Summer at Shell Cottage (38 page)

Katherine, meanwhile, seemed to have forgotten it was Jim’s birthday altogether.
The only thing he received from her was an emailed photo of a positive pregnancy test.
And Jim felt a
rushing sensation of doom
, Olivia read,
like a condemned man hearing the judge read aloud his punishment.

Olivia dropped the manuscript as if the pages were red-hot and sat back in her chair, only just remembering to breathe.
Of course, Jim was a fictional character, this wasn’t an
autobiography, but it was impossible not to interpret his reaction as that of her husband.
Had Alec felt the same way, that Katie’s pregnancy test had trapped him into a relationship?
Was
this whole book some kind of coded message to her, and to Katie?
Surely he wouldn’t have been so cruel.
Surely he wouldn’t have been that crass?

As the pages began to dwindle to a close, the paragraphs became scrappier, the sentences crafted with less care.
At the end, Alec had left a series of notes to himself, a kind of ‘thinking
aloud’ in print.

Katherine loses the baby – Jim’s secret relief.
They split up and he returns to Margaret, feeling he just made a lucky escape.
Jim’s guilt drives him to – ??
How can
he make it up to M??
Holiday somewhere romantic – Italy?
South of France?

Olivia dizzily remembered Alec making a similar suggestion to her shortly before the heart attack.
‘We should go away together later this year,’ he’d said.
‘Just the two
of us, somewhere sunny and romantic, a proper holiday.
What do you think?
We could go to Italy, perhaps.
The south of France .
.
.’

The room seemed to be spinning around her.
What did all of this mean?
Had he been planning to leave Katherine – Katie, rather?
Was the holiday suggestion prompted by guilt, as it had been
for Jim?

She stared blindly at the paper, her heart gradually returning to its normal pace.
Well, one thing was for sure, she realized, there was absolutely no way she could send this book to Eleanor at
the publishing house.
Have the literary reviewers and wider book-reading population speculate on just how much of the novel was based on real life, picking over her marriage with a gossipy eye?
Certainly not.
Some things had to remain private, and that was that.

Then again, she realized in the next moment, Jim had chosen Margaret, ultimately, hadn’t he?
Jim had
loved
Margaret, while Katherine had been a passing dalliance, one he was
pleased to be rid of.
Perhaps there was some crumb of comfort to be had from this.

For a few quiet moments, she sat and absorbed this interpretation and its wider implications.
So I win
, she thought.
In that case, I win, Katie.

But the victory felt hollow, as if it wasn’t much of a victory after all.

‘Can I get you anything else?’
the henna-haired waitress asked, appearing at the table and picking up the empty teapot and milk jug.

Olivia shook her head.
It was almost two o’clock and she still had her other ‘important thing’ to do.
‘No, thank you,’ she said.
Then she stuffed the manuscript
back in her bag and headed out to the car, her mind still turning.

Olivia had never actually been to Katie’s house before but they had her address for Christmas cards, and she knew vaguely where the street was.
Thinking of Alec sidling
up this same street to sneak a visit to his other family left a nasty taste in her mouth.
Jim going behind Margaret’s back.
Alec and Katie.
Would she have guessed anyway, reading the novel,
if she hadn’t already found out?

No, she decided.
Olivia had always been too trusting; she’d believed everything he’d ever told her.
Some might say that was her downfall, of course – but in hindsight, she was
glad she’d lived her life that way.
Imagine how exhausting it must be to mistrust your husband, to check up on his every night away, to drive yourself mad, wondering how many hearts he was
shattering around the country while you weren’t looking.

She had loved him.
Why would she have doubted his word?
That approach to marriage only led to misery, she was certain.

Still.
Here she was now, about to confront Alec’s long-standing mistress, which was not exactly a situation that arose out of wedded bliss either.

Her nerve failed her as Katie’s house came into view, down at the end of the street.
She recognized Katie’s car outside, a small red Fiat, and noticed that the front door needed
painting, and the garden needed weeding.
(Had Alec ever helped out around the place?
she wondered wretchedly.
He wasn’t the most handy of men – he’d rather pay someone else to fix
things and decorate – but he might have shown willing with the odd job now and then, she supposed.)

Don’t think about that now
, she ordered herself.
Just do what you came to do, then leave.

‘Oh,’ said Katie when she answered the door to Olivia a few minutes later.
A whole series of emotions flashed across her face – shock, anguish, apprehension,
before she finally settled on defensiveness.
She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the jamb, subconsciously – or maybe deliberately – blocking the entrance.
‘Hello.’

‘Hello,’ Olivia replied, trying to keep her composure.
‘I was wondering if we could talk.
Is now a good time?’

Katie glanced over her shoulder and Olivia could hear the sound of boys’ laughter floating out from one of the rooms.
‘Sure,’ Katie said, after a moment.
‘Come in.
We can
sit out in the garden, away from the rabble.
It’s my day off work today,’ she added unnecessarily, as she led Olivia down the narrow hallway and into a small pristine kitchen at the
end.
‘I feel obliged to have everyone else’s kids here, when I’m not working, because so many mums look after Leo for me on the other days.’
She was babbling and must have
realized it, because she pulled herself up short and gave a quick, awkward smile that lasted a whole two seconds.
‘Sorry.
You don’t need to know that.
Can I get you a drink of
something?’

Katie poured them both tall glasses of elderflower cordial and they ventured out to the garden, where a bench stood under a cool, shady canopy of scrambling passionflower, its exotic white and
purple flowers humming with bees.

‘This is nice,’ Olivia said politely, casting a professional eye around the small garden as Katie dragged over a patio table for their drinks.
There were hollyhocks and sunflowers,
bright orange Californian poppies, and a glorious sprawl of rudbeckias, their golden faces upturned to the sky.
She’d missed spending time in gardens, she thought, with a sudden pang for her
neglected flower beds at Shell Cottage and home, not to mention her work back in London.
Her two beleaguered members of staff had shouldered the entire workload since Alec’s death, she
remembered guiltily.
She would make it up to them, she vowed, planning to get stuck in again just as soon as she was back.
By then, of course, it would all be about the weeding and dead-heading,
and thinking ahead to brown paper bags full of crackling bulbs, hardy annual seeds to choose and plant, staking all those overblown cosmos and dahlias and .
.
.

First things first, though.
She’d come here for a reason and now Katie was sitting and looking expectantly at her, and she had to get started.

‘I just wanted to talk to you,’ she said.
‘To make some kind of truce.
I’ve come to terms with – ’ she gestured mutely at both Katie and the house, words not
seeming sufficient – ‘with .
.
.
what happened.
I realize that what’s done is done, there’s no use crying over spilt milk, and all those other insufferable clichés.
You and I, we’ve both had Alec’s children, we both loved him.
We’re bound together now, like it or not, so at the very least we should be civil to one another.’

By the look of relief on Katie’s face, she had clearly been expecting Olivia to put up more of a fight, start shouting at her again, probably.
‘Yes,’ she said earnestly.
‘And .
.
.
look, I’m sorry.
He was your husband.
I should never have got involved in the first place, it was wrong of me, I was swept away.
Selfish.’
Her mouth twisted,
defensiveness creeping back in.
‘But then, like I said to Robert, of course I’m not
that
sorry because I wouldn’t have had Leo otherwise.
And he’s the best thing
that ever happened to me.’

Olivia softened.
She had always liked Katie, after all.
‘Of course he is,’ she said.
‘I understand that.’

Katie hung her head, looking down at her lap.
(Such lovely brown legs she had, Olivia thought with a stab of envy.
No wonder Alec had been tempted by a younger model.) ‘For what it’s
worth,’ Katie went on in a low voice, ‘he always did love you more.
I know he did.
I’m not just saying it to make you feel better, but I knew all along he was never going to leave
you for me, or anything.
That was never an option.’
They both watched a red admiral butterfly as it fluttered past, alighting on the sprawling buddleia that had elbowed its way over the fence
from next door.
‘He felt bad for cheating on you,’ she continued, sounding sad.
‘At times he said he loathed himself for being so weak.’

The irony wasn’t lost on Olivia.
Hadn’t she just sat and read this entire story in the tea room, from Jim Malone’s point of view?
The guilt, the self-loathing, the conflict of
loyalties?

‘That must have been nice for you,’ she said dryly.

Katie looked up anxiously, still wary that she might be under attack, but gave a rueful smile when she realized Olivia was being sarcastic.
‘I loved him,’ she replied simply.
‘I was willing to take being second best if it meant I could still .
.
.
you know.
Be with him.’

Olivia nodded.
She did know.
Alec had always made a room feel brighter, an occasion more fun.
If her and Katie’s roles had been reversed, she might well have settled for being second best
herself.
He was just that kind of man you wanted in your life, the kind of man who lent you an added lustre simply by being beside him.
‘It was hard not to love him,’ she conceded.
‘Impossible, probably.’

Katie nodded, eyes sad.
‘Yes.’

There was a pause while they both sank into memories.
Happy times.
Laughter.
Then Olivia gave herself a shake and said with her usual briskness, ‘Look.
We’re never going to be the
best of friends but we can put aside our differences, can’t we?
Alec would have wanted his children to know each other and stay in touch.
So .
.
.’
She took a deep breath.
‘So I
was wondering.
Our holiday’s almost over and we always have a big family barbecue on the last evening.
Maybe .
.
.
Maybe you and Leo could join us this time?’

Katie’s mouth quivered.
‘I’d like that,’ she said, clearly trying to hold her emotions in check.
‘I’d really like that.
Thank you, Olivia.
We’ll be
there.’

‘Right,’ Olivia said, unsure whether to feel pleased or trepidatious.
The wife and the mistress, their children together.
Would it ever stop feeling so awkward?
Probably not, but she
knew they had to try.
They had to make an effort, like it or not.
‘Well, in that case, we’ll see you both there,’ she said, then paused.
‘I’m glad we’ve
talked,’ she added, rather in a rush.
‘I have been dreading this conversation, I have to say.’

‘Me too,’ Katie said.

They looked at each other with new-found understanding.
‘But we’re grown women, aren’t we?’
Olivia went on.
‘We’re experts at dealing with difficult things
that come our way – including extraordinary men.
And we can go about this with our dignity intact.’
There was a brief moment where Olivia imagined they were both remembering that ugly
shrieking scene in her kitchen, where there had not been a shred of dignity to be had, by her in particular.
That was the past, though, and they were moving on.
They could airbrush the worst
moments out of their collective history, she decided, saying goodbye and walking away from the house with a little wave.