Forsaking All Others

The high stone wall that surrounded Hadley Park started just beyond the edge of the village. The massive wrought-iron gates stood open—in fact it looked as if the hinges were too rusted to allow them to close, she noticed as she drove through. There were more weeds and pot-holes in the drive than there used to be, too.

And then through the trees she caught her first glimpse of the house, and slowed the car to get a better look. She had almost forgotten how beautiful it was, set against a backdrop of rolling green hills that led up to the high, rugged tors of the Peak District in the far misty distance. Built in the reign of the first Elizabeth, the golden stone of its walls had been mellowed by centuries, and its roof-line was a jumble of gables and twisted chimneypots against the crisp blue and white of the February sky.

Jamie glanced up from his game. “Oh, we’re there,” he remarked, with the philistine unconcern of a seven-year-old for the magnificent heritage which had now passed into his small hands. “Great—I’m starving!”

Maddy laughed, and, putting the elderly car in gear again, she rolled it forward, bringing it to a halt beside the wide stone steps that led up to the front door. Jamie, sure of his welcome, scrambled out, skipping up the steps as the door was opened by a matronly woman in a flowered cotton overall, who greeted him with a warm hug.

Maddy followed him a little more diffidently, glad of her leather shoulder-bag to clutch on to. But as she climbed the steps the housekeeper looked up, her kindly face wreathed in smiles. “Why, Mrs Ratcliffe! I wouldn’t hardly have known you with your hair short like that! Come in, come in.” She held the front door wide open, ushering Maddy inside. “Such a nasty shock it’s been…Oh—I’m sorry…” She stopped herself awkwardly, glancing at Jamie, her eyebrows lifted in unspoken enquiry.

“It’s all right, Mrs Harris—he knows,” Maddy assured her quietly. “Thank you—it must have been an awful shock for you too.” The housekeeper’s eyes were still noticeably red, and she was clutching a rolled-up clump of damp paper tissue in her hand; she had known Jeremy since he had been Jamie’s age.

“It was.” Mrs Harris dabbed at her eyes. “I still can’t quite make myself believe it—though I know there hasn’t been any mistake. Well, young man,” she added, turning to Jamie and pinning a bright smile in place. “Guess what I’m going to do you for lunch. Your favourite—Welsh rarebit. I didn’t know what time you might get down,” she told Maddy. “And what with all the upset…”

“Of course,” Maddy assured her quickly. “I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble—Welsh rarebit will suit me fine.”

“Mum, can I go down to the kitchen with Auntie Peggy?” Jamie demanded eagerly. “I want to see Mrs Tiggywinkle’s kittens.”

“Oh, there’s only one left o’them now,” Mrs Harris told him. “The rest we found homes for.”

A frown of disappointment crossed the small face, but it quickly brightened. “Which one did you keep?” he asked. “Was it the black one?”

“Of course—he’s yours.”

That news brought immediate delight. “I’m going to call him Sooty. Daddy said—” He stopped abruptly, remembering. “Daddy said it was a good name,” he finished, the wistful note in his voice tugging at Maddy’s heartstrings.

“It’s an excellent name,” she assured him gently—though mentally noting that she would have appreciated it if Jeremy had consulted her before bestowing the gift on their son. “Why don’t you run downstairs and find him? I haven’t seen him yet, and I’d love to meet him.”

“I rather think,” a dry voice spoke behind her, “this is the animal you’re looking for.”

Maddy turned sharply, catching her breath. “Leo…Oh, hello,” she managed, struggling to recover before anyone should notice the slip in her composure. “I…wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

She found herself subjected to a mocking survey from a pair of deep-set agate eyes—the same colour as Jeremy’s, she couldn’t help remembering, but lacking his openness and warmth.

“Hello, Maddy—nice to see you again. It’s been a long time,” he remarked, pointedly failing to mention that since he had passed her on the road, and his car was parked outside, she could have reasonably assumed that he was in the house. “You’d better come into the library—we have things to discuss. Jamie, take this little pest downstairs where he belongs,” he added, un-hooking the tiny kitten’s claws from the front of his shirt and holding him out to the boy. “He doesn’t seem to understand that I haven’t come here exclusively to provide him with entertainment.”

Jamie gurgled with laughter, not at all intimidated. “Thanks, Uncle Leo. Sorry if he’s been bothering you. I’ll take him down to the kitchen and give him a saucer of milk.” He took the kitten with care. “Look, Mum—what do you think of him?” he added excitedly.

“He’s cute.” She tickled the little creature’s ear, and he rubbed his head against her finger before opening his tiny pink mouth in a wide yawn. “But I think he’s tired now. Take him down and give him his milk, and then put him down to sleep for a while.”

The child nodded solemnly, cradling his precious bundle in his arms as he bore it away.

“Two coffees, please, Peggy,” Leo requested as he stood aside for Maddy to enter the library.

She stepped past him, just a little too conscious of him for comfort; she had always been too conscious of him, but she would have thought that after all these years she would be better able to handle it. It was probably just that she was to some extent in shock, and hadn’t been expecting to see him here so soon.

She glanced around the comfortable room, taking in the details that had once been so familiar, noting the small changes. “The grandfather clock’s gone.”

“Well spotted,” Leo responded, a sardonic inflexion in his voice. “I’m afraid you’ll find that Jeremy’s sold off quite a number of trinkets over the years—I hope there was nothing of special importance to you?”

“Not particularly.” She forced herself to meet his eyes levelly. “I didn’t know Jeremy had financial problems.”

He shrugged his wide shoulders in casual disregard. “When didn’t he have financial problems?” he returned. ‘Annual income twenty pounds, annual expen-diture twenty pounds eight and six…’ I’m afraid my dear cousin had little idea of economy.”

Maddy smiled wryly; she knew that had been true enough. Moving across the room, she sat down in the armchair beside the large fireplace—rather disappointingly occupied by a two-bar electric fire, instead of the glowing real log fire it seemed to warrant.

From beneath her lashes she studied the man opposite her, noting the details and changes in him, too. She hadn’t seen him since she had left Jeremy, but the years didn’t seem to have had much effect on him. There was a strong family likeness between the two men—but whereas in Jeremy the chiselled structure of high forehead and hard jaw had been somewhat softened by an easygoing nature and a taste for the good life, in his older cousin there was an uncompromising masculinity that was more than a little unnerving.

She could still remember the first time she had met him, as vividly as if it had been only yesterday. It had been Saskia’s twenty-first birthday party, and she had announced just a few days previously that it was also to be her engagement party…

“Maddy! Oh, I’m so glad you could come!” Saskia’s soft blue eyes glowed with gratitude as she threw open the front door and reached out an impulsive hand to draw Maddy into the house. “It wouldn’t have seemed the same without you here.”

Maddy laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t be silly—you didn’t think I’d miss your party, did you?” She held out a small parcel, wrapped in pretty paper. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh, Maddy—you shouldn’t have!” Saskia protested. “And you struggling by with just your grant…!”

“I can manage to fork out for the odd pressy for my best friend,” Maddy assured her, indulgent of her friend’s over-sensitive concern—it was something she still hadn’t grown out of.

Occasionally, when they had been at school together, she had found Saskia’s tendency to make a drama out of almost any minor incident more than a little irritating. But she had been too grateful for her friendship to let it come between them; all the other girls had looked down their noses at her, knowing that she only had a place at the expensive private boarding-school because her aunt was the deputy headmistress. They had had a thousand subtle ways of letting her know that she didn’t belong, never failing to notice if she was wearing one of their cast-off pieces of school uniform, always talking about the ponies their doting parents had bought them, and later their cars.

“Ah, goody—you’ve brought your overnight bag,” Saskia cried excitably. “I’ll get Jepson to take it upstairs—Mummie’s put you in the room right next to mine. It’ll be such fun—just like rotten old Calderbrook, except without Miss Pikington stalking the corridors like something out of Alien!’

Maddy chuckled at the graphic simile. “Thank goodness for that! But I’ll take my bag up myself, if you’ll just tell me which room—I need to freshen up before I join the party.”

“Oh, of course—I’m sorry, I never thought of it.” Saskia looked stricken by such a lapse, but instantly brightened. “I’ll come up with you—I’m dying to catch up with all your news. How are you enjoying your teaching course?”

“It’s fun—especially the teaching practice. I had a class of six-year-olds this term—they really keep you on your toes!”

Saskia shuddered theatrically. “Ugh—rather you than me! Children aren’t my cup of tea, I’m afraid—the less I have to do with them, the better.”

Maddy glanced at her in surprise. “But surely you’re going to have some of your own when you get married?” she protested. “What about your fiancé? Doesn’t he want them?”

Saskia shook her head. “No, thank goodness!” They had reached the second floor, and a long, quiet corridor with a gleaming parquet floor. It must take ages to polish, Maddy mused—not that Saskia’s mother had to do it herself. Saskia threw open a door, showing Maddy into a spacious bedroom, beautifully furnished with reproduction antiques, with a thick-piled rose-pink carpet and matching velvet swags at the windows.

“The bathroom’s through there,” Saskia pointed out. “Is it OK?”

Maddy glanced around, her delicate mouth curving into a wry smile—it was about three times the size of the tiny little study-bedroom she had at college, and infinitely more elegant. “It’s fine,” she responded, barely suppressing the sardonic note in her voice.

Saskia bounced on the bed, as excited as a child. “Hurry up and get ready,” she urged. “I’m dying to introduce you to Leo.”

“Leo?” Maddy slanted her friend a teasing look. “It was all very quick, this engagement—how long have you known him?”

“Oh, ages! He’s practically family—by marriage, anyway. He’s been abroad for the past few years, though—he only came back at Christmas. So I grabbed him before he could get away again!” she added with a giggle.

“So what’s he like? Tell me all about him.”

“He’s in computers—he’s started up his own company,” Saskia told her, her eyes bright. “He’s fabulously rich—and he drives an Aston Martin!”

Maddy, brushing her long hair in the mirror, glanced past her own reflection to that of her friend. Saskia’s shallowness was something else she had grown to tolerate over the years, and she wasn’t really surprised to hear her describe someone in terms of his bank balance or the car he drove; but as criteria for choosing a husband they seemed to her to leave a lot to be desired. She was half inclined to feel a little sorry for the unknown Leo.