Mulberry Gin Chapters 15 & 16

Chapter Fifteen.

James’ foot hit the bottom step of the stairs just as the post plopped through the letterbox. He scooped it up on his way to the kitchen. He had got quite a good routine. Get up, bathroom, downstairs, coffee, collect the post, take coffee and post back to bed, read post, shower, dress, downstairs, more coffee and toast, then whatever the day brought. Today it brought a letter from Imogen.
He tore the pale pink envelope open, nearly tearing the letter as well. A second piece of paper fell out onto the bed, it was an address for a Mr Pengellan, James frowned. She was still talking about divorce, and the address was her solicitor. This was getting stupid. Was she deliberately misunderstanding him or was he just not making himself clear? He gave a huge sigh. She wouldn’t speak to him and wouldn’t let him go and see her to sort this mess out. It was as if she was cutting him out of her life just when he most wanted to be a part of it. He ran his hand through his hair. What more could he do? Pack a bag and go to Cornwall. But he’d just sent out all those letters and he had to have something to tell people when they started calling. He needed to get an office of some sort up and running. Why did everything have to happen at once?
‘Bollocks!’ He said out loud. Think James. How long will it take to get things up and running? A week? Henry was away so he could go in and get all his files and papers, clear out his office and make Flora a job offer. Most of what he needed was in his head. The most important thing to have was experience and contacts, and he had both in spades. Right so do all that, then leave everything to Flora for a couple of days, divert all calls to your mobile and go. It would also give Imogene a few days to rethink. Hopefully by the time he got there she would have changed her mind.

Cherith was full of apologies when she arrived at Mulberry that morning.
‘Darling I’m so sorry I didn’t come back over yesterday. I’m afraid I fell asleep on Molly’s sofa. By the time I woke up it was time for bed.’
‘That’s ok mum.’
‘But I want to spend as much time with you as I can.’
‘Well we have all day. What would you like to do?’
‘I thought Truro sounded nice. Molly was telling me all about the ‘proper’ shops as she calls them. I can’t remember the last time we went shopping together.’
‘Christmas three years ago.’ Imogen said.
‘Was it that long? Oh dear. Shall we make up for it today then?’
‘Sounds lovely. We’ll make a day of it, have lunch.’
‘I do love you Imogen. You do know that don’t you?’ Cherith’s voice was suddenly very quiet and she looked down at the floor as she spoke. She’d wanted to say it for weeks but somehow it never seemed the right time, now it just came out in a rush, almost a whisper under her breath.
‘I know mum. And I love you. I’m sorry I’m not the daughter you wanted.’ It was Imogen’s turn to become quiet.
‘Oh darling!’ Cherith jumped up and took hold of Imogen’s hands. ‘Look at me.’ She tilted her head to catch Imogen’s eyes.
‘Don’t ever say that, don’t even think it.’
‘But I let you down. You wanted me to settle down with James, with the big house and the pension plan. Have children, a cottage in the country and a dog. I did try, honestly I did. I tried so hard.’ Tears were starting to cloud her eyes. ‘I thought if I could make James love me and make him happy, then that would make you and dad happy. I really wanted to make dad happy with me.’ She gulped for breath and let the tears roll down her face.
Cherith dropped her hands and held her tight. Imogen was a little girl again, needing her mum, or was it the other way around? She was crying herself now.
‘He was darling, we both were.’
‘No, no he stopped loving me when he sent me away to school. I did something. I don’t know what I did. What did I do?’
‘You didn’t do anything. Your father never stopped loving you darling. Why ever did you think that?’
‘He stopped me coming down here when he knew how much I loved it. Then he sent me away to school. Then he made me marry James when he knew I didn’t want to.’ Imogen was sobbing now. She should have said all this a long time ago.
‘He didn’t do any of that because he didn’t love you.’
‘So why?’
‘Your father changed, that’s true. But it had nothing to do with you. For years I thought it was me, something I had done. I told you, didn’t I, about finding the letters?’ Cherith guided Imogen over to the table and sat her down. She pulled another chair up to face her.
‘When I married your father I was so in love with him I thought I would burst. I didn’t think he loved me, but I didn’t care, I was so happy he wanted to marry me. Everything was fine for the first few years. He was a lovely man to be married to. And he adored you, he really did. He changed when he took over the company from his father. It just seemed to go to his head. Then the rows with Rowena started again. She could see what he was becoming and was trying to stop it. All it did was make him worse. He was never emotional, never sentimental, but he did have a softer side. I have no idea why he and Rowena hated each other. It went back to way before I met him, to their childhood. I tried hard not to get involved but it was heartbreaking to see them. You obviously remember that last row when we came down to fetch you after that last holiday. It had nothing to do with you, not really. It made me so cross that he used you like that, that was something I never thought he would do.’
Imogen nodded, it was all she could manage.
‘Was it because I was a girl?’ She finally said.
‘No! It was never an issue. We tried so hard for so long to have a baby, neither of us cared what we had. When I found out I was pregnant all either of us could think of was to have a healthy baby at last, nothing else. I’ve never told you this but I had lost two before you, both miscarriages at about ten week. It’s something I would never wish on anyone. So you were very much wanted, by both of us.’ Cherith gave great enforces to the last sentence. ‘If I had been a better mother then you would have come to me with all this years ago. I was always jealous of Rowena you know. I knew you were so close to her and probably told her things you didn’t tell me.’
Imogen nodded ‘I did. You were always defending dad and taking his side. I daren’t criticise him to you. But that’s not a bad thing mum, loving dad that much isn’t a bad thing. I didn’t understand it as a child but I do now.’
‘Thank you darling. We’re both guilty of thinking we can change men by loving them aren‘t we? You saw me trying so hard to make you father love me and you thought you had to do the same, but you didn’t. You father loves you, he always loved you. And, as it turned out, he always loved me too. The problem was never us you see, it was him. He’s not really a bad person, not bad. He’s selfish, he’s stubborn, he’s arrogant, even rude sometimes, but not bad. He’s not good at showing his feelings and he is guilty of using people to get his way. I hated him for bullying you. But I hated myself for letting him. He’s such a bulldozer at times, when he’s on a roll there’s nothing you can do.’
‘He hid the letters on purpose didn’t he?’
‘Yes I think he did. I knew he was manipulative, and it was fine when it was just me. But he should never have brought you into it. I think it will take me a long time to forgive him for that. I understand why he hid the letters. While I thought I had to work to keep him he was guaranteed to get his own way. Well no longer. Poor Henry, he’s not going to know what’s hit him.’
‘Oh why do things have to get so complicated?’ Imogen sighed. She had stopped crying now and was wiping her eyes on some kitchen paper.
‘It’s what happens when people start living together. Rowena knew that, it’s one reason she chose to live alone down here. Other people have a nasty habit of thinking differently to us. We start to play games with each other in order to get our own way. Henry saw you as fair game like everyone else. I think there were issues with his parents, he never talked about his childhood much. I gather he didn’t get along well with his father. He was sent away to school at six years old. Can you imagine? What message must that give to a child? Especially when Rowena had been allowed to stay at home and go to a local school. I know it has become a fashionable cop out to blame your childhood for everything, but I think, in your father’s case, it might have some truth. If you’re not shown much love then how can you ever learn to give it? James was sent off to school to wasn’t he?’
‘At about seven I think. Mind you so was his brother, and he’s completely different to James. I suppose it dose explain a lot though. So what happens now do you think?’
‘I don’t know darling. One thing is for sure though. Neither of us will let either of them bully us again, will we?’
‘Not bloody likely!’ They toasted each other with their mugs of tea.

James had spent the whole morning packing his working life into cardboard boxes. How had he accumulated so much crap? It was everywhere. Stuff, piles and piles of stuff. Flora came in and quietly set a cup of coffee down amongst it all. She gave a brief, nervous smile. She was still not quite sure what to make of things. One day Mr Lampress was shouting at her and making her cry again, the next he was smiling at her, and now he was clearing his office, all very strange. Gossip was he had had some kind of breakdown. He certainly didn’t look right, for one thing he was still smiling. How many people smiled when they were obviously out of a job? Not many. It was a shame. He may have been a bastard, and she may have been terrified of him, but he was bloody good at his job. It was quite impressive the way he could turn a deal in a matter of minutes, even when it seemed lost. And he was dedicated, you had to give him that. He would be here all night sometimes. For years she had wished for this day, for him to be gone. Now it was happening she wanted him to stay, God knows who would replace him.
‘Flora don’t run off. I want to talk to you.’ James looked up from a pile of papers.
Flora was at the door and his voice made her freeze. What had she done? She tried hard to think. Nothing, she had done nothing wrong, he hadn’t even been here for goodness sake. She stood expectantly in the doorway, he hand clasped behind her back.
‘Are you happy here?’
‘I’m sorry?’ She didn’t understand.
‘Do you like it here, would you take another job if it was offered?’
Oh God he was sacking her. ‘Have I done something wrong Mr Lampress?’ She looked close to tears.
‘No you’ve done nothing wrong. I’m setting up on my own and I need a PA. I was wondering if you would be interested? We’ve worked together long enough for you to know how I operate. And I know I can trust you. I know I’ve not been the best boss over the years, and I’ sorry about that. But things would be different this time. To begin with there would be no Mr March.’ He smiled. Flora couldn’t help smiling too. If one thing was worse than working for Mr Lampress then it was working for Mr March. She knew his secretary and she really didn’t know how she found the will to get up in the mornings.
‘So what do you think? There will be a lot of work to begin with. I haven’t even got an office yet. But once we’re set up it should be great.’
Flora didn’t know what to say, she thought he didn’t like her. PA would be a big step up. But if it didn’t work then she’d be up shit creak. Then again she hated it here. Being able to put PA on her CV would look good when she needed to get another job.
‘Ok.’ She said at last.
‘Great. Start packing your desk up. I’m going to need you to start right away. I need to go away for a few days soon so we need to get cracking. Your first job is to find us some premises. Offices. With their own entrance. Above a shop would do, but in a proper block would be better. Can I leave that with you while I get rid of all this? Oh and here’s my home address, we’ll be based from there until we get somewhere else.’
‘Right.’ Flora said a little shell-shocked. ‘I’ll start phoning some agents.’

Three hours later they were standing outside an office block on the edge of the square mile. Flora had been impressive in her gusto at getting them offices. James looked up and nodded.
‘Very good. How much?’
Flora told him the monthly rental.
‘Fucking hell! Well it is a good location, impressive address on the notepaper. Let’s have a look now we’re here.’
It was very bright and shiny, lots of chrome and glass, the complete opposite of the wood panelling and thick carpets of Henry’s offices. It was a purpose built block rather than converted Georgian town houses. It was very, very tempting. It would send out all the right messages. It would show that he had broken completely from Henry, that this was a new business. It would show that he was looking forward and not stuck in the past. Working from home might give him flexibility, but did he really want Flora there all day and clients traipsing in and out all the time, and what would Imogen think to her home being turned into a business? No this would definatly be better, and they could move in almost right away. James felt the hairs on the back of his neck starting to bristle. Those little hairs never failed to point him in the direction of a good deal, they never let him down. He looked across at Flora who was listening intently to the agent, who was banging on about how brilliant it was here and they would be mad to look anywhere else. He had tuned out as soon as the boy, James was sure he was only twelve, opened his mouth. Flora was nodding vigorously.
‘We’ll take it.’ James said, stopping the other two in their tracks.

Imogen parked the car in the muti story behind Marks and Spencer’s. It had been an emotional morning but nothing got in the way of women and shopping. A good mooch around the shops could cure almost everything, or at least stop you thinking about it for a while. They got out of the lift and headed straight for the coffee shop.
‘So what do you want to take home then?’ Imogen asked while they queued with their trays.
‘I don’t know. It had better be small. I don’t want to rub Henry’s noise in it by having something huge that he has to look at everyday. And I’ve got to get it in the car.’
‘There are some nice little bits of china.’ Imogen suggested.
They found a table and sat down.
‘That sounds nice. We’ll have a look later.’ Cherith poured her tea. ’Have you got any plans for Mulberry Cottage, redecoration or anything?’ She said tentatively.
‘No.’ Imogen frowned and looked down into her tea.
‘But is it healthy to keep it just as Rowena left it? If it’s going to be your home then shouldn’t you make it yours?’
Imogen was silent for a while. Change things? She pursed her lips. She knew she owned it, that was fact. But it was Rowena’s home, just like London was James’. Although she had had no trouble in settling in to Mulberry Cottage she did still feel like she was on holiday. Maybe that was because it still looked like it did when she was there on holidays. If she was going to live there then maybe she should make it more her own. She flinched at the idea of having to choose new things. She had grown up with her parent’s decorative decisions, then had to live with James’, now she was living with Rowena’s. Could she make such decisions she wondered? But Cherith was right, it was her home now. Perhaps it wasn’t right to keep the place as a museum to her aunt.
‘I haven’t really thought.’ She said at last.
‘Well you could start with those huge, thick velvet curtains. They are rather morbid looking you have to admit.’
‘I never really liked them much.’ Imogen did admit. It felt disloyal. But the curtains in the sitting room were hideous. Thick, heavy, dark brown velvet which had faded to a rather dodgy sludge colour around the edges.
‘Well we’re in the right place. Why not get some new ones, and maybe some cushions to match?’
They spent the rest of the day scouring Truro for ‘Imogen’ things to turn Mulberry into a home for her.

They arrived back at the cottage laden with bags. Putting them down in on the sitting room floor the rug disappeared completely.
‘I think we may have forgotten how small this place is.’ Imogen said a little concerned. ‘I don’t think it will take any more stuff.’
‘Perhaps it’s time to sort out what of Rowena’s you really want to keep. We can do it together.’ Cherith said gently.
Her mother was right, Imogen knew. She had been there for weeks and so far she hadn’t changed anything. When she arrived she brought hardly anything with her, and those things had quickly got swallowed. If she was going to live here permanently then she should make it hers with touches of Rowena here and there rather than the other way round.
‘We’re going to need a lot of boxes.’ Imogen said looking around her. ‘I don’t want to bin anything.’
‘Oh no! I’m not saying you should get rid of anything. But the garage is big. And there must be a lot of stuff in the shed that could be removed.’
‘I try hard not to go in the shed. I don’t understand why men have such a thing for them. They’re dark, smelly and full of spiders.’ And man-eating mowers, Imogen pulled a face.
‘They say a mans shed is like a woman’s’ handbag. All I can say is I hope not. One good thing about your father is he has never had a shed. Not of his own. The one in the garden is the territory of the gardener and God forbid anyone who sets foot in it.’
‘James is the same. He bought out gardener a new one last year but has never been in it himself. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with them both, they need a shed.’ They both laughed.
‘Maybe.’

Imogen went and fetched a roll of black bags and took them through to the bedroom. Cherith followed. When she opened the wardrobe Cherith could see that all Rowena’s clothes were still there. Some had been pushed up to make space for some of Imogen’s, but there they all were.
‘Oh darling. I thought you would have at least cleared the wardrobe.’ Cherith sighed.
‘I wanted to. I should have done. I couldn’t. I know, I know.’ She said when Cherith raided her eyebrows.
‘Let’s get it over with then.’
Imogen pulled out arms full of clothes. Some of them were older that she was. There were the designer labels from Rowena’s London days. She had no idea they were there, they were beautiful. A lot of the more recent stuff she recognised. It was easy to get rid of the things bought in recent years that she had never seen, they had not pull. But the flowing kaftans and sweeping skirts she remembered from childhood were harder. Then there was the vintage, most of which would fit her. She looked pleadingly at Cherith, who was holding a black bag open.
‘Charity shop?’ Cherith suggested.
‘Ok. But only these.’ Imogen pointed at the small pile at her feet.
‘What about the rest? What about this?’ She held up a purple kaftan with large silver birds flying across it.
‘She wore that every summer.’ Imogen knew she was being childish, she even sounded like a whining child.
‘All right.’ Cherith put it down and picked up another one. ‘This?’
‘That was her beech one.’ Imogen bit her lip.
‘Right. Let’s make a deal. Go through it all and sort out anything you think you will actually wear yourself. You’ve said all these can go.’ She pointed at the pile. ‘Anything left at the end we can bag up and put in the garage. What do you think?’
‘Good idea. You see when I tried before all I could see were things that all had a story. I panicked and shut the door again, then I squeezed my stuff in at the end.’
‘I know it’s hard. I remember clearing out my parent’s house when my father died. It was before you were born of course. I suspected he had done nothing about mum’s things. When I went in a few weeks after the funeral it was worse that I thought. He had kept everything of hers just at she had left it, more or less. I had to clear out all my mother’s things as well as his. It felt like I was invading. If my father hadn’t been able to do it then what right did I have? I hadn’t lived there for years. I was married and had my own life. These were my parent’s things and I didn’t have their permission to be there. They had left the house and everything to me and your uncle Frank. But it was everything they had accumulated over years and years together. I had no idea what was important to them and what they might well have been about to throw away themselves. I knew about the things that had family stories attached to them of course. But there were things I had never seen before. I had to empty drawers that I was never allowed to touch. It was horrible, I felt so guilty. It took weeks to do, the house was so big and it was stuffed full. In the end I just got on with it. I realised that if there had been anything important they would have mentioned it before, especially when mum became ill. I gave away as much as I could, let the rest of the family come round and take what they wanted. The rest I either sent to charity shops or put out for the bin men. I couldn’t keep piles of old bank statements and gas bills. Neither could I do much with boxes of tapes and records that had been stored in the attic and got damp. They had kept all these things for a reason, but I didn’t know what that reason was. When the time comes darling you have permission to throw away whatever you like.’ she smiled. ‘We can’t keep things just because they belonged to someone else. And it seems Rowena has made it easy for you.’
‘Yes she had cleared out a lot before she got too ill. There are no piles of gas bills, not that we can get gas out here. She probably would have done the same with the rest of the cottage if she hadn’t got so frail.’ Imogen chocked as she thought of her vibrant, strong, very alive aunt confined to bed, unable to do much for herself, she would have hated it. She had been hurt when she had found out how ill she had been and for how long. She felt she should have been told. Now she realised that Rowena didn’t want people to see her like that, she wanted to be remembered the way Imogen was remembering her, dancing in a purple kaftan around the Mulberry tree.
They worked for the rest of the day and by the time it was dark they had filled the garage with piles of black bags and boxes. In place of all the cleared out things were all Imogen’s clothes properly hanging alongside Rowena’s vintage gems. In the sitting room new curtains hung in place of the dire brown velvet, to which the bin men were welcome. Cherith had chosen a pretty little trinket box in the shape of a sleeping cat, it was safely bubble wrapped in her handbag. She could sneak that in without Henry knowing. By the time they collapsed in the chairs the whole cottage was very definatly Imogen’s. She looked around and nodded. Now it could begin.

It was getting dark and James and Flora were still busy. After sealing the deal on the office space they went back to the house and set up shop in the study. The rest of the day had been spent making endless phone calls and ordering large amounts of expensive stationary and office furniture. James had stopped counting how much was going on the credit card; it was probably better not to know. He was buzzing all over, but every time he heard Flora giving out his card number to place another order his heart stopped, was he really doing the right thing? At his age he should be putting his money into pension funds and the like, not taking it all out and giving it to other people to set up a new business, this had better work.
Flora looked at her watch and then across at James. She did it three times. The third time James looked at his own watch, it was nearly ten.
‘Good grief I didn’t realise it was that time. You must be starving.’
‘Just a bit.’ Flora gave a faint smile, in fact she looked like she might actually faint.
‘You should have said.’
Flora gave a little shrug and looked down at the carpet.
‘I agree. There was a time you wouldn’t have dared would you? Oh dear, I am sorry. I was bloody awful wasn’t I?’
Flora, feeling a little braver, nodded.
James smiled. ‘Ok. Point taken. So Indian or Chinese?’
‘Indian please.’
‘Or would you rather just go home? You should probably go home.’
‘Not much to go home for to be honest. And I’ve enjoyed today. Will it work do you think?’
‘It bloody well better.’ He tried to give her his best, most reassuring smile. If he convinced Flora then he might convince himself to.

While James was fetching the Indian take away Flora went upstairs to use the bathroom. All afternoon she had been wondering where Imogen was. She had met her once when she had come into the office and she liked her. There was no reason for her to be there during the day, she must have a busy life of her own. But when afternoon turned to evening she was surprised when she didn’t come home. And there was an atmosphere to, something she couldn’t put her finger on. When she went into the bathroom she couldn’t help but notice the lack of femininity. At home there were all he little pots and bottles all over the place in the bathroom, here there were none. Of course she knew they had an ensuiet, but even so, she would have expected scented soap at the very least. And in the hallway too. When she came back downstairs she saw only James’ shoes and only his coats hanging on the hooks. Her suspicions that something was up were not wrong then. It looked like he hadn’t had a breakdown, his wife had left him. She wondered how many people knew, it wasn’t gossip in the office so not many. She wondered if she should say something, after all if she was going to be his PA then she needed to know all the circumstances didn’t she? Perhaps better not just yet, she wasn’t that brave. It was nice that whatever had happened had caused such a positive change in her boss, but she knew what men could be like, and she was not convinced it would last. In her experience they always reverted to type sooner or later. Well she’d stay for as long as this new mood lasted.


Chapter Sixteen.

‘She’s gone where?’ Henry thundered.
‘To Cornwall, Mr March, to stay with your daughter.’ Mrs Davis halved in size.
‘How does she know Imogen is in Cornwall? How long has she known?’ Henry fired the questions so hard they made the air quiver as they travelled.
‘I’m sorry Mr March, I thought you both knew, she didn’t say it was a secret.’ She could see Henry’s colour changing and grabbed her bag. ‘I think maybe I’ll come back tomorrow.’ And she fled before anymore could be spat at her.
Henry kicked the bottom stair. Then he kicked the wall.
Poor Mrs Davis scuttled up the drive to her car. She said she would be back the next day but she had no intention of going back until she was sure Mrs M would be there. She had always tried very hard to not be there when he was. It wasn’t her fault Mrs M hadn’t told him what was going on, it wasn’t fair for her to take the flack. When she heard the door she assumed it was Mrs M back. When she saw him instead her stomach flip flopped. He had nodded an acknowledgement of her existence, then started bellowing for Mrs M. Eventually she heard him thump downstairs. She held her breath and waited. He had burst into the kitchen like a raving tornado and started demanding to know where his wife was. She didn’t understand to begin with, she assumed Mrs M had told him her plans. When the penny dropped she felt a little sick as she realised she was going to have to be the one to tell him. She was still shaking as she pulled away and drove home. Poor Mrs M, there was going to be a big row now.

Henry stood in the hallway looking around. He frowned, then he opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. It was betrayal, pure and simple. First that ungrateful daughter, then James and now Cherith, the one person he never thought would desert him. She loved him so much so she would do anything for him, he had relied on that. It was one of the reasons he loved her so much. Of course he never let her know, better to let her think she had to earn his affection. But he always let her know he cared, in his way. He was generous, she didn’t want for anything. Why would she do something like this to him? She must know how it would make him feel. She would never do anything to upset him. It was bad enough when Imogen had walked out on James, shaming them all like that. He thought he had brought her up to have more respect. She would know how angry it would make him. After all he had done to secure James for her. You would think she would have tried a bit harder. Six years was nothing, how could she know after only six years? Why couldn’t she see what she had got? He had friend’s whose daughters would have killed for a catch like James, or a father like him who went to such trouble to set it all up. Cherith had been behind him one hundred per cent, she knew he was right. When they found out Imogen had left Cherith had been as angry as him, well she had agreed with everything he had said, which was the same thing. Now it turned out she knew where she had gone to all the time.
He had tried and tried to find out where Imogen was. He thought she might have gone abroad, but Cornwall? Why on earth would Imogen want to go to Cornwall? Bloody Rowena again. I mean it was not much more than a hovel! She had a five-bedroom house in one of the best suburbs of London for God’s sake! He hadn’t understood why Rowena had chosen such a place to live; now Imogen had chosen it to.
He shook his head. He didn’t quite know what to do now. Normally in a crisis he would shout for Cherith, have a rant, feel better and then she would agree with whatever he decided. The trouble was this time Cherith was the problem, and she wasn’t here to rant at. He had given Cherith a good lifestyle, everything she wanted, Imogen had gone to the best school they could find, he had given her everything to, he had taken James under his wing and nurtured his career. They had all taken so much from him, and now they were throwing it all back in his face. He plopped down on the bottom stair and looked at the reflection he saw in the hall mirror. When he had come down the stairs the other day he saw a confidant, handsome, intelligent man who looked nothing like his seventy years. The golf trip had been a great success. He had beaten Malcolm and William, and everyone had complimented him on his swing. He had come home full of himself, bursting to tell Cherith all about her brilliant husband. And now it was all spoilt. He felt like one of those balloons you see nailed to door a few days after the party. They still look like balloons, but they have started to get a bit wrinkly and the air had started to leak out. Why couldn’t people be more considerate? He studied himself. He hadn’t seen himself like this for, well, ever. Normally when people seemed to be going in a different direction to the one he had chosen he would pull them back, they always saw things his way in the end. He should have seen it coming.
‘Look at you sitting there, pathetic. Why aren’t you doing something?’ He glowered at himself and as he stared he started to feel the air re-inflating him. He sat up straighter and adjusted his tie. He smoothed his hair and dusted invisible dandruff from his shoulders. He stood up and marched through to the sitting room. He grabbed the phone and stood throttling the receiver while he punched in Cherith’s mobile number.

Imogen and Cherith were sitting in the garden finishing off a bottle of wine they had started last night. Drinking at lunchtime was not the sort of thing either of them usually did, but all morning they had been waiting for Henry to call.
‘Poor Mrs Davis. It was a very cheeky thing to do to leave it for her to tell him. I hope he didn’t shout at her too much.’ Cherith had arrived just after breakfast. She knew Henry was due home mid morning and she didn’t want to be on her own when the proverbial hit the fan. They both knew these few days would come to a galloping halt as soon as he got back. Imogen was crossing everything.
When Cherith’s phone finally rang they both jumped. It was sitting on the patio table and they both stared at it as it vibrated itself towards the edge. Before it fell to the ground Cherith picked it up. She looked at the display, which showed her home number, and nodded to Imogen. Imogen reached over and took her mother’s hand. With a deep breath Cherith pressed the answer button.
‘Hello?’ It was a hopeful tone, there might be a chance it was someone else.
‘I’m hoping you have a perfectly reasonable explanation. From here it looks as if you have been lying to me about Imogen’s whereabouts. Then sneaked off to see her leaving the cleaner to tell me. But that can’t be right can it?’ He sounded far to calm. For Henry calm was not good, calm meant he had gone beyond angry to another level.
Cherith took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t lie to you Henry. If you remember you never actually asked me where Imogen had gone. As for ’sneaking off’ I did no such thing. The last time I looked I was a grown up. I do not need your permission to go away for a few days. I don’t remember you asking me if you could go on you golf trip. The opportunity presented itself so I took it. If I had told you my plans before you went then we would have had an almighty row and it would have spoilt your swing, what would have been the point of that?’ She exhaled. Imogen gripped her hand a little tighter.
‘How dare you, how dare you talk to me like that!’ This was not what was supposed to happen. She was supposed to apologise.
‘I dare Henry because I’m fed up. Imogen phoned me not long after she left. She asked me not to tell you and I honoured that promise.’
‘And what about your promise to me? Love honour and obey I think it was.’
‘Yes you like that don’t you? And it worked too, you were very clever. But I found the letters.’
‘You went in my desk?’ He almost whispered it, he was horrified. It just got worse and worse.
‘Yes I went in your desk Henry, and why not? I was looking for something. You kept those letters all those years and led me to believe you hadn’t. You did that deliberately. If I hadn’t found those letters then I wouldn’t have told Mrs Davis about this trip, I would have made sure I was back before you were and you would never have known I was gone. It was easy to keep it from you until I found those letters.’
‘I don’t understand.’ He frowned, what was she saying to him?
‘No Henry, I don’t suppose you do.’
‘Well I want you back here.’
‘I’m sure you do. I’ll be back in a day or two.’
Henry opened his mouth to say something then closed it again.
‘I’ll see you in a couple of days.’ And she hung up.
Imogen stood up and gave her mother a round of applause.
‘I think I need a top up.’ Cherith held out her glass.
‘Was he very angry?’ Imogen asked, pouring them both more wine.
‘Very. But I don’t think he quite knows what he’s angry about yet.’

Henry quietly put the phone down and went into his study. He took the key from under the carpet and opened the desk. There, neatly stacked where he had left them, were Cherith’s letters. All the letters she had written to him before they married. They were all in order, first to last. The last one was the one he read most often. She had written it two days before the wedding. He got it on their wedding morning. For the first year he had kept it in his jacket pocket and read it at least once a week. He added it to the others when it started to get a bit tatty around the edges, he didn’t want to risk loosing it. He read it again now. How could the woman who wrote this be the same woman who had just spoken to him like that? And what was she going on about, before and after finding the letters? What he did know was he’d been found out. If she’d found the letters then that must mean she knew why he’d kept them. That wasn’t ideal.
He lay in the bath that evening. All afternoon he had been mulling things over. Cherith had been happy to keep Imogen’s whereabouts from him until she found the letters, that was what she had implied, had said in as many words. There was a time when she wouldn’t have dreamt of keeping anything from him. It used to make him smile the way she would hang her head slightly when she was telling him something she thought he wouldn’t like, he loved her all the more for it. Thinking about it she hadn’t done that for quite some time, not since Imogen married James actually. In fact she had hardened to him quite a bit since then. Sometimes he got the impression she wasn’t listening to him. He had dismissed it, she was getting old. Her hearing was not what it was. And she didn’t agree with him so much these days, she just nodded. There was a time when she would be outraged on his behalf and make a lot of soothing noises, telling him how right he was and how stupid everyone else was. Now she just nodded a lot and said ‘yes dear’ now and then.
He ducked his head under the water and let it wash around his ears and into his nose. He saw Cherith at the desk, the letters in her hand. He saw her face, she was angry, not pleased, as he would have expected. So that was it! He burst back through the soapy water and sat up. He had played down his feelings so much she had given up, that was why she was happy to deceive him. When she found the letters then she realised what he had been doing, but she also realised that he did care for her after all. That was why she set up Mrs Davis like that. It was so obvious the more he thought about it. It was easy to deceive a man you thought didn’t care, but a man who loves you is a different matter. For years he had assumed fear was the key to power, he had seen it often enough after all, but it wasn’t was it, at least not with her. Had he spent his whole life getting it wrong? Surely not. You had to be firm with staff that was certain, and there was no place for sentiment in business, and running a home was like running a business… He climbed out of the bath and wrapped himself in his huge, thick bathrobe. By the time he was dry and dressed he had convinced himself that he had been right, just not as right as he first thought, at least where Cherith was concerned.

Imogen had called Molly and asked if she would come and collect Cherith, they had both had rather too much wine to drive. Henry had been hanging like an ugly cloud over them since Cherith arrived. Now the much dreaded phone call was over they had relaxed a little too much. Half a bottle left over from the night before became a fresh bottle, and then another. By the time Molly arrived they were both quite giggly.
‘Bye darling, bye!’ Cherith trilled out of the wound down window. She leaned out as far as she could and waved vigorously.
Imogen waved back. She had never seen her mother so happy. As she turned to go back up to the cottage something grabbed her from behind. She screamed.
‘Shhhh! You’ll wake the whole valley.’
‘Philip! You scared me half to death.’ She giggled and flung her arms around him, then she kissed him.
‘You’ve been drinking, I can taste wine.’
‘I have, yes… I have been drinking wine ALL afternoon.’ She flung her arm out to indicate the expanse of time.
‘Good on ya, any left?’
‘Don’t know…should be…think so.’ She nodded hard.
‘Shall we go and see?’
‘Good idea.’ She turned and wobbled up the garden path. Philip followed shaking his head and smiling. Imogen made a charming drunk, it was probably a new experience for her. He was going to enjoy teasing her about it tomorrow.
In the cottage Imogen went into the sitting room and fetched the half drunk bottle. She held it aloft triumphantly. Philip steered her back out into the garden, it would be better for her to have some fresh air.
‘Let’s sit out here.’ He said.
‘Good idea.’ Imogen handed him the bottle.
‘How about some glasses?’
‘Good idea.’ She toddled back into the house.
‘Taa daa!’ She returned with two clean glasses.
‘So you’ve had a good day with your mum then?’ he asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow.
‘We had a great time. Mum really relaxed after dad had called.’
‘Your dad called?’ Philip was concerned, he leaned forward. ‘What did he say? Are you ok?’
‘I didn’t speak to him. Mum was amazing! Oh you should have heard her! She really stood up to him.’ Imogen giggled. ‘I’ve never seen mum like that.’
‘So it’s all sorted now is it?’
Imogen sat up and took a deep breath of the night air. She was starting to sober up a little in the coolness.
‘He was very angry, I could hear him shouting, although I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I think he was demanding she come home.’
‘He’s not coming down then?’
‘Doesn’t look like it. I was so worried he would come down all guns blazing. I think he’ll wait for mum to go home. I was worried about that before, that he would take it all out on her when she got back. I don’t think he will now.’

James came back with Chinese take away for himself and Flora. They had spent another day in his study. Flora was starting to wonder if she would have to have the phone surgically removed from her ear. It was chaos. They couldn’t move in to the new offices for a couple of days so they were working from this one room. All day they had been shhing each other while they were both on the phone. James knew he would get a handful of clients to follow him but he was not expecting quite so many. It seemed word had got around already, and almost all his old client list had been calling. It was supposed to be a nice smooth operation. All they were supposed to be doing in this first week was the setting up. Instead he was already setting up meetings for tomorrow. By nine they were starving.
‘Chinese tonight?’ James fetched the menus.
‘Anything, I’ll eat the menu if you leave it there long enough.’
While James was gone Flora had another look around. It was a stunning house, why would anyone want to leave all this? She went into the bedroom. She wasn’t being nosey, she really wasn’t, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little look in the wardrobes. Yes it was as she expected, no women’s clothes. So she has definatly left him then. There were one or two tell tale signs of Imogen’s existence, a Gucci dust bag here a Prada shoebox there. Nice life if you can get it she thought. Something flashed through her mind then, Imogen had been how old, twenty-five? No more than thirty at most. Flora herself was twenty-eight. She looked again at the empty wardrobe and wondered what it might look like filled with designer clothes in her size. She shook her head, it was crazy, this time last week she had hated him. She had seen a different side to him these last few days, but that could change. Anyway she was off men. She screwed her eyes up tight as the image of Dan came into her mind. She shook her head hard to get him out. But then James was no Dan. They couldn’t be more different. For a start James was solvent. Just this morning there had been another text from Dan asking for money, every day this week. She had dumped him over a month ago when she saw him taking a twenty from her purse. It was so obvious when she thought about it. Money had been going missing for weeks. Everyone pointed the finger at Dan except her. Her loyalty had always been one of her strong points, but it had let her down this time. By the time she caught him, quite by accident, she was in the kitchen and had wandered to the fridge where she could see into the hall, and there he was with his hand in her purse. By the time she caught him he must have had over two hundred pounds. He had fed her all the usual guff about his sick mother, his boss being a bastard and not paying him. The truth was he had another girlfriend who was about to pop his sprog. She decided then that if she ever went near a man again then it would be a man not a boy five years younger. James was definatly a man, he was well over forty at least. And there would be no danger of him ever dipping into her purse.

‘So when’s your mum going back?’ Philip took the glass gently from Imogen’s hand and set it on the grass.
‘Day after tomorrow.’ Imogen yarned and leaned her head against his shoulder. ‘It’s getting cold out here.’ She shivered.
Philip stood up and pulled her to her feet. He slipped his arm around her waist and they went back into the cottage.
‘Thank you for coming round tonight.’ she said.
‘I’d been looking out for your mother’s car all evening. I thought she’d never go.’
‘We did get rather carried away.’
‘That’s good. You needed to spend some time together. I told myself I’d stay out of the way until she’d gone home. But I wanted to see you. I couldn’t bear two more days. I’m sorry I scared you.’ he smiled. ‘You can’t half scream.’
Imogen laughed. ‘Yes it was a bit shrill wasn’t it?’ She put her hand up and touched his cheek. ‘Thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘Everything. I know I’m a bit pissed but I don’t think I could have got through these few weeks without you.’
‘Bollocks. You’re far stronger that you give yourself credit for. You did the hardest part on your own anyway. Deciding to leave in the first place took far more guts than anything you’ve done since.’
‘Even using the mower?’
‘Even using the mower. Mind you that was a pretty gutsy thing to do.’ He took hold of her hand and kissed the palm. She felt the blood rush though her so hard and fast she thought the top of her head might explode. And when he kissed her lips she was sure she heard the bang. She sank down onto the sofa before her legs went out from under her as well. There was nothing for it, she thought, she was going to have to sleep with him now. She took his hand and pulled him down next to her. She slipped her hands into his shirt and felt his heart thumping under her fingers. He responded, he’d wanted this so much for so long but had been waiting for a queue from her. Now he leaned her back against the cushions and kissed her until he could no longer breathe. He stood up then and started pulling at his clothes. Imogen was watching him and giggling, she was unbuttoning her own shirt. He got his shirt off and started on his trousers, damn button flies. He was suddenly all fingers and thumbs. He turned around to get the light from the moon that was filtering in through the windows, if he could see what he was doing… With a flourish of triumph he finally undid the last button. He turned around with them in his hand and flung them across the room. He took a step towards the sofa and stopped. Lying on the sofa with her shirt open Imogen slept. Philip sighed.
‘Oh Gin.’ he said and pulled her shirt back across her exposed chest. On the back of the chair he spotted a blanket and pulled it over her. He got dressed as quietly as he could, reached down and stroked her cheek, then he let himself out.

Imogen was woken by the sun bouncing off her face. For a moment she couldn’t place herself. She sat up and looked around, then wished she hadn’t. Her head was literally splitting in two. She had to hold the two sides together when she tried again to sit up. When everything stopped spinning she realised where she was. Bloody hell she was stiff. As she moved to stand her shirt fell back open. She frowned as she did it back up. Then she saw two wine glasses. Yes, she remembered, her mother had been there and they had polished off rather a lot of wine between them. But that didn’t explain her open shirt, why would she have undone her shirt? She gathered up the glasses and took them into the kitchen. When she put them in the sink she found two more already waiting to be washed. She stood and stared at them. The two in the sink both had traces of lipstick on, the other pair only had one with lipstick, her lipstick. So whoever the third person was they didn’t wear lipstick. She put her hand up to brush her hair from her face and as she did so she detected a scent. There was a familiar smell lingering on her, she took a deep breath. Philip! She closed her eyes and groaned. Oh God what must he think of her? Her last memory was of a passion so strong she thought she might die of it. The next thing she knew the sun was bouncing off her closed eyelids. She had fallen asleep on him! She didn’t remember the blanket so he must have tucked her up in it before he left. She put her head in her hands. Her whole body was crimson with embarrassment. She was glad to hear the phone ring, something else to think about. She hurried to answer it, every ring ripping through her saw head.
‘Hello?’ She croaked.
‘Hello Ginny dear.’
‘Molly, hi, everything all right?’ She held the receiver away. There was no need for Molly to shout.
‘Oh yes. Nothing to worry about. Your mother wanted me to let you know that she won’t be over as early as planned this morning. She’s feeling a little…delicate.’
‘She’s got a hangover!’ Imogen was glad she wasn’t the only one.
‘Well yes, if you want to put it like that. You two had a good time yesterday by all accounts.’ Imogen could hear the question in Molly’s voice and knew she would be too polite to ask.
‘We did, yes. Dad called. I was so proud of mum. She really stood up to him. I don’t think he’ll be calling again.’
‘Oh I’m so glad.’ the relief in Molly’s voice was touching. She and Eleanor had both been worried about Henry. Eleanor was itching for a fight, but even she was nervous in case he caused any real trouble. Molly had been rather terrified on the quiet. Conflict was not her strong point, especially when it had been brewing. It wasn’t her fight she knew, but she also knew Henry.
‘Tell mum I know how she feels and not to rush. I hope she didn’t disgrace herself?’
‘Oh no! Your mother has always been a lady, and she was the most ladylike drunk you could wish to meet.’ They both burst out laughing.
‘I’ll drive her over when she’s ready.’ Molly offered.
‘That would be kind. I’ll have the kettle on.’
Imogen went back into the kitchen. Putting the kettle on was a very good idea. She put two tea bags in the mug, followed by three sugars. With any luck there would be paracetamol in the bathroom cabinet. She went in search while the tea stewed away. She was in luck, paracetamol; she took three and went back for her, now almost black, tea. She should shower, she should change her clothes, but all she wanted was to curl up and forget about last night. Poor Philip. She pulled the blanket over her head.

‘Feeling that bad?’ Philip’s voice came through the thick red wool and she hoped she had imagined it.
‘Yes.’ she said eventually. She stayed under the blanket and hoped he would go away, she didn’t want him to go away, but she didn’t want to see him either.
Philip took the corner of the blanket and gently pulled it back.
‘Boo.’ he gave her such a huge grin that her heart sank with humiliation.
‘That’s a good trick,’ he said ‘turning the same colour as your blanket.’
She was trying so hard not to smile, but one crept up despite herself.
‘I’m so sorry Philip.’ She crept out from under the red wool.
‘At least you weren’t sick on me.’
‘Don’t! Oh God.’ She flopped her head down into her lap.
‘Had anything to eat yet?’
‘No.’ Imogen pulled a face, just the thought of it made her want to heave.
‘Best thing for a hangover. I won’t make you have the full English, but I’ll do you some toast.’ Philip headed off into the kitchen leaving Imogen with her too strong, too sweet tea.
He came back a few minuets later with a plate of hot, buttery toast and set it down on the low table in front of her. She wanted to ask about last night, she wanted to know what had happened and if he was cross. But looking across at him she realised that it would be better to leave it alone. He obviously wasn’t cross, he wouldn’t be here making her breakfast. It would never happen again, they had had their moment, and she had blown it. For weeks now she had been thinking about little else, he had been on her mind all the time. Every time she saw him her blood had heated up and she tingled. Last night she was sure it was what she wanted most in the world. Now she knew that her going to sleep was probably the best thing that could have happened. She was so angry at the thought of James sleeping with goodness knows who and there she had been about to do the self same thing. Maybe she was just old fashioned, but until a divorce was organised that was that. Besides Philip was going home in a couple of weeks and getting any closer to him would make that so much harder, for both of them. She knew that if last night had gone ahead she might well have fallen in love with him, and she didn’t want that. He was lovely and she wanted to remember him like this, she didn’t want to regret anything. She hoped he hadn’t fallen in love with her. She saw him looking at her sometimes in a way no one had ever looked at her before, then she wondered.
Philip watched her nibbling at the toast. Her first hangover had obviously come as a shock. She looked so fragile sitting there wrapped in her red woolly blanket. All summer he had been thinking about their future. When he first saw her in the post office all those weeks ago he had felt an instant connection, there was a draw that was more than sexual. Of course he fancied her, who wouldn’t? But he had seen something in her that she obviously didn’t see herself. He also saw someone who was hurting. He seemed to attract lame ducks. At school he was the one the teachers always asked to help when someone was having a rough time or being bullied, he was the one who sat with the sick puple while they waited for their mum. He liked it, he liked to help people. The trouble was he always got involved. But how could he not? When someone is sitting in front of you sobbing because their girlfriend’s dumped them or they’ve had their pocket money nicked what can you do? His mother was always telling him that he was going to get hurt himself sooner or later, he told her he’d be fine. Now he wasn’t so sure. As soon as he got close to Imogen he knew it was unlikely there was going to be any future for them. He knew she wouldn’t be able to commit to him. That was fine, it really was, after all she had made him no promises. Even so he found himself wanting it more and more. He had light-heartedly mentioned that she go back to Oz with him. The look on her face as she tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t upset him said it all. Ok so life in Australia didn’t appeal to her, fair enough. He decided he would stay here. He was supposed to be going to university in the autumn, but they have unis in England, he would get transferred some how. That was one of the things he was going to tell her last night. Now, standing by the windows while she sipped at her tea he knew he would go home, that he would leave her here and that that was fine. When he turned around and found her asleep he wasn‘t as disappointed as he should have been. It was strange because he was so fired up every time he saw her. He knew this morning what he had tried to ignore for weeks, that there was a difference between passion and love. He cared about her, he wanted to help her and he had wanted very badly to sleep with her, and last night she seemed to want the same thing. This morning though she seemed as relived as he was that nothing had happened. He wanted to ask her if she was ok, but he decided it was better to let it go. He smiled across at her and she smiled back.

James woke up in the study chair and immediately wished he’d bothered to go to bed last night. Flora had finally gone home around one and he had gone back to sort through the rest of the papers. So much paper! This was supposed to be a paperless society and yet he seemed to be drowning. What had started as a flippant remark from Olwen had turned out to be a hell of a lot of work. He had hoped that by now things would be up and running, he was hoping to be on his way to Cornwall. Instead the phone had not stopped ringing, the faxes had not stopped coming, nor had the emails. It seemed everyone and his dog had heard that he was going it alone. Clients that had resisted him for years were suddenly interested. Henry himself had been unnervingly quiet. The estate agent had promised they would be in the offices by now, looking around at the mess that was once his home he hoped it wouldn’t be too much longer.
He got up slowly and grimaced, he was too old to sleep in chairs, and he had promised never to do it again. Carefully he stretched and took a few saw steps to the kitchen. The whisky bottle was still sat on the desk but he hadn’t been near it in weeks. Caffeine, on the other hand, that was a different matter. Just as he reached the kitchen the phone rang. Bugger, he picked up the kitchen extension.
‘Hello?’
‘James, Henry.’ Henry’s voice was sharp and clipped.
‘Good morning Henry, what can I do for you?’ He was as light-hearted as he could manage.
‘You can tell me what the bloody hell is going on that’s what.’
So he had herd.
‘I get back from golf to find that Cherith had swanned off to Cornwall with out a by your leave. At least the office is in safe hands I think. But no! I get in this morning and find your office empty. Then I get a phone call from William Hebdon asking for your home number. I ask him why he wants it and he tells me that you’ve set up on your own! Christ James what the hell are you doing? You can’t set up a new business just like that, not in a week, you can’t!’
‘Well I can and I have.’ James was going to stay calm. He was not going to let Henry rattle him this time. What had Henry ever done for him really? He flattered him and courted him. In the early years, he was one of many, there were several companies who wanted him. James had chosen Henry because he seemed to need him the most, that was very clever. A small family firm that was looking for new blood, it sounded perfect. And it was for a long time. Maybe he knew all along that Henry was playing him, maybe he just chose to ignore it. Maybe he chose not to see the strings that were attached to everything because it suited him. Yes there was a time when they were as bad as each other. James wanted what was on offer, he wanted the promotions, he wanted to run the whole show one day. How it had taken him this long to wake up to it all amazed him.
‘Why?’ Henry was quiet now, not quite believing what was happening to him. Why was it all going so wrong? ‘I got you where you are.’
‘No, Henry, I got me there. I chose you as much as you chose me. I was happy to go along with it all. I’m not proud of myself. And nor should you be Henry. You convinced me that I needed you. Good God you hand me by the bollocks for years. It took Imogen leaving me to wake me up, I know how that sounds but it’s true. I don’t expect someone like you to understand but I couldn’t go on working for you once I finally realised just what a fucking bully you really are.’ James said all this in the calmest voice he could manage, then he put the phone down.

For the second time in as many days Henry found himself at a complete loss. He stood with the dead receiver in his hand for a long time. James had called him a bully when he had given him everything, he would never have got so high up anywhere else. He went into the sitting room and sat down heavenly on the sofa. On the wall in front of him was a framed photo of Imogen and James on their wedding day. He got up and went over to it. She was happy, look at her, she’s smiling, they both were. He looked closer, and then closer.
Something caught in his throat when he looked into his daughters eyes, frozen and flat. She wasn’t smiling, neither of them were. He tried to remember the build up to that day. He had introduced them, and he had encouraged them, encouraged James to make the proposal. He had sweetened the pill with the offer of the business when he retired. But it was all for Imogen, he was making sure she was all right. By making sure she married someone like James, and by making sure James stayed he was looking after her. Well it was true to a point. He also knew how good James was at his job, and how many other people were after him. If he was married to Imogen he would have a harder job leaving to join someone else. And James had worked wonders, clients loved him, so did their wives. Well there was nothing wrong with that, he’d known many men in James’ position who did the same. If it got the contracts signed then it could be overlooked. Not that he had ever done it himself. He couldn’t do it to his Cherith but he was happy for James to do it to Imogen, maybe that wasn’t such a good thing for a father to do. And maybe hiding those letters was not such a good thing for a husband to do. He’d been called manipulative before, and arrogant, and selfish, but he had always assumed that those who accused him of such things were just jealous. He had a great deal for people to be jealous of after all. Even at school there were boys who knew how much he stood to inherit and bullied him for it, and others who were his best friends because of it. He developed a thick skin very quickly. And there was nothing wrong with looking after yourself. In his heyday in the eighties they were exactly the qualities needed, learning how to manipulate people had got him were he was. The business had been comfortably chugging along under his father, but Henry had put it on the map, and kept it there. He had been banking on James to keep it going after him, even building it up some more. It might have been different if Imogen had been a boy, someone to hand everything over to completely. But she wasn’t.
Cherith had wanted a baby so much, and he wanted to make Cherith happy. The miscarriages had been quite dreadful, Cherith had cried for days. He hadn’t thought about his own feelings about children until they were taken away. When Imogen finally came along he had convinced himself he didn’t mind what they had, but he couldn’t help a little pang when the midwife said ‘it’s a girl’. A girl was so much more responsibility. A boy could be sent off good and early to a character building school, then moulded into whatever shape you wanted, hadn’t done him any harm after all. But a girl, they were a different matter. A daughter needed looking after, you couldn’t send them away to school so early and they needed an eye keeping on them. And even when they were grown up you still needed to be there to guide them. Before Imogen was even old enough to go to school Henry was worrying about her future, how he was going to provide for her and look after her when he was gone. He decided that it would be best to get her married to someone suitable, reliable and with prospects who he could trust to do the right thing by her. It was what his parents had wanted for Rowena, what all parents of that generation wanted for their daughters, that was the point of the ‘season’, something Rowena had hated and put up with under great protest, calling it a meat market. He could still remember the pain Rowena put their parents through when she stubbornly refused to marry. The trouble was Rowena should really have been a boy. There was a time when he was a child when he wished they could change places. She was so full of life and was never fazed by anything. He, on the other hand, had to teach himself to be self-reliant. The thick skin he developed at school was born out of a need to survive rather than a natural quality. Rowena was born with the hide of an elephant and nothing ever seemed to get through, or so it seemed. And while she kept her feeling forever on show, and always let you know what she was thinking, he had learnt to bury his feelings deep down, they were safer that way.
So Imogen was a worry. In the early days there was the dread that she too might be taken away in the night. Cherith would get up in between feeds and check she was still breathing. Eventually he convinced her that she didn’t need to, but he would do it instead while Cherith slept. She was a quiet girl, but not shy. She was slow to make friends though so the school holidays became somewhat of a trial. When Rowena suggested Imogen go down to Cornwall for a few weeks in the summer holidays there was relief all round. He had been uneasy to begin with. He was not on the best of terms with his sister, not for the first time. But their arguments shouldn’t impact on Imogen, and she wanted to go. For a few years it worked out well. Imogen seemed happy to go down on the train with a secretary, which meant he didn’t have to see too much of Rowena. Cherith had protested a little, but he pointed out it would be good for Imogen to meet new people. It worked and off she went. Until Rowena started putting ideas into her head. There was no way Henry could allow Imogen to grow up like his sister. Rowena had done nothing with her life. I mean going off to Cornwall like that and living in nothing much more that a garden shed. No one expected her to have a career or achieve great things. But she should have got married, had children, done charity work. Rowena refused to do what was expected. These days she would be the one running the company, but that was not an option back then. Their father had never been strict enough with her, that was the trouble. While Henry was sent away to school and brought up with all his parent’s expectations on his shoulders, she was allowed to do more or less what she wanted. Their parents were old fashioned enough to belive that only boys were worth sending away to school. When Rowena expressed an intrest in learning they allowed it, but it was more of an indulgence. As a result she got whatever she wanted while he was sent away.
While Henry could take over the business and make his own way Rowena had to be provided for one way or another. If she married then they could relax knowing that someone was there to look after her when he had gone. It was what he wanted for Imogen to. While she was single he was still responsible for her, if she married well then he could relax. When she was a child Henry was sure she was the kind of girl who would suit that kind of life. He knew he was old fashioned but he didn’t like the thought of his little girl having to go through what he had in order to survive when she could be taken care of.
The trouble was Rowena didn’t want to be taken care of and so their parents watched in horror as she turned into an independent woman with her own ideas. It was Henry who wanted to be taken care of but no one wanted to know about that. She was throwing away the chance to have everything she could ever want handed to her. He watched from an upstairs window as she packed up that dreadful motorbike with as much of her belongings as she could. He saw her parents putting on brave faces as they waved her off. Their expectations of him suddenly became even higher, everything now rested with him. He resented it and he resented Rowena for getting away from it, he was jealous of her. He had never really thought about it before but he was not angry with his sister for leaving and living such an individual life he was envious of the fact that she had been allowed to do it. He did what was expected and he made his parents proud. And he watched Rowena having a ball in Cornwall and hated her for it.
Before Imogen was born he had decided that. Boy or girl, his child was going to be brought up with more respect for everything he and Cherith had had to do to provide for them. There was no way he was going to let his child throw all his hard work back in his face. So when Imogen started to form such a close attachment to Rowena he started to worry. She would come back from Cornwall with all kinds of wild ideas about what she might do with her life. It normally only took a few days for him to have talked her out of whatever elaborate plan she was about to embark on, but he could see that headstrong streak. He needed to quash that if he was ever going to be able to protect her. Until that point they had been rather more indulgent than he wanted to be. Now he started to put his foot down. The business had also started taking off and he was spending more and more time away from home. It became easier to play the strict father when he didn’t have to be there to catch the fall out. He knew he was leaving Cherith to mop up the tears every time he said no and then left for the office, but that was the natural order of things after all. Men go out to work while the women bring up the children. And Cherith was always very good about backing him up. She never went against his wishes. He had never considered himself to be anything less than a good and caring father. It was true he became more distant as work got busier. And it was true he liked things to be done his way, but that didn’t make him a bad person. He had done his best for them and now it seemed that hadn’t been good enough.
Henry sat and thought. He tried to list all his friends. After several attempts he realised that he had no one he could really call a true friend. There were lots of aquatances, the chaps from the golf club, clients and ex clients who still kept in touch, his Christmas card list was huge, but there was none on that list he could call right now and have a good chat with. There was no one, except Cherith, who he could pour out his troubles to. It had never been an issue before, but now Cherith wasn’t here he realised there was no one else. How had he come to this? He never intended to alienate everyone. He had to stand up for himself because no one else wanted to do it for him. He wasn’t the strong man everyone seemed to think he was, but somehow the act that kept him going for so long had taken over. He knew the real Henry had been lost a long time ago, and he had always been glad. Now he started to wonder where that scared little boy had gone and whether he could still be found. But he was too old for all of that, he was what he was and it was too late to change. Maybe he had got it wrong all those years ago when he decided to bury himself and build his barricades, but they were there now and that was that. It had got him a long way. The little boy he had once been could never have built up such a successful life. All the promises he had made to that little boy as he sat sobbing in the dorm after a particularly nasty bought of bullying he had kept. He had got the big house, the flash cars, the big fat pension, the silk shirts and the off shore accounts. He had everything those boys had told him he would never have because he was a mummies boy who had it all on a plate and would never make anything for himself. Well he had shown then hadn’t he? Yes he had, but at what cost? His sister had hated what he had become and had told him so in no uncertain terms. His daughter was apparently terrified of him. His wife seemed to have turned against him and he had no one he could truly call a friend. In fact he had become the most successful failure he had ever met.
He shook his head and tried to make it different, there was still a part of him that couldn’t quite admit that he had done anything wrong. Yes he was trying to do his best for Cherith and Imogen, but he was also trying to do the best for himself. Over time he became more and more self-centred until he could no longer think about anything from any other point of view than his own.
He still told himself it was all for the good of the family, but it wasn’t was it? James had been right. He had sold Imogen in exchange for James staying in the business. But it was the best thing for her. He shook his head hard, it was for her. But however hard he tried he couldn’t tell himself that lie anymore. He had done it for the good of the business, to make himself more money and give himself more power. He had let Imogen down at the time when she had needed him most. The one thing he had tried so hard to do he had failed to achieve. Instead of protecting her he had made her unhappy. He knew she didn’t want to marry James but he had taken no notice, telling himself at the time that it was just nerves. And he knew Cherith was right when she tried to talk him out of it. He told himself it was just a mother not wanting to let go of her daughter. The little girl who had kept him awake at night with worry, who he had crept in to in the middle of the night to check on, who had looked up at him with eyes that made his heart break. She had become so terrified of loosing his love if she didn’t please him that she had married a man she didn’t love. What kind of a father did that make him? Oh God! He put his head in his hands and pressed his palms into his eyes. The pain was excruciating but he didn’t care.
A hundred things were whirling around his head all at once. He had to do something, he had to put things right somehow. He was too old to change just like that. He had no idea how to begin. It would be so easy to just carry on as before. He could wait for Cherith to come home and just say nothing. He could have a rant at Imogen and tell her to come home, something a part of him still wanted to do, and watch while she cut herself off from him completely. He tried to remember the last time she had talked to him about anything important, and he couldn’t. He tried to remember the last time Cherith had talked to him about anything important, and he couldn’t. People told him the things he wanted to know, or needed to know. People tiptoed around him, and he liked it. That was the trouble. He liked the power he commanded.
He couldn’t stand being in the house so he went out into the garden. He remembered Imogen running around on the lawn, doing cartwheels. He remembered her running up to him when she saw he was home from work and throwing her arms around him. She was about eleven, it was just before the last time he allowed her to go to Cornwall. It was the last time she did anything like that. He wanted that again. He wanted to be loved rather than feared.
He went upstairs and started to pack a bag.

Mulberry Gin Chapters 13 & 14

Chapter Thirteen.

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

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

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

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

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

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


Chapter Fourteen.

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

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

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

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

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

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