Mistakes We Make (33 page)

‘It won’t be for long,’ Molly said. ‘Barnaby will find someone to buy me out then I can get a place of my own.’

Billy hugged her. ‘I missed you.’

‘I missed you too, Dad.’

She gave herself three days, then started a round of calls. She’d have to find work, and soon.

Her first call was to Sharon, Lady Fleming.

‘I was wondering,’ she said without any real hope, ‘if you might need a hand now and again. I’m back and I’m working for myself.’

‘Molly! How unexpected.’

‘It’s a long shot. I imagine you’re well taken care of. I just thought it might be worth a try.’

She was preparing her platitudes when Lady Fleming said, ‘As it happens, we’re more than usually busy in the next few weeks. Hugh – your replacement – has been on his knees begging me for more help.’ She laughed. ‘To be candid, Molly, I don’t think he has your stamina, or gift for organisation. Why don’t you come in and we can talk about it. Three o’clock?’

A few years ago, Sharon Eddy had been chief reporter on the now-defunct
Hailesbank Herald
. Then she’d fallen in love with Sir Cosmo Fleming, married him after a whirlwind romance, and transformed herself – to the astonishment of the entire town – from bossy journalist to twin-set-and-pearls landed gentry with remarkable ease. More to the point, she had taken the rambling, crumbling, money-leaking Fleming House firmly in hand and started its transformation from near ruin to money-making machine with ruthless efficiency. The appointment of Molly as the estate’s first events manager had been a key brick in her business plan.

‘There is work,’ she said over a cup of coffee in her functional office, ‘but it’s all short term.’ She glanced at Molly and said, ‘I’m sorry to say that Hugh hasn’t been as astute as you were at the marketing side of things.’

‘What kind of work?’ Molly asked, her heart sinking at the thought of having to come in to teach her successor how to do the job. She could foresee all sorts of resentments and grievances, and besides, she didn’t want the responsibility.

Sharon Fleming was not stupid. ‘The best thing would simply be to hand over a few events to you in their entirety, don’t you think?’

‘Sounds good. I could do that.’

‘Good.’ She started looking through her large desk diary. ‘Ah. The first thing could be the Mulgrew-Gordon wedding.’

‘Oh no!’

‘Sorry?’ Sharon looked at her over the top of her spectacles.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll do anything else, but I can’t do that one. Lexie Gordon is a great friend of mine and I’m a guest. I would hate to—’

‘Of course. I forgot. It was you who persuaded her to rent the garden cottage, wasn’t it? And rushed her to hospital to have her baby. You’re quite right, it wouldn’t be appropriate. All right.’ She scanned the diary again. ‘There’re a couple of corporate dinner evenings in the Barn, two more weddings, a few family parties – I’ll tell you what, why don’t you and Hugh agree the diary between you? Take no notice if he grumbles, I’m sure he’ll be very relieved.’

‘Fine by me.’

Lady Fleming took off her glasses and laid them on the desk. ‘Where are you staying?’

‘Short term, with my father, but his house is really cramped and I’ll have to—’

‘Your apartment is still empty.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Your old apartment. Hugh deemed it unsuitable. He has a wife and children and prefers to live in Hailesbank.’

‘I see.’

‘I could let you have it for a nominal rent. To be frank, I’d prefer someone in it. I always think it’s best to keep these rooms warm and aired.’

‘That’s really kind of you, but I don’t know how much I could—’

‘Let’s do it on a month-by-month basis, shall we?’

There comes a time when life is at such a low ebb that things have to turn around and start to go well. Or maybe it’s about grabbing problems by the scruff of the neck and dealing with them.

That was how it seemed to Molly. She had faced up to her situation and made a decision that to many would appear bizarre – but to her felt so absolutely right that it seemed inevitable.

She woke up on the morning of Lexie’s wedding in her old apartment, smiling at these thoughts. This place had been her bolt-hole before. Was she merely running away again? It didn’t feel like that this time, but she did welcome the familiarity of the flat. It felt safe.

The wedding was not until two. It was to take place in the room that had once been the billiard room and which she and Lady Sharon had converted into ‘The Wedding Room’ – a calm, beautiful space with a fine aspect down towards the river and excellent natural light. They had purposely kept the decor simple. This was a space that was to be suitable for ceremonies of any denomination. After the photographs, they’d have dinner in the supper room. There was plenty of space around the great hall and staircase for guests to disperse and chat while the room was prepared for dancing later.

The format was so familiar that Molly could have run the wedding in her sleep, but there was a delicious pleasure in knowing she didn’t have to.

She took a leisurely shower, enjoying, as she did each time she went through this ritual, the feel of her short hair.

She pulled on her dressing gown and breakfasted on coffee and toast, feeling delightfully decadent. It was a gloriously sunny day; Lexie’s photos would be fabulous.

At ten, her doorbell rang and Hugh appeared, looking apologetic. ‘Don’t panic,’ he said, ‘but there are a couple of small problems—’

The caterer had called in. They were three staff short and none of the agencies had been able to supply replacements. The woman who played the piano for the service was sick. And the wine that had been delivered was not what had been ordered.

‘I’m so sorry, Molly, but can you handle these issues? I’ll be back well before the ceremony, but my youngest, Betty, has taken a tumble out of the tree in our garden and I think she may have broken something. She’s downstairs in the car. I can’t leave her for much longer; I’m going to have to drive her to A&E to get her X-rayed because my wife has taken our son to his judo in Dunbar and she doesn’t have her phone with her—’

‘Leave it with me,’ Molly said, holding out her hand for the information and trying not to sigh audibly. ‘Don’t worry about it, these things happen. I hope your little girl’s all right.’

‘Sally will be back by midday,’ Hugh said, heading for the door. ‘I’ll come straight back in, I promise. Oh,’ he delved into his pocket, ‘I brought up your post. I nearly forgot.’

‘Thanks.’

It took an hour, and her old contact book as well as Hugh’s meagre one, to sort everything out, but it could have been worse. She glanced at the clock. Eleven thirty. She still had a comfortable two and a half hours to get ready for the wedding. There would even be time to read a couple of chapters of her latest book.

She made another coffee and settled on her favourite armchair. Seeing the letters Hugh had left, she picked them up. They had all been redirected by Julian. They must be a week or more old. She sifted through them. Some junk, an alumnus magazine, a letter from the Sheriff Court ...

She seized the brown envelope and ripped it open.

It was her decree absolute.

She and Adam were finally divorced.

She would cope. Everything she had gone through had made her stronger. Molly held her head high and threw her shoulders back and led with her chin into the wedding ceremony. She saw Lexie drift down the aisle in a confection of ivory lace that might have been 1920s or 1930s, but most certainly was vintage. Wrist-length sleeves, a fish tail that puddled on the floor at the back – she would have noted every exquisite detail of the dress, except that she could not keep her eyes off Adam Blair.

Her ex-husband.

She wrested her attention back to the ceremony.

Lexie did nothing conventionally. She carried no bouquet; instead she carried her baby. Keira Mulgrew Gordon, aged eight months, in fuchsia pink satin to match her mother’s hair, sat bolt upright and mute with the strangeness of it all – until Lexie tried to hand her over to Cora, at which point she started to scream.

Lexie laughed.

Patrick took his child, but Keira was having none of it. She wanted her mother and was going to have her mother.

Lexie’s laughter stopped abruptly. ‘I can carry on holding her,’ she said, her voice clear, ‘while we do this thing.’

Molly stepped forward. ‘No,’ she said, ‘let me. I’ll take her out.’

She meant it as a sacrifice, a kind of personal penitence for having missed the christening. She wanted above everything to see her friend married, but godmotherly duties dictated otherwise.

‘Oh will you? Thank you, Molly.’

The child was handed over. Molly turned to walk down the aisle between the chairs so that she could find somewhere quiet outside to entertain Keira, but the moment she had the baby in her arms, there was silence.

She stopped. She looked at Keira. Keira looked solemnly back. A solitary tear sat on her plump cheek, but she squeezed no more out.

All right then, Molly thought, we’ll see, shall we? And she slipped back into her place.

Keira took hold of the gold pendant she was wearing – it was one that Adam had given her on their first wedding anniversary – and started to examine it closely.

Molly looked up. From across the aisle, Adam was staring not at Patrick and Lexie, but straight at her. She could not read the expression in his eyes.

Lexie said, ‘That was miraculous, Molly,’ as she turned down the aisle by the side of her new husband and reclaimed her child. ‘What’s your secret?’

‘I’m a fairy godmother,’ Molly whispered, as much to the child as to Lexie.

Keira gurgled and smiled, and as Lexie cradled her in her arms, she waved a chubby hand.

Molly fell in love.

Of all the emotions she had expected to feel on meeting Adam, shyness was not even on the list she had considered.

‘You’re back,’ he said, unexpectedly offering her his arm as they turned, simultaneously, out of their seats and into the aisle, one from each side.

‘Yes. Divorced, penniless and with no visible means of support.’ She smiled at him. His face was imprinted on her soul and the shyness melted away. ‘But glad to be back.’

‘What happened to the hair?’

‘Oh!’ Molly’s hand shot up to her head. ‘I keep forgetting. Don’t you like it?’

‘I barely recognised you.’ He studied her carefully, his eyes hooded so that she couldn’t read them. ‘It suits you. What prompted it?’

‘I needed a change.’

‘Change is good. Change is brave. Has it changed how you feel about yourself?’

Taken aback by his perceptiveness, she laughed nervously. ‘The photographs will take an hour,’ she said, evading the question, ‘but there’ll be champagne.’

‘We could pass on the bubbles and go for a walk.’

‘I suppose we could.’

He hadn’t mentioned the divorce. Did he even know it had come through?

They strolled round the side of the house, towards her apartment. ‘They’ll come round this way shortly,’ Molly said, ‘to take pictures in the formal garden.’

‘There’s a path towards the river. It winds through the trees over there.’

‘Yes,’ said Molly, who knew it well.

Her shoes were not suited to walking. They were satin and had high, thin heels. Half way across the lawn she took them off and carried them.

‘You all right? We can stop.’

‘No, let’s walk. There’s a sheltered bank down by the river; we can grab a seat for a bit.’

The sun was high in the sky. It was May, and unseasonably warm. As they reached the wood, they heard a babble of voices from the terrace behind them and turned to see what was happening. The wedding party had turned the corner of the house and was approaching the steps at the top of the formal garden.

‘Quick,’ said Adam.

Molly turned towards the path into the wood and ran, though why she was running she had no idea.

A few steps later, she stood on a rough pebble and cried out. ‘Ouch!’

‘Sore?’ Adam smiled in the dappled light, the shadows playing across his face so that she could not quite read his eyes. Before she realised what he was doing, he stooped and lifted her in his arms.

‘What are you – Adam?’ Molly cried, laughing.

‘Where’s this bank then?’

‘Not far. I can walk if you—’

He didn’t slow down, so she shut up. She had no real inclination to protest. She hadn’t been in Adam’s arms for – what? – four years? It felt disturbingly pleasant.

‘Down there,’ she instructed as they emerged from the wood.

He stood at the top of the bank and looked at it. ‘Can you walk? It’s quite steep. I’d hate to drop you.’

Her dress was lapis blue satin, and short. She picked her way down the grass and dropped onto the lush grass, threaded with wildflowers.

Adam slithered down beside her, then sat up and took off his jacket. ‘I didn’t think I’d have to wear a suit again so soon.’

‘I heard you’d turned to farming.’

‘Farm managing, yes.’

‘Has Jean given up?’

‘More or less. Geordie’s death hit her hard. I don’t think she had the heart for it any more.’

Molly picked a handful of daisies and started weaving them together. She said, ‘I got the divorce papers this morning.’

‘Just this morning?’

‘They’d been forwarded from London.’

‘Ah. It was what you wanted, wasn’t it?’

She sat up. ‘What
I
wanted?’

‘You told me off for not getting the divorce through because it affected the bond on the house.’

‘Well, it was too late by then anyway, wasn’t it? So there was no need to—’

‘Don’t tell me you didn’t want to go ahead. You never said—’

Molly crunched the daisies in her hand and tossed them away. ‘I thought you wanted it.’

‘I had the impression it was inevitable.’

‘Oh God.’

She slumped back against the bank and closed her eyes, drained. A cloud crossed the sun and she felt the change of temperature immediately.

‘How did you do that trick with Keira?’ he asked after a long silence.

‘Trick?’

‘Made her go quiet.’

‘Pure luck.’