Everything to Gain

Much later, when we had finished dinner and were drinking the last of the wine, Andrew said, ‘You remember that time my mother talked to you about the only man she’d been seriously attracted to since my father’s death?’

‘Of course I do. She said he was separated but not divorced —’

‘And therefore verboten as far as she was concerned,’ Andrew interjected.

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘But why are you bringing this up now?’

‘I think that man might be your father.’

I gaped at him. I was so taken aback I was momentarily speechless. Quickly I found my voice. ‘That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard, Andrew. What on earth makes you think such a thing all of a sudden?’ I knew there had to be a good reason for this comment, since my husband was not given to flights of fancy, and least of all where his mother was concerned.

Clearing his throat, he explained, ‘Last Tuesday morning, after you’d gone out, and just before I left for Chicago, I asked my mother if she could change a hundred-dollar bill for me. She told me to get her wallet out of her handbag in her bedroom. So I did, but there was an envelope caught in the flap and it fell to the floor. When I picked it up I couldn’t help noticing your father’s name on the back and his return address in Jerusalem. I thought it a bit odd that he was writing to my mother. Anyway, I put the envelope back in her bag and took the wallet to her. Obviously I didn’t say anything. How could I?’

I sat back in my chair, frowning. ‘It does seem strange,’ I murmured. ‘But it might be quite innocent.’

‘That’s true. I sort of dismissed it myself as being a trifle far-fetched, but the other night in Chicago I got to thinking about them, and all sorts of little things kept cropping up in my mind.’

‘Such as what?’ I asked, leaning over the table.

‘Edward’s behaviour for one thing. He’s very solicitous, gallant with her, and a bit flirtatious, I’d say.’

‘Oh come on, he isn’t! He’s actually quite distant with Diana. No, remote is a better word. And cool, almost cold even.’

‘He’s really only like that when your mother is present, on those family occasions when we’re all together for a short while. Then he is rather …’ Andrew paused and I could see him mentally groping for the right word. ‘Strained,’ he finished.

I pondered what he had said, staring down into my glass of red wine.

Andrew pressed on: ‘Listen, Mal, consider the times when he’s been in London with us and the twins and Diana. Really think about them. There’s a change in your father. A subtle change, I have to admit, and it’s not noticeable unless one is looking for it, but there is a change, nonetheless.’

I cast my mind back to those occasions in the past which Andrew was referring to, occasions when seemingly quite coincidentally my father had had archaeological business in London at the same time as we were there. Now I wondered how coincidental those visits of his had been. Perhaps they had been carefully planned so that we could all be together like one big happy family. Also, looking back, I realized how eager he always was to come to Yorkshire with us. I tried my best to recall my father’s demeanour, and as I did I began to see that there was some truth in what Andrew was saying. My father did treat Diana in the way an admirer would, and she, too, showed another side of herself when he was around.

As I mentally visualized them together I had a flash of comprehension, and I knew, suddenly, exactly how she was different. She didn’t flirt with him; nor did she display any signs of affection. It was nothing like that. Diana acted as if she was younger when she was in my father’s presence. It was as simple as that. And it was barely discernible, so I had not been conscious of it, had not recognized it until I had focused on them now. ‘That’s it,’ I said.

‘What is?’ Andrew asked, looking across at me in bafflement.

‘There is definitely a change in your mother when Daddy’s around. It’s ever so slight, but it’s there. She acts younger, she even looks younger. In fact, she’s almost girlish. Don’t you think so?’

‘Yes, you’re right, Mal! My mother does seem more … carefree when Edward is with us, and he appears much younger, too. Actually, that’s the difference in him, what I was striving to pinpoint before.’

I nodded. Then I asked slowly, ‘Do you think they’re having an affair?’

Andrew began to laugh. ‘Perhaps they are.’ His face changed instantly, became sober once more, and he gave a little non-committal shrug. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

‘My mother wouldn’t like it if they were.’

‘For God’s sake, Mal, your parents have been separated for donkey’s years. They can’t stand each other.’

‘Nevertheless, she wouldn’t like it. She’s always been terribly jealous of him, and I think she still is.’

‘Mmmmm. Perhaps that’s the reason why Mother isn’t having an affair with your father. It would be too close for comfort for her. She’d feel awkward, embarrassed.’

‘Yes, she would,’ I agreed. ‘And Diana did tell me that she didn’t see the special man because he was legally tied to his wife, and so the situation was untenable to her, she said. Well, I guess there’s nothing between my father and your mother after all. He was probably just dropping her a friendly note, the way parents-in-law do.’

‘Do they do that, darling?’

I laughed at the sceptical expression on his face. ‘How do I know?’ I lifted my hands in a small, helpless gesture. ‘Look, getting back to your original statement, Andrew, I’m certain there couldn’t be anything between them. You see, I’d know. I really would. I’m very close to Diana, and to my father, and I think I’d feel it in my bones.’ As I said these words, truly meaning them, I couldn’t help thinking that Andrew might well be correct in his initial assumption, and I quite wrong.

Apparently my husband decided the conversation was finished, for he rose suddenly and began to clear the kitchen table. I also got up and helped him to carry the dishes over to the sink.

But all the while I kept thinking about Diana and my father, and at one moment I had to turn my head away so Andrew would not see the sudden, pleased smile on my mouth. It gladdened my heart to think that these two people, whom I cared about so much, might be involved with each other. They both deserved a little happiness considering the bereftness of their years alone.

Six (#ulink_b5a2d48d-111d-5c88-8608-3ea77711b1d9)

The arc of the sky was the darkest of blues, and it was clear, without a single cloud. The stars were very bright, crystalline, sparkling, and there was a thin sliver of a crescent moon.

It was the most perfect night, and there was even a cool breeze blowing up now as Andrew and I walked over the ridge and down towards the long meadow and the big pond. After helping me tidy the kitchen he had said he wanted to see the horses, and so a few minutes ago we had set out from the house, walking in silence, holding hands, enjoying the beautiful evening.

Our two horses and the children’s ponies were stabled in one of the big red barns near Anna’s little cottage. She was an extraordinary gardener whose talent and skill had turned the wilderness surrounding Indian Meadows into a true beauty spot, and she was worth every penny we paid her. We gave her the cottage rent-free in return for caretaking chores and for looking after the horses, feeding and grooming them and mucking out the stalls. Her nephew Billy came to help her every day after school, and we paid him for his work in the stables. Although Anna’s true vocation was gardening, she was an enthusiastic and expert equestrian, and enjoyed exercising our horses as well as her own.

The cottage was misnamed, since in reality it was a barn, one of the smaller ones which we had remodelled last year, turning it into a comfortable studio with a sleeping loft, bathroom and kitchen.

Anna loved it, and she had been thrilled to move in with Blackie, her labrador, and her coffee-coloured Persian cat, Miss Petigrew. She had come along at exactly the right time for us, and seemingly so had we for her. She had just separated from her boyfriend, moved out of his house in Sharon, and was staying with friends at their farm near Wonopankook Lake until she found a place of her own. Our remodelled barn and the offer we had made had solved her immediate problems as well as ours.

As we drew closer, I saw there were lights on in the cottage, but she did not come out to speak to us, and since we never intruded on her in the evenings, unless there was a specific reason to do so, we wandered on in the direction of the biggest of our barns.

Once we were inside, Andrew turned on the more powerful overhead lights, and walked forward, moving down between the stalls. He petted and nuzzled Blue Boy and Highland Lassie, and spent a few minutes with them, before going to see the ponies, Pippa and Punchinello. But we did not stay with the horses very long and were soon heading back to the house.

Andrew had not said much on the way down, and he was quiet as we went up the hill. He seemed to be lost in thought, preoccupied, and I decided not to pry or probe. If there was something on his mind, something he wanted to tell me, he would do so in his own good time. He had always shared everything with me from the beginning of our marriage, and had continued to do so, as had I.

Diana once said that we were each other’s best friend as well as husband and wife and lovers, and this was true. We loved each other on many different levels, and even though Sarah was my dearest girlfriend and Andrew was close to Jack Underwood, he and I were inseparable and spent almost all of our free time together. He was not the kind of man who went off on his own, drinking and carousing with his male companions or following his own pursuits; in many ways he was something of a home body, and certainly a wonderful father, very close to his children.

Andrew put his arm around my shoulder and drew me closer, and, glancing up at the incredible night sky, he sighed deeply several times. I recognized that these were sighs of contentment, and I was pleased he felt so relaxed and at peace, as I was now that he was back with me and close by my side.

We lay together, my husband and I, on top of our bed. The room was cool from the air-conditioning, and dimly lit by two small lamps on the bedside tables. But because I had left the curtains open to the night sky, moonlight cast a silvery sheen over everything, bathed the room in a soft radiance.

Andrew moved closer to me, pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down into my face, moving a strand of hair away as he did. ‘I missed you this week,’ he murmured.

‘I missed you too, and I hate it when we quarrel.’

‘So do I. But it was merely a small storm in an even smaller teacup. Let’s forget it, shall we, and move on. To more important things.’

He paused for a moment or two, and, as I looked up at him I saw a reflective expression settle on his face and he seemed to be thinking deeply. Finally, he said, ‘There’s something I want to say … to tell you … how I feel about something.’

‘What? What is it?’ I asked quickly, sensing that this was important.

Leaning closer to me, he said softly, ‘I’d like another child. Wouldn’t you, Mal?’

‘Yes. Yes, I would,’ I answered without a moment’s hesitation, thinking how like him it was suddenly to voice an idea I had been turning over in my mind of late.