Chapters 9&10.

Chapter Nine.

James looked at the calendar. It has been three weeks now. He picked up the post on his way to the kitchen and dumped it on the pile on the hall table. It was Monday morning, it was nine o’clock and he had only just made it down stairs. Three weeks ago Imogen would have had him breakfasted and out the door half an hour ago as she did every morning. He flicked the kettle on and scratched his stubbly chin. Diving his hand in the sink he fished around for a mug that may, or may not be clean. As he pulled his hand out with his prize a pile of plates cascaded to the floor.
‘Sod it.’ James kicked them out of the way and plodded over to the fridge to fetch non-existent milk. ‘Sod it, sod it!’ He abandoned the kitchen and went through to the study. If there was no milk there was definatly whisky.
A few sips later James felt ready to tackle a shower. The water was hot and sharp and stung him like a million angry bees and it was fantastic. Twenty minutes later he was in his car driving to the office. Bloody Henry had stolen his driver. His mobile rang. James looked at the display, groaned and pulled over.
‘Morning Henry.’
‘Do you know what the bloody time is? There are people to be seen this morning.’
‘I know, I’m on my way. I’m sorry, the alarm didn’t go off.’ And I’d be there a dam sight quicker if you stopped calling me to tell me I’m late.
‘Again? I think you need to get a new one, and quickly.’ The line went quiet, and James sighed. As an excuse a dodgy alarm was pathetic but it was all he could think of. Normally he could bullshit for England, especially with Henry, his carear depended on it after all.
This morning it would be a party from the New York office that he had been visiting three weeks ago. The Americans were the hardest; there was no pulling the wool over their eyes. It had always surprised him that the easiest clients to bullshit were the British. Most Englishmen were basically snobs and a few words in his perfect, cut glass, old Etonian voice and a flash of the Saville row tailoring had them eating out of his hand. Especially if they thought that buying into the business would buy them into the ‘lifestyle’. The yanks though, they could be tricky. The women liked his charm and the accent, but the men were harder to crack. Usually he took them home for dinner and let Imogen work her magic. She had a knack of making anyone feel at ease. She had not a snobbish bone in her body, but when she spoke she sounded like Princess Dianna and she had a disarming smile. Couple that with her stunning blonde hair and a refreshing lack of make up or fancy jewellery and the Yankee hard men melted.
As he drew up outside the office building James wondered if Olwen would have the same effect. He flicked his mobile open.
‘Olwen. James.’
‘Hello James.’ Her voice said ‘oh what now’ but he didn’t seem to notice.
‘I was wondering if I could ask a favour?’
‘You can ask. I might not say yes.’
‘Could you pop over tonight and play hostess to a few Americans? If you could cook dinner and smile sweetly to soften them up a bit I’d be appreciative.’
‘Is this a joke James?’
‘No. You see it’s the yanks, and Imogen usually gave them some home cooking and charmed them for me. Trouble is she’s still not back.’
Olwen stood in her living room open mouthed. He really did expect her to drop everything and spend the day cooking dinner for an unknown number of American clients who she was then expected to talk into whatever it was he was trying to sell them. ‘And what do I do with the children James? Are they invited? And while I’m cooking this meal will you be doing my ironing and taking the cat to the vets?’
‘Well no. But Jonathan could do all that. I can give you a menu and I know Imogen finds Waitrose very good, and that’s on your way over.’
Without another word Olwen put the phone down and stood in shear disbelief. What planet was James on for God sake? Did he honestly expect her to agree to it? Did he think that because she was a woman she would jump to his command? Well Imogen might have but she was not Imogen. She shook her head and went back to the ironing.
That’s a no then, James thought. Imogen would have immediately asked what he wanted to feed them and how many and what time. When he got home it would be immaculate and so would she, there would be wine cooling and flowers arranged. He would have to invent a nasty bought of flu for her and take them to a restaurant.

It was such a beautiful day that Imogen decided to get the push bike out of the garage and ride into the village. The last time she had been on a bike was the last time she had been here. She decided to have a few goes up and down the lane before venturing onto the open road. It was a good job no one could see her as she wobbled and swerved her way past the farm gate. She looked around and was glad to see no one in the farmyard. Not that it would matter if there were, she told herself. When she pulled up outside the gate she saw Boris sitting watching her. She remembered Rowena telling of how she had trained him to ride in the basket on the front. They looked at each other for a moment and then, without a word from Imogen, Boris jumped into the basket and settled down.
‘Well on your head be it. I haven’t ridden for years you know. We might end up in a ditch.’ Boris rolled his eyes and scratched his ear.
Finally she decided it was safe for other road users for her to tackle the proper road and actual traffic. It soon became clear that the London mentality had not yet left her. Any fear of being knocked off her bike by a stream of speeding cars quickly vanished. From the bike she could see even more than from the beetle. Plants that had been a blur before jumped out at her from the hedgerows and verges in stunning clarity.
‘Oh Boris why did it take me so long to come back? Why did I ever listen to them all?’
Imogen pulled the bike up outside the post office. ‘Now what? Do you stay there?’ Boris looked up, then turned round and curled himself up in a tight ball. ‘Obviously.’
‘Did I see Boris?’ Mr Penharren was putting a poster in the window for the next wine and wisdom night. ‘I haven’t seen him doing that for well over a year. Your auntie always used to bring him when she came in on the bike, never seen anything like it.’ he smiled. ‘I’ll get your bread.’ and he disappeared through the bead curtain.
‘Cool bike, love the cat.’
Imogen jumped like a guilty teenager at the sound of his voice. She spun round rather too quickly and nearly knocked Phillip over.
‘Yes.’ she said. ‘He likes it, Rowena, my aunt, trained him you see. She was like that, did things like that.’ Oh God. She was sounding like, what was she sounding like? An idiot, you’re sounding like an idiot, shut up immediately.
‘Your bread.’ Mr Penharren reappeared to save her.
‘Thank you.’ Imogen squeaked. She scurried out of the door trying very hard not to make eye contact with Phillip, who was looking rather puzzled.
‘Come on Boris, time to go home.’ She went to put the bread in the basket, then realised that she couldn’t. She was deciding whether to hang the bag over the handle or try to ride with it in her hand when Phillip appeared beside her.
‘Shall I carry that for you?’ he indicated her bag. ‘Or aren’t you going straight home?’
‘Yes, I mean no. I’m not going anywhere else. Thank you.’ she handed him the bag. She turned the bike around and they started walking back towards the farm.
‘Lovely day.’ Imogen winced at such a lame way to open a conversation.
‘Great. So have you decided yet?’
‘Decided?’
‘If you’re going to stay. You said you hadn’t decided.’
‘Oh yes. I think so. In fact I’ve been wondering why I didn’t come back years ago.’
‘I thought you said you’d inherited the cottage?’ Phillip looked confused.
‘Oh yes, well I did. But I used to come and stay with my aunt. I used to come for the summer holidays.’
‘So why d’ya stop?’
Imogen looked down and watched the wheels slowly turning. ‘It’s a long story.’ she said. ‘But my father decided it was for the best.’
‘And you didn’t.’
‘No.’ He was looking at her like that again, like he could read her mind. She fell silent. Talking about such personal things was not something she had been brought up to do, especially not with strangers.
‘I’ve hit a sore spot haven’t I?’ He looked concerned.
‘Sort of, I suppose.’ she tailed off.
‘You don’t have to tell me anything. You can tell me to sod off if you like.’ He was smiling that smile which, she realised, was going to prove impossible to resist. It would be good to talk to someone who wasn’t involved. She took a deep breath.
‘Rowena was dads elder sister and to say they didn’t get on would be a huge understatement. I think it would be fair to say that dad actually hated her in later years. I have no idea what happened between them. For years I blamed myself. They had a huge row when he said I couldn’t come anymore. But I soon learnt that it went much, much deeper and further back than that.’
‘So if they hated each other how come you were allowed to come for holidays?’
‘I didn’t ask at the time, but I think it was convenient for dad to have a small child out of the way in the long summer holidays.’
‘That’s dreadful.’ Phillip looked shocked. ‘What is it with the Brits and sending their kids away?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I bet you went to boarding school as well?’
‘Yes. When I was twelve. That was the excuse dad gave for stopping me coming down here. He said that if I was going to be away most of the year then it was only right that I should be home in the holidays. He said that mum would miss me too much if I was away all summer as well.’
‘Sounds fair enough.’
‘It would be if you didn’t know dad. Poor mum I don’t think he’s ever given her a second thought. Don’t get me wrong I love them both, of course I do. But I’ve learnt a lot about my father’s true nature over the years. And since Rowena died I’ve had my head taken out of the sand.’
‘How does he feel about you coming back here to live?’
‘He doesn’t know yet.’ Imogen lowered her head.
‘But you’re going to tell him?’
‘Oh I wish it was that simple.’
‘It is surely. You just write him a letter telling him you’ve moved to Cornwall for a while. How did you tell your husband?’
‘How did you know I was married?’ Imogen was a little indignant. How did he manage to know things before she’d even opened her mouth?
He nodded towards her left hand, which was holding the handlebars, and still bore her rings.
‘Oh, yes, bit if a give away. The fact is I haven’t told him either. All I said was that I was going away for a while.’
‘Umm.’
She was glad when they turned into the farm lane. This talking business was not all it was cracked up to be. He was making her feel guilt, which she really didn’t want. And who was he anyway? She certainly shouldn’t be telling him so much when she didn’t even know his surname.
‘Well. Here we are.’ She said rather crisply. ‘I had better get Boris back home.’ She left him standing at the farm gate and started to turn for home.
‘I have the day off tomorrow. I was thinking of taking a picnic down to the beach. D’ya fancy joining me?’
No, she told herself, it would be better to stop this now. She was going to end up pouring her heart out to this boy and his smile. He had already made her tell him much more than she intended.
‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ What! That was not what you were supposed to say.
‘Meet you here about eleven then?’
‘Ok.’ Oh he was infuriating. But she walked back up to Mulberry cottage with a huge grin on her face.

‘So where’s the lovely Imogen? I was looking forward to one of her slap up meals.’ Kelvin Colasanto was sitting opposite James in the very exclusive French restaurant.
‘She has very bad flu. She was so disappointed not to be able to have you at home. But I told her she was to stay in bed, she really isn’t well.’ He gave a smile that he hoped would say ‘aren’t I a good husband, see how well I look after my wife.’
‘Poor thing. Maybe I should pop over in the morning and say hello? I really got on with her when we were here before. Do you think she’d be up to that James?’ Mandy Colasanto was sitting next to James and blowing smoke all over him.
‘I’m sorry Mandy but I’ve arranged a doctor’s appointment for her in the morning. I think that will take enough out of her to be honest. It was a lovely thought though, thank you.’
‘Oh honey you’re more than welcome. It’s such a shame though I was so looking forward to taking her shopping. The girls are great but I just know Imogen knows all those little shops that no one tells the tourists about.’
James smiled weakly. He was hoping they would just accept the flu line and leave it at that. Now it seemed the bimbo suddenly wanted to become Imogen’s new best friend. And talking about her made him think about her.
The meal passed excruciatingly slowly. No one seemed to want to drop the subject of Imogen and her health. James had to work hard trying to remember all the details of his smoke screen. He had no idea she was so popular and he started to wonder if his stunning business deals had not been clinched by his intelligence and cunning, but by Imogen’s sticky toffee pudding. He eventually prised the limpet like Mandy off the idea of a visit by telling her that this particular flu was very nasty indeed and highly contagious.
By the time he got home he was shattered and in desperate need of a drink. He had turned down all offer of alcohol during the evening in an attempt to seem trustworthy and in control. The house was so dark and unwelcoming. He was used to coming home to lights and warmth and tidiness. Now he was coming home to dark and mess, if not actual filth. Olwen had finally co-operated and found him the number of a cleaner but he hadn’t gotten round to calling it yet. When he had asked Olwen to arrange it all for him she had put the phone down on him again. She kept doing that; he really must have a word to Jonathan. He picked up the post as he walked through the door and dumped it with the gathering pile on the hall table. The answer phone light was flashing and with a sigh he pressed the play button. It would be Henry, it was always Henry. Before he would have rolled his eyes and made some pithy comment to Imogen, who would have smiled and nodded. Now Henry’s endless badgering infuriated him and it was all he could do to stop himself pulling the machine of the table and hurling it through a window. Whisky, he needed whisky. He prowled through to the study and picked up the bottle, empty. Bloody hell. He through the bottle instead of the answer machine and, when it hit the wall, wished it was Henry’s head.

The next morning Imogen was washed, dressed and ready before nine. She looked at the clock, only two hours to kill before eleven. She thought about breakfast but her stomach was churning so much that she made herself think about something else. The trouble was that the something else she chose to think about made it worse. Boris sat on the kitchen table watching her pacing about. He half closed his eyes as if he was going off to sleep.
‘What?’ she said to him.
Boris blinked.
‘I know, I know. There is absolutely no reason why I should be nervous. I mean I’m old enough to know better.’ But it didn’t stop her pacing. Eventually she made herself a cup of tea and took it out into the garden. She had been there three weeks now and the silence still took her by surprise. She took her tea over to the Mulberry tree and lent against its old, rough trunk.
‘He’s very hansom.’ Imogen sat up at the sound of Rowena’s voice. ‘It’s alright darling I’m not really talking to you, you only think I am.’
‘Oh.’ Was it all right to be hearing voices?
‘So where is he taking you?’
‘I don’t know. The beach I think.’ And was it all right to be answering?
‘And you don’t think you should really be going do you?’
‘No.’
‘You’re feeling guilty because you’re married and you husband doesn’t know where you are. But you’re a young woman. If I taught you nothing else I hope I taught you that you have the right to be happy. And the best time to be happy is when you’re young. How much harm has leaving James done?’
‘Very little I should think.’
‘And do you think he is sitting at home worrying about what you are doing?’
‘No.’
‘Then go. Have a fantastic time and be what you are, a young woman with a whole life ahead of her.’
‘But I’m married.’
‘Are you? Really? Did you marry James because you loved him? Did he marry you because he loved you?’
‘I thought it was the right thing to do.’
‘That’s not what I asked. Did you love each other?’
‘No. Oh Row I was so sure I could make him love me. And it made dad so happy.’ Imogen sighed.
‘Bloody hell. Gin listen to yourself. You wanted to make James love you; you wanted to make Henry happy. All very laudable, but what about you? What about James loving you and Henry making you happy? Come to think about it Gin when was the last time you were happy, properly happy?’
‘I don’t know…a long time ago.’ Imogen frowned.
‘Maybe the summer before your twelfth birthday?’
‘Probably.’
‘So think about it. And think about yourself for a change. Are you planning to have sex with this boy?’
‘No!’ Imogen blushed
‘In which case I don’t see the problem. Finding someone attractive is not a crime. Good God do you think James has never looked at a pretty girl and wondered what she might be like in bed?’
‘James has never been unfaithful!’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because….’
‘Oh Gin my daring girl. I’m not saying he was or is. What I’m saying is that marriage means different things to different people. You’re a good girl and you always want to see the best in people. If this boy makes you smile, makes you laugh, then what’s the harm in spending some time with him?’
‘Hello?’
The sound of Phillips voice made Imogen jump and scrabble to her feet.
‘Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘No, not really. No I’m fine.’ Oh God. She hoped he hadn’t heard her, he’d think she was nuts.
‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes.’ Imogen looked back at the Mulberry tree. ‘Yes I’m ready.’




Chapter Ten.

On the short ride to the beach Imogen was silent. Everything Rowena said was true. She was young and had no intention of being anything other than friends with Philip, but there was still a nagging at the back of her mind. She wasn’t being unfaithful, no more than James was when he took female clients out for dinner. But something she said wouldn’t leave her. How did she know what James got up to on all those business trips? In her naivety it had never occurred to her that he might be sleeping with any of those women he had brought home for her to cook for. What a bloody idiot she had been, or had she? She would probably never know now.
‘What’s wrong?’ Philip hadn’t taken his eyes off the road but he could see.
Imogen didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent.
‘You can tell me to shut up if you like.’
‘No! Sorry. It’s nothing really. Something occurred to me, but there’s nothing I can do about it.’
‘We can call this off if you want.’
‘No I don’t want. Anyway we’re here now.’ She put on her best smile but she had the feeling it wouldn’t be fooling Philip like it did most people.
The little cove that sat at the bottom of the lane behind the farm and the cottage was one of the best-kept secrets of the area. All the locals knew about it but if the holidaymakers asked where the nearest beach was they were sent in the opposite direction. As a result you often had the place to yourself. And today the little beach was deserted.
‘This is just beautiful.’ Philip gazed around him at the rugged; wind bashed rocks and endless, endless sea.
‘Isn’t it? We used to come down here all the time, almost every day in the summer. Some mornings Rowena would get me up really early and we would have breakfast down here.’
‘Fantastic. We have great beaches near us but they get so chocked up with surfers and tourists that the locals tend to stay away.’
‘It can get like that round here to in summer. That’s why this place is so precious. I expect someone will find it some time and spoil it like they always do, but let’s hope not.’
‘Not today anyway.’ Philip smiled at her and she couldn’t help smiling back.

James thanked God it was Sunday. It was eleven thirty and he was still sprawled across the huge bed. There was a pungent odour that told him he really should change the sheets. He turned the pillow over and screwed his eyes tight shut in an attempt to go back to sleep. There were things he should be doing, papers to sort out for tomorrow and phone calls to make. He also needed to do some shopping. For three and a half weeks he had been living on take away and what in the cupboards and freezer could be heated up in the microwave. He hated ready meals and so Imogen always cooked from scratch. Great when she was here, but James had no idea what to do with most of the things he found and he was getting fed up with fried rice and curry. He thought about calling Olwen and asking when she was next going to the supermarket, but she kept putting the phone down on him. It made sense to him that she could get his shopping along with her own, but he was starting to suspect that he had upset her somehow. Maybe it was worth a try. He certainly couldn’t do it himself. He stretched out for the phone by the bed and dialled.
‘Hello?’ It was Jonathan who answered the phone.
‘Oh Jonathan, it’s James.’
‘I know. How are you?’
‘Oh fine, fine. I was just wondering if Olwen was planning on doing any shopping today?’
‘I expect so. She mentioned something this morning about washing powder. Why?’
Washing powder. James hadn’t given things like that a thought.
‘Do you think she could pick a few bits up for me while she’s there?’
‘Umm…’ Jonathan was silent for a moment. ‘Hold on a sec James.’
James could hear their voices in the background but couldn’t make out what they were saying.
‘James.’ Jonathan came back on the line. ‘She says no. But if you meet her there she’ll give you a hand.’
‘Oh…um…Oh. Well I suppose so. Where is it?’
‘Waitrose.’
‘Yes I know its name, but how do I get there?’


Imogen leant her back against the warm rock and closed her eyes. It was the smell that she was searching for. The smell of salt water, seaweed and sand that would take her back to a different self. For years she had avoided the coasts and tried very hard to get out of seaside trips for fear that she would catch that smell. Now she wanted it back very badly. A small puff of wind covered her in it and she bathed and wallowed. She was eleven years old again, running and screaming through the surf with Rowena chasing and waving a silky green/brown length of seaweed. For a moment she was desperate to be that little girl again, no boarding school, no disappointment in her fathers eyes, no rows and no James.
Something wet against her bare shins made her jump. She snapped her eyes open and saw a figure standing over her waving a huge clump of seaweed. Phillip was laughing and swishing the weed so that it caught against her skin. Without thinking she jumped up and tried to grab it away from him. He was too quick, turned on his heels and ran towards the water. Imogen gave chase but he was too fast. He stood, ankle deep in the sea waiting for her to catch up. When she got to arms length he threw the weed so that it landed across her shoulders.
‘Oh! You sod!’ She grabbed the seaweed away from her and threw it back into the sea. ‘Now I’m going to reek for the rest of the day.’
‘Not it you take a bath.’
‘I’m not going home yet.’
‘You don’t need to go home. We’ve got all this water right here.’
‘But I haven’t got a swimsuit.’
‘Who need one?’
‘What are you suggesting?’ She tried hard to sound shocked.
‘Nothing. Just take your sandals off. Your clothes will dry while we have lunch.’
Imogen couldn’t help feeling a pang of disappointment, but skinny-dipping was not something you did with a man you were only planning to be friends with. And you are not going to let this get out of hand, she told herself. She was standing on the sand wondering if sitting around in soggy clothes was really an appealing idea when Phillip dived headlong, fully clothed, into the sea.
‘Shit!’ Phillip exclaimed. ‘It’s bloody freezing.’
Imogen stood helpless with laughter while Phillip splashed and spluttered his way back to shore.
‘Bloody hell!’
‘You’re in England now remember, not Australia.’
He stood and shook, spraying water like a wet Labrador.
‘Do you have a towel in the car?’ She was recovering her composure and starting to feel sorry for him.
‘In the boot I think.’
They sat with their backs against the warm rocks, Phillip wrapped in a rather scruffy old towel.
‘Any better?’ she asked.
‘Warming back up now thanks. God that was cold. Now I know why all British surfers wear wetsuits.’
‘Have some tea.’ Imogen poured them both a mug from the flask. ‘Tea solves almost anything.’
‘So I’m finding out. But will it solve things for you?’
‘Oh very clever. How do you always manage to bring things back to me and my problems? Don’t you have any of your own?’
‘No not really. Well not in this country anyway. So back to you. What’s occurred to you that made you so quiet this morning?’

Olwen waved at James from across the car park. Blimey he was looking rough. She wondered if he had herd anything from Imogen.
‘Hi. So you found it then?’ As she spoke she looked him up and down. Well it was a long time since anything he wore had seen an iron that was for sure, and perhaps a burglar had stolen his razor and hairbrush.
‘Yes thank you. Look, Olwen, wouldn’t it be better if I just tell you what I need and you drop it off on your way home?’
‘Do you have a shopping list?’ Olwen folded her arms.
‘Uhrr…no.’ James frowned.
‘Well can you write one out for me? I’ll need to know what brands you prefer and what sizes you usually have.’ She knew very well that James had no idea what she was talking about and she smiled rather sadistically as he stood there looking blankly. But it really wasn’t fair to tease him. After all Jonathan had been as bad when they first married. And it wasn’t entirely their fault. Their mother had done everything for them, and still would be if she had still been alive.
‘I tell you what we’ll do. You grab yourself a trolley and follow me round. We’ll see if anything looks familiar to you.’ The look on his face said it all.
With hopeless resignation James went with Olwen to the trolleys. He watched carefully as she manoeuvred one out and swung it round.
‘Your turn.’
‘Can’t I have that one?’ Olwen rolled her eyes and pushed it towards him.
Entering the supermarket James was struck first of all by the noise. It was a strange mix that took his ears a few seconds to decipher. There were a myriad of voices in every tone and pitch, tuneless music and a hummy, buzzing that he guessed must be the florescent lights and the vast banks of fridges and freezers. The light was mesmerising, hypnotic, and designed to make everything look enticing. Looking down at his hand he noticed that his skin was pinker and far healthier looking than it had been for weeks.
Olwen turned and saw him still standing in the entrance. There was something very childlike about him, this usually powerful and successful man who could make a conference room full of hard nosed businessmen eat out of his hand, looking so lost. He had been dragged out of his element. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. For weeks he had been pestering her and badgering her to do things for him, now she could start to understand why. Oh he was arrogant, of that there was no doubt, but he was also scared to death by what was happening. Look at him standing there, a rabbit trapped in the headlights just waiting to be run over, he didn’t know which way to turn. She sighed and went over to him.
‘Shall we make a start?’ She laid her hand on his arm. ‘Do you know what you need?’
‘Not really.’ His voice was almost a whisper. He was letting himself down in front of his sister-in-law and he didn’t know what to do about it. He wanted to deify her, to march off with his trolley and show her that he didn’t need her help. But he did. It wasn’t that unusual surely? Looking around it was mostly women after all, most men of his age would probably struggle if they had to do the shopping. He tried to imagine Henry pushing a trolley. He realised that Henry would be even more clueless than he was. Feeling a little better he started to think.
‘Milk.’ he said. ‘I definatly need milk.’

Imogen sat wondering how she was going to explain to Philip about her imaginary conversation with Rowena. He’ll think your nuts, which you may well be. And it might give him the wrong idea. But he was sitting there looking at her, wanting her to talk to him. And she wanted to talk to him. She’d been annoyed at his directness before and taken aback by his openness. To him it was obvious that if you had a problem then you talked about it. The last time she had talked to anyone about how she truly, deeply felt it was with Rowena just before she got married. Rowena was the only person she had ever been able to talk to. She loved Cherith very much but she knew that her mother was compromised by a presence that hung over them both. After her marriage her own conversations became similarly compromised. Even with Rowena she had started to feel herself holding back. Of course Rowena would always take sides and hold an opinion, which often made things worse. But Philip had no reason to take sides or hold any opinions. Maybe she could talk to him. After all he would be going back to Australia at the end of the summer, taking away any secrets she might tell him. Ok then, she thought, here goes.
‘I was thinking about today, meeting you and coming here. And I felt a bit uncomfortable, you know, being married.’
‘I thought you’d left him?’
‘Well yes I think so. But it’s only been three and a half weeks, and I did take it seriously, being married. I would never have met a man without James knowing, and certainly not a man he didn’t know. I felt guilty. Anyway it started me thinking about all the women James must meet all the time. I’ve met some of them; he brings them home for dinner parties. But there must be dozens that I never even get told about. And while I was thinking this it struck me that he could have been having affairs all over the place and I would never know. He goes away a lot you see.’
‘Is he the sort who would?’
Imogen sighed. ‘Yes. I think he might be.’
‘So you didn’t leave because he’d been unfaithful?’
‘No.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking. Why did you leave?’
It was not a question Imogen had been expecting. She didn’t know how to put it into words.
‘Being left the cottage and the money made the decision easier, but I think I would have gone at some time. Rowena was quite right, we should never have married. She tried to tell me. I should have listened.’
‘But you were in love.’
‘No I wasn’t. I was scared.’ Imogen lowered her head and put her hands in her lap.
‘Scared of what?’
‘Of everything. But I was also a little afraid of James. He’s much older than me you see. He’s dad’s number two, well he was, I think he pretty much runs things now. He and dad are very close. Dad used to bring him home a lot and I quite liked him. One day Dad said that James wanted to take me out. I went because I thought I should. And it was quite nice. He behaved very well and paid for everything. He was the perfect gentleman. Flowers started arriving at the house, I was flattered. Mind you I had nothing to compare it to. Dad was happiest about it all, mum said as little as possible. This went on for about six months and then he proposed.’
‘So he loved you?’ Philip sounded hopeful.
‘I thought so at the time. I naively assumed that you only asked someone to marry you if you loved them. I didn‘t know how to say no. And by then I’d convinced myself that I might be able to fall in love with him. Everyone was so happy, except Rowena. I got swept up in it all and it was nice, all the attention.’
‘So what went wrong?’
‘I don’t think anything did ‘go wrong’. Not in the way most people think. There were no rows or shouting, no throwing things. It was little things. Like when I moved in. We came back from honeymoon and I moved into his house. It’s a lovely house, but very much his. Everything in it he had chosen. I thought that when it became my home too that we would redecorate, buy some new furniture or something. But he didn’t offer and I didn’t like to ask. So I suppose it never really became my home in the way it should. In fact when I left I managed to pack everything that actually belonged to me into the back of the car.’
‘Wow.’
‘I know. Not much to show for six years of marriage. Not that I can blame him completely. He’s not that unreasonable. I suppose he would have made some changes if I’d pushed for them. But he liked things the way they were.’
‘A bit of a control freak?’
‘I don‘t know. Although he did sometimes buy my clothes, especially for big, corporate occasions. And he always ordered for both of us in restaurants.’
‘Sounds like a control freak to me. I couldn’t imagine doing that to anyone. Did he ever ask for your opinion?’ Philip was kicking at the sand, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
Imogen thought for a moment. ‘Actually no. But, and this is going to sound so lame, It never occurred to me to give one. At least he never shouted. I grew up with mum always saying yes to dad, even when he was obviously making a fool of them both. I was brought up to do the same. I guess I just carried that on into marriage.’
‘So what changed?’
‘I suppose I did. To understand properly you really should have met Rowena. Every one said I was more like her than dad. She had real passion, a fire for life. I had that as a child but I also had mum’s quiet, passive streak, and I guess that came to dominate after I stopped seeing Row regularly.’
‘Tell me about her.’ Philip could see the pain in Imogen’s eyes building as she was talking. It wasn’t fair to push her. If she wanted to tell him then she would. Every time she mentioned Rowena her face lit up. She needed to get it all out. But it didn’t need to be all at once. And anyway he was curious about this famous aunt.
‘Oh she was wonderful.’ Imogen beamed. ‘People sometimes call someone a force of nature, but she really was. She was like no one else I had ever met, or met since come to that. There are photos back at the cottage; I’ll sow you when we get back.’
‘I’d like that.’

As they pushed their trolleys around Waitrose Olwen studied James for clues. He wasn’t putting much in the trolley, mostly ready meals for one that could go in the freezer and then the microwave. No tea bags either, he never drank tea and Imogen rarely drank coffee. This did not bode well. She was going to have to say something. Jonathan had told her not to, but when did she ever do what he told her?
‘What about tea bags? Won’t Imogen want tea bags?’
‘Um… I suppose so.’ His hand hovered. What was the colour of the box, red, green? ‘I’m not sure. Maybe she’ll get herself some.’
‘So she is coming home then?’
‘I expect so, sometime.’
‘James I know I’ve asked before but I’m going to ask again. Has Imogen left you?’
James hung his head. He was too tired and too confused to fight. Why was he still trying to pretend anyway, everyone must have guessed by now.
‘Yes.’ he said with a sigh. ‘Yes I think she has.’
‘I’m sorry. Shall we call it a day and go find a pub?’
‘Sounds like a bloody good idea.’

Sunday lunchtime was not the best time to be in a London pub. They ordered drinks and took them out to the gardens. There were a few families and a couple of yappy dogs, but they found themselves a quiet spot in a corner. To an outsider they must look like a couple settling down for a cosy chat away from the crowds, Olwen thought as she sat down opposite James on a ridiculously narrow bench.
‘So then. What happened?’ She shifted about, trying to get both cheeks on the bench.
‘I honestly don’t know. I flew to New York and everything was normal. I got back and she had gone. I didn’t even notice at first. I mean I knew she was not in the house obviously, but everything looked just the same, nothing missing, nothing out of place. Eventually I found the letter she had left. It said she had been unhappy for a long time and that she was going away.’
‘Did you know she was unhappy?’
‘I knew she was upset by Rowena’s death. Apart from that everything seemed fine. She never said anything about being unhappy.’
‘And you didn’t notice?’ Olwen tapped her fingers on the table and narrowed her eyes.
‘What was to notice? She seemed exactly the same to me. Did you notice anything?’
‘She seemed quieter and quieter, more thoughtful. And she’d lost weight, you must have noticed that?’
‘No.’ James said matter of factly.
‘So you came home each night and as long as your food was cooked, you had a clean shirt for the morning and a blow job then everything was fine was it?’ Olwen took a sip of her drink to stop herself saying anything else.
James looked down into his beer not knowing what to say. That was bloody rude and he wanted to get up and leave, but that would cause a scene.
‘What are you saying? What are you accusing me of?’
‘I’m not accusing you of anything…Actually yes I am. You lived with Imogen for six years and yet when she became unhappy and started to think about leaving you didn’t notice. What does that say about you James?’
‘It says I’m a busy man who has a lot to think about and doesn’t have time for silly games. If she was that unhappy why didn’t she tell me?’
‘She shouldn’t have had to. Good God James have you ever though about anyone but yourself?’ Olwen tried hard not to raise her voice.
‘Of course I have. I made sure she had everything she wanted.’ James was indignant.
‘You mean you gave her a gold credit card and a gardener.’
‘What’s wrong with that? I thought that’s what all women want.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with those things but they’re no good on their own. Didn’t you love her to?’ She shouldn’t have to ask.
For a moment he was silenced. He frowned and thought about it. They got on well, she seemed happy with his arrangements and sex was fine.
‘And you wonder why she might have been unhappy?’ Olwen slumped back in frustration. He was impossible. ‘Did she love you? Did you ever bother to find out?’
‘I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.’ How dare she, who did she think she was anyway?
‘Sitting there and listening is exactly what you should be doing. I don’t want to fight with you James. But you are the most impossible man to talk to. I’ll admit that to the outside world you did look like a happily married couple. But if I could see things then why couldn’t you? Maybe because you never loved her, in which case why did you marry her? Make me understand James; convince me not to take Imogen’s side against you. Defend yourself.’
‘And why should I defend myself? I can’t see that I’ve done anything wrong. If anyone needs to understand what’s going on it’s me.’ He shifted around on the bench and refused to meet Olwen‘s eyes. Something she said about love had stuck. Love had never come into it before. It was a marriage of convenience, he thought Imogen knew that.
‘Are you trying to tell me that Imogen loved me?’
‘I don’t know. But you should have known. That’s my point. If you didn’t care enough to think about how she was feeling. If you didn’t love her then you can’t wonder at her leaving, can you?’
‘All this touchy feely rubbish, all this lovey dovey stuff, it’s so… so transatlantic. How many people honestly marry for love? I mean there’s usually something else going on, a tax break or something.’ He snapped.
‘I think you’ll find that most people marry primarily for love. Anything else is just a bonus. There may have been a time, fifty years ago, when people married out of duty or for business, but those days are long gone.’
‘Are they? Are you sure? I can think of several couples I’ve dealt with who have done exactly that. I was with one such only the other night. The Colasanto’s from New York. He works for the firm over there we do most U.S business with. One evening we were talking and I asked him why he chose Mandy. He said he didn’t, he chose her fathers’ money, and she chose his families respectability and powerful name. They didn’t love each other but they both got what they wanted. And there are others. It happens all the time. It was the same with us. Henry wanted me to be director and I wanted that to, very much. I’d worked my backside off for him for years. It was what I deserved. He told me he would like me to take over when he retired, but he didn’t want the company to go out of the family. He started taking me home to meet Cherith and Imogen. She was a bright girl but we both knew that she would never be able to take over the business. It was, not very subtlety, implied that in order for me to take over and for the company to stay in the family then Imogen and I should marry. And she needed looking after; she’s not the strongest person is she? She would never have been able to have the lifestyle she had grown up with without marrying someone like me. And whenever we talked she never expressed any interest in any carear, she seemed to want what was on offer. So I thought we were both getting what we wanted. And it seemed to work very well.’
Olwen was not quite sure she was hearing what she was hearing. Could anyone really be so cold, so calculating? James was a lot of thing she didn’t like but she didn’t think even he could be that ruthless.
‘Are you saying that your marriage was just another of your and Henry’s business deals? In which case all I can say is that it was a good job she got out when she did.’ She tensed.
‘You shouldn’t make judgments Olwen. Is your marriage perfect? Is any ones?’ James’ eyes blazed at her, challenging.
‘Not perfect no. I’ve never pretended it is. But we do love each other. I would do anything for Jonathan and he would do anything for me. And we would both die for the children. We obviously live in very different worlds because I don’t know anyone who married to get their hands on their father-in-laws business.’ Remember you’re in a public place, she told herself.
They sat in silence sipping at their drinks. Looking around James could see everywhere what Olwen was talking about. Just to one side of them was a couple who must have been mid thirties, there were two small children and a Labrador puppy. The husband was busy wiping chocolate sauce from the little girls face and hands; the wife was trying to stop the little boy teasing the puppy with his straw. They were not looking at each other but were somehow in perfect harmony, united in the care of their children. The wife looked up and without a word the husband threw her the wet wipes, she hadn’t said a word but he knew just what she wanted. And over there, by the pond, a retired couple sitting side by side gently leaning against each other, not speaking and not needing to. He knew that however hard he tried he could never imagine he and Imogen being like either couple. And it had never been something he had wanted. He had tried love once, many years ago and the result had been devastating. Her name was Lizzie and they were at university together. He had thought about it all then, the big wedding, the kids, and the happy retirement. He would have done it all with Lizzie. Except it was the last thing she had wanted and as soon as he broached the subject she ran a mile, quite literally, and disappeared off to Canada.
‘Do you even know where she is?’ It occurred to Olwen that over the last three and a half weeks all James had said was that Imogen had gone away.
‘Umm…She didn’t say.’
‘And have you tried to find out?’
‘I called Henry and a couple of friends I knew of.’
‘And then what?’
‘And then nothing. I’m not her keeper. She chose not to tell me where she was going. I haven’t got time to run around tracking her down.’ He blinked hard and looked into his glass.
‘Good God! Do you actually care where she’s gone? She could be anywhere, and what if something’s happened to her? You said before that you had checked the hospitals, I take it that was a lie?’
‘If something bad had happened I would have heard by now. Olwen, I’m sorry, but this really is none of your business and I’m a little sick of your attitude.’ And very sick of being made to feel like such a shit. What gave her the right to make judgments on him?
‘Fine, James, fine. Have it your way. But the next time you need your arse wiping don’t call me.’ Olwen picked up her handbag and left him to his beer. What was it going to take to wake him up? Good on you Imogen, I hope you find yourself a nice young man and shag him senseless.

‘This is one of my favourites of her.’ Imogen handed Philip a silver frame with a photo of Rowena astride her motorbike. ‘She was sixty then can you believe.’
‘She was very beautiful.’ Philip took the photo.
‘Yes she was. She took my breath away the first time I saw her. She came to meet me off the train. Dad wouldn’t allow a photo of her in the house so I had no idea what she looked like. I got off the train and there was this tall, elegant, wonderful looking woman in a purple caftan. Her blonde hair blowing all over the place. She was waving like mad and I kept looking behind me to see who she was waving at. When I got close enough she came running up and gave me a huge hug. “Hello Gin, I’m your aunt Rowena”. No one had ever given me a nickname before. I fell in love with her on the spot.’
‘You’re a lot like her.’ Philip said looking up from the photo.
‘I wish I was. She had something about her that made everyone she met like her. She could get even the most stubborn builder to do exactly what she wanted. She never had to ask for anything, people just did things for her. And I was one of them; I would probably have jumped off a cliff if she asked me to.’
‘Did she ever marry?’
‘No. Not for want of offers though. She had more boyfriends before she was thirty than most women have their whole lives. Then she moved down here. She said it was partly to get away from the pressure she was under to marry. Her parents, my grandparents I suppose, wanted to marry her off to some rich young heir to something or other, an estate in Hampshire I think it was. He was the last in a long line and I think she got sick of it, and they were getting sick of her saying no to them all. Yes I wish I had been more like her.’
‘What did she do, I mean for a living?’
‘I honestly don’t know. There was family money and she had a lot of shares in the company that gave her some income. She was very well educated though. She was lucky.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well her parents’ generation tended to send their boys to proper schools and their girls to finishing schools. My grandparents didn’t feel like that. They indulged her desire for education. And she managed to get the head master of Henry’s school to let her use his library.’
‘This can be a strange country.’ Philip put the photo back on the table. He looked around the room, ‘so is all this stuff hers?’
‘All of it, pretty much.’
‘And where are you?’
‘Well, like I said, I don’t own much. I accumulated a few odds and sods but nothing to speak of. That’s mine.’ Imogen pointed at a beautifully embroidered cushion. ‘It was a birthday present.’
‘From Rowena?’
‘Yes. She always managed to find presents and match them perfectly to the receiver. Now that is something I inherited from her. Anyway what about you? So far all you’ve told me is that you’re from Australia and that you’re here for the summer. Tell me about you.’
‘Ok but there’s not much to tell. I was born in Australia but my father was English so we lived here for a while. We moved back to Oz when I was five. That was when dad died. There was an accident; he hit another car head on. Mum didn’t want to stay here without him. I don’t remember much about living here so as soon as I could I wanted to come back and have a look around. I’ve been in England since last October. I went home for Christmas. I started off in London, as we all do I suppose. Moved on from one city to the next doing odd bits of work here and there. Then I saw this add for a summer job on a farm in Cornwall. I thought a few weeks in the country would be good, and I’ve heard a lot about the surfing down here. So there you go, that’s me.’
All the time he was talking Imogen was watching him, it was hard not to. She was trying to work out what it was that drew her. He was sexy for sure, with his blue eyes and slightly too tight t-shirt, but there was something more. There was something less obvious. He listened to her. He made her laugh. He took her seriously. He was interested.
‘I’m sorry about you father.’ She said at last.
‘It was a long time ago now. I think it took mum a long time to get over it though. I’m sorry about Rowena. I would have loved to have met her’
‘Thank you. She would’ve liked you. She was a dreadful flirt all her life. She was always telling me in her letters about new men that came her way. I think that was one reason why she didn’t marry, she couldn’t decide, she liked them all! I never asked her how many lovers there had been but I hear there were more men than women at the funeral.’
‘You didn’t go?’
‘No.’ Imogen’s face lost its smile and Philip winced. ‘She asked me not to. There was a letter that came just after she died. It was from her via her solicitor. She asked me not to go to the funeral. She said she had a good reason for asking and not to be too upset. It’s complicated but it was to do with the will and wanting to keep leaving this place to me a secret from dad.’
Philip nodded, families could be funny things. To Philip it seemed bizarre that a brother and sister could hate each other that much, but then he was an only child. Every family plays games with each other, that he did know, and it seemed Imogen had been stuck in the middle. He wondered if she knew how much she had been used.

‘I saw that young Australian boy again this morning, in the shop. He was buying things for a picnic, and he was buying enough for two. I wonder who he was taking?’ Eleanor handed Molly her tea.
‘Oh I do hope it was Ginny. Do you think it might have been?’ Molly clapped her hands together.
‘The way she blushed the other day when he was mentioned I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t something going on.’
‘Not that it’s really right, a married woman going out with a young, single man without her husband’s knowledge.’ Molly bit her lip and put her hands back in her lap.
‘Oh Molly you are priceless sometimes. We are in the twenty first century now, not the nineteen forties. And out Gin is not exactly a loose woman is she? I don’t think she would do anything foolish. Mind you it might not be a bad thing if she did. I don’t imagine James was, is, the most romantic of men. It will do her good to have some good old-fashioned romance. He seems like a nice young man. Mrs Tragowen was telling me how hard working he is, and polite, not qualities you see too often in the youth of today. I think he’ll look after her. He had better anyway.’ Eleanor sniffed.
‘I do hope so. Poor child she’s been through so much recently.’ Molly sat back in her chair, soaking up the soft June sunshine. ‘She deserves some happiness.’

James had hardy had time to unpack the shopping when the doorbell rang. Who the hell would that be on a Sunday afternoon? Maybe it was Olwen coming to apologise, well she better make it good. He padded across the hall, it was a woman’s outline he could see through the door glass. He smiled to himself; he was going to enjoy watching his sister-in-law begging his forgiveness. He yanked the door open and was stopped in his tracks.
‘James. Hi.’
‘Mandy! Um… Hello.’ On his doorstep stood Mandy Colsanto in her biggest earrings, highest heels and the shortest skirt he had seen since the eighties.
‘I hope you don’t mind. I keep thinking about poor Imogen and I couldn’t go home without knowing she’s ok. So I thought I’d drop by for a little visit.’ she pushed passed James and let herself into the hall. ‘Bedroom this way?’ she headed for the stairs.
‘No!’ James grabbed her arm. ‘I mean…’ Shit! What the hell was the stupid tart doing? He couldn’t let her up there, she would see immediately. She was staring at him and trying to wriggle from his grip.
‘I’m sorry Mandy but she’s not here.’ Come on James think. ‘She’s gone away for a few days. She was feeling better so I suggested she spend a few days with… with her aunt in Cornwall. She won’t be back until next weekend and it’s too far for a day trip I’m afraid. So it seems you’ve had a wasted journey.’ He had no idea what he was talking about or why he had said that about Cornwall, Rowena was dead for goodness sake. He watched Mandy carefully to see it she had bought his story. With relief she turned away from the stairs.
‘Well that is a shame. But aren’t you the sweetest thing to be so thoughtful?’ She came up close to him. ‘So you’re having to fend for yourself. You should have called me; I could have come and cooked you something. I make good fried chicken.’
‘That would have been nice Mandy, but I’m fine.’ She was so close he could smell the woman under the acrid perfume. He turned away slightly so as not to sneeze.
‘Well of course I can do more than cook.’ She put her hand out and pressed it against his chest. ‘A man like you all on his own must need things.’
Oh good God she was coming on to him. He took her hand and gently lowered it from his chest. It didn’t work. She pushed her, not completely real, breasts out so that they brushed against his shoulder. It would be so easy, he could take her upstairs right now, it might even be advantages. If she was ‘satisfied’ with him then it might help with future business. For a moment the feel of her so close, her breath on his neck he thought why not. Then he opened his eyes and saw her thick red lips and heavily massacred eyes. A picture of Imogen’s soft, make-up free face flittered across his mind and he took a polite step backwards.
‘That’s a very tempting offer Mandy, really. But what would Kelvin think?’
‘Oh fuck Kelvin, everyone else does. Even if he found out, which he won’t, he wouldn’t care.’ She started to come back up beside him, wriggling her hips in a way he had only ever seen hookers do. He took another step back.
‘Well I’m afraid I do care. I have too much respect for you both to spoil our friendship like that. And I couldn’t do it to Imogen, especially when she is convalescing.’
‘A gentleman. Trust me to pick the only fucking gentleman in this whole fucking city. Oh well you can’t blame a girl for trying.’ She shrugged and hitched her handbag back onto her shoulder. ‘Give Imogen my love, she’s a lucky girl.’
James let her out and, quickly, closed the door behind her. He went back into the kitchen shaking his head. He wasn’t obverse to shagging female clients, or a client’s wife, in the line of duty. But there were limits. And then there was all that other stuff. Why had he told Mandy that Imogen had gone to Cornwall?
Of course, James you idiot, Cornwall, where else would Imogen go? He closed his eyes and threw his head back. Yes, yes. He smacked his hand against his forehead. Henry had been furious that he couldn’t find out who had been left the cottage and all the shares and money, and when he had come to the house to have a rant Imogen had been very quiet. In fact she had said very little about the whole Rowena situation, never putting forward any opinion. That was strange because they had been so close, but he put it down to grief. He had put a lot down to grief. Yes, Imogen had to be Rowena’s heir. He went into the study and rummaged through the post from the last few weeks, there was bound to be something there. He went through the overflowing waste paper basket and then the draws in the desk, nothing. She must have taken everything with her. The more he though about it the more he became convinced that Rowena had, indeed, left everything to Imogen and that she had gone down to Cornwall. He remembered seeing the map book under the bed. And a couple of times when she was on the phone when he came home and she closed the kitchen door, something she never usually did. They were all things that he had taken no notice of at the time. They were silly things. He poured himself a large whisky and thought. He had no proof that she was in Cornwall and probably no way of finding out about the will. He could try the solicitor but he knew Henry had been trying for weeks. He could get his own lawyer onto it, after all he might have a claim on the company shares, but that could take weeks. Henry obviously didn’t know anything, but Cherith might. James looked at his watch. Henry would have gone for his after lunch drink with his golfing pals by now. He called their number up on the phone menu and pressed dial.
‘Hello.’ Cherith answered.
‘Cherith, hello, it’s James.’
‘Oh James, hello. Henry isn’t here I’m afraid.’
‘That’s all right. It’s actually you I wanted to talk to. I wanted to ask you about Imogen.’
‘Oh.’
She sounded nervous, which was promising.
‘Something’s occurred to me. I think she might have gone to Rowena’s.’
‘And what makes you think that?’ Cherith twisted the phone cord around in her fingers. She had been expecting one of them to put two and two together at some point, and she had been hoping it would be James rather than Henry. She took a couple of deep breaths. She should have spoken to Imogen in more detail about this. But she was sure James didn’t actually know anything, he was just fishing. James could be slippery though. Her hand trembled slightly on the receiver.
‘I just started thinking and it suddenly seemed so obvious. Has she been in touch at all?’ Gently does it, don’t spook her.
‘I’m sorry James no she hasn’t.’ Cherish crossed her fingers behind her back.
‘Oh. Well do you think it might be possible? It occurred to me that Imogen might have been Rowena’s heir?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t know any details of the will. As you know we were not told anything.’
‘No of course. But do you think she might have gone there anyway?’
‘I really couldn’t say. I’m sorry James but I’m going to have to go, I’m expecting some friends any minute.’
‘All right. Could you let me know if she gets in touch? I think I might follow up on Cornwall.’
‘You must do whatever you think best dear.’ and she hung up. She decided it might be a good idea to call Imogen and warn her.
James put the phone down and swore. That might have been a mistake. He poured another drink and sat. What now? He tapped his foot against the chair. The most obvious thing was to go down to Cornwall. But he wasn’t sure that would achieve anything. He could call, but she’d probably hang up. A letter then. Ok so write her a letter. Now he just had to decide what to say.
Sitting hugging his whisky the day’s events started to flood over him. First there were Olwen’s remarks. Normally he didn’t care what other people thought of him, but today, it seemed to matter. Maybe it had always mattered. His mind went back to the last time he was at his brother’s house and how upset he had been by their implications that Imogen had left him. It was like he was starting to wake from a very long dream, suddenly starting to feel things he hadn’t felt for years, if at all. Imogen had made everything so easy for him. When she moved in she made no claims on his teritory. She fitted herself in to his routines, his foibles, she never complained when he brought people home unexpectedly or didn’t even come home, and she never asked questions. He thought about some of the things Olwen had said. He had married in order to get his hands on the company, that was true, he couldn’t deny it. And he couldn’t deny that she was beautiful and charming. He had been surprised when she agreed to go out with him. He suspected, knew really, that Henry was behind it all, but he was still flattered. The question he really needed to answer was that if he cared so little then why was her leaving bothering him so much? And then there was Mandy. A few weeks ago he would have just taken her upstairs and thought little of it, he would have used the spare room and changed the bottom sheet, but there would have been no guilt. Today when she came up close her smell, the overwhelming perfume, made him feel sick. And when he saw Imogen’s face he had to get Mandy out.
Closing his eyes he saw Imogen again. Opening them quickly he could still see her, but this time it was from their wedding photo on the mantle. He got up and fetched it. On the way back to his chair he filled his glass. Well she was smiling. He looked closer and closer. Well there was a smile on her lips anyway. And what about him? Oh yes he was smiling; he’d hit the jackpot hadn’t he.
Think, James, think. Were there signs? The more he thought and the more he drank the more he saw into the last six years and saw things that had passed him at the time. On their wedding day for example. Imogen had asked for a favourite song and had come and asked him to dance, he had said no, he was busy talking, but now he couldn’t remember who to or what about, all he could see was the look on her face as she went back to their table. And the honeymoon, when he had spent almost the whole time on his mobile or laptop.
It was about three months after they got home that he was first ‘unfaithful’, if sleeping with the secretary of a rival in order to get some information on a deal could be called unfaithful. He couldn’t even remember her name the next day let alone now. He told himself at the time that Imogen would never find out and that it didn’t matter if she did, but he was pretty sure she did know. Now the thought that for years she was well aware that he was shagging other women and said nothing about it made him lurch into the kitchen and vomit into the sink. Guilt was new to him and he didn’t like it. He wanted it all to stop, he wanted to go to bed, pull the covers over his head and stay there until he felt himself again. But he couldn’t, he needed to think more, he needed to see and understand.
Back in his chair he started to recall other things. There was a party, something to do with the office. Imogen had bought a new dress. She was so pleased with it and twirled around the sitting room showing him. He didn’t like it and told her to take it back. Now he saw the look on her face and he screwed up his eyes. The next day he went out at lunchtime and bought her something he thought more suitable. She had worn it without complaint. After that he always went with her to buy outfits for company occasions. He was very glad he hadn’t told Olwen about that. Tellingly these clothes were the only things she had left behind. There was a need to control her, but she let him.
One thing after another rolled past his consciousness, until it became blindingly obvious that she had been miserable almost from the first day. He sank further and further into the chair until he was curled up like a child. He really wasn’t a nice person was he? He shook his head, no. And he hadn’t treated Imogen very well had he? He shook his head again, no. And that was stupid because he loved her didn’t he? He nodded his head, yes he did.

It had got dark. The kind of darkness you only get in the country. Except it wasn’t dark. The stars were so bright. And the moon glowed like a torch, lighting up the whole garden. They had spent the whole afternoon talking about everything except what they both knew Imogen needed to talk about. Eventually Philip took the bull by the horns.
‘So why did you really leave?’
‘Blimey that was direct.’ They were sitting under the Mulberry tree both facing out towards the garden, their backs pressed against the knawled trunk. It was probably better that he couldn’t see her face, all day she had been blushing but now she turned very pale. She had to think about it all sooner or later, she had just hoped it could be later; she’d managed to change the subject earlier. But Philip was right; this was as good a time as any. She took a deep breath.
‘For six years I tried to make him love me and for six years I failed.’
‘That simple?’
‘…No. Probably not.’
‘So tell me.’
‘Rowena dieing made me wake up. It shouldn’t have been a shock, she had been ill for a long time, but it was. It made me feel again. The day I got married I switched off and I was on autopilot for six years. It was fine; there was nothing to complain about. Nice house, gold cards, gardener, big car, gym membership, the lot. To begin with I thought that was just what marriage was. It was when I got to know his brother Jonathan and his wife Olwen that I changed my mind. They have the kind of marriage you see in TV commercials. Two gorgeous kids, untidy house, and they adore each other. Things I’d never seen. I’d only been married six months and I realised that it was probably a mistake. But at the same time it wasn’t. He never hit me, rarely shouted, all though sometimes I wished he had, shouted I mean. There was just something. You know sometimes when you’re with someone and there’s a silence, and that silence is nice, it doesn’t need to be filled? With James those silences always needed filling. And they always felt like they were my fault, like I had done or said something that meant he couldn’t bear to talk to me. I would sit there racking my brains trying to think what I’d done or hadn’t done until I couldn’t bare it anymore and would start apologizing anyway. It would be the same when he came home in a bad mood, I would spend the whole evening walking on eggshells and then saying how sorry I was that he had had a bad day.’
‘You still do it you know, apologize for everything. This morning you apologized for the water being so cold.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yep. And you did it in the post office the other day when that man bumped into you.’
‘I think I’ve spent my whole life apologizing. One reason Rowena was so against my marrying James was that he was too much like dad. And I know that one reason I said yes was that getting married meant escape. And I didn’t think a husband would have as much hold over me as my father. To a point I was right, James was not as bad as dad. Anyway that’s what I kept telling myself. And there’s the old saying “better the devil you know”. When you’re a child you accept things more easily. Dad made all the decisions and mum went along with it all. If dad was in a bad mood mum would bend over backwards to soothe him and bring him out of it. Even the shopping list was written in dad’s favour, the tea he liked, a particular marmalade that meant a trip to a separate shop. He won’t let her have a dishwasher because he likes ‘proper’ china that isn’t dishwasher friendly. He always ordered for us when we went out to eat so I was used to it all already. There was a part of me that thought it was easier to stay and turn into mum because at least I knew what to expect. I so wanted to be like Rowena, to have her courage. To just up and leave like she did and make a new life. I thought she was amazing, dazzling. She used to say that I was more like her than I knew, I could never see it. I did feel different when I was down here though. It was like I was two different people, the London Imogen and the Cornish Ginny, and there was no in between. Rowena didn’t like the London me and dad didn’t like the Cornish me, what could I do? In the end the London me won because I stopped coming here, so Ginny died, or went to sleep. I saw the look on mums face, begging me not to upset dad, and I was old enough to know that if dad was cross it was mum who suffered.’
‘So what changed?’
‘When Rowena died I relised that death was a reality. I don’t remember my grandparents dying so Row was really my first experience of death. You think you’re going to live forever don’t you, when you’re young? Well maybe not if you loose someone like you did.’
‘No you’re right. I was too young to know what dad dying actually meant. I expect something will happen to bring me down to earth, but at the moment I think I probably will live forever, I’ll have a bloody good go anyway.’ They laughed.
‘Good for you.’
‘So Rowena’s death woke Ginny up?’
‘Yes… yes you could put it like that. Her getting sick made me realise that I wasn’t going to live forever and that if that was the case then was I happy for my life to be what it was? I thought about mum and then Row and asked whose kind of life I wanted to be leading for the rest of my own.’
‘Bit of a no brainer.’
‘In theory. You have to remember that I’d never done anything, never had a job, not even in the summer holidays. I went from someone’s daughter to someone’s wife, I’ve never been just plain me. It was terrifying to even think about, so I tried not to. But it stayed at the back of my mind somewhere and when she actually died it was like flicking a switch. I don’t know if I would have done anything as drastic as leaving if I hadn’t been left all this.’ she waved her arm around to indicate the cottage. ‘That did make the decision easy. A ‘no brainer‘ as you say. I knew I couldn’t come down here with James. I knew he’d make me sell it. Rowena knew that too I think, one of the reasons she kept the will such a secret. I don’t think she would mind me selling as long as it was my decision. I could never do that though. As soon as the solicitor told me that this place was mine I knew. Bit like a homing pigeon. It suddenly seemed so simple, so obvious. And it all fell into place. James had a trip to New York coming up so I took the opportunity. I should have stayed and talked to him, but, to be honest, the idea of talking to James was more terrifying than the thought of making such a big change.’
‘Do you think you will talk to him?’
‘Yes. Sooner or later I’ll have to; I owe him an explanation at least. The trouble is that when he asks me why I left I don’t know what I’m going to say.’
‘Tell him what you’ve just told me.’
‘But what have I just told you? All I’ve done is ramble on for an hour.’
‘No you haven’t. You’ve told me that you left James because he was selfish, arrogant, didn’t love you or appreciate you, he took you completely for granted, was a control freak and was probably being unfaithful.’
‘Gosh. Have I really just said all that?’
‘More or less.’ he turned and smiled at her. ‘I think you’re amazing. What you’ve done took a lot of courage. Rowena would’ve been proud.’
Imogen blushed. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Definatly. And I’m proud of you and you should be proud of yourself.’
‘Yes.’ Imogen said. ‘Maybe I should.’