Holding On (10 page)

Prue smiled sympathetically at the harassed young mother in the seat opposite, remembering how many journeys she had made with the twins in the past. Each summer they had come down to The Keep for the long holiday, the children wild with excitement. She remembered, too, how in awe she'd been of her mother-in-law, well aware that she was not quite the competent wife Freddy would have chosen for her brilliant, clever son.

Prue breathed a tiny sigh of contentment. How glad she was that she and Maria got along so happily together. She'd been rather anxious when she'd heard that Freddy had decided to reconsider her will, wondering how much the thought of inheriting The Keep had influenced Maria's decision to accept Hal's proposal of marriage. Hal had taken it very well when his grandmother explained that she'd been advised that The Keep should be left in trust for her great-grandchildren. It was all very complicated and difficult to explain but it was understood that Hal was her executor, she had given him power of attorney and he was still expected to be the one to live there after his grandmother's death. Freddy had been anxious that he should not feel hurt or dispossessed, insisted that he must have a session with her lawyer so that he quite understood the position, but Hal was perfectly sensible about the situation, quite happy to accept the new arrangements. He'd been too busy with his new marriage and his career to worry about it and, after all, there was no great change as far as he could see; it was not as if he would have ever considered selling The Keep. Prue, however, wondered how much he had told Maria and if she had quite grasped the finer details. She suspected that he had not been absolutely open with his wife, knowing her tendency to insecurity and her readiness to worry.

‘Please come down, Ma,' Hal had pleaded on the telephone. ‘There's a plan for a family gathering at The Keep next weekend and I don't think Maria can face it without you . . . I know, I know. But she's a bit wound up about Fliss being pregnant. You know how she's longing to have a baby, and Kit's inclined to tease her. All in good fun, of course, but Maria's a touch sensitive just at present . . . Yes, Grandmother's great. They get along terrifically well in the main but she's a bit – well, she's a bit
austere
, if you know what I mean . . .?'

Prue knew exactly what he meant. How often she herself had been the object of Freddy's critical gaze, conscious of being judged . . . but surely Maria was a great favourite with Freddy? Of course, she was getting old – she must be nearly eighty – and she could be disconcertingly direct. With Peter and Alison in Kenya and Johnny no longer there for moral support, Prue had felt all the weight of Freddy's expectations. It had been a relief when The Keep was full of children again and dear old Caroline
in situ
. Finding Caroline had been Prue's brainwave and it was this – and the love that Peter's children had for their Aunt Prue – that had softened Freddy's attitude towards her. Luckily, Theo had always been on her side.

What, Prue wondered, would she have done without darling Theo? However would she have managed without his love and support, especially his financial support? How often he had saved her from embarrassment. The estate had paid her the dividends that would have been Johnny's and, added to this, Freddy had been extremely generous, buying Prue the little mews house in Bristol and paying for the twins' education. Nevertheless, there had been some difficult moments, especially during her short and disastrous marriage with Tony.

Prue thought: How odd. I can barely remember him and yet I thought I loved him so much. How treacherous love is. How it deceives us and makes fools of us.

She felt a surge of relief that Maria so clearly adored Hal. Of course, Hal was such an easy person to love – although Prue realised this might be a mother's prejudice – but she knew that a naval wife's lot was not always a happy one and Maria seemed to be having difficulty in coming to terms with the regular separations. Babies were the answer here. Babies would keep her busy and happy, leaving her no time for moping or feeling sorry for herself. In the terrible months after Johnny's death, it was the twins who had kept her sane. What a comfort they had been to her and, as they grew up, had become more like her friends than her children. It was so important that Hal and Maria should be happy together, to know the kind of bliss she and Johnny had experienced. If only Kit would find someone, too; someone like that nice Jake . . .

Out of habit, as the train pulled into Totnes, Prue reached for her bag and then sank back into her seat smiling. For the first time, in all the years of travelling west, she would be going on to Plymouth. Hal and Maria were now living in their quarter and had promised to meet her at the station.

‘To be honest,' Hal had said during that telephone call, ‘it's a bit of an anticlimax after the cottage, but that's life, I'm afraid. Maria's fed up.
Do
come, Ma. I know you'll cheer her up.'

For some reason, Prue found herself thinking about Fliss. She wondered how she was feeling about going off to Hong Kong, about having her baby so far from home. It would be lovely to see her – and everybody else, all together once more – and especially lovely to see Kit, who was coming down from London at the weekend . . .

She settled back in her seat, concentrating on this part of the journey which was new to her; speeding through South Brent, rattling across the viaduct high above the Glazebrook, curving round the edge of the moor towards Ivybridge. Prue felt a twinge of excitement mixed with sadness. It seemed so odd that she should be coming to stay with her grown-up son and his wife. Her memories were still full of two excited children, watching eagerly from the window, pointing out the landmarks, asking if it were too early to eat the picnic lunch. How quickly the years had passed since she and Johnny had been like Hal and Maria, setting out together and so much in love. Now Johnny and Peter were gone, their children grown up and she was forty-nine, older than Freddy had been when she'd first met her thirty years ago. Thirty years . . .

Prue was filled with an odd kind of terror. How profligate she'd been with her time, how careless of its preciousness – except for those too few years with Johnny. Then, each minute had been so special, treasured up, relived. If only her two children could know this kind of happiness.

‘Nearly there.' The young mother was smiling at her, signalling relief that the long journey was over. ‘It's hell with small kids, isn't it?'

‘Hell,' agreed Prue, ‘but don't wish their lives away. They'll go quite quickly enough. Mine are your age, now, but I'd be very happy to put the clock back. Now, tell me, how long it is till we actually arrive? I've never done this trip before so it's all very exciting. My son will be meeting me. He's a naval officer . . .'

 

The Saturday evening party had spilled out of the drawing room into the hall and beyond to the courtyard. At the last moment, plans for it had spiralled out of control, invitations being extended to others apart from the members of the family. Kit had brought Jake and Sin, driving them down in Eppyjay. ‘Safety in numbers,' she'd said to Sin. ‘You
must
come. You can chat up Uncle Theo and tease Maria but
please
come,' and Sin, torn between feeling sorry for poor Jake and tempted by Kit's lure, had given in. Susanna had Janie, a school chum, staying, and Freddy had invited her own friend, Julia Blakiston, so that they could make up a bridge four with Theo and Prue if things became too noisy.

The party had begun at teatime with Kit's arrival, moved on to a buffet supper elegantly orchestrated by Caroline, Ellen and Fliss, and was now in full swing.

‘Hello, partner,' Julia said to Prue as the bridge party assembled. ‘How proud you must be of your beautiful children. What a sweet child Maria is . . .' and Prue, weak with relief that she was not to be partnered with the formidable Freddy, chattered happily whilst her mother-in-law fetched the cards and Theo set up the table.

‘Am I to have the pleasure of your company at last?' Freddy asked amiably, if pointedly, of Theo – and he smiled that particular smile which crinkled his eyes and barely touched his lips.

‘Sin sees me as a challenge,' he replied serenely. ‘She can't imagine why I don't wish to make her repent of her wicked ways.'

‘Far beyond your abilities, I should have thought,' Freddy said, with a touch of her old asperity. ‘You never even managed to convert
me
. . .'

‘I know my place, I hope,' he murmured. ‘You've always been out of my league,' and beamed upon her as she glared at him, trying to decide if he were complimenting or insulting her.

 

‘Let's fetch Fliss's old gramophone down,' Susanna was saying to Mole. ‘Janie's brought some really good records. Beach Boys and things. We could play them out in the courtyard and dance. She's gone upstairs to get them. She's nice, isn't she? Don't you think she's pretty?'

‘She's lovely,' said Mole, who was suffering all sorts of pleasing – and uncomfortable – sensations at the proximity of the delightful Janie. ‘The thing is, I'm not very good at d-dancing.'

He shook his head, angry with himself that his hated stammer had suddenly reappeared, and Susanna squeezed his arm sympathetically.

‘Don't worry about that,' she said comfortingly. ‘She thinks you're fab. Really sexy.'

Mole blushed hotly and fought to prevent a foolish – he could feel that it was foolish – smile lingering on his lips. ‘Nonsense,' he said severely.

‘'Tisn't nonsense!' replied Susanna indignantly. ‘Anyway, be sure to dance with her. I bet Hal will, once we get going. And that Jake. You have to be assertive. Women like assertive men.'

She dashed off and Mole took a turn about the courtyard, practising being assertive to himself.

‘Hello there,' said Sin, appearing beside him and slipping an arm through his. ‘How's tricks?'

Mole found himself seriously nervous now. There might be the faint possibility that the seventeen-year-old Janie could look upon him favourably but Sin was way out of his class.

‘G-great,' he said – and cursed himself. ‘Pretty good, actually.' He attempted a kind of nonchalance, conscious of her warm arm pressing through his shirt. ‘How are things with you?'

‘Pretty good, actually.'

She was smiling, and he looked at her suspiciously. Was she sending him up?

‘I've just noticed,' she was saying, ‘how very much like Theo you are. Lots younger, of course, but otherwise terribly like him.' She sighed dreamily. ‘I think he's the sexiest man in the world.'

Mole stumbled, righted himself and looked down at her anxiously. ‘He's a priest,' he mumbled.

‘Dear old Mole,' said Sin, pressing herself a little closer. ‘So he is. But
you're
not.'

Mole's tongue suddenly felt several sizes too large for his mouth and his collar appeared to be strangling him. He cleared his throat and gargled inarticulately. Sin's blonde head was very near his shoulder and her scent was quite dizzying. She was wearing a short black dress which looked, to Mole's uneducated eye, terribly simple, and he tried hard not to look at the front of this little masterpiece, which was cut dangerously low.

‘No,' he said, suddenly remembering Susanna's advice and affecting an offhandedness which he did not feel. ‘I'm not, am I? But where does that lead us?'

Sin gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘It leads us rather conveniently into this nice dark corner. Comfort me, Mole, for I am weary of rejection . . .'

She put her arms about him and turned up her face. Mole didn't hesitate. He managed to get the hang of things surprisingly quickly and began to enjoy himself. The music had been playing for several minutes before either of them noticed. They drew apart, looking at each other with a kind of amused delight, and Sin burst out laughing.

‘Well,' she said, smoothing back her unruly mane, ‘I think I might just have to demote Theo to second place. Come on. We'll stroll back nice and casual, shall we, and join the party? Tell me, Mole, do you ever get up to London . . .?'

 

‘It's a terrific bonus,' Miles was saying to Caroline, as they stood together in the hall, refilling their glasses. ‘To get a command in Hong Kong is almost too good to be true.'

‘I can imagine that you must be pleased.' Caroline watched him as he poured the wine. ‘Bit hard on poor old Fliss, though?'

It was a question and Miles pursed his lips, shrugging a little. ‘Oh, let's not make too much of it, shall we?' He lowered his voice slightly, as if dissociating the two of them from the family. ‘She won't be the first to have a baby abroad – and she won't be the last. She's tough, Fliss is. To begin with I thought that she was such a delicate flower. Of course, her appearance suggests that, doesn't it? But underneath she's strong. A chip off the old block, if you ask me.' He patted her arm, intending comfort. ‘Fliss'll be OK.'

He smiled confidently, glancing round him, and Caroline watched him thoughtfully.

She thought: How odd it is that I imagined myself in love with him. But he was different then – eager to please us all, longing to be a part of the family. He was dazzled by the Chadwicks, by Fliss especially, but there are no stars in his eyes now.

Aloud she said, ‘I'd better just check that the bridge party aren't dying of thirst,' and he nodded, quite happy to be left, to stroll over to Jake, who leaned against the door jamb watching the impromptu dancing in the courtyard.

‘That looks fun.' He smiled at Jake. ‘So you're Kit's young man.'

It was a statement – but Jake shook his head ruefully.