No Enemy but Time (15 page)

‘He's done so brilliantly,' Claire said to her. ‘Daddy must be thrilled. I remember all those years ago when Frank begged not to go to Rowden and he was way below all the other boys. Daddy must be so proud of him!' She went back to the window. It was a glorious summer's day, with the sun beating down through the huge old beech tree outside on the lawn. Everything was green and lush and in the garden bees droned in the warm air. A car turned round into the gravel sweep.

‘They're here.'

Claire hurried out to the hall and through the front door. Her mother followed slowly, stubbing out her cigarette on the way. Certainly Philip should have been proud of his son. He had distinguished himself academically at Rowden and left Oxford with a first in PPE. A year at Harvard Business School had ended with equal success. He'd spent a year with the World Bank in Washington. He was coming home to settle in Ireland for good. She didn't know why it made her so uneasy. Father and son had developed a working relationship which was cordial but without real intimacy. Frank had done everything his father could have wished throughout his academic career. But there was no human warmth in them when they were together. And Claire's absence made the house seem sad and empty. Now both were home at the same time.

Claudia came out on to the forecourt. Frank had matured, she noticed. He was heavier, tanned very dark, rather American in his casual blazer and buttoned-down shirt.

‘Hello, my dear. Welcome home.'

Standing there, while Billy Gorman unloaded the bags from the car boot, Frank Arbuthnot saw the familiar scene of so many homecomings. Back for the school holidays. Met at the airport, either by Claudia or his father, with Claire rushing to meet him, until she went off to Switzerland, and he was in America. Letters from home. Dry letters from his father, who hated writing and couldn't think of much to say. Friendly letters from Claudia, keeping him up to date with friends and life at Riverstown. Flowing, gossipy outpourings from his young sister that made his heart ache with homesickness, because they were the real letters. Nothing had changed, except that his father looked older and Claudia seemed more made-up and horsey. But Claire was there, bright as the sunshine in her cotton dress, so blonde and lovely that for a moment his heart gave a ridiculous bump when he first saw her. Suddenly happiness overflowed in him.

‘Claire!' He stepped forward and she came straight into his arms. They held and hugged each other and both of them were laughing with the joy of the reunion.

Billy paused, a suitcase in each hand. He grinned at Philip Arbuthnot. ‘'Tis grand to see them two together, sir,' and Philip nodded. His son looked very well. He had an extra polish acquired after his time at Harvard Business School and the World Bank. He'd talked most impressively about banking during the drive home. He was proud of his son. The wary half-glance that made him think of tinkers was quite gone now. Frank looked him in the face and even put an arm briefly round his shoulders when they met. America had sophisticated him more than Oxford. From now on, everything would go smoothly, he felt sure.

‘You're looking very well, Claudia,' Frank said. They exchanged a pleasant kiss. He'd met so many Claudias when he was up at university. Weekend mothers, he described them. Tweedy, lipsticked matrons, with ‘sporting type' branded on their foreheads like the mark of Cain. He'd hunted and shot with their sons at weekends and stayed in their houses; he understood a lot more about his stepmother as a result. It would be easier to accept her now.

He stood and looked round the hall; the same family portraits, the distinctive flowers arranged by Claudia, masses and masses interspersed with leaves and oddities from the garden. The big rug with the dog stains in the corner.

‘Where's Belle?' he asked, looking for the descendant of all the Labradors since childhood.

‘She's dead,' his father said. ‘One of those bastard farmers put down rat poison. A crow dropped the bloody meat into the garden and she ate it.'

‘I'm sorry,' Frank said.

‘She was in agony,' his father went on. ‘Strychnine. I didn't wait for the vet. I shot her myself.'

‘It was awful,' Claudia added. ‘Don't let's talk about it. Tea will be waiting for you, Frank dear, whenever you're ready.'

‘I'll put my stuff in my room,' he said. ‘Here, give me those, Billy. They're much too heavy for you to lug upstairs.'

‘I'm coming too,' Claire insisted. She had a fleeting impression that her father was annoyed because Frank had taken the cases from Billy.

‘Well,' she said, ‘are you glad to be home?'

He heaved his luggage on to the bed and sat beside it. The mattress was the same, with the springs sagging slightly in the middle, the hunting prints on the walls, his desk where the dreaded homework used to lie in wait. School groups and university groups framed and displayed.

‘God, am I glad,' was all he said, and Claire burst out laughing.

‘You've got an American accent,' she pointed out.

‘Don't worry, I'll soon lose it. And you've got an English one!'

‘I'll soon lose that,' she said. ‘Oh, Frank, it's lovely to be back. Nice to have you here too, by the way,' she added teasingly. It was so unbelievably good to be sitting on the bed, talking to each other as if they hadn't been apart at all.

‘How was Switzerland?' he asked. ‘Did you learn anything apart from how to catch a rich husband?'

‘I'll show you what I learned,' she countered. ‘I learned to ski better than you can ride, and I've got a certificate of aptitude to prove it.'

‘They give you that with the fees,' Frank grinned.

‘Feck off,' she said.

He leaned back and laughed out loud. He pulled at the tie till it came off, and opened the shirt at the neck. ‘One thing you didn't learn, and that's to be a lady. I've got a present for you. I'll give it to you after tea. I brought some things for Dad and Claudia.'

‘Why can't I have it now?' Claire demanded. ‘What is it, anyway?'

‘It's buried at the bottom of the bloody case, that's why. And all good things are worth waiting for.'

Claire leaned back in imitation of him, stretching her arms above her head. She had beautiful firm breasts.

‘I bet you didn't keep the girls in America waiting,' she said. ‘We had four of them at Le Rosalie and they were the most demanding, spoilt lot you've ever met in your life. Did you have a lot of girl friends?'

‘A few,' he said. ‘One very nice one. I was really sorry to say goodbye to her.'

‘Oh.' Claire sat up. ‘Serious stuff?'

‘She thought so, but I didn't,' Frank answered. ‘What about you? Find yourself a big blond ski instructor out there?'

‘No. The big blond ski instructors were all snapped up by the rich girls. I had to make do with a little waiter.'

Claudia's voice carried up the stairwell.

‘Come on, you two. Tea's waiting.'

Frank smiled. ‘Nothing changes,' he said.

Claire went ahead of him. She had grown up, he thought. In spite of all the old childish banter, she was a beautiful young woman now. He was very proud of her. He hoped there hadn't really been a waiter.

The old tradition of changing for dinner had been dropped for a long time at Riverstown. Claudia said it was pompous when the big staff had been reduced to a cook and a gauche girl who was learning how to wait at table. But that night they celebrated Frank's return. Claudia slipped her arm through Philip's. They were drinking champagne in the drawing room before the young people came down. He looked relaxed and happy.

‘It's nice to be all together again,' she said. ‘Frank is in marvellous form. He's delighted to be back.'

‘Yes, he is,' Philip responded. ‘He's full of plans for opening a merchant bank in Dublin. I told him he'd have plenty to do running the place at Meath. Also, he's got to decide what to do with the house.'

‘He might want to live there,' she suggested.

Immediately he frowned. ‘Why should he? He'll inherit Riverstown. I shall advise him to sell it with just enough land to attract some
nouveau riche
from Foxrock and farm the rest. Ah, Frank – help yourself to a glass. We've opened a nice bottle tonight. Cordon Rouge '61. See what you think of it.'

His father and stepmother were standing together, arms linked, when he came through the door. They were very close; he wondered where Claire was. She came in just as he was sipping the vintage champagne. Claudia said it first.

‘Darling, that's rather stunning – haven't seen that before.'

It was a vivid sapphire-blue taffetta, flounced impudently at the knee, leaving one smooth tanned shoulder bare. Something blue sparkled in the light as she came towards them.

‘Look,' she said to her parents, ‘look what Frank's given me.'

He was watching her with a smile on his lips, watching with an expression of tenderness and amusement that only Claudia saw. Philip didn't notice. He saw nothing except the little sapphire brooch that had belonged to Eileen, pinned to his daughter's breast.

Frank said quietly, ‘I didn't want to give her some expensive trash from the States, and I thought maybe Mother's little brooch would do.'

‘Isn't it lovely?' she demanded. She put her arm round his waist. For a moment their heads came close; the dark man and the very blonde girl, and Claudia Arbuthnot thought, ‘Oh, my God …'

‘Do let me see.' She swept forward and they separated. She touched the little sapphire pin, and her fingers trembled.
‘So
pretty!' she said. ‘What a sweet idea.'

Philip spoke for the first time. ‘Where did you get that, Frank?'

‘Old Mary Donovan gave it to me,' Frank said. There was tension in the room and he couldn't understand why. ‘She said it was Mother's. I supposed Mother must have given it to her.'

‘She didn't,' he said. ‘I put all Eileen's jewellery in the bank. It's never been taken out.'

Claudia said quickly, ‘Of course she gave it.' She lowered her voice. ‘They were cousins, don't forget.'

Philip turned away. ‘She stole it,' he said. ‘She must have taken it the night she died.' He spoke to his son. ‘You never mentioned it before. How long have you had this? Donovan's been dead for years.' He used her surname, Claire noticed. That was his way of putting any suggestion of relationship in perspective.

‘Before I went to Rowden,' Frank answered. ‘She said it was Mother's and she'd been keeping it for me. Dad, if this has upset you, I'm very sorry. I didn't know it mattered. I wanted to give Clarry a present, something personal.' He'd slipped into the old childhood nickname.

Philip sighed suddenly. ‘Everything your mother had belongs to you, Frank. I was keeping it all to give you one day. Never mind, never mind. You can't ever trust them. It was a nice idea, my boy, giving it to your sister. Very nice. Let's have some more champagne.'

The chasm had opened at their feet and closed again. The dinner was excellent; Philip talked to his son and Frank concentrated upon everything he said. Mother and daughter smiled and chatted, thankful to see them in apparent accord. Claudia was thankful for other reasons. But perhaps she was being over-sensitive. Perhaps she had imagined that moment when they stood together and she'd sensed some awful doom. She filled up her wineglass and told herself sternly not to be so bloody silly.

‘We could go over to Meath tomorrow, if you like,' Philip was saying. ‘Jim's been a good manager while you were away, so everything's in order.'

‘The house is kept open and aired,' Claudia joined in. ‘The trouble is we've had a spate of burglaries and the minute anyone knows a house is standing empty, they go in and strip it. Jim and his wife have been living in, and I'm sure that's what's kept the yobs from Dublin away. Do you know, the crime rate has doubled since this wretched business broke out in the North.'

Frank leaned towards her. ‘It's an old problem, Claudia, and sooner or later it's got to be faced, and solved.'

‘Solved in what way?' Philip asked. ‘You'll never get the Unionists to see reason.'

‘They'd see it soon enough if Britain withdrew,' Frank countered.

Claire sat quietly, wishing they'd change the subject.

‘I'll tell you what'd happen if Britain got out,' Philip said forcefully. ‘There'd be bloody civil war and we'd be dragged into it. And that's what the reality is when people talk about a united Ireland.'

Frank said quietly, ‘That's not the view in the States.'

‘Maybe,' his father said, ‘but they don't live here. The Irish-American element is only interested in being anti-British. Most of them have never clapped eyes on Ireland. I hope you put them straight if they talked this rubbish to you! Anyway – I'm free tomorrow afternoon, so why don't we go over to Meath?'

‘Why not,' his son agreed. ‘I'd like to look it over. I remember I liked the house itself.'

‘It's a barracks.' His father shook his head. ‘Basement, attics, far too big for this day and age. Your grandmother lived in the old style, so it didn't matter. Riverstown is just the right size for a family house, and even so Claudia works damned hard, don't you, darling?'

‘Not really, I enjoy it. So long as I get my hunting and don't have to cook, I'm happy.' She laughed. ‘Claire, why don't we go into Dublin tomorrow then, if your father and Frank are going off? I could get my hair done … There's a rather nice shop opened up on Grafton Street.'

Claire hesitated. ‘I'd rather go and see the house,' she said.

‘Another time,' Philip said. ‘We'll be busy going over the accounts and driving round the farms. You go off to Dublin with your mother. And don't spend too much money!'