Mulberry Gin Chapters 7 & 8.

Chapter Seven.

Cherith put the phone down and went to make tea. Tea was always the best thing when she needed to think. She shook her head and sat at the table, nice china cup with saucer, milk in a little jug, sugar in a bowl. She waited her customary five minutes before pouring from the china tea pot and then adding the milk last, never first, the milk should never go in first. After she had performed this timeless ritual she looked at the paraphernalia on the table. All that just for a single cup of tea? She had watched Imogen making herself tea once with a tea bag in a mug and had spent the rest of the day wondering where she had gone wrong with her only child. Now she looked at the kitchen table and saw the tea pot that would need the loose tea washing out of it, the milk jug that would need washing, the sugar that would have to be covered or it would go into lumps, and then the tea cup, saucer and spoon to wash and put back in their place on the dresser, all that for a single cup of tea. Maybe there was something in a tea bag and a mug. But then Henry liked ‘proper’ loose tea made ‘properly’. What would happen if she started buying tea bags she knew very well. Henry would refuse to drink it, then he would shout, grind his teeth and stamp about the house until she bought ‘proper’ tea again. And even if she started using tea bags for herself when he was at work he’d know and there would be the same fuss. She sighed and put the tea pot back on the dresser. The last few days had been a nightmare and she couldn’t see it getting any better unless Imogen came home. Would that be the best thing? Thinking about what Imogen had just done she couldn’t suppress the smile that had crept across her face.

As the car pulled up the drive James could see that there were no light on and no sign of life. James slammed the door and sent the driver off with his orders for the next day. He fumbled with the lock and let himself into the echoing house. There was a lingering smell of stale whisky coming from the sitting room and no smells of any kind coming from the kitchen. His stomach reminded him that he hadn’t had lunch. Dumping everything at the bottom of the stairs he picked up the phone to call his brother. It was, as usual, Jonathans’ wife Olwen who answered.
‘Hello.’ Olwen’s voice trilled out.
‘Hello Olwen, James.’
‘Hi James.’ there was a sigh in her voice that Olwen hoped James hadn’t heard. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine, fine. I was just wondering what plans you had tonight?’
Not again, Olwen rolled her eyes. ‘Well nothing really but…’
James cut her off ‘Oh good. Well in that case would you mind if I popped round for a bit?’
‘Actually James yes I would.’ She was cross, very cross. Every night since Imogen gone away he had invited himself round for the evening. She wouldn’t mind if it was because he was lonely or upset, but it was just to get fed. As soon as dinner was over he would thank her for the meal and leave. Well no more. He had a perfectly good kitchen, in fact she would kill for a kitchen like that, it was about time he got to know it.
‘Oh.’ James didn’t really know what to say. ‘Oh I see.’
‘I’m sorry James but you have a kitchen and a supermarket round the corner. I think it’s time you got to know them both.’ She knew she was sounding rude and she was sorry, but really they were not a restaurant.
‘Um, well, um. Perhaps I’ll see you at the weekend?’
‘We’ll see. I’m sorry James I’ve got to go Anthony it trying to flush Abby’s Barbie down the toilet.’ And she put the phone down before James had the chance to sound any more like a wounded puppy, which she knew very well he was not.
James put the phone down. Oh well it was worth a try. He picked up the post. Amongst the bills and more bills was a flyer from a new Chinese take away with a menu on the back. He took it through to the sitting room and poured himself a large whisky. By the end of the second glass he had ordered sweet and sour chicken with all the trimmings.
He rummaged around in the kitchen for a tray. The foil cartons were sitting on the worktop getting cold. Finally he found one tucked behind the microwave, what was it doing there?, and loaded the cartons onto it. A plate would mean washing up so he just opened them and left them as they were. He threw his jacket onto the sofa and lowered himself into the leather chair. It had been a crap day, which Henry had managed to make even worse. There had been a meeting arranged for the morning which he had managed to be late for. Then he had forgotten the name of the American they were sucking up to at the moment. Henry had sat there grinding his teeth, which really didn’t help. He missed lunch to try and catch up with some papers that needed signing, but he had been interrupted and had then forgotten all about them. There had been shouting outside his office and he just saw his secretary dabbing at tears before Henry swept into his office.
He closed his eyes, let his full stomach take over, and fell into a deep sleep.

James pushed the take away carton off of his desk into the full waste paper basket. The sweet and sour sauce had left a bright orange stain on his papers and he cursed as he gathered them up and shoved then into his briefcase. It was too much to expect him to live like this. He needed to concentrate on his work not have to worry about bloody sweet and sour sauce and full bins. He decided to call Olwen, with any luck she would come round and sort things out.
‘Hello’ Olwen’s voice was sharp and sounded more than a little annoyed.
‘Olwen. James. I need your assistance.’
‘James do you know what time it is?’
‘Eight thirty.’ he answered. Strange question, he thought.
‘Exactly.’
‘I don’t understand. What do you mean?’
‘I mean that I have two children to get to school, so unless you’re bleeding to death or have someone holding a gun to your head can you sod off?’
‘Well I…I mean it’s…’ he flondered.
‘Is it very important James?’ Olwen said in exasperation.
‘Yes it is. The house is a tip and I need it cleaning.’
‘Then clean it. Goodbye James. Call me later, if you must.’ and she put the phone down.
James was left with the receiver in his hand. How dare she talk to him like that! I mean she was his sister in law, and of his younger brother, what right had she got to tell him to sod off? He slammed the phone down and picked up his briefcase. Bloody women.

Un-bloody-believable! Olwen finished loading Anthony and Abby into the car. James really was the giddy limit, it was no wonder Imogen had gone away, if Jonathan had been anything like that she would have left him years ago. She had been surprised because Imogen never went away on her own, James always knew where she was. She had always felt a bit sorry for Imogen being married to James. She loved Jonathan but his older brother was a different matter. You needed to be strong to be married to a Lampress, and Olwen had seen straight away that Imogen wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t all James’s fault, she knew his history, she knew he’d been damaged, but even so a lot of it was genetics. Jonathan could be arrogant, was very full of himself when they had first met, but she soon sorted that out. She caught him young, that was the difference. They were teenagers when they had first met at university. James on the other hand had lived alone for too long before Imogen, and had plenty of time to brood over the other women and become far too set in his ways. He needed a good kick up the arse, and maybe Imogen had unwittingly just given him it. Could she come round and clean the house, it would be laughable if he wasn’t being entirely serious. Oh James, she thought, for an educated man you’ve got a lot to learn.


It really was too much. He shouldn’t be having to do this, he thought James was a level headed, like minded chap. Henry blasted his horn at a cyclist that was on the other side of the road, roads were for cars for God’s sake. It was disappointing, very disappointing. It was not what he had expected from his second in command. Bloody, bloody Rowena. She was dead but she still couldn’t help making his life difficult. How was she ever his sister? He should have been an only child and if his parents had had him first then they wouldn’t have needed her. She was just so damn bright, she dazzled you. You couldn’t think properly when she was around. And she could never see that she was strange, all that purple velvet and those paintings that didn’t look like anything.
Honk, honk. Why was it that no one knew how to drive anymore? He shook his fist at a young woman that had just cut him up. There was no respect anymore that was the trouble. No one had any respect for someone who knew how things should be, who had standards. No one had standards these days or patience. It was all instant this and on demand that; there was no quality left. That was part of Rowena’s trouble; always in too much of a hurry to try everything. And she had tried everything. The amount of times he had seen their mother pacing about the landing waiting for her to come home after some party or other. And he had found alcohol in her room on more than one occasion. She was part of what had been know as the ‘fast set’ in the area and had burst into hoots of laughter when their parents had suggested she should do ‘the season’ in order to find a suitable husband. Not that there were any shortage of candidates, even some of his own friends had put themselves forward. It was shameful the way she had flirted with his friends. At least three of them declared to him that they were in love with her. How many hearts she had played with and broken over the years he shuddered to think. He always had to try and make up for it of course. If Rowena wasn’t going to bring pride to the family name then it was up to him. He could still remember the look on their fathers face when she came home with that bloody motorbike. Henry hated that bike and the taunts he got from the other boys over it. She used to come to his school on it to use the library. Girls were not allowed but somehow Rowena had talked the head into letting her in because of their prize collection of mediaeval poetry. She could talk anyone into anything. For years as a child he had watched her wrap everyone around her little finger and tried to learn her tricks. But whenever he tried he was met with angry refusal and cries of ‘how dare you be so cheeky.’ Now it seemed everyone was being cheeky all the time. I mean just look at this idiot here, what dose he think he’s doing, oh no you don’t. Henry swung the car out to stop the 4x4 from overtaking. Harris would decide to take his ghastly family to Spain this week. Well if James was going to carry on being so unpredictable then he could give up his driver and then at least Henry wouldn’t have to put up with London traffic.
‘Cherith!’ Henry barked his way through the door.
‘In the sitting room,’ oh dear, Cherith thought, another bad day. ‘Do you want a drink?’
‘A very large one. Bloody traffic. You would not believe the idiots that they let on the roads these days.’
‘Oh dear. Here.’ she handed him a Gin and Tonic.
Henry took a large gulp and sat down heavily in his chair. ‘What’s for dinner?’
‘Roast chicken, your favourite.’ Cherith got up and headed for the kitchen. ‘I’d better check it.’ She escaped to the company of the half cooked bird. With any luck a couple more drinks and a full stomach would mean a quiet evening.
‘James was late again this morning. Every morning this week.’ Henry’s voice carried into the kitchen.
‘Oh dear.’ she called back. She took the chicken out and gave it a poke.
‘When I find that silly little bitch I’m going to drag her back by her hair. I’m too old for this. I don’t suppose she’s been in touch?’
Cherith bit her lip and tried not to think about her conversation with Imogen. ’No.’ she called back. She heard Henry harrumph and the Gin bottle clatter. She sighed again, it was all she seemed to do these days. What bothered her the most was how angry Henry was, he didn’t seem to be at all worried that something dreadful might have happened to their only child. She knew that Imogen was safe and well, but Henry didn’t.
They were close when Imogen was small and he was affectionate enough, although in small doses. Showing affection was not something men of his generation found easy, she told herself. When Rowena suggested Imogen go down to stay with her for the summer holidays he had been only too happy to agree. He found a child running around all day messing up his papers, interrupting his phone calls and asking endless questions particularly frustrating, however much he loved her. Cherith had been amazed given his antagonism towards his sister, but she had reluctantly agreed. Not that her opinion would have made much difference.
Henry had blamed Rowena for changing Imogen and turning her against him, but Cherith was not so sure. It was true that Henry and Rowena were poles apart. And it was true that whenever Imogen came back from staying with her aunt she was different for a few weeks. But, to Cherith, it was more than that.
To start with Imogen was not a boy. She was sure he was disappointed, although he said nothing. He seemed to love Imogen until she started to grow up and get ideas of her own. That was the real trouble. As far as Cherith could see it had nothing to do with any small influence Rowena might have had and everything to do with his loss of power over her. But you couldn’t tell him. She could still remember the row he and Rowena had had the last time they had gone down to Cornwall. They had gone to collect Imogen for some reason she could not now recall. Usually Rowena put her on the train and someone met her at the station.
It started because Imogen would not give Henry a hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek instead.
‘That’s your doing I suppose?’ Henry had spat at Rowena from the corner of his mouth as they went inside.
‘Hello Henry, good to see you.’ Rowena had said laughing. It had been a mistake to laugh. She mush have known the reaction she would get and maybe it was what she had wanted. The ‘Imogen issue’ had been brewing between them during months of phone conversations.
‘How dare you laugh at me in front of Imogen.’ He had snapped.
‘Oh Henry really. Sit down and have a cup of tea.’
Henry had sat down and he had drunk his tea in silence, but Cherith could hear him grinding his teeth the whole time. Eventually he stood up and spoke.
‘I think this will be the last time Imogen will be coming to stay Rowena.’ It was his best ‘I’m telling you what to do’ voice usually reserved for employees. He fixed his sister with a stare that defied her to argue.
‘Why?’ Rowena kept her voice low and steady.
‘I don’t need to give a reason.’
‘Oh I think you do Henry. I can see no reason why you should want to stop Imogen’s visits, especially when she loves it here so much.’
‘That is one of the reasons. She is becoming too attached to this place.’
‘And to me. Say what you really mean Henry, don’t fanny around the issue. You don’t want to stop her coming to Cornwall, you want to stop her seeing me.’ Rowena continued to keep her voice low and gentle, something she knew would provoke her brother even more.
‘Not at all. I’m quite happy for you to come to London and stay with us. I just think it would be better for Imogen to spend the summer at home from now on.’ He was trying very hard not to loose his temper.
‘Why the sudden change of heart? You have always been quite happy to get her out of you way during the summer holidays.’
Henry gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Cherith could see he was struggling. ‘I want her home from now on and that’s an end to it.’
‘But I like coming here daddy. Please don’t say I can’t come anymore.’ Poor Imogen was close to tears. How old was she, about eleven, maybe twelve? Cherith could still see her face, confusion and an anger she didn’t know what to do with.
‘It’s not open to discussion.’ He had said this without even looking at her. Imogen had burst into tears and ran into the bedroom.
‘Oh that was very clever.’ Rowena’s voice had an edge now, she was starting to loose her temper to.
‘I do not need lessons in child rearing from you.’
‘Well you need them from someone.’ That was uncalled for, Cherith had thought.
‘How dare you. How dare you!’ That was it, he’d gone, now the shouting would start.
‘I dare because someone’s got to stand up for her. Someone’s got to stop you trampling all over her like you do everyone else, like you have done to Cherith.’
‘Rowena that’s not fair.’ Cherith had piped in. ‘Henry looks after us both very well.’
‘You mean he throws money at you. When was the last time he told you he loved you?’
Cherith opened her mouth to speak but closed it again and looked away.
‘Exactly. Henry you are a bully and I will not let you bully that poor girl. You should see her when she first arrives and how different she is when she leaves. I collect a timid little mouse from the station and when I put her back on that train she’s a different girl, alive, excited about everything and not scared of her own shadow.’
‘Rubbish. When she leaves us she’s normal and when she comes home she’s like a wild thing, and that’s not good for her.’
‘You mean it’s not good for you. Of course it’s good for her. I let her be a child and that can only be good for her. You want her to be seen and not herd, like some kind of Victorian, trained not to be a nuisance. For God sake Henry she’s a little girl, let her be that.’
‘I am not a bully and I do not bully Imogen. She has a perfectly normal childhood at home. I don’t let her run wild, I try to teach her a proper way to behave.’ Henry was clenching and unclenching his fists and he was starting to turn an alarming shade of red.
‘Proper. Normal. What does that mean?’ Rowena had resumed her calmness.
‘It means respect, manners, principles, morals and knowing how to behave. All the things you are sadly lacking.’ It was the same argument again and again. Imogen wasn’t the cause, she was just the excuse for them to go back over the same old ground.
‘Poor, poor Henry. It must hurt very much having that rod up your backside all the time, how do you ever sleep at night?’
‘That’s it.’ He picked Cherith’s bag up and threw it into her lap. ‘Get Imogen. We’re leaving.’
Cherith scuttled off to the bedroom to fetch a still sobbing Imogen.
‘Come on darling it’s time to go.’ She could hear them still arguing in the sitting room. ‘Let’s wait for daddy in the garden.’ She took Imogen’s hand and led her out through the windows into the garden.
‘Why is daddy so cross?’ Imogen asked in a voice still recovering from her tears.
‘He’s not cross with us darling.’
‘But he says I can’t come here anymore. What have I done?’
‘Nothing darling, nothing. He just thinks it would be better if you had the holidays at home with us for a while. It will be nice for us to have holidays all together won’t it?’ They went and sat under the Mulberry tree. Imogen slipped her hand into her mothers and they sat there for a few minutes in silence.
Eventually Imogen looked back over her shoulder to the cottage. ‘Will I be able to come again sometime?’
‘We’ll see darling.’
And that was that. As far as Cherith knew there was no more contact between Henry and Rowena. She never asked what had been said while they were out in the garden, and Henry never spoke of it. They drove home in silence and Imogen didn’t speak to her father for two days. He blamed Rowena, saying she must have said something to poison Imogen against him. It was not long after that trip that Henry enrolled Imogen at boarding school, saying it would be good for her.
One summer. One little girls holiday. It was always the little things wasn’t it?

Cherith shook her head at the memories and drained the vegetables. Maybe she should have put her foot down, maybe she should have stood up to Henry. Maybe she should just serve dinner and stop worrying about the past.









Chapter Eight.

Imogen pulled the beetle up outside the post office. When she came here as a child she always came down to the village with Rowena in the funny little purple car. Now she was carrying on the tradition. Mind you it was not just for nostalgia’s sake, there was no milk man anymore and the paper boy wouldn’t come out as far as Mulberry cottage. So if she wanted a daily paper and fresh milk it meant a trip to the village.
‘Hello my lover.’ Mr Penharren greeted her in his usual way.
‘Hello Mr P. Has the bread come in yet?’
‘Half an hour ago, I’ve got yours out back. Just a sec.’ Mr Penharren disappeared through the bead curtain.
Imogen looked around while she waited. Over by the postcards she noticed a young man that she hadn’t seen in there before. In ten days she had met just about everyone in the village, they had all wanted to welcome her ’home’ and Eleanor made sure she knew who everyone was in relation to each other. The young man was peeping at her over the top of the postcard stand and she felt herself blush. She distracted herself by getting milk from the oversized fridge and sorting through the papers on the counter. Mr Penharren seemed to be taking a long time just to fetch her bread. She turned round to look at the postcards, but he had gone. She frowned.
The drive from the village was always too short. You could spend all day meandering around these lanes with their steep, fern encrusted banks. Some of them were positively jewel like with the rich green punchered with purples, yellows, reds and pinks. As she was leaving the village she saw the young man from the post office walking in the same direction and thumbing a lift. Without thinking she slowed down and wound down the window. What the hell had he got on his back?
‘Hello. Where are you going?’ What are you doing woman?
‘The Tragowen farm?’ He leaned down to look through the window and Imogen got a whiff of citrus and cloves.
‘I go past there. Hop in if you like.’ What was she saying? How many times had James told her never to pick anyone up by the side of the road, especially not men? It was too late to change her mind though because he was already sitting beside her, the oversized rucksack at his feet. Oh dear he was very good looking wasn’t he, but very young, too young. Pull yourself together, he’s a boy and you are a grown up, sort of married woman she told herself.
‘I’m Phillip.’ There was an accent.
‘Hi Phillip. I’m Imogen.’ It was her best cut glass voice and she hoped it would make her sound older.
‘Great name. D’ya live round here?’ He had turned his head and was looking straight at her, she could feel his eyes scanning her face.
‘I think so. I mean I’ve just inherited the cottage next to the farm. I’m living there at the moment.’ Your blabbering, stop it immediately she told herself.
‘So we’ll be neighbours then. I’m working on the farm for the summer. I wanted to see an English summer. I usually go home but I thought it might be fun to do something a bit different.’ He wasn’t taking his eyes off her and it was getting a bit disconcerting.
‘Where is home? Not England.’
‘Australia. The Gold Coast. That’s why I wanted to come to Cornwall. I grew up surfing and I wanted to see if the Cornish surf is all they say it is.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that, but there seems to be plenty of surfers about.’
‘Must be a good sign. So will you be around for the summer?’
‘Probably. I hope so. I don’t really know yet.’ He was making her sound and feel like a teenager. Not that she had ever felt like this as a teenager. She’d never felt like this ever at all. Oh bloody hell. Look, she told herself, he’s a good looking young man who seems to have an unhealthy interest in your nose. You left your husband less than two weeks ago, if that is even what you’ve done, stop being so childish and just drive the car.
‘I hope you’ll stay around.’ He smiled the kind of dazzling smile you only see on Australian soap opera’s.
‘So do I.’ She felt herself smile back, and once she’d started she couldn’t stop.

Eleanor took the tea pot out into the garden and set it down on the iron work table. Molly started to pour without being asked.
‘Have you seen Gin today?’ she asked and passed Eleanor her tea.
‘Not yet. I saw her car in the village this morning. She seems to be settling down don’t you think?’
‘Oh I do hope so. I’m surprised we haven’t seen any of the family yet though. I thought James might have come after her.’ Molly mused
‘That’s assuming she’s told them where she is. My bet is she’s not told them about all this yet. Henry would have been down here all guns blazing, dragging her home if he knew were she was.’ Eleanor sipped her tea thoughtfully. She had been expecting a scene before now. ‘Mind you they’ll find out eventually. I know Row kept the will a secret from everyone except Gin and us, but they’ll put two and two together sooner or later. Let’s just hope it’s later.’
‘Yes lets. Oh dear I don’t think we want Henry down here shouting the odds do we?’ Molly’s hand shook slightly at the thought.
Eleanor snorted. ‘I’d like to see him try his nonsense with me. I’d pack him back off to London before he had the chance to get out of the car.’
‘I know you would dear. But it would be better if he didn’t come at all. You don’t think she would go back do you?’
‘She bloody well better not. And if she does it had better be to sort out a divorce.’
‘Eleanor!’
‘Molly don’t pretend you like James or that you thought their marriage was a good idea. You were as horrified as the rest of us. You can’t want her to stay married to him?’
‘Well…no. But I don’t think a marriage should be written off just like that.’
‘Not a proper marriage no. But let’s face it theirs was always more of a business deal. She was too young and too scared of Henry to do anything else. No the best thing for our Imogen would be to cut loose completely and find herself a nice young man her own age, and preferably one with a few principles this time, and a personality.’
Molly sighed. Eleanor was right of course, to a point anyway. They had all been very upset by Imogen’s marriage to James, but it could never be right just to throw a marriage away. Mind you James was too old for her really, and he was so very like Henry, which wouldn’t be good for her. Still people change and Molly had always believed that if you look hard enough then you could find the best in anyone, even Henry. Poor Henry, Molly had always felt a little sorry for him. She was terrified of him it was true, but there was something slightly pathetic about him to.
‘I think.’ Molly said. ‘We should let Gin decide about that.’
‘Maybe. But we also promised Row we would look after her.’
‘I know, but she’s not a little girl anymore dear. Oh wasn’t she lovely when she was little. I mean she still is, but she was so sweet.’
‘And so nervous. Do you remember it took her two weeks before she would speak to us without being prompted?’ Eleanor poured out more tea.
‘Such nice manners though, not like some of the village children.’
‘Not that they lasted long one she started playing with them. Do you think she had ever played with other children before she came here?’
‘She must have. I can’t imagine Henry and Cherith being quite that repressive, she went to school.’
‘I know, but I mean running around the garden screaming with her friends. I don’t think she did much of that.’ Molly started loading the tray with the tea things. ‘I did sometimes wonder whether she knew how to be a child before she came down here.’
‘Well she did by the time she went home. I bet that went down well.’
Molly shook her head. ‘At least it hasn’t done her too much harm.’
‘We don’t think.’ Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

James pulled into his brothers drive. Earlier that day Olwen had called and asked him to lunch. Although this was not a particularly uncommon event on a Sunday James felt some apprehension after their last conversation. Olwen had not exactly been sympathetic to his plight and seemed to imply that she thought he had brought it all upon himself, which was clearly quite ridiculus.
‘Hello James.’ Jonathan opened the door to his older brother. And today James really did look like the elder sibling. Jonathan had noticed little changes over the last ten days or so but had said nothing, not even to Olwen,. He didn’t want to be disloyal but something was going to have to be said.
‘Hello.’ James greeted his brother with the usual pat on the shoulder. Jonathan was definatly putting on weight James thought. And there were other slippages he had noticed. For one thing it seemed Jonathan no longer wore a tie for work. It was a shame when people started to let themselves go and James wondered if he should have a word, after all it wouldn’t do to let the side down.
‘We’re in the garden, go on through. It’s such a nice day we thought we’d have lunch on the patio, that ok?’
‘Fine, fine.’ James was not expecting such a laid back affair and had put a tie on under his v neck sweater. As children Sunday lunch was always a formal occasion with the best china in the dinning room, even in high summer. Imogen had happily carried this on, but it seemed Olwen was not so respectful of family tradition. As they went out into the garden James saw the children running around the lawn, it was a very idyllic scene he could not deny. Watching Olwen flit about bringing plates and dishes out from the kitchen James found himself wondering what Imogen was doing.
‘James?’
‘Sorry, miles away.’
‘I was asking what you wanted to drink?’ Olwen was holding an empty glass.
‘Is it too early for a scotch?’
Olwen and Jonathan exchanged glances, Jonathan nodded but pinched his fingers together to indicate just a small one.
‘Of course not.’ Olwen went and fetched the whisky and hoped it would not be the first of many. This was going to be a difficult afternoon. All week she and Jonathan had been talking about the ‘situation’ and had decided that it needed tackling head on. It was important that they sort out what was going on, especially as it seemed James was not taking it seriously.

Imogen was spending her Sunday with Molly and Eleanor. The two ladies had turned up on her doorstep with a large picnic basket and they had squeezed into the beetle and bumped down to the beach. It was a perfect late June day with the soft light bathing everything in a silver glow. The sea was dazzling with the sun seeming to come right out of the sky to touch the top of each wave. Imogen sat on a towel with her legs crossed revelling in it all. She was vaguely aware of a conversation going on above her head but she had long since tuned out of it. Her mind had started to wander and before too long she was back to two days ago with a pair of startlingly blue eyes and an Australian accent.
‘Don’t you think dear?’ Molly looked down from her deckchair.
Imogen became aware that she was being addressed directly. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘I was just saying,’ said Molly, ‘that it would be nice if Cherith could stay for a few days when she comes down.’
‘Yes it would, but I can’t see it. You know that Row made it a condition that she didn’t tell dad. If she says she’s going away for a few days he’ll insist on coming with her, and that would be a disaster.’
‘So how will she manage? You can’t really do Cornwall in a day from London, not there and back?’ Molly sounded concerned.
‘I don’t know. I really must call her about it.’ Imogen sighed. It certainly was an odd thing for Rowena to do, she could understand it, but it seemed a bit extreme. ‘Maybe she’ll let me send her something.’
‘I think Row wanted her to choose for herself, she was very specific about it all you know.’ Eleanor said.
‘I know but that would mean going behind dad’s back, and that is not something mum would be happy doing.’ Although she had seemed happy to keep her own presence from him. Maybe something could be organised.
‘If you ask me she should he doing a lot more of it. How old does your father think she is for God’s sake? It’s not the 1950’s anymore.’ Eleanor was indignant.
‘No, I know. I’ll talk to her I promise. I’ll try and persuade her to have a few days with us.’ But Imogen was not hopeful.
‘It would do her good.’ Molly said. ‘You look ten times better than you did when you arrived dear. I must say Cornwall seems to agree with you, you have a sparkle in you eyes.’
‘I wonder if it’s just the scenery?’ Eleanor was joking but her words made Imogen blush and she tried to turn away before they saw. It was too ridiculus, Phillip was just a nice boy who was going to be working on the Tragowen farm for the summer.
‘You’re blushing!’ Eleanor was triumphant. ‘Imogen Lampress you are blushing. Have I stumbled upon something?’
‘No, not at all.’ Oh hell if they got the sent of something they wouldn’t let it go. ‘If I was blushing it was at such a silly idea.’
‘If you say so dear.’ Molly looked across at Eleanor who was grinning widely at the thought of new gossip. ‘We won’t say any more about it. Will we Eleanor?’
‘Oh no, not a word. But you will keep us in the loop won’t you?’
‘Keep us in the what?’ Molly looked puzzled.
‘The loop. I thought you watched ‘West Wing’?’
‘I do, well I start. I know you say how good it is but I always seem to fall asleep.’
‘Oh good grief.’
Thank goodness. They had forgotten all about her unusual pigmentation and she could go back to watching the waves while they debated the relative merits of late night telly.

‘Olwen that was delicious.’ James wasn’t expecting salad but as salads go it was a very good one.
‘Thank you James. Now I had better go and rescue the kitchen, I’ll leave you two to talk.’ Olwen shot Jonathan a look of encouragement.
James rose slightly out of his chair as Olwen left them, he noticed Jonathan never moved, they had been taught to rise when a lady left a room and this must surely apply to patios as well.
‘Lovely day.’ Jonathan said looking around. ‘Hope it doesn’t rain.’
‘They haven’t forecast any.’
Jonathan oached about and looked across to the kitchen window. Olwen gestured towards James and mouthed ‘go on’.
Jonathan took a deep breath. ‘So how are you James?’
‘Fine.’ James drained his glass and looked around for the bottle. ‘Any more of that?’
‘Um.. Sure.’ Jonathan bolted into the dinning room to fetch the scotch.
‘Jonathan, what are you doing?’ Olwen hissed through the kitchen door.
‘He wants another drink.’
‘You’re supposed to be finding out about Imogen.’
‘I’m getting around to it.’
‘Oh for goodness sake.’ Olwen snatched the bottle from her husband and took it out to James.
‘Oh jolly good.’ James smiled as Olwen poured more whisky into his glass.
‘James.’ she said sitting down opposite him. ‘We want to talk to you.’
‘Oh yes?’ James closed his eyes as he took a long sip.
‘James has Imogen left you?’ Jonathan grimaced at his wife’s bluntness.
‘I beg your pardon?’ James snapped his eyes open
‘Imogen. Has she left you?’
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’ James blustered.
‘I’m sorry James but I think it is. First you invite yourself to dinner five nights in a row, then you call me at eight thirty on a school morning and ask me to come and clean for you. You’re drinking, and, I have to say, you don’t look yourself.’ There, it was said.
James opened his mouth and closed it again, then he started to turn rather red in the face. Eventually he stood up. ‘That was a lovely meal Olwen, thank you.’
‘ Where are you going?’ Olwen said.
‘I think it would be better if I went home now.’
‘James sit down. We are worried about you and we want to find out what is going on. We want to help if we can. Please James, sit down and talk to us.’ Olwen put her hand out and touched James’s sleave. James stood stiffly for a moment, he didn’t want to turn round because he didn’t want to answer the question he didn’t know the answer to.
‘I’m sorry if I have been inconvenient to you.’ he turned around but he remained standing.
‘Oh for goodness sake James take that rod out from up your arse and sit down.’ Olwen was starting to loose patience with her brother in law.
James bristled but he did as he was told.
‘Right, so, shall we start again?’ Jonathan said a little too brightly. ‘Of course your marriage is your business,’ he shot a look across the table at Olwen, ‘but we have noticed that you seem to be not quite yourself at the moment and that Imogen seems to have gone away.’
‘I came back from New York last week and she wasn’t there, that’s it.’
‘Did she not leave a note or anything?’ Olwen asked.
James grimaced. ‘No,’ he said, ‘nothing. So I’m sure she’s just gone away for a while.’ He thought about the letter. It was rubbish, complete nonsense, not worth mentioning. When she came back it would be embarrassing if everyone knew.
‘Yes I’m sure you’re right, well let’s hope so anyway.’ Jonathan chirped.
‘So you know that she’s ok?’ Olwen said with a frown. ‘You’ve checked all the hospitals, that kind of thing?’
‘Oh yes.’ James smiled reassuringly. But he hadn’t, that was going a bit far surely? A bit on the melodramatic side. ‘She’s just gone for a short holiday. By next weekend she’ll be home. Bloody inconsiderate though, especially not telling me. No clean shirts, no food in the house. Anything left in that bottle?’ He held his glass out again.

The ringing phone made Imogen jump, her first incoming call. For a moment she had to look around for the phone. She had called Cherith on her mobile, not wanting to use the house phone. It was large and black with a dialling ring and a cord connecting the phone to the receiver. And it made a proper, loud, old fashioned ring. A million miles away from her tiny mobile with it’s rather pathetic ring tone that was supposed to be the music from a hit movie, but actually sounded more like a mouse being tortured, and which she had turned off as soon as she had finished with it. It drove James mad that she only switched it on to use it. But she didn’t like the thought that any Tom, Dick or Harry could interrupt her whenever they felt like it.
‘Hello?’ Who would be calling her? And what if it was someone who hadn’t heard and wanted Rowena, what would she tell them? She crossed her fingers.
‘Hello darling.’
‘Mum. Oh hello.’ Imogen sighed with relief.
‘Your father’s gone to the golf club with David and Robert so I dug out Rowena’s phone number, yours now I suppose.’
‘Yes I suppose it is.’
‘So how are you?’
‘Fine, good even. How’s things there?’
Cherith paused for a moment, ‘Not to bad, not really.’
‘Dose everyone hate me?’
‘No darling of course not. Your father will calm down…eventually.’
‘Oh dear, that bad?’
‘I would be lying if I said no. But I’ve been thinking about it and if you were really that unhappy then you had to do something about it. I just wish you had talked to me about it before. I can’t bear the thought that you were that unhappy and didn’t come to me, I feel like I’ve failed you.’
‘Oh mum. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt anyone, especially not you.’ she sighed. ‘I didn’t think it would cause all this fuss. Have I caused a fuss? Dad and James are cross but they don’t miss me do they? I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you, but I thought you would talk me out of it.’
‘I probably would have, for purely selfish reasons, and that would have been a terrible thing to do. But to us it seems to have come out of the blue. You and James seemed so…so… settled.’ Cherith realised that she couldn’t say ‘happy’.
‘I suppose we were, after a fashion. I told myself dad was right, and with you backing him up…’
Cherith winced. She could still see Imogen sitting on the end of the bed sobbing because James had proposed and Henry was telling her she must accept him. ‘That was wrong of me. I let your father persuade me it was all such a good idea and I started to believe it.’
‘I’m not blaming you mum, good God I know how dad can be. I know you had to go along with it. I hadn’t decided anything until I got Rowena’s letter. She had left a letter with her solicitor for him to send on to me after she’d gone. It made a few things click into place; do you know what I mean? It became clear. And it was the only thing I could do. Dad made me totally reliant and then James made me totally reliant. No one was ever stingy or mean, but if I even wanted a new pair of shoes I had to ask for them. It made me feel I had to justify my whole existence and give value for money. Then suddenly I had money of my own. I knew James would insist he knew the best thing to do with it and I’d never see it again. And I knew he’d make me sell Mulberry cottage, and I couldn’t bear that. And Dad would back him up. It would be even more impossible to make myself herd. I panicked a bit I suppose.’
‘Oh darling. So does that mean you haven’t gone for good then? That your just there while you think about things?’ Cherith sounded hopeful.
‘I must admit I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. But now I’m here I don’t think I want to be anywhere else, not for a while anyway.’
‘I see.’
‘Anyway I was going to call you.’ Imogen lightened her voice and changed the subject.
‘Oh yes?’
‘Has Mr Pengellen been in touch with you, about the will?’
‘Yes I had a letter last week, it’s hidden at the bottom of my knitting basket. It was nice of her to think of me, but I really don’t think I can follow it up. It’s all this about no Henry. I know they hated each other but to cut him out of her will completely was a bit unfair. He keeps going on about the family money going to strangers. And he still phones poor Mr Pengellen every day trying to find out who got what. If he found out that I had been left anything it would just make it all worse.’
‘He hasn’t put two and two together then?’
‘Amazingly not. I thought it would have been obvious. I mean Rowena dies leaving a small fortune and a few days after the funeral you go missing. I wasn’t surprised he wouldn’t go to the funeral. I thought you would have though.’
‘I would have, but I had that letter from Rowena, via Mr Pengellen, and in it she asked me not to.’
‘What a strange thing to do.’
‘Yes. She certainly made sure Mr Pengellen earned his fees.’
‘So why did she not want you to go? I would have thought you were the one person she would have wanted there.’
‘She said she had good reason and that I would know about it in due course. I trusted her and stayed away. It was a horrible day though, I felt so guilty.’ Imogen would never forget that day, and she would never forget getting that letter. She had read it over and over. It was only four weeks ago since Rowena died but it seemed like a different lifetime.
‘Dear Gin,
I’m so sorry that I have had to leave you without seeing you again. I don’t blame you for that, and never have, please don’t feel guilty, our phone conversations and your lovely letters were more than enough. And thank you for all the photos.
Now I have a favour to ask of you. This will sound very strange but I do not want you to come down for the funeral. Please don’t get upset, I have good reason to ask. I have already made all the arrangements and Molly and Eleanor are going to make sure everything goes to plan. Mr Pengellen has a series of letters with instructions as to when to send them. This one will have been sent out the day after my death. You must remember that I have known what will happen for a long time and have had plenty of time to adjust. I hope you won’t be angry that I didn’t tell you of my condition, I didn’t tell anyone except Molly, Eleanor and Mr Pengellen and they were sworn to secrecy.
In a few days your father will get a letter telling him that he is not in my will. This is why I do not want you to come down. I do not want things to become difficult for you later. Mr Pengellen will take care of everything and will contact you in due course.
I am leaving everything to you my darling girl and I hope you will accept it. Of course it is up to you who you tell about this, but I hope you will wait. Have a good think about what you really want to do with the rest of your life Gin. I know Henry only too well and I know enough about James to know that as soon as they find out your decisions will be compromised. The reason I am leaving everything to you, apart from the fact that I love you more than you know, is that I want you to have the chance to be and do what you want for yourself. I hope you will take this opportunity to make any changes you want to make. Molly and Eleanor will be there to help you when, or if, you decide to come back to Mulberry cottage as its new owner.
I have left a small bequest for your mother. I would like her to have whatever she wants from the house, a single item. She can have anything as long as you are happy for her to have it. However I do NOT want Henry to have any say in what she has. To achieve this I have made it a condition that she must come down and choose it for herself without him. I have organised a letter for her outlining all this and I hope she will not be offended. I would like you to make sure that whatever she takes is really what she wants and that she is not acting on any outside instruction.
I wanted so much to have made things right with Henry, but it was not to be. I did not want to tell him about my illness. Any forgiveness between us needed to be real and not out of any pity or sense of duty. However my attempts failed and he has refused to reply to my letters or to speak to me. So be it, we were obviously mot meant to be friends.
So my darling girl I am saying goodbye and good luck. Be true to yourself and don’t be afraid of the decisions you make, I’ll be with you.
Rowena.’
Imogen had started crying at the first line and hadn’t stopped all that day. She had put the letter in her jewellery box, where it still lay.
‘Of course I know now that she didn’t want me there in case questions were asked about the will that I might be uncomfortable answering. And if dad were there I might not have been able to lie to him. He always knows when someone is keeping something back.’
‘Don’t I know. Mind you thirty years of marriage has given me time to refine my lying techniques. But if I were to suddenly disappear off to Cornwall he would know something was going on. And I couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t follow me.’ It seemed Cherith regularly lied to Henry, Imogen was impressed.
‘Could you not tell him you were going away with a friend? What about Grace, you’ve been away with her before haven’t you?’ All this sneaking about was so childish; she wished they didn’t have to do it.
‘True. Yes that might work. I’ll think about it and sound Grace out, she likes it down there.’
‘It would be so nice to see you.’
‘ I’ll phone Grace in the morning.’