Past All Forgetting

Janna paused in the act of tearing open the envelope. Her eyes flew to Vivien’s face with sudden, painful intensity. ‘Her father—do you mean he is European?’

‘And how,’ Vivien said cheerfully. ‘In fact you probably know him. Beth and Lorna do, anyway, and they were very impressed. Apparently his uncle used to live hereabouts some years ago. And even Bill’s heard of the nephew—Rian Tempest. Says he’s some kind of high-pressure journalist. Whenever trouble flares up anywhere in the world, he’s the first correspondent to be parachuted in and all that. Rather him than me, that’s all I can say.’

Janna lowered her gaze to her note, but Mrs Parsons’ neat handwriting danced madly in front of her eyes.

‘Do you remember him, Janna?’ Vivien persisted.

‘Possibly.’ Janna was amazed to hear how calm she sounded. ‘But I—I don’t remember him being married. How old is the little girl?’

‘Seven-ish, I suppose. She’d have to be, for your class. And bright for her age—but then all proud dads think that.’

‘I suppose they do,’ Janna said automatically, her brain whirling.

‘As for him being married,’ Vivien’s voice lowered confidentially, ‘Mrs Parson got the impression that the least said about that the better. I think it was one of these wartime things where no one worried about an actual ceremony.’

‘I see,’ Janna said bleakly.

Vivien’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘Don’t look now, but your disapproval’s showing,’ she said.

Janna shook her head. ‘It isn’t entirely that,’ she tried to justify herself. ‘I was just thinking about Colonel and Mrs Tempest. About how they would have felt—if they’d known.’

Vivien looked at her shrewdly. ‘Perhaps they would have reacted more tolerantly than you suppose,’ she said. ‘Older people are often less extreme in their attitudes than they’re given credit for.’

Janna sat down on the edge of the sofa, the unread note still clutched in her hand. ‘From what I remember of them, I hardly think so.’ She tried to sound casual. ‘I think they were both concerned about the apparent decline in moral standards. Neither of them had any sympathy for promiscuity …’

‘Hold hard!’ Vivien sounded a little startled. ‘Neither of us knows the true facts. We could be condemning as promiscuous one stable relationship. The fact that there’s a child for whom he has assumed the responsibility must surely prove that the affair was deeper than a one-night stand.’ She laughed a little uncertainly. ‘I don’t know why I’ve been picked for the role of Devil’s advocate. I believe in marriage, and I’m sure it’s the only successful environment for bringing up children. It’s just that I’m surprised to hear someone as young as you sounding so—so …’

‘Intolerant?’ Janna supplied rather dryly. ‘Well, perhaps I am. I—I just feel so sorry for this little girl, that’s all.’ She read her note quickly. ‘Mrs Parsons thinks she may need extra tuition. She says here there may be a language problem. That Fleur is more fluent in French than in English.’ She gave a little groan of dismay. ‘That’s all I need—a multi-lingual tot!’

Vivien grinned. ‘Let her teach the others French,’ she suggested, fastening the belt of her coat. ‘No, love, no coffee, thanks. Bill will be sitting at home right now with his tongue hanging out, waiting to be fed. I dare not keep him waiting any longer, or he’ll start eating the table mats.’

After Vivien had departed, calling a cheerful goodbye to Mrs Prentiss, Janna walked over to the window and stood staring out into the darkness. It seemed that all her worst forebodings were being realised. Rian had returned, and was back to stay, or so it seemed. Why else would he have sought a place for his child in the local primary school if he did not intend putting down roots of some kind?

Yet what was there for him? she asked herself restlessly. He no longer even had a home here. She shook her head wretchedly, trying to imagine his reaction when he discovered who was planning to live in his former home. There was a terrible irony in the situation. She had caused an irreparable breach between Rian and the only family he had in the world, and by doing so had robbed him of his inheritance. Now she herself was to benefit.

A line from a play—Shakespeare? she wondered tiredly—began to beat in her brain. ‘No good can come of this.’

If Rian had simply contemplated a flying visit back to old haunts, she might have been able to bear it. In many ways, she had been half-expecting it. But the thought of him as a permanent resident in Carrisford, observing her comings and goings, watching her living in his family’s house, was not to be borne.

But she would have to bear it unless … for a brief moment she weighed up the chances of persuading Colin to move elsewhere, then dismissed it as madness. If she even suggested such a thing, he would demand, and be entitled to, a full explanation of her motives, and that she did not feel capable of giving. Besides, she knew he would never agree, no matter how convincing her arguments.

Colin, she thought wryly, knew when he was well off. It was unlikely that he would have got so far so fast with any other firm. She paused abruptly, her hand going to her throat in a little frightened gesture as she realised that this was the first time she had ever admitted this to herself. It was one of the uncomfortable thoughts she had always resolutely pushed away to the back of her mind. Now it had surfaced at last, along with all the others, and could never be relegated again. The diamond on her left hand seemed to glint coldly at her and she shivered. The sensation that all her safe, secure world was falling to pieces around her was stronger than ever. So many things she had never allowed herself to think about, and now they were all jostling for utterance. Her dislike for Colin’s father, for instance, with his self-importance and smug satisfaction at his own success, and coupled with this her vague dissatisfaction that Colin had never wanted to cut free and see what he could achieve on his own, without his father’s all-pervading influence.

She turned away from the window, crumpling Mrs Parsons’ note and sending it spinning on to the fire.

I should never have come back here, she thought despairingly. I’m blaming Colin for what I didn’t do myself. I should have struck out on my own. Travelled—I said I always wanted to—taken a job abroad. And unbidden, the traitorous thought came to her mind that she still could.

She groaned aloud. To run away—was that the answer? Once before, she had been a coward, and that was why she was confronted by her present predicament. There was nothing to be gained by running away. She would have to stay and face whatever there was to face. That would be her punishment.

But as she went slowly back upstairs to her room, it chillingly occurred to her that—for Rian—that might not be enough.

It was not a pleasant weekend. On Saturday morning, Janna shopped for her mother, all the time keeping a wary eye open for Rian’s car, but she saw no sign of the vehicle or its occupant.

During the afternoon Colin picked her up, and they went for a drive before returning to his father’s house to have dinner. Sir Robert was in one of his most expansive and self-congratulatory moods, and Janna found she was having to work hard to conceal her irritation. He had pulled off some deal concerning shares, and although she did not fully comprehend the ins and outs of the situation, she did gather that this coup had been at the expense of a business rival, and could not join in Colin’s obvious enthusiasm for his father’s acumen.

When the exquisitely cooked and served meal was over, Sir Robert turned to more personal topics.

‘Now that you’ve found somewhere to live, I suppose you’ll be fixing a date?’

‘Somewhere to live?’ Janna began uncertainly, and Sir Robert, who was lighting a cigar, gave her a sharp look.

‘Why, yes. Colin told me he had first refusal on the old Tempest place. A fine house that. Just what you need. And you’re to have carte blanche in furnishing it. Just choose what you want and send the bills to my secretary. I can’t say fairer than that.’ He sat back with a pleased air, expelling a cloud of smoke, and waiting to be thanked.

Janna swallowed, avoiding Colin’s glance. ‘The thing is—I’m not sure …’ she began again.

‘Not sure about what?’

Janna was uneasily aware that she had Sir Robert’s undivided attention, and that the pleased air had dissipated to some extent. His voice, in fact, held the slight bark which indicated his suspicion that he was about to be told something he did not particularly want to hear. Janna had never personally experienced this before. She had always been treated with a rather fulsome kindness in the past.

Colin came to her rescue as she searched for words.

‘Janna isn’t totally sold on Carrisbeck House,’ he said, sounding deliberately casual.

‘And why not, may I ask?’ Sir Robert glared at the pair of them, his pleasure in the meal and his cigar destroyed by this strange obduracy. ‘It’s a fine property, and the fishing rights go with it. What’s the matter with it, I’d like to know?’

‘Nothing,’ Janna answered desperately. She moistened her lips. ‘You see, I knew the Tempests, and the thought of living in their old home—and the size of the place—rather overwhelms me, that’s all.’

‘Oh.’ Sir Robert digested this for a moment. ‘Well, you’re going to be a Travers, my girl, so you’ll have to learn not to be overwhelmed.’

‘Janna knows that, Dad,’ Colin broke in soothingly. ‘But I don’t want to rush her into anything she’s not happy about, so I’ve given her a few days to come round in her own way.’

‘Fair enough, I suppose.’ Sir Robert sounded slightly mollified. ‘But don’t take weeks over it, lass, or some fly character will be in ahead of you.’

For one moment Janna was tempted to ask Sir Robert if he had known Rian, or if he was aware he was back in the locality, but she remained silent. Any such reference on her part could lead to precisely the sort of cross-examination she most wanted to avoid, she thought.

She spent the evening watching television in a desultory manner while Colin allowed his father to beat him at chess.

Later, as Colin drove her home, she sat quietly beside him, hoping against hope that he would not raise the subject of the house again. But she was disappointed. As the car slid to a halt before her gate, Colin said almost too casually, ‘I shall have to let Barry know about the Tempest place by Monday, Janna. You’d better let me have your decision one way or another tomorrow.’

‘Your father seems to think there’s only one decision to be made,’ she said, trying to smile.

‘Oh, you know Dad.’ He was silent for a minute. ‘Besides, he has rather a vested interest in the place, I’m afraid.’

‘I don’t really see why.’

‘No.’ Colin paused again and then said ruefully, ‘I’ll have to tell you, darling. He’s already had an architect to look at the place and draw up some plans to convert the old stables and garage block into a luxury flat for himself. Says his house is too big now that he’s on his own. Wants to be near us—and his grandchildren.’

Janna’s mouth was suddenly dry. ‘I see.’