The Mill House (18 page)

'She might, in a minute,' he answered. 'She hasn't been feeling too well lately. I've been quite worried about her actually.'

'Has she seen a doctor?'

'I wish she would. Maybe you can persuade her. Goodness knows, your mother and I have tried.' He looked at his sister and smiled warmly, reminding Julia of the bond they'd always shared, that had often seemed to exclude everyone else.

Unable to imagine why he thought she'd have more success in persuading her aunt, Julia merely smiled weakly and turned back to her mother.

'So where were we?' Alice said, and as she looked at Julia the softness in her eyes seemed to glaze over.

'I think something about a telephone call,' George prompted, gesturing for them to sit down.

'From a solicitor apparently,' Alice informed him. Then to Julia, 'I hope you're not here to tell us you've been trying to find your father again, because if you are, we're really not interested, and frankly, if he wanted to see you .. .'

'Mother, he's dead.'

Alice stopped mid-sentence, and for a moment she seemed so confounded that her mouth went slack, then quickly collecting herself, she turned to her brother and said, 'Well, thank goodness that's over.'

Julia's eyes rounded in amazement. 'What on earth's that supposed to mean?' she demanded.

Alice shot her a look, then looked away again.

'Answer me,' Julia cried.

'Are you becoming hysterical?' Alice enquired.

'For Christ's sake. I've just told you my father's dead, your ex-husband, the man you married all those years ago, whom you presumably once loved .. .' Alice's expression stopped her going any further with that. 'Well, whatever he was to you, he was my father,' Julia pressed on, 'and instead of offering some kind of sympathy, or asking how, or when he died, or anything any normal person might ask .. .'

'Julia, please keep your voice down,' her uncle cut in.

'Why?' she shouted. 'Who are you afraid's going to hear?'

'It's not a case of who's going to hear, it's that we don't need to be shouted at.'

'Then tell me the trutn. He's dead now, so he can't hurt any of us . . .'

'My dear, I really do wish you'd let this go.'

'I want to know why he left,' she raged.

'Always the same,' he sighed irritably. 'You come here, upsetting yourself and your mother over matters that we've told you a hundred times are best left in the past.. .'

'Why did he go?' she almost screamed.

Her mother's voice was sharp as she said, 'If he wanted you to know, don't you think he'd have told you himself?'

'Maybe he didn't get the chance. Maybe you stopped him.'

'How could I? You've been an adult for a long time, though heaven knows you don't always behave like one.'

Julia leapt to her feet. 'This is my father we're talking about,' she stormed. 'I know that doesn't mean anything to you, but it does to me ...'

'Do you always have to make such a drama out of things?' her mother interrupted. 'Now, please, calm down or we shall have to ask you to leave.'

Julia blinked with shock. 'Are you saying you'd throw me out? Right after I tell you my father's dead? Is that what you just said? Jesus, how can you call yourself a mother?'

George rose to his feet. 'We've put up with a lot from you over the years, Julia,' he said darkly. 'Your accusations, threats, paranoia ...'

'If you gave me some answers ...'

'We've tried, but you don't want to listen.'

'Well I'm listening now.'

'He didn't want to be with us any more,' her mother said. 'You have to make yourself face that.'

'Then why has he left his house to me? Why did he want me to know he'd died? And why did he call me six weeks ago?'

Alice shot a quick look at George. 'He called you?' she said, clearly troubled.

'So, did he explain why he left?' her uncle demanded.

Bitterly regretting having to admit it, Julia said, 'I didn't actually speak to him.'

Alice was starting to look flustered.

'For God's sake,' Julia implored. 'Why don't you just tell me the truth?'

Her uncle answered. 'Your father left for his own reasons. If he'd wanted you to know them, he'd have told you himself.'

'No! Something happened. They had a fight. I heard it.. .'

'As you've said on countless occasions, but as your mother's repeatedly told you, no such argument took place. It's all in your head.'

'Then why did she tell me it was my fault he left?'

Alice's colour deepened. 'I never said such a thing,' she declared. 'You have such a vivid imagination. It's . . .'

'You said it, Mother, and more than once. You even hit me .. .'

'Now you're just being offensive.'

Julia threw out her hands, lost for words.

'Why can't you be like your sister and just accept what happened?' her uncle barked. 'It's such a

long way in the past, I really can't understand why you still can't let it go.'

'Because he was my father, and he loved me. I know he did.'

George's eyes were like granite as he said, 'I'm afraid, Julia, that you never saw him as he really was.'

'Isn't it enough that he abandoned you?' her mother added. 'That alone should tell you he wasn't the man you thought he was.'

'Then what was he? For Christ's sake, almost a quarter of a century has passed now, so surely to God you don't have to keep anything from me ...'

'You're always assuming ...'

'No!' she almost screamed. 'I won't let you put me off. I want to know. If he wasn't the man I thought he was, then who was he? What did he do?' Her eyes were livid as she threw down the challenge, but as she glared from one to the other she could see that neither of them was going to utter the one word that was now ticking like an unexploded bomb between them.

It was that moment that her aunt chose to walk into the room, all twittering apologies and aghast at discovering she'd intruded. 'I'm so sorry. I'll come back ...'

'Stay,' George snapped. 'Julia is about to leave.'

Julia's eyes went to him. 'So you are throwing me out?'

'I think you've caused your mother enough distress for one day, don't you?'

Julia shook her head in disgust. 'Believe me, it doesn't stop here.' she said in a voice full of

warning. 'I'm going to get to the truth somehow, if it's the last thing I do.'

As she stalked across the room her aunt stepped out of her path, then watched with mournful eyes as the door closed behind her.

For several minutes no-one spoke, letting Julia's parting words reverberate around the room, until finally the sound of the Porsche roaring away seemed to rouse them.

As Alice walked over to the window George followed and put a comforting arm around her.

'She won't let it rest there,' she said, staring bleakly out at the empty drive. 'And now he's dead .. .'

'Hush, calm yourself,' George chided. 'You've done everything you can to protect her. If she can't accept that and she does manage to turn something up she'll only have herself to blame.'

Alice looked up at him, her eyes full of fear. 'How can you say that? You know what it'll do to her.'

Sounding exasperated, he said, 'She won't find anything, because there's nothing to find.'

'Shall I make us some tea?' Rene offered.

'But if she does,' Alice persisted, as though Rene hadn't spoken, 'it's not only her I'm worried about. You could go to prison, George,' The very idea seemed to make her feel faint.

'Oh, that won't happen,' Rene assured her. 'She'd never let it get that far.'

'We're talking about Julia,' Alice reminded her.

Rene backed down at that, and focused on George who was looking thoughtful.

'Do we know where this house of his is?' he

asked, steering Alice gently back to a sofa and sitting down with her.

Alice shook her head. 'He moved from the last address we had over fifteen years ago.'

'Pity,' he said, 'because if anything could cause us a problem, I rather think that will be it.'

Chapter Six

Fionnula Barrington - Fen - turned out to be something of a surprise to Julia, for on the phone she'd sounded much younger than her apparent forty-some years, and perhaps more glamorous. But she was certainly a pleasant-looking woman, Julia decided as they shook hands in Fen's small, but very lawyerly, reception. Her eyes, smile and handshake all conveyed a generous amount of warmth, while her long, crinkly auburn hair and random freckles appeared as lively as her spirit. Her attire was rather colourful for a solicitor, too - lime green polo neck with yellow chiffon scarf, tan jodhpurs and a snazzy pair of crocodile ankle boots, which she kicked off at the door of her office as she showed Julia through.

'Have you driven straight down from London?' she asked, padding in behind her and closing the door. 'You must have left extremely early.'

'Actually, just from Devon,' Julia replied. There was no reason to explain that after leaving her mother's she'd got only as far as Bristol before the

whole horrible nightmare of the past twenty-four hours had forced her to pull into the motorway services. For some time she'd simply sat at the wheel, either sobbing uncontrollably, or staring at a grassy bank and wanting so desperately to call Josh she almost couldn't bear it. In the end, he'd called her, but she hadn't answered. She was still too angry to speak to him without mentioning Sylvia, and she really hadn't had the heart for another row.

After finally managing to pull herself together, she'd continued on down the M5 until, realising she couldn't turn up at the solicitor's in the middle of the evening, she'd checked into a small B & B near Cullompton. She'd called home from there, but had only spoken to Josh for a few minutes, mainly because the children would have found it odd if she hadn't. He'd been worried, he told her, sounding annoyed that she hadn't called earlier or answered her phone when he'd rung. Her tone had matched his as she'd cuttingly responded that no, the encounter with her mother hadn't gone well, thank you for asking, but he needn't concern himself about it, she could deal with it alone.

This morning's call hadn't been much friendlier either, since she'd asked if he planned to see Sylvia today, to which he'd replied that sarcasm didn't become her. Aware that it hadn't been an outright denial, she'd immediately started threatening him with divorce, total isolation from the children, and a devastating trip to the cleaners if he as much as went near the woman again. Somehow, and she still wasn't sure how, he'd managed to reassure

her that it wouldn't happen, and even, to some degree, convince her he still loved her - which was considerably more than she'd been able to muster for him.

'Would you like some tea?' Fen asked cheerily, waving her towards a sofa next to an old stone fireplace. 'We've got quite an assortment.'

'No, I'm fine, thanks,' Julia assured her, regarding a portrait of an extremely distinguished- looking man that was hanging over the hearth.

'My father,' Fen told her. 'He's the Bower of Sissons, Greene and Bower. My husband's the Barrington, but he's a vet.'

Julia nodded and sat down. The office was quite typical of a country solicitor, she thought, slightly shabby furniture, haphazardly stacked files on every surface, and row upon row of dusty books, as well as the inevitable hi-tech installations, along with photographs of Mr Barrington and the Barrington offspring - two leggy, long-haired girls who both resembled their mother. The window behind Fen's desk looked out onto a small courtyard where benches were positioned under trees, and an ornamental pond claimed centre stage.

For some reason Julia already felt comfortable here, maybe because it was a very long way from Josh and her mother, remote enough even to feel like part of another world. It also had an atmosphere that was rather like Fen herself, friendly and slightly chaotic. She'd instantly warmed to Fen's staff too, whom she'd met in the front office where a bell had rung over the door as she'd let herself in. In fact, somewhere beyond the pain and bewilderment in her mind, she was aware of

feeling buoyed by just about everything she'd so far seen of the town, with its meandering high street of old-fashioned shops and trendy cafes, Victorian lampposts with their late-blooming hanging baskets, and the grand Shire House where recreations of Bodmin's more notorious hangings were, apparently, regularly staged.

'I should begin by offering my condolences,' Fen said, sinking comfortably into an armchair. 'I ought to have done that on the phone, of course.'

'I appreciate you letting me know,' Julia told her. 'If you hadn't I might never have found out. Have you managed to speak to my sister? I know she's been away .. .'

Fen was shaking her head. 'We have no contact details for her,' she said. 'Only for you, though I understand neither of you have been in touch with him for some time.'

'Twenty-four years to be exact,' Julia replied. 'And believe me, it wasn't by choice - at least not on my part.'