Holding On (25 page)

‘Didn't they ask you?'

‘Oh, Hal made noises,' said Prue lightly, ‘but he was rather embarrassed about it and looked distinctly relieved when I told him that I'd made other arrangements.'

‘And have you?' asked Sin after a moment.

‘Well, no. I wondered whether you'd both be going to Devon, you see, but now that I know you aren't . . .'

‘Oh hell,' said Sin remorsefully. ‘I'm really sorry. I was thinking about Kit, you see. Look, how would you like to come to Viella with us? I'm sure my friends would be delighted.'

‘My dear girl,' said Prue, puffing cheerfully on her cigarette. ‘I wouldn't dream of such a thing. No, I shall go to The Keep. As long as you're all settled and don't need me I shall be perfectly happy down in Devon. Now don't give it another thought. Truly.'

‘If you're sure.' Sin still sounded anxious. ‘But you'll be weighed down with gifts for the family, I warn you. Kit has bought her goddaughter the most divine teddy bear. Well, she bought one for each of them actually but their jackets are different colours and I've noticed that Bess's is now wearing a rather lovely little silver necklace.'

Prue shook her head. ‘She loves to spoil them, especially Bess. I think that Miles is faintly miffed that “Bess” has taken over almost completely from “Elizabeth”. Well, except for Freddy and Theo, of course, who are still rather formal. I remember that Freddy clung to “Henry” and “Katherine” long after we'd shortened them to Hal and Kit and the same with “Felicia”. In fact it was Kit who shortened it to Fliss. She couldn't manage Felicia when she was tiny. Anyway, I like the name Bess. We all do.'

Sin grinned. ‘Kit is delighted. She was determined to think up a name for her goddaughter and Bess suits her, don't you think? There's something very regal about her, isn't there? Surprising in one so small. Good Queen Bess.' Sin chuckled. ‘Jamie loves it. He's the one who really adopted it but then Elizabeth
is
a bit of a mouthful when you're very small. It was Miles's mother's name, I understand.'

‘So I believe. But I was rather surprised that Fliss called Jamie after her brother,' admitted Prue. ‘How she adored him. He was so like Hal, you know. You might have taken them for twins.' She was silent, remembering the scene in the courtyard, years ago, when Mole had first seen Hal and thought it was Jamie back from the dead. ‘Oh, Sin. Life can be so cruel.'

‘This is where we came in, if I remember rightly,' said Sin, getting up and reaching for the bottle. ‘Kit'll be back in a moment and we mustn't be miserable. Don't you think we were clever, getting tickets for
La Fille Mal Gardée
? And we're taking you to a very special little Italian place afterwards. So what are you going to wear? Kit tells me she chose you something very daring in Harvey Nicks yesterday which you're keeping from me. Go on. Go and get it while I pour us another tiny one and then we'll start casting lots for the bathroom.'

 

Maria drove slowly, feeling as though her guilt was weighing down her limbs, making it impossible to press more firmly on the accelerator. Events had swung out of control and she felt rather frightened and ashamed. Yet a kind of nervous excitement pushed her onwards making it impossible to refuse to see Keith or to stop this foolish behaviour, which must surely lead to disaster. She'd told Hal that she was going to have her hair done – and so she was – but first she was going to meet Keith in a pub called The Cricketers which he'd assured her was in the middle of nowhere.

‘I can't,' she'd protested, clutching the telephone, turning her back on Jolyon who had come to see what she was doing. ‘Honestly, Keith. There's so much Navy round here. I daren't—'

His voice had been passionate and needy, telling her of his love for her, how he couldn't live without her, how beautiful she was. Hal never talked to her like this, as if she were a precious, highly desirable treasure, and she found it intoxicating. It wasn't as if Keith were trying to force her into bed with him – although it was perfectly clear that he'd like to – no, it was her company for which he craved, and her longing to see that look of adoration and hear his words of love was quite irresistible.

For those remaining weeks whilst Hal was at sea he had come round every day. Once he knew their routine he'd appear when the boys were having a nap or later in the evening when Jolyon at least was in bed. They both knew that Jolyon was old enough to spill the beans, albeit innocently, and they both pretended that it was quite by chance that, most of the times when Keith popped in for a chat and a cup of coffee or a drink, the boys were well out of the way.

When Hal returned from sea everything changed. Reality crowded in, bringing guilt with it. He had two weeks' leave due, one of which they had spent away together quite disastrously. She simply couldn't handle this strange mixture of guilt and resentment. The guilt made her want to be nice to him but at the same time she resented the fact that he didn't treat her as Keith did. She loved Hal, of course she did, but it was as though he had ruined a game which she was enjoying without quite making compensation for missing the fun. Of course, the rot had started earlier than her meeting with Keith; it had begun with all those rows about The Keep. Hal was so cagey about the details, refusing to discuss it properly, insisting that the other members of the family had just as many rights as he did. This was nonsense. Mrs Chadwick had always made it clear that Hal was her favourite. He was her executor and he had power of attorney as well as being the eldest of the grandchildren. One day, she was fond of saying, he would be an admiral like his great-grandfather.

Maria peered at the directions scribbled hastily on the piece of paper beside her on the passenger seat, and swung the car left into a narrow lane. She tapped her fingers irritably on the wheel. The idea of Hal as an admiral and
in situ
at The Keep was a very encouraging scenario which carried a great deal of weight when, during wild flights of fancy, she imagined herself giving in to Keith's impassioned proposals. Once Keith had gone home, however, and reason returned, she knew that she would never seriously consider giving up all that she had, and would have, with Hal. Keith might seem to be doing very nicely as an accountant working from home but when the divorce proceedings started it was likely that he would have to sell up his nice big house and settle for something smaller. His social life seemed nonexistent and Maria knew her status would drop considerably if she ceased to be Mrs Chadwick and became Mrs Graves.

Apart from anything else, she had the boys to think about; they needed their father; they adored him and he was so good with them. She didn't have the excuse that he ignored them or was disinterested in them as Miles was with the twinnies. She felt a momentary pang of sympathy for Fliss. It was clear that Miles, kind though he was, was simply not father material although he would probably be fine once they were older. It was not terribly unusual for a man to be bored by small children and Miles was a bit of a bachelor at heart. It must have been difficult changing his ways to accommodate a wife and children. So many people commented on Hal's involvement with his boys, that he was a lovely daddy and so on. Of course she agreed with them but she longed to tell them – and occasionally did – that he was not so attentive to his wife.

Once, not so long ago, his presence, his love, his attention were all she had sought, all she had desired. Now, Keith had shown her what it was like to have a devoted adoring man ready to put the beloved before everything. To Keith nothing mattered but Maria; her welfare, her happiness, her hopes, her fears were paramount. It was a heady experience and she found it impossible to resist his importuning. She longed to see his adoring expression, to feel his arms about her as he gave her a quick hug, but she did not require much more than that. As she turned into the deserted pub car park and saw him waiting, her guilt returned, however, making her irritable and brittle; cross with him for putting her in this awkward situation.

He was opening her door, helping her out and she had a brief desire to scream at him, to tell him to leave her alone, that it wasn't fair to pursue her and make her life so difficult. Yet, in the next moment, as he slid his arm about her shoulder and kissed her tenderly, she felt the familiar excitement rising along with her new sense of power.

‘I shouldn't have come,' she said coolly, glancing about her. ‘It's too risky. Supposing someone recognises me? Hal knows so many people.'

‘Oh, darling Maria. I simply had to see you.' He held her close to his side, pleading with her as they crossed the car park, protecting her from the cold wind. ‘This place is always empty on a Saturday morning, I promise you. We used to live just round the corner so I know. You shall have some nice hot coffee. Don't worry. No one will see you.'

He shielded her with his body as they went inside and he hastened to install her beside a roaring fire, screened from the bar by the back of a high settle. She relaxed a little, holding her hands to the blaze, trying to analyse her confused emotions. Keith had nothing of Hal's vital, charming confidence, yet he seemed able to sap her of her will and dominate her with his sheer determination to love her. His care for her was like a warm, soft blanket into which she might sink. She would never have to be jealous or miserable again; she would never be left alone to cope, frightened and tired. Oddly, however, this possessiveness was beginning to pall; she felt smothered by his obsessive passion but she was enjoying her first taste of power. The French have a saying; in any relationship there is one who kisses and one who extends the cheek. After years of being the one who kissed she was now thoroughly enjoying being the one who extended the cheek. She knew that she was taking tremendous risks but it was irresistible.

Maria thought: I can stop this any time I like, and if Hal finds out it might teach him a lesson. It's just a harmless flirtation, that's all. Why shouldn't I have some fun?

Now, in this strange little pub, on neutral ground, she began to feel more like the young Maria: beautiful, desirable, provocative. She pulled the fur collar of her leather coat high round her face, knowing how flattering it was, smiling at Keith as he put the coffee on the table beside her.

‘Just as you like it,' he said. ‘Black, no sugar. Yes?'

‘Yes,' she said, flattered as usual by his remembering. ‘Thanks.'

‘So.' He slid in beside her, putting a pint of beer down beside her cup but ignoring it to look at her, touching her cheek. ‘Oh, Maria, I've missed you so much. I don't think I can go on like this.'

‘Shush,' she said, enjoying his patent need. ‘You said you'd be good if I met you here.'

‘But that was on the end of the telephone,' he murmured, finding her hand and holding it tightly. ‘I couldn't see you then. Or smell you. What is it?'

‘Givenchy,' she said. ‘Hal brought it back for me. It's his favourite. He says it's the only thing he likes me to wear in bed.' It gave her a tiny cruel pleasure to speak lightly about Hal, underlining his rights and privileges. She saw the pain in Keith's eyes and delighted in the power she had over him. For a brief moment she realised that she had given Hal such power, handed him such weapons, yet he had never once consciously used them, never deliberately made her suffer. Maria pushed the thought aside. She liked to inflict these tiny hurts on Keith, to test this power and bask in her new-found strength.

‘You said you liked Chanel,' he was saying. ‘I've bought you some for Christmas. Promise you'll use it when we're together?'

‘I might.' She lifted her cup, eyes sparkling at him over the rim. ‘We'll have to see.'

He tried to smile back, to enter into her light-heartedness, but he took a pull at his pint instead to hide his misery and frustration. Taking pity on him she moved closer, snuggling against him, throwing her scruples to the wind; she simply couldn't resist it.

‘So tell me how much you've missed me,' she said. ‘Every detail. Don't leave anything out.'

The market was crowded on this cold, bright Friday morning. Totnes housewives jostled with farmers' wives in from the surrounding villages, and there was the usual sprinkling of the colourful, Bohemian community which had developed alongside the artistic culture of nearby Dartington Hall. Racks of Indian cotton skirts and dresses, hanging alongside the second-hand stalls, bore witness to this influence and, on this chilly morning, a stallholder selling hand-knitted Peruvian jerseys and shawls was doing a brisk trade. Susanna's basket was already full of local produce: delicious bread, crisp vegetables, free-range eggs. She paused by the second-hand bookstall hoping, as usual, for a miracle. Mole had inherited his brother's collection of Kipling's books of which he was very proud. Only one was missing –
Captains Courageous
– and she always hoped that one day she'd come across a copy bound in the same pinky-red cover. She'd only ever seen it as part of a set but she continued to hope. As her eyes scanned the titles of the books set out on the long trestle table, she tried to imagine the brother who had written his name in full – James Peter Chadwick – in each of those books, but her image of him became muddled with her earliest memories of Hal and it was quite impossible to separate them.

She changed the heavy basket into her left hand and reached for an Elizabeth Goudge. It was
The Rosemary Tree
, a book which Caroline took out of the library at regular intervals because it was such a favourite. Susanna had already found her the Eliot trilogy and Caroline had evinced such delight that she felt quite certain that she would be pleased to have this one on her shelf, too. It would make an extra present to go with the hanks of cream Aran wool which had been for sale at half price a few weeks before. Caroline loved knitting and Susanna knew that she was planning warm winter jerseys for the twinnies. She passed over a fifty pence piece, glowing with pleasure at the thought of the pile of goodies mounting up in the bedroom cupboard ready to be packed up in Christmas paper. The market had proved an excellent source for the purchasing of gifts and she'd hardly needed to go elsewhere.