of the wives are. And to be honest I don’t think I’d want to. He can get very competitive and I’d have to spend the whole three days telling him how wonderful he was.’
‘Go off on your own then. Have your own little holiday.’
‘I suppose I could.’ Something was occurring to her.
‘Have you got someone you could visit?’
‘My, our, daughter is in Cornwall at the moment.’
‘Lovely, why not go and see her? I love Cornwall, we had our honeymoon there you know. Lovely country. Which bit is your daughter in?’
‘The south, not far from Truro.’
‘Nice shops in Truro. One of the biggest Marks and Spencer outside London you know.’
‘Really.’ Cherith sipped her tea.
‘Oh yes. Why not treat yourself. Better than sitting here for days on your own. I could come in and keep an eye on things for you.’
‘That would be kind.’
‘No problem at all. When were you thinking?’
‘Next week. Probably from the eleventh?’
‘Fine. Will you be going before himself or after? I only ask because I wouldn’t want to turn up and find him still here. No offence.’
‘Oh I expect he’ll be gone before me. You could come as usual and clean and then pop in a couple of days later and bring the post in, that would be wonderful.’ Might it work? Cherith wondered.
‘No problem at all. Now I’d better get on. Thanks for the tea.’
It was a perfect solution. Cherith felt a little mean but she couldn’t tell Henry herself. Mrs Davis on the other hand loved to tell anybody anything. She also cleaned for several of their friends. She was bound to tell one of them and they would tell their husband, who would see Henry and tell him. By the time he came home full of bluster she would be packed and ready to go, and so would he. He wouldn’t be able to cancel the golf at such short notice so he wouldn’t be able to follow her. At worst she might get a couple of days of paddying but she was used to that. She crossed her fingers, touched wood and hoped it would all work out. With some luck and a following wind she would be gone before he found out and would have had a few days before she had to face the music.

Philip dropped her at the gate and bumped the Land Rover back to the farm. She wondered if he would be in trouble for taking so long, or if he had told them he was taking her with him. Well it was probably all round the village by now anyway, and if not it soon would be once Mrs Tragowen knew. In London she had always taken great pains to keep herself out of the dinner party gossip and hated the thought that she might get talked about. Now she would be the sole topic, and it didn’t bother her at all. She knew Rowena had been the mainstay of village talk for years, it was only right to keep up the tradition.
Entering the house her eyes went straight to the desk draw. She could see the letter sitting there without having to open it. Her heart sank and the ice cream no longer felt like a treat but like a huge lump in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t leave it there she knew. She decided she’d have a cup of tea first.
From the kitchen table she could see through the door to the sitting room with the desk, and the draw staring back accusing her. She got up and went to look out of the kitchen window, turning her back on the open door. There was Fred again, did he ever do anything other than go back and forth past the cottage? It was amazing to Imogen that he still looked exactly the same as when she was last here, the same tweed cap and jacket, which was hung up in the cab of the tractor on hot days. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been the same cap and jacket as fourteen years ago.
Her mug was empty and she couldn’t fit another one in with all the ice cream. You’ve got to do this, she told herself. James had gone to the trouble of writing to her, and she knew it would have taken some effort on his part. She imagined him sitting in his study trying to think of what to say to her.
The phone ringing made her jump, and she said a small thank you to the god of good timing under her breath for the distraction.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello darling.’
‘Hi mum. How are you?’
‘I’m fine. But I don‘t think you are. Are you all right?’
‘I’m full of ice cream that’s all.’
‘At lunch time?’
‘I know, I feel a bit sick.’
‘Serves you right.’
‘So, you called?’
‘Yes. Your father is going away on the twelfth of next month for three days with golf. I was wondering if that would be a good time for me to come down?’
‘Oh yes! That would be great. I’ll tell Molly, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll call her later and arrange it. What day’s the twelfth?’
‘A Wednesday. But I’m going to come down the day before if that’s all right.’
‘Of course it is. Why the day before? You’re not doing a bunk like me are you?’
‘No! Not yet.’ she gave a weak laugh. ‘I found some letter this morning. They were the old letters I had written to your father before we married. I had no idea he had kept them and it gave me quite a start. Now I’ve found them I can’t keep lying to him. I’m not going to break my promise to you darling, but I can’t keep deceiving him either. So I’ve hatched myself a little plan. I’ve told Mrs Davis about you being in Cornwall and that I might come and visit while Henry is in Sussex. I’ve asked her to come in on the eleventh so that He’ll still be there. He’ll have realised that I’ve gone. I’ll leave him a note. He won’t shout at Mrs Davis, he knows how hard it was to get her. But she’ll tell him where I’ve gone. So I won’t be lying to him and I won’t be disloyal to you, do you see?’ Cherith had felt awful about leaving it to Mrs Davis to tell Henry. She crossed her fingers behind her back. It was cowardly but it would give her the head start she needed.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to cover for me. Of course you can’t lie to dad. Tell him. Tell him everything if you like. I’m a grown up and I need to face the consequences.’
‘It’s all right. This is the best way, truly. If I tell him he’ll hit the roof and then go into one of his sulks. He’ll demand we come straight down there, and then there’ll be another scene. This way he’ll go off to golf fuming yes, but he’ll have a good rant to his friends, who will all agree with him, he’ll feel better, and by the time we both get home and confront each other it will be much more civilised. And I want to come and see you. If I tell him now he’ll stop me, and he’ll cancel his golf and then blame us both for that to.’
‘If you think that’s the best way.’ Imogen was doubtful.
‘I do. And have you given any thought to James’s letter?’
‘I’ve been trying very hard not to. It’s too soon mum. I just can’t think. Do you know what I mean? I talked to… a friend this afternoon about it but I don’t think I’m any clearer. At the time it seemed like the best thing to do. You know James, you can’t talk to him. If I had tried to tell him he wouldn’t have listened, and if he had listened he wouldn’t have understood. I used to think that all men were like that.’
‘Used to think?’
‘Yes.’ Imogen blushed down the phone. ‘Like I said I’ve been talking to a friend.’
‘And the friend is male?’ Cherith raised her eyebrows.
‘Yes. And he is only a friend, there’s nothing going on, he’s far too young anyway, barely out of school really, and anyway I’m still married,’ she stopped to take a breath, ‘and he’ll be going back to Australia in September.’
‘Be careful darling. Don’t let another one hurt you.’
‘Oh no I won’t. There’s nothing to it, but I don’t think Philip would do anything to hurt anyone.’
‘I look forward to meeting him.’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ Change the subject Imogen. ‘So what sort of time should I tell Molly to expect you?’
‘Lunch time I should think. I’m going to leave as soon as your father leaves for work, about eightish. Are you sure she’ll be all right about my staying with her? I don’t like the idea of just plopping myself on someone.’
‘Molly will love it. She’ll spend days cooking and cleaning and she’ll be in her element. Don’t worry mum, no one else down here ever seems to.’

James opened the front door and wrinkled his nose. The smell must have been there for some days but this was the first time he was aware of it. Stale take away food, spilt whisky, full rubbish bins and a more general mustiness that came from a house that had been shut up for weeks. He went around and started opening windows, letting air in and some of the smells out. Then he had a good look around.
He decided to start where the worst smells were coming from, in the kitchen. Putting the rubbish out would be a good start. He examined the dishwasher until he thought he had worked it out, and loaded as much into it as he could. The rest he put in the sink and turned on the hot tap. He realised he had been rather heavy handed with the washing up liquid when soft white foam started to creep up his arms, then over the top of the bowl. Oh well it looked pretty, and it smelled a dam sight more pleasant than the rest of the house. Clean dishes put away he opened the fridge, and promptly shut it again. Good God what was that? He opened it again more slowly with his hand over his mouth. In the door he saw a litre bottle of milk, with the top off, merrily growing a furry combination of green and brown stuff. Well that couldn’t be good. He took it, and some cheese that was trying desperately to catch up with the milk, out to the wheelie bin.
He opened the cupboard under the sink and stared at the array of bottles. He needed to clean, but with what? His first reaction was to call Olwen and ask. He shook his head, he could do this. He got every bottle out and started reading the labels. Finally he found the right one. It had to be the last one he picked up. Holding it at arms length he squeezed the trigger. A spurt of bright orange gunk splattered the surfaces. He pulled a face. Oh well it didn’t seem to be corroding anything. Right then, a cloth. Back to the sink cupboard. There were three different cloths, this was ridiculus, how much stuff did you need to clean one kitchen? He grabbed the blue one and went to work.
Satisfied with the kitchen he went into the study. In here the smell was of stale alcohol and sweet and sour sauce. There was a bright yellow/orange stain on the carpet where he had spilled the day glow gloop. He should have wiped it up right away, but he couldn’t be bothered so now there would be a stain there forever to remind him. He picked up the papers that littered the carpet and started to go through them. There were a few bits and pieces for Imogen among the post, mostly junk. He thought about sending it on to her. Then he thought about taking it down to her in person. He shook his head. He must wait until she got in touch. Anyway it was possible she wasn’t even in Cornwall. He put it all in a separate pile. He now had several dotted around him. He carefully filed everything away properly and went in search of a duster. Triumphant he returned with a duster and polish. Could you just spray it everywhere? Sure, why not. He sprayed everywhere and gave a spectacular sneeze.
When downstairs was back to something like its former self James went upstairs. The first thing he did was strip the bed of the sheets he had been sleeping in for the last four weeks, and stuff them into the overflowing laundry basket. He looked at the dirty washing and sighed. He scooped up as much of it as she could and went back downstairs, was this what Olwen did everyday? The washing machine took a little longer to fathom than the dishwasher, so many programmes, and he had no idea what all the funny little symbols meant. He did know that you had to do whites separately so he started with the sheets and his shirts. Well they seemed to be going round. Now back up to tackle the bathroom. It actually wasn’t as bad as he had feared, although the towels were no longer a pale cream. He threw them over the banister.
By midnight he had a neat pile of laundry ready to iron. Ironing didn’t appeal. He decided he didn’t need ironed sheets. You only slept on them and wrinkled them up again after all. The shirts, though, had to be done. He couldn’t keep nipping out at lunchtime to buy new ones, he already had dozens.
The first time he tried to put the ironing board up it bit him. He kicked it into submission and tried again. It wobbled but at least it was upright. The iron itself was not so obliging. It took several minutes of violent hissing and spluttering before he realised he needed to put water in it. It took three hours and several burns to get enough shirts for the next week. He carried them up, put them away and threw himself onto the bed. The tang of the fresh sheets in his nostrils made him get up and take a shower, he hadn’t gone to all that trouble just to mess them up right away. From now on he was not going to fall asleep in his clothes, he was not going to spend the night slumped in the study chair, he was not going to drink so much and he was going to try and eat proper food. Olwen had taken him shopping so he knew where to go and some of what to buy. He thought about her while he dried his hair. She had left him in the pub garden under a cloud. He should call and apologise. She had a point. It hadn’t been what he had wanted to hear right at that moment, but it was true none the less. In fact her giving him a verbal slap might well have been just what he needed. One thing was for certain, he was not going to do anything about anything until the morning, or later in the morning, it was four am and he needed sleep. For the first time in weeks he fell asleep without the aid of the whisky bottle.

Two hours after James had finally got to bed Imogen was up. She had spent all night tossing and turning. One minute James was in her head, then it was Philip. One minute she was smiling, then she was frowning. She gave up on sleep and lay there stroking Boris, who purred and stretched out to his full length, which was surprisingly long. She was an ostrich. She thought if she didn’t think about it then it might go away. Like a child who thinks if he can’t see you then you can’t see him, even when his bum’s sticking out from beneath the sheets. Now she couldn’t stop seeing it, all of it. She thought she left because James didn’t love her. Maybe she left because she didn’t love James, in which case why leave, if she didn’t love him then why not stay and take what was on offer? The fact that it bothered her so much that he didn’t love her made her think that maybe she did love him, did that even make sense? By six she was fed up and went to make tea. She sat at the table and half expected to see Fred and his tractor.
She sipped her tea. Ok so let’s suppose I did love James then what about Philip, what were all these feelings about? She had never felt anything like this with James. With Philip she laughed, she smiled, she lived. She didn’t love him, she shook her head, of course she didn’t she hardly knew him. The thought was ridiculous.
She took her tea back to bed and cuddled under the sheets. If the world couldn’t see her then she couldn’t see the world. But it didn’t work for her any more than it did for small children. She needed to sort this out. It was all very well Philip telling her to stand up for herself, make James wait until she was ready. James wanted to know where he stood, and that was fair enough. Like white nose it buzzed and fuzzed and wouldn’t go away. Oh God, she pulled the quilt tighter over her head. She tried to focus on James’ face, to picture exactly what he looked like. The harder she tried the more she realised she couldn’t remember the last time she saw him smile. Philip, on the other hand, smiled all the time. She pushed Philip away and tried to focus back on James. She knew she didn’t love him when she married him. That was a fact. It was now that she needed to think about, did she love him now? The decision to leave had been too easy. It was made as soon as she knew about Mulberry cottage. Well all that told her was she wanted to get away from her old life. She was fed up with the endless social and business events, the bitching and backbiting of the other wives, which she had never fitted in with. And it was a bit boring if she was honest, she was busy every day with gym, swimming, shopping, entertaining, coffee mornings for one charity or another, there was always something to do, but there were days when she seemed to be in some kind of dream, not engaging with it all, and bored stiff. So it was the lifestyle she wanted to get away from and not James? She sighed, no it was James to. If she had loved him then she would have put up with it all, she would have enjoyed sharing his world with him, but she couldn’t and she hadn’t. She needed to be honest with herself and with him. If she ever had any feelings for him at all then they had faded, she may have cared for him but she hadn’t loved him. And for herself she needed to be loved and she needed approval and they were things James just couldn’t give her. For a long time she thought it was because she was not trying hard enough. But Philip liked her just as she was, he took her for herself. However hard you tried you could never make someone love you. Fair enough, they weren’t suited and that was that. She was sorry because it meant they had wasted six years. Maybe she should be angry, six precious years gone. But it was too late for that, and what would be the point of getting angry?
She went into the sitting room and pulled out some writing paper. It was old fashioned these days but she had always liked writing letters far more than the phone or emails. James had bought her a laptop two birthdays ago and set her up with an email account, in two year she had sent three and received four. It was one of the things she had left behind, it was a symbol of that old, must have it now, must do it now, must see it now life that she had left in London.
She sat for a long time staring at the blank paper. She bit the end of the pen. To say it all without hurting him, if that was possible. He did have feelings she was sure, he just didn’t choose to show them to her.
With a deep breath she started to write.

Dear James,
I got your letter, and you are quite right to assume I’m in Cornwall. I’m living at Mulberry cottage and I intend to stay here.
You want to know what’s going on. When Rowena died she left me the cottage and most of her money, she also left me her shares in the company.
I honestly didn’t know whether I was leaving you or not, I just wanted to go. Now I’ve had some distance and time I’ve come to realise a few things, just as you say you have.
The first thing I’m now sure of is that you have never loved me. I think it would have been kinder not to ask me to marry you knowing that, and knowing I would say yes. I was a business deal and that hurts. I knew deep down at the time but I tried very hard to convince myself otherwise. I also tried very hard to make you love me and I failed. For a long time I blamed myself for that, now I know that there was nothing I could have done. I let you buy my clothes, choose my food when we went out, I let you dictate every aspect of my life, and it made no difference. I have spent my whole life trying to please people who don’t want to be pleased and I just couldn’t do it anymore.
The second thing I have come to realise is that I don’t love you either. I’m sorry if that sounds brutal. I do care for you, and I did think I loved you. Now I know I was trying to make it happen in the same way that I was trying to make you love me. I’m sure we could have muddled along together but we would have ended up hating each other.
Now I have tried to answer your questions I have one for you. I wasn’t the only woman you slept with while we were together was I? I don’t know how I could have let it get by me for so long. Now I think about it it’s so obvious, all those trips away, all those nights when you didn’t come home. It wasn’t a reason for leaving but it is a reason for not coming back.
And I know now that I’m not going to come back. For the moment I’m happy here and this is where I see myself. If you want a divorce then that’s fine. We need to admit to each other that there isn’t a future for us at the moment.
I’m sorry I wasn’t the person you wanted me to be. I tried so hard. And I’m sorry you couldn’t be the person I needed you to be. Maybe if we had met later it would have been different, who knows. I hope you find what you’re looking for James, I really do.
I hope this all makes some kind of sense; I was up all night whirling it around in my head.
Take care,
Imogen.

She read it again, then again, and then put it in the envelope.

Philip glanced across to the lane every time he crossed the farmyard. Usually she had come along by now, she always went into the village about the same time. He looked at his watch, nearly twelve. He frowned and went to the farm gate. He leaned over and craned his neck to see the cottage. He could just make out the French windows of the sitting room, he was sure the curtains were still closed. He went up to the farmhouse.
‘Mr T. Could I take my lunch a bit early today, there’s something I’ve gotta do.’
‘Sure boy, sure. And say hello to Imogen from us.’ Mr Tregowan smiled and made Philip blush.
‘Will do.’ he smirked.

Imogen herd the knock but ignored it. She pulled the quilt back over her head. The knock came again.
‘Go away.’
‘Gin? Are you there? You ok?’ Philip opened the windows and scanned around for signs of life. ‘Hello?’
‘In here.’ A muffled voice came from the bedroom.
‘What are you doing under there? Sick?’ He went and opened the curtains.
‘Something like that.’
‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No. I’m fine.’
‘Are you going to come out form under there, or am I going to have to talk to a duvet all day?’
Imogen pocked her head out just enough to look at him. ‘I wrote back to James. I was up all night.’
‘Oh I see. Cup of tea?’ He went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He saw Fred coming on the tractor and ducked down under the table.
‘What are you doing under there?’ Imogen shuffled in wrapped in the quilt.
‘I didn’t want Fred to see me. He’ll tell everyone he’d seen me in your kitchen. You don’t need the gossip.’
‘Oh Philip.’ Imogen burst out laughing. She stood rocking with laughter and Philip joined in, until he realised she wasn’t laughing anymore but sobbing uncontrollably. He scrabbled out from under the table and went over to her. He caught hold of her and held her to him. She didn’t resist but let him hold her; she buried her head in his shoulders.
‘I’m sorry.’ She mumbled into his t-shirt.
‘For what?’
‘For all this. You shouldn’t be seeing me like this. You shouldn’t have come round. Why did you come round?’
‘I didn’t see you go into the village. And then I saw that the curtains were still closed. I was worried.’
She pulled her face up out of his soggy clothes so that she could see his face. ‘I’ve made you all wet.’
‘That doesn’t matter, I’ll change later. Sit down and tell me.’
Imogen plopped down on a chair still wrapped in the quilt.
‘I was fine until I went to bed. Then it all started. I kept seeing the letter and James’s face. I know what we said in the café. I know what you said about making him wait until I was ready, and you were right. But I’m not like that, I know I should be but I‘m not. I was brought up to do as I was told. Anyway it’s better to get it sorted out. If I had left it then it would just have festered, been a shadow, and I wouldn’t like that. If I’m going to do this then it needs to be done properly. If James needs to know where he stands then it’s not fair to keep him in the dark, that wouldn’t make me a very nice person would it?’
‘No I suppose not. I’m sorry I stuck my beak in.’
‘Oh no! I was glad to talk to you. I like talking to you. And you were right, I did need to be sure of what I wanted before I replied. Anyway I lay there and it all kept going round and round, our wedding, the honeymoon, all of it. I tried to think of the last time we had fun together, and I couldn’t, isn’t that sad? I couldn’t remember hearing him laugh, not properly. He has two laughs. The fake, put on one he uses for his clients, and the real one. I heard the fake one all the time, but I can’t remember when I last heard the real one. I thought about how hard I tried to make him laugh. It was useless because I realised that I didn’t actually love him. It just sort of came to me. I sat there, drinking tea, and I realised that the reason I was here wasn’t because of anything James had done, it was because I didn’t love him. If I had then I could have put up with it all couldn’t I? Like mum does. Dad’s a sod and she’s scared of him, but she loves him to. She thought, for years, that dad didn’t love her, then the other day she found some old letters she had written him years ago. Dad’s not sentimental. He wouldn’t have kept them unless they had really meant something to him. She’d been covering for me but she said she couldn’t now she knew. As soon as dad finds out he’ll tell James anyway. All those years she had put up with him, thinking he didn’t love her, because she loved him. I couldn’t do that. While I was talking to her I realised I couldn’t live with a man who didn’t love me unless I loved him very much. The fact that I’m here and not there proves I don’t love James, and even if I did it wasn’t enough. So I sat down and told him.
I told him I knew he didn’t love me and that I was now sure I didn’t love him. I told him I was happy here and was staying for the time being. Then I said if he wanted a divorce then I wouldn’t stop him. And now I feel reached.’ She blew her nose on a bit of kitchen paper.
‘You’re tired.’
‘That to.’
‘Don’t you feel better though, getting it out there? I mean, like you said, keeping it bottled up isn’t a good idea. You’ve thought about it properly and come to your conclusions. That’s good. When you came you didn’t know how you felt or what you wanted to do about it, now you do. You feel crap because you know that what you’ve had to say to James isn’t nice, and you’re a nice person, you don’t like to hurt people. You feel guilty that you might hurt James by telling him the truth. But it would’ve been more painful for both of you if you hadn’t. Go back to bed. Get some sleep. When you wake up you’ll feel heaps better. You’ve done the best thing. You’ve been honest with yourself and with James. You can’t do anymore than that can you?’ Philip leant across the table and took her hands. ‘Look at me.’
Imogen lifted her face so that their eyes met.
‘You’ve done the right thing. Say it. Come on.’
‘I’ve done the right thing.’ She whispered.
‘Now say it like you believe it.’
‘I’ve done the right thing.’ She said loudly and smiled. She couldn’t not smile when he was looking at her like that.
‘Good girl. Now go back to bed and get some sleep. I’ll pop back after work.’
‘Thank you.’


Chapter Twelve

James stood in the shower with his eyes closed. He had the setting on maximum so that the water pounded at his body, reddening it and making it saw. He knew he should get out before it started to really hurt but somehow he needed it. It was punishment. It had been four days now, she must have had the letter, must have had time to read it. Every morning he waited for the post, and every morning he was disappointed.
When he couldn’t stand it anymore he turned the shower off and went into the bedroom. The bed was made and his clothes were laid out ready for him. He stood in front of the cheval mirror and looked at his naked self. The last few weeks had taken their toll. He had definatly lost weight, and there was some greying of hair here and there. It still had to be said though, he was in good nick for his age, fat lot of good it had done him. He sighed and started to pull his clothes on. Everything matched again now, and his socks were back in pairs. He still needed to find time to get a hair cut. He must do that this afternoon. If Imogen was going to come back now, then he needed to look his best. The clatter of the letterbox made him drop the hairbrush and head downstairs.
He picked up the post and shuffled though it, dropping half of it on the carpet. When he came to it his heart stopped, there it was. An envelope addressed to him in her writing. He dropped the rest down on the hall table and took Imogen’s letter through to the study. He ripped the envelope open and started to read greedily. The more he read the colder he felt. This wasn’t right, what was she saying? He read it again, then again. He sank down in the leather armchair. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. She was supposed to say that she was coming straight back. Instead she was talking about divorce. He didn’t want a divorce, what on earth gave her that idea? This was all wrong. She had got it all wrong. Ok maybe he hadn’t shown it, maybe he hadn’t even known it himself until recently, but he did love her. He had to tell her, he had to put her right. She’d got it all wrong. He ignored the bit about her not loving him, or the question of the other women, that could be sorted out later. Confusion flooded through him in giant waves making him feel seasick while he sat still in the chair. It took several seconds before he heard the phone ringing. Without knowing what he was doing he went into the hall to answer it.
‘Hello?’ he said almost in a whisper.
‘James. Henry. I wanted to make sure you had remembered the meeting this morning. It’s very important.’
‘Yes Henry I remember. And I know it’s important, aren’t they all?’ James rubbed his forehead and ran his hands through his hair. Henry’s words swam around him.
‘Good, good. And by the way have you heard anything from that silly little bitch yet? It’s been over a month now. People are starting to talk you know. It’s not good for business. She really is the limit running off like that without a thought for our position. I tell you when I find out where she is I’ll drag her back and…’
‘Oh Henry shut up! Just shut up!’ James shouted down the phone cutting his father-in-law off mid flow. ‘How dare you talk about my wife like that. Whatever she has done it is none of your business, do you understand? As it happens I do know where Imogen is, but if you think I’m going to tell you then you can go to hell. In fact why don’t you just do that Henry, why don’t you go to hell? I’ve had enough. That beautiful, intelligent, funny girl is your daughter, your child, someone you should be proud of. If she left then it’s our fault not hers, it’s us who should be feeling guilt not her. We drove her away. You forced her into marrying me knowing she didn’t want to, knowing I didn’t want to. You manipulated both of us to get what you wanted. You knew if I was your son-in-law then it would be all but impossible for me to leave the company. A chairmanship in exchange for marrying Imogen was very clever. I bought your daughter and that makes me pond life, but you, you sold your own daughter, what does that make you Henry?’
‘Don’t you dare pull that on me. You knew exactly what was going on and were only too happy to agree.’ Henry was hissing through his teeth, James knew this was usually a warning sign.
‘Yes, I know. And for six years I thought it was all right, I was so wrapped up in the job I didn’t see how unhappy Imogen was. I was a bastard, probably still am. For a long time there was no difference between us I admit. But now I think about all we have done, all we did to that poor girl and I feel physically sick. You, on the other hand, will never change will you? You’ve gone too far for that. Tell me something, do you love Cherith?’
Henry was silent for a moment. ‘None of your business.’ he said finally.
‘Maybe not but I’d like to know, do you actually know yourself?’
‘Of course I know, I’m not completely heartless.’
‘So?’
‘Yes. If you must know.’
‘And when was the last time you told her?’
‘None of your business.’
‘Never then. Well maybe you can live like that, but I don’t think I want to anymore. In fact I don’t think I want to do any of it anymore. And I certainly don’t want to end up like you. You’ll have to chair the meeting yourself this morning. I have other things to do.’ And he slammed the phone down, then lifted the receiver back up and put it off the hook.
Bloody hell, he thought, were did all that come from? He was shaking as he went back into the study. He took off his tie and threw it across the back of the chair. He looked at the whisky bottle. It would be very easy to spend the day with that bottle. By this evening he wouldn’t know or care what had happened. He pulled his hand away. He went into the kitchen to make coffee instead. He took the mug out into the garden and sat on the stone steps that led down to the vast lawn. It was one of her favourite places to sit. He could see her sitting here on sunny days, like today. How had it come to this, such a mess? He shook his head and looked out across the lawn to the flower borders and pond. It was beautiful, it was all beautiful, the house, the garden, the antiques and paintings, but what did it all mean? He had never thought of himself as a happy person, not since Lizzie. But sitting here feeling like this he realised that he had been happy for the last six years, and now it had all gone to hell. He could try and pinpoint the moment, but he knew it would be a waste of time. It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now except how he was going to get it all back. If someone had told him a month ago that he would be thinking about how he was going to get Imogen back he would have laughed. His first reaction had been sod her, let her go if she wants to, what did he care. Now he seemed to care very much.
The urge to pack up and go straight to Cornwall was an itch he knew he mustn’t scratch, not yet. If he went there now it would be for the wrong reasons, for selfish reasons. He had spent enough of his life being selfish, had he ever not been? He shook his head. Once, many years ago, he had been willing to do anything for someone else. That someone had thrown it back in his face, he had accepted it and lost her. This time he would not let go so easily. He had absolutely no idea how he was going to go about getting Imogen back here, but he was sure he was going to have a dam good try.

Imogen and Philip sat with their backs against the slate rocks that jutted out in lines gashing into the sandy shale of the beach. They had the cove to themselves again this morning.
‘I’ve gotta get down here with my camera before I go home, we’ve got nothing like this. You can see why people paint it and write poems about it.’ Philip said.
‘I’m going to come here every day, well once a week at least. You know there are people in the village who have lived here all their lives and have never been down here? I suppose if it’s there and you know you can come whenever you like then you somehow don’t. I was just as bad in London, all those galleries and museums and I hardly ever went.’
‘I liked London, but it’s got nothing on this place. Maybe it’s the people.’ He grinned and caught her eye.
‘Oh undoubtedly.’ She started to giggle, he was flirting with her again and she was feeling sixteen.
‘A swim, we should have a swim. That water is looking too good to leave empty.’
‘Remember last time?’
‘Humm… Well it’s really warm today, blue sky, sun, it must have warmed up a bit.’
‘After you then.’
‘Oh no! If I’m going in then you’re coming with me this time.’ Philip grabbed her hand and dragged her to her feet. ‘Come on, shoes off.’ He kicked his flip-flops off.
‘I’m waiting.’ He put his hands on his hips and took up the stance of an impatient schoolteacher, trying very hard to look stern and not laugh.
Imogen stood equally determined not to take off her own flip-flops and stay were she was. They stood face to face for at least two minutes before she started to laugh, he did look so funny.
‘Oh bloody hell!’ She kicked her flip-flops off and took a step towards the water. Before she could change her mind he grabbed her hand and started to run towards the water.
‘OH SHIT!!’ He shouted as they hit the sea.
‘AHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!’ Imogen screamed. ‘Oh Fu….dgecakes that’s cold!’
‘Don’t be such a woos.’ Philip plunged his hands in the near freezing sea and flung the cold water all over her.
‘Sod!’ she did the same, and soon they were splashing about like a pair of seven year olds, they could have heard the screams a mile inland.
By the time they staggered back to the beach they were dripping from head to toe, and shivering.
‘It’s a perversity of this country that it can be a blazing hot day on land, sweat dripping off you. But the sea doesn’t seem to get the message. Dose nobody bother to tell it it’s supposed to be summer?’ He threw Imogene a towel and started to strip his shirt off.
Imogen tried very hard to focus her attention on drying her hair, but her eyes kept wandering to his naked torso. He was shaking his shirt out which was making the muscles in his upper arms ripple. Then he turned and bent down to lay it over a rock, this made his shorts ride down slightly revealing the paler skin bellow his waist that wasn’t normally seen, she bit her lip. Suddenly he bobbed upright and spun round, caching her. She blushed down to and threw her hair roots, burying her head in the towel she started to rub rather too vigorously.
‘I think your hair’s dry now.’ he was smiling that smile that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking so it was pointless hiding.
She lowered the towel and folded it neatly. ‘Maybe…um… Maybe we should have some coffee, warm up.’ She turned away and started furteling in the picnic basket for the flask and mugs, she was dropping things onto the sand and struggling to keep hold of anything. He came up beside her and put a calming hand on her elbow. Gently he pulled her around to face him. Without a word he pulled her to him and kissed her. It was the kind of kiss she had read about but never thought actually existed. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breath, all she could do was stand there and be kissed. It only lasted a few second before he pulled away, let her go and carried on getting the flask and mugs out of the basket. Imogen stood for a moment in the exact position he had left her in, had that actually just happened? She turned and he was standing there pouring coffee, she did a double take. A moment ago he was kissing her like she had never been kissed before. Now he was pouring them coffee. Fine, ok, coffee would be good.
She sat drinking in silence. Philip was shaking his shirt out and putting it back on. She watched every movement, holding her breath. Three, four, there, five, he always left the last two buttons undone. He looked across at her and smiled. She started to breath again and finished her coffee.

‘I’ve got to go to Truro tomorrow, but I’ll be about the day after.’
‘So will I.’
‘See you then?’
‘See you then.’ Imogen jumped down out of the Land Rover and swung the door closed.
‘I loved today, thank you.’ She said
‘I loved it to.’
‘Good.’ And he bumped the car back to the farm.
So that was that then. She walked slowly back up the garden path past the Mulberry tree.
‘So he kissed you?’ Rowena’s voice filtered through to her.
‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘It’s written all over your face.’
‘I should have stopped him.’ Imogen looked down at her damp flip-flops.
‘Rubbish! You should have kissed him back.’
‘Row! He’s eighteen!’
‘And you’re only twenty six, maybe I wouldn’t have kissed him, but you certainly should have.’
‘I’m not listening, you’re not really here.’
‘Whatever you say dear. But it was the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time wasn’t it?’
‘Maybe.’ She kicked at a stray leaf.
‘I’ll take that as a yes. When are you seeing him again?’
‘Day after tomorrow.’ Imogen sighed. ‘He’s got to go to Truro tomorrow.’
‘Forty eight hours is such a long time when you’re in love.’
‘I’m not in love.’ Imogen was indignant.
‘Not yet maybe, but nearly. He makes you feel like you’ve never felt before? You can’t take your eyes off him when you’re together? You’re thinking about him when you’re not with him? And you haven’t thought about James for days? Am I right?’
‘Oh bloody hell Row, what am I going to do?’ She slumped down at the foot of the tree and dropped her head.
‘Go with it dear. Take whatever he offers you and don’t give back more than you can afford to loose. Have fun. I’ve told you before; fun is not something to be scared of.’
‘But he’ll be going back to Australia in September.’
‘That’s weeks away. I suspect he knows what he’s doing.’
‘But I don’t want to hurt him. What if things get too serious? I’m not up to another commitment yet.’
‘You won’t hurt him. He’ll be sad to leave you, and you him. But he’ll survive. Ifs and buts are not good enough reasons to not do things. If you do fall in love with each other, I mean properly, then would that be such a bad thing? Would being happy with someone be such a bad thing? Maybe he’ll stay here and you’ll get married and live happily ever after. Maybe you’ll have a bloody good summer together, and then part with good memories. My money’s on the latter.’
‘If I didn’t know better I’d say you’d sent him here.’
‘That’s something you’ll never know.’
Imogen rose and went up to the cottage. Before she let herself in she looked back at the Mulberry tree, the branches were swaying slightly in a soft wave, but there was no wind. She smiled and nodded.

The next morning was beautiful, like a postcard. Imogen took her tea out into the garden. She had been there six weeks and so far had done little out here. She looked about her and realised the weeds were starting to take over and the grass was in desperate need of a haircut. She bit her lip. Rowena had been so proud of her garden and spent every day she could out here. When she fell ill one of the first things she did was get someone organized to do the garden. As a child Imogen had helped and had always loved it. Her parents had a gardener so she was never allowed to get too involved at home. When she was here she could roll up her sleeves and get thoroughly dirty. James had a huge garden and she had been quite excited about getting out into it. But James had a gardener to. Sometimes, when she had the place to herself, she would go out and have a fuddle about, but most of it had been done and she was reduced to a couple of deadheads.
She wandered around sipping her tea and taking it all in. The borders were the worst, the weeds hadn’t taken over yet but they were having a damn good try. Well she had a free day so she decided to tackle as much of it as she could. The shed would be a good start.
The shed was around the back of the house in the vegetable garden. Although the garden surrounded the cottage the majority was to the front and back with paths running at both sides connecting the areas together. Imogen took the path that ran around the bedroom and bathroom side of the cottage that brought her to the edge of the vegetable garden. It was very sad around there. From the kitchen she could see that there were no longer veg growing. In fact the whole area had been kept strimmed and tidy by the gardener but had basically been left to itself. The wild flowers looked pretty but she knew they shouldn’t really be there. Until Rowena became too ill to manage it she grew all her own veg and herbs. This back part of the garden was laid out in neat oblong beds with grass paths between, each bed overflowing with all sorts of things you could never buy in the supermarkets. Now it was hard to tell were the paths ended and the beds began. Well she couldn’t do it all today so she decided to concentrate on the front, she wouldn’t have a clue how to go about setting the vegetable patch back to rights but she did know how to weed. She unlocked the shed and had a rummage. It was the tidiest shed she had ever seen. It took no time to find a bucket and hand fork, that would do for now.
By lunchtime she had cleared one side of the long border that ran from the cottage down to the gate of everything she thought was not a plant and was a weed. She stood up and stretched, it certainly did for your back, not bad for a start. She took the third full bucket around to the compost bins, hoping she hadn’t pulled up anything important. Then she went in to get something to eat.
While she was making a serious cheese and pickle sandwich the phone rang.
She picked up the receiver and tried to lick the stray pickle off her fingers.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello darling it’s mum.’
‘Hi mum. How are you?’
‘Fine darling, fine. I was just checking it was still all right for the eleventh?’
‘Oh, yes, fine.’ Shit, Imogen thought, she had forgotten, it was the day after tomorrow and she hadn’t spoken to Molly yet. She crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’
‘Oh good. I only hope your father doesn’t blow a gasket when he find out. I still feel so guilty, if only I hadn’t found those letters.’
‘I’m sorry mum.’
‘Don’t keep saying that, you have nothing to be sorry for. If anyone should be apologizing it should be me. I chose to let it all happen. I allowed us both to be bullied. If I had known that he loved me then I would have stood up to him. I spent years loving a man I thought was just putting up with me and I was terrified of loosing him. Pathetic is the only word. I should never have put my own fears before your best interests. I should have stood up to your father and stopped him. I should have risked him leaving me. If I’d found those bloody letters seven years ago then who knows?’
‘It probably wouldn’t have changed much. All that would have happened is that dad would hate you as well as me. I’m glad you found the letters, I’m glad you finally know how he feels about you, you deserve it.’
‘I deserve for you to never speak to me again.’
‘Oh mum never. I love you to bits. I could never have survived so long without you. I knew you always tried to be on my side. Yes I felt let down for a while. I thought you’d deserted me, but only for a while. The older I got the more I saw how hard it was for you living with dad. Don’t blame yourself. You’d have to be a pretty hard person not to wilt. He’s like a blowtorch, unless you have very heavy-duty protection you’re going to get burnt.’
‘Maybe.’ Cherith sighed deeply. ‘We’ll never know now will we. It’s kind of you to forgive me, but I’ll always feel the guilt, it’s what mothers do. I still feel guilty about you falling off the garden wall and breaking your little finger.’
‘Did I? When was that?’
‘Oh you would have been about three. You see you don’t even remember it, but I’ll never forgive myself for letting go of your hand like that. I was only waving to Mrs Thing from next door.’
‘I remember Mrs Thing. Did she have a real name?’
‘I expect so. Funny woman, never took her apron off. I used to imagine her going to bed in it, it was always spotless but you never saw it on the washing line. I liked her. I missed her when we moved. I’m surprised you remember anything about that first house. Your father won’t admit we ever lived in a terraced house. I mean it wasn’t a two up two down was it, it was a three-bedroom town house. Not a good enough postcode that was the trouble. That and the fact that granddad had bought it for us when we married. He couldn’t move quickly enough, which was a shame because I quite liked that house. It was a damn sight better than the one he moved us to. Poky little place, better postcode though. Oh if only I’d found those letters sooner so much might have been different.’
‘Are you going to tell him you’ve found them?’
‘I don’t know. But I know I shall be less inclined to take his nonsense from now on.’ Cherith said firmly.
‘So have you told him you’re coming down?’
‘No I’m leaving things as they are. He’ll find out from Mrs Davis and by then I’ll be there. With any luck we can have a day or two together before I have to speak to him. He’ll call from the golf resort and shout a lot but I’m used to that. So I’ll see you in two days then?’
‘See you then. Take care, it’s a long journey.’
‘I’m the mother, let me do the worrying.’
Imogen put the phone down and picked it straight back up again.
‘Molly? It’s Gin.’
‘Hello Ginny dear, how are you? We were going to come and see you after lunch.’
‘That would be lovely. Molly I’m afraid I have a huge favour to ask.’ Imogen crossed her fingers.
‘What’s that then dear?’
‘Well mum’s coming down the day after tomorrow and I kind of said you would put her up. I meant to ask two weeks ago when she first mentioned it, but…well…I sort of got involved in other things. I’m so sorry to ask at such short notice.’ Imogen stopped to take a breath.
‘But I’d love to have Cherith here. I’m so glad she’s coming; it’ll be so nice to see her again. The spare room is always made up. Harry, my eldest, do you remember him? Anyway he’s always plopping down on me with no notice at all so two days is ages. I’ll make some scones, you and Eleanor must come over and we’ll have proper high tea, it’ll be lovely.’ Molly sounded genuinely excited and Imogen felt better.
‘So what were you dong when you were supposed to be telling me about you mother?’
‘Oh… Umm… This and that, you know.’ Bother she was hoping to get away with that, but Molly and Eleanor were masters of gossip.
‘So how is Philip?’ Molly tried hard to keep the giggle out of her voice.
‘Fine, I should think. I mean I wouldn’t really know.’ Sound casual, sound casual.
‘Whatever you say dear. See you later then.’

Imogen took her sandwich out and sat under the Mulberry tree. Boris appeared as if by magic at her side.
‘Oh hello, smelt the cheese did we?’
‘Meow.’ He put his paw up and patted the plate. Imogen broke a corner off and dropped it on the grass for him, together they ate and watched the soft wind play with the leaves and flowers, making them dance just for them. She could have sat there all day watching, in fact that was exactly what Boris intended to do and he settled himself down for the afternoon. Imogen, however, knew she had weeds to deal with. She brushed the crumbs off her jeans and picked up the bucket.
Two hours later she had cleared everything she knew to be a weed. There were some things she was not sure about so she left them to see what they might do. Now she just needed to mow the lawn. She had been putting it off but there was nothing left to do at the front. She took a deep breath and went back to the shed.
There sat a fierce looking piece of green and red metal. Why couldn’t Rowena have had a nice little fly mow? This was monstrous; she could see the teeth from here. With trepidation she went in and got behind it. She would push it out and around to the front, then she would see. When it was sat in the middle of the front lawn it didn’t look any less menacing. What she was supposed to do now she had no idea. She went into the kitchen and rummaged through the draws in the hope of finding an instruction book. It was a slim hope, the mower was nearly as old as her and the manual would have been long since lost or thrown away. There was nothing else for it.

She walked up to the farmhouse and knocked. Mrs Tragowen called for her to come in so she went through the house into the cavernous kitchen. It was like something from a fifties film. She remembered coming in here for tea sometimes with Rowena. Nothing had changed. There was nothing in there that was newer than the seventies, and it all seemed to be in daily use. The fridge was a monumental thing that took up a corner all to itself and hummed loudly, the green police would have a fit. The wallpaper was a milky coffee colour and made to look like tiles, every now and then dotted with a bunch of brown flowers. The table was made of white Formica with red Formica legs and would have been the height of fashion forty years ago. The cupboards too were what was politely called vintage. They were a soft butter yellow Formica with white plastic handles. Imogen could imagine her London friends having palpitations and calling a decorator straight away, but it was one of the most charming places she had ever been in. It was cosy and warm and welcoming, and she was glad the twenty-first century hadn’t caught up with it.
‘Hello maid, what can we do for you?’ Mrs Tragowen was sitting at the table peeling carrots that Imogen knew she had just been out and pulled from the garden.
‘I was wondering if Mr Tragowen was around, I have a bit of a problem with my mower.’
‘I’m sorry lovely but he’s out until this evening. Philip’s here though.’ She gave Imogen a sly smile. ‘I’ll give him a shout.’ Before Imogen could protest Mrs Tragowen had disappeared out into the yard.
‘I’ve sent him round, he’ll meet you there.’ She smiled again. ‘Lovely boy, do anything for anyone you know. Nice manners to, not like some of the lads from the village.’
‘Yes. I thought he was going to Truro today?’
‘He is. He should have gone this morning but the Land Rover’s playing up again, soon as it’s fixed he’ll be going. You’d better go, he’ll be waiting. Nice to see you lovely. Come round for tea won’t you. Or for your supper one night.’
‘I will, thank you.’
‘Let us have him back now won’t you.’ Mrs Tragowen called after her.
They all thought she was at it with Philip! Imogen couldn’t believe it. It was one thing Molly and Eleanor ribbing her but now everyone seemed to know. She hurried back to the cottage burning with embarrassment. It was stupid. She knew there was nothing going on, not really, she had nothing to be embarrassed about.
She opened the gate and saw Philip standing next to the mower looking at it very hard. He hadn’t seen her. She stopped and looked at him. He really was very good looking and her heart skipped. She hadn’t seen him since he had kissed her and it was all she could think of. She felt his arms and his lips, smelt his breath and the tang of his body. She shivered and took a few deep breaths. She mustn’t let him see her like this. He mustn’t know he was having this kind of affect on her. He looked up then and smiled.
‘Bit of a dinosaur isn’t it?’ He walked around it, getting the measure of his opponent.
‘I dread to think how old, it’s been here as long as I can remember. It’s terrifying.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far.’
‘I would. Do you think you can use it?’
‘Oh sure I can, but it’s not my lawn.’
‘But I can’t use it!’ Imogen was horrified at the very thought.
‘Why no? I’ll get it going for you. I thought that was what you wanted?’
‘Well yes, but I was hoping…well that you might cut the grass to?’ She gave her best smile and tried to bat her eyelashes.
‘And what makes you think you can’t do it yourself?’ He stood with his arms folded looking like a disapproving parent.
‘I could never use that thing! It’s enormous! It’s too heavy for a start.’ She said firmly and folded her own arms.
‘So Row had a gardener come and do it for her did she?’ Philip knew the answer.
Imogen looked down at the ground. ‘No, she used to do it herself.’ she said quietly.
‘So if she could do it why can’t you?’ He was doing his best not to smile and to sound serious.
Imogen was silent, she couldn’t think of anything to say to that. It was pathetic to run to a man to come to her rescue. She could see what a sad specimen she must look. But the mower was huge and scary and she had no idea how to use it.
‘I tell you what.’ Philip sighed. ‘I’ll get it started and do a couple of runs up and down, then you can have a go. How does that sound?’ It was cruel to tease. Of course he would do it.
‘Ok.’ her voice had shrunk to match her courage.
Philip squatted down to have a closer look. He nodded to himself and stood up. He reached down and undid the petrol cap, peered in, nodded again, put the cap back and took hold of the starter cord. He gave it a few hard yanks and each time the beast woke a little more until, on the fifth pull it growled into consciousness. Imogen watched in awe as he jiggled some leavers around and started to slowly jerk forward. After a few moments he had got the upper hand and had started to walk slowly across the lawn. She was never going to be able to do that. She could see the muscles in his arms straining the tight fabric of his t-shirt, so he was having to put some effort into controlling it. She should be watching what he was doing, there would be questions later, but all she could see was the contours of his body, which were starting to reveal themselves as he started to sweat in the August heat. The hotter he got the damper the shirt got and the more it clung. By the time he had done his half of the lawn she was biting her lip so hard she was expecting to see blood.
He pulled the snarling mower up beside her and eased it to a stop. ‘Right then, your turn.’ He stepped away and indicated that she should take over.
‘Oh but you’ve done half, you might as well finish.’ The fear of the mower mixed with the desire to keep watching him meant she really, really didn’t want to do it.
‘Come on.’ He came over and took her hand. He pulled her across to the mower and put her hands on the handles. ‘Just squeeze this leaver here and then release that other one with your thumb. When you feel it starting to move then grip firmly.’ For a moment there she was wondering if he was actually talking about the mower. ‘Pull back against it so it doesn’t get away from you. Then start to walk very slowly. Ok, off you go.’
‘But I can’t. Honestly Philip I really can’t.’
‘Of course you can. I’ll walk along beside you and grab it if it starts to get away.’
Imogen sighed, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She tried to do everything he had told her but her head was spinning and all she could think of was a vision of herself being dragged into the hedge. She closed her eyes and released the leaver with her thumb. The mower leapt forward and she instinctively pulled her whole body backwards to resist it.
‘Now start to walk forward.’ Philip put his hand on her back and gave her a little push.
She took a step and felt the blades starting to bite into the grass. She opened her eyes and found she was mowing, she was doing it. It was taking every ounce of her strength to keep control, but she was doing it. She had no idea if Philip was beside her or not, she was concentrating so hard. By the time she had finished the second half of the lawn she was exhausted. Philip was standing next to her laughing his head off as she came to a stop and turned the machine off.
‘What?’ she demanded.
‘You should have seen yourself, your face. I wish I had a camcorder. It was priceless. Do you always stick your tongue out? And the frown! Hilarious.’
Imogen couldn’t help laughing to.
‘But I did it didn’t I?’
‘Yes you did, I told you you could. How does it feel?’
‘Bloody marvellous actually.’

Philip emptied the grass box into the compost bin and hosed down the blades. Imogen went into the kitchen to find them a cold drink. She could see him from the kitchen window and couldn’t help smiling to herself. Today had nothing to do with teaching her to use the lawnmower. He came in brushing the last of the grass off of his cut off jeans.
‘Thanks.’ He took the glass Imogen offered him and gulped it down. ‘That’s better.’
‘How do you always know what it is I need and when I need it?’ She leant against the table and sipped her lemonade.
‘I can read minds.’ He grinned and winked.
‘Of course. They teach it in Australian schools.’
‘Absolutely.’ He grinned.
‘Seriously though.’
‘I like you, a lot. And I care about the people I like. It strikes me they’re things you’ve never had a lot of. Mum always says I have a way of connecting with people, she says the fairies must have cast some of their magic over me when I used to sleep in the garden when I was a kid.’
‘Maybe they did.’
‘Maybe. But I just see that a relationship is a two way thing, if you get something then you should give something back.’
‘But all I’ve done is take from you. What have I given back?’
‘You’re here.’
Imogen blushed deeply. ‘Don’t tease.’
‘I’m not, I mean it. You really don’t know how special you are do you? You’re one of those rare people who are beautiful, clever, funny and kind and have no idea, you think you’re nothing special, that you’re unimportant, but everyone around here thinks the world of you, loves you even.’
‘I don’t know what to say to that.’ It wasn’t the kind of thing people usually said to each other, not British people anyway. She knew he meant it, he wasn’t the sort of person to say things just to flatter, unlike some.
‘You don’t have to say anything, but it’s true.’
‘Thank you. But what about you? You’re not like any man I’ve ever met. You say I’m not affected by my qualities but nor are you. Half the women in the parish are in love with you you know.’
‘Only half?’
She poked her tongue out at him.
‘Having women fancy you doesn’t mean much unless it’s the woman you want. Now if she had feelings for me then that would be something.’ He was looking at her so intently she had to look away.
‘Maybe she has. Maybe you should ask her.’
Philip came towards her until he was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. With the table behind her she had no way of escape, not that she really wanted one.
‘Maybe I will ask her, or maybe I should wait for her to tell me.’
‘Oh I don’t think you should do that. She might be too shy.’ She could almost hear his heart beating, and her own was deafening.
‘So what should I do?’ He was so close they were nearly touching. His skin was tingling with the sensation of being this close to her, he wanted to make that final step, to kiss her again, but he had to know it was what she wanted. The other day was fantastic but it had been foolhardy, she could well have slapped his face. He had risked spoiling it all for a moment of weakness. He’d got away with it but he wasn’t going to risk it again.
‘I think you should do something to show her how you feel.’ She was nearly breathless and could only manage to speak in a whisper.
He needed no more encouragement. He leant forward and took hold of her shoulders. He pulled her gently to him and kissed her. This time she was ready for him and kissed him back, letting her arms find their way around his neck. They kissed as if they were about to die and this was their last act on earth.
‘Oh!’ Molly exclaimed.
‘Well done.’ Eleanor gave a little clap.
Imogen and Philip sprung apart like they had touched a live wire. Molly and Eleanor stood in the kitchen doorway.
‘We couldn’t make anyone here but we saw the windows open so we knew you were about.’ said Molly.
‘But we didn’t know you had company.’ Eleanor grinned.
‘I should go.’ Philip turned to the French windows. ‘Thanks for the drink.’
‘That’s ok. And thank you for doing the lawn.’ They both sounded so comically formal and knew they were not fooling anyone. They had been caught red handed, so to speak.
Imogen turned to face the two women who were both nearly helpless with laughter.
‘Tea?’ She asked in a strangled squeak.
‘Lovely.’ Molly managed to say before giving in to the giggles. ‘I’m sorry dear, maybe we should go?’
‘No don’t do that. I’m sorry you had to see that. Actually no I’m not. I mowed half the lawn all by myself and then kissed a very sexy young man. I think I might be quite proud of myself.’ She was still flushed but only partly from being caught.
‘Good for you!’ Eleanor gave her a big hug. ‘Row would have been proud. She would have wondered why it had taken you so long, but she would have been proud.’
‘Oh Eleanor stop teasing her. No one likes to be caught in the act, as it where.’ She smiled at Imogen. ‘And we only came over to have a chat and see what Cherith’s plans were.’
‘Yes you did say your were coming on the phone didn’t you? I’m afraid I forgot.’
‘Perfectly understandable in the circumstances.’ Eleanor said.
‘Shall we take this into the garden?’ Imogen held up the tray of tea things. The three women went out into the garden. As they drank their tea Imogen heard the Land Rover start up and blushed.