20 Wondering Why …

20

Wondering Why …

After a windswept Sunday morning walk along the cliff path, followed by a wonderful roast lunch sitting next to a roaring log fire, the journey back to Darlingham is a reflective one.

My attempts at being jovial come out sounding half-hearted. I try to mask a sense of disappointment in myself, as some of the things that Ash said to me keep invading my thoughts. Oliver probes a little, but when I’m not forthcoming he backs off, and I get him talking about his new project.

‘This job started out well, but a sudden change of management means that new ideas are being thrown at me daily. There’s no point tinkering with what I have, so I’ve told them straight that they need to redefine the brief. Effectively, everything is on hold and the plan is to have a few round-table sessions to thrash it out. It’s not an ideal situation, because in good faith I’ve done a lot of work based on the original specification. I fear most of it will be scrapped.’

‘That’s a tough situation to find yourself in.’

‘You can say that again,’ he sighs. ‘There’s no way I’ll be able to charge them for every hour I’ve worked; if I do, I doubt they’ll use me again, even though it’s their dithering about that has wasted a lot of time.’

I’m happy to sit back and listen, as he explains that it’s all about managing people’s expectations. It isn’t easy when the team he’s working with has diverse points of view and it’s already caused one major shake-up. I can understand that all right, and just how easy it is to compromise for all the wrong reasons.

I allowed myself to be swayed by Grandma and Elizabeth when I should have stood my ground. Now, the part I played in finding Ash seems to have sunk any chance of Elizabeth and her grandson ever meeting up.

In my head I imagined a man in his prime, angry about the way he and his mother had been treated. While money can’t heal old wounds, the fantasy was that it would all come good in the end. He’d realise his father had deep regrets about the past. Ash would be touched to know that he wasn’t forgotten. I thought … no, I assumed, that he would be curious about his father’s parents and his roots. He’d seek out Elizabeth and discover that she’s simply a mother grieving the loss of her estranged son and stunned, but also overjoyed, to discover she has a grandson.

Oliver’s voice interrupts my inner dialogue. ‘Hey, you’re frowning. I didn’t mean to bore you with my problems.’

‘Sorry. It’s not that, I just have a bit of a headache coming on.’

‘If you reach behind you, you’ll find a six-pack of water bottles. Help yourself. We’re probably a little dehydrated after last night. Red wine usually does that to me.’

I reach back and grab two, cracking the lid on one and placing it in the console between us. ‘There you go.’

‘Thanks. I had a text from Daniela. She’s suggesting we do a full rehearsal on Saturday the ninth of December,’ he continues. ‘I’m not sure if she’s expecting me to liaise with you on that, regarding access to the barn.’

‘No, she hasn’t mentioned it, but I’ll put it on the calendar, and I’ll be around if you need anything.’ I down a third of my bottle of water in one go, hoping it’ll help to clear my head.

‘Last night went well,’ Oliver reflects. ‘It was nice that you got an opportunity to have a long chat with Greg.’

‘Yes, thanks for seating me next to him.’

He glances at me momentarily. ‘When I saw you loitering, I guessed you had a bit of a dilemma going on. I meant well and I’m glad it turned out to be the right thing to do.’

That phrase ‘I meant well’ seems to rattle around inside my head, taunting me. How I wish I hadn’t got involved with the search for James.

Well, reality is a harsh wake-up call. Ash is happy with his life and Elizabeth is left to cope with a sense of loss for something she never had. From the little Elizabeth told me it was obvious that she’d tried to be a peacemaker between her husband and her son. Now she’s left to mourn not just the loss of Freddie, but what could have been if the two men in her life had listened to her.

‘I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.’ The words are spoken softly, almost as if Oliver doesn’t want to upset me but he can’t stop himself reaching out. ‘I thought you’d be going home on a high.’

It’s hard because I can’t tell him why I’m feeling so down. ‘Oh, I’m just tired and you’re right, the water is helping a little already.’

‘It was nice that you and your mum got a chance to talk to Jasmine from Driftwood when you went to grab the coats. Did I see you exchanging phone numbers?’

‘Yes,’ I reply, brightly. I think it’s time to inject a little humour. ‘With all the chatter about the first fishing trip of the year she suggested Mum and I might want to join the alternative club.’

He guffaws. ‘What’s the alternative?’

‘Jasmine said that us non-fisher folk get to laze around at a spa,’ I muse. ‘Mum was over the moon when she said that.’

‘We’re not going to be able to get out of it, are we?’

He’s right; the assumption is that we’ll both head down to take part in their fun weekend adventure.

‘No, it seems not! Still, Greg’s mates are hilarious, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the trip. As for me, well, I’m always up for a bit of pampering and Mum thinks it will be a great bonding experience all round.’ I shrug my shoulders. ‘The decision was sort of made for me, anyway.’

‘You should have checked out the boat that Greg’s working on, ready to put her back into the water: she’s a beauty. It’s similar to the vessel Jasmine’s dad owns, apparently, and he’s going to be our skipper on the day. Greg said it’ll probably be some time in February, as when winter turns into spring, many species of fish head away to spawn. Most of the commercially run tours happen in June, July and August when the seas warm up.’

I hope by then it won’t feel awkward between Oliver and me, as that seems an awfully long time away. I shake my head at him, amused by the awe in his voice. ‘After that glorious meal last night, I will say that I’m very appreciative of freshly caught fish,’ I admit. ‘But I have no desire whatsoever to swap sides and jump aboard a fishing boat.’

‘I’ll probably throw anything I catch back into the water,’ he replies.

‘I’m surprised, because I thought that was the whole point of the excursion.’

‘Not for casual anglers. I get a thrill out of just being on the waves, although I rarely get a chance these days. You see things from a unique perspective, and it sort of shakes up your world a little. You know, doing something out of the ordinary can be thrilling and scary at the same time, depending on how high the waves are. And the difference between having your feet on solid ground, as opposed to being at the mercy of the sea, is humbling. I have a lot of respect for fishermen.’

There’s a question that’s been on the tip of my tongue and now is as good a time as any to ask it. ‘Me, too. Um … I haven’t seen much of Daniela this last week. I think she had another trip to Inglewick Hall.’

I feel mean checking but after Nigel’s visit I need to make sure. After all, Liam managed to play me for a fool, and I had no idea I was being lied to.

‘Yes, she did mention that when we spoke. It sounds like she has it all under control, although how she manages to juggle everything, I have no idea.’

The relief is incredible. There’s no way there is anything going on between the two of them; Oliver is like an open book.

‘I know. Are there plans for another dinner party after the first full rehearsal?’

He shakes his head. ‘Not as far as I know. We had a video call run-through on Thursday night with the updated script, but I don’t think anyone is word perfect yet. I’m certainly not, but aside from Daniela, I have the most lines.’

Hmm. If that means more video calls between the two of them, that might not sit well with Nigel. ‘But as she wrote the play, aren’t the words all in her head?’ I muse.

‘Pretty much, but it’s getting the timing right between the two of us for the longer duologues. Most of the other dialogue is snappy back and forth between the other characters, where they reflect on the past, revealing the backstory. It’s also important to pause every now and again to give the audience a few seconds to allow what’s happening to sink in.’

‘Oh, I see. It sounds complicated.’

‘You should come along and see for yourself.’

‘No. That would spoil it for me on the night,’ I profess. ‘Anyway, I’m assuming you’ll be staying at mine?’

‘Only if it’s convenient. If you have plans, then I’ll head home. Rehearsals should finish by five o’clock at the latest, as I gather that Daniela and Nigel have a party to attend in the evening.’

‘It’s not a problem if you want to stay. It would be a long day for you with the drive back. Maybe I should book us a table at The Sailor’s Retreat for dinner. What do you think?’

‘Only if it’s my treat. I still feel bad that Greg insisted on paying for our meals last night.’

‘He just appreciated us being there. Mum did, too, but I think she would have been fine, even if we hadn’t been there.’

‘I agree. Maybe she wanted you to go so you’d feel a part of her new life. It’s a bit like my parents. Every now and again I have to pay them a visit like a dutiful son, even though farming isn’t my thing. Now if it were a fish farm with lakes full of trout, I’d be spending every single weekend there.’

‘Fish farming?’ I gulp. ‘I don’t even want to think about that!’

He gives a dismissive laugh. ‘Unfortunately, I’ll be up and out early tomorrow morning. I received a text earlier on to confirm that the meeting I’m attending on Monday morning has been brought forward. It starts at eight thirty sharp now, so I’ll tiptoe around to avoid waking you. I can stop and grab coffee at one of the service stations.’

‘That’s not a problem. Besides, this is twice now you’ve driven down to Cornwall and back, Oliver. You should at least let me go halves on the fuel.’

‘No way!’ he replies, adamantly. ‘Yet again, I’ve had a great weekend, thanks to you. Your mum and Greg are wonderful hosts and it’s been fun.’

It seems we’ve progressed beyond it being about paying each other back for favours. But where exactly does that leave us? As if he can hear my thoughts, Oliver suddenly turns to glance at me, his eyes lighting up.

‘You should come up to London one weekend and stay at my flat. I could show you the sights.’

Butterflies immediately begin to fill my stomach as, for one brief second, our eyes meet before he turns his attention back to the road ahead.

‘Maybe when things calm down a little,’ I propose. For some reason, his suggestion has sent me into a bit of a panic. ‘Life’s a bit crazy right now, but that would be nice.’

Nice? Oh dear. That’s not a very inspiring word to describe his offer, is it? I berate myself. That inner voice whispers in my ear. Could Oliver turn into more than just a friend? The answer to that is I simply don’t know. My thoughts are in turmoil. If I was wondering whether I’m ready to think about having a relationship with someone again, I guess that tells me what I need to know. I’m not quite there yet but hopefully I will be, one day soon, because I really like Oliver and who knows what the future might hold?

‘This is such a treat for a Monday evening; just the peace and quiet is like music to my ears!’ Daniela laughs as she eases herself back on the sofa, a glass of white wine in one hand.

‘We haven’t had a real chat for ages, have we?’ I reply, feeling a tad guilty for enticing her away from Nigel for an hour, or two, with wine and nibbles.

‘No and it’s about time we caught up properly. It doesn’t hurt Nigel to occasionally sort bedtime on his own. At one time, he was spending more time away than he was at home, so it reminds him of what I’ve had to cope with.’

‘I’m glad he took your concerns on board.’

She wriggles back contentedly, nestling into the cushions, and follows me by slipping off her shoes and putting her feet up on the coffee table.

‘He had no choice; I laid down the law. We’ve always been straight with each other, and I think that’s important, don’t you?’ She frowns and I realise it’s a serious question.

‘How would I know? I didn’t get past the fiancée stage.’ I grin at her, then roll my eyes. ‘Maybe that was the reason why. We avoided talking about the proverbial elephant in the room.’

‘Which was?’ I can see she’s curious.

‘This is going to sound awful … in hindsight, boredom, I suppose. At the time I thought of it as comfortable companionship; I assumed that was what marked the move from that instant physical attraction into a more lasting relationship.’

‘Good grief, Sienna! A relationship should never be boring. The point of arguments is that it’s wonderful making up afterwards because it reminds you why you’re together.’

‘Which is? I guess what I’m really asking is how do you know if you’ve found the one?’

Daniela looks at me, studying my face. ‘You’re asking me for advice now and I’m no expert. I was hooked from the moment I first saw Nigel across the dance floor. Maybe it’s different for every couple.’

‘No, I think you’re right in what you said. When two people stop talking it’s a sign of trouble. Look at my parents, and my grandparents come to that, their marriages survived some very different and strong points of view. And look at Freddie and Elizabeth. Gosh, they had some blazing rows and there was even a bit of door slamming at times.’

We both chuckle.

‘That’s because beneath it all is always that undercurrent of passion. You know you can’t live without that person, even when they’re so annoying it makes you want to scream. A couple of hours later, it’s like the row never happened and you fall in love with them all over again.’

‘You softie, you!’ I exclaim.

‘What? Nigel is infuriating at times, and you know it. But it takes one to know one!’

I almost choke on the sip of wine I’ve just taken. ‘Yes, I do know that. But I thought Liam was the one. How do I know I won’t make a mistake like that again?’

‘Is this about Oliver?’ Her eyes widen.

‘No. Maybe. Oh … I’m not sure.’ I’m not avoiding the question; I simply don’t know the answer.

‘When I walked in on the two of you, heads together working out the plan for the stage, I thought you made a lovely couple. You obviously get on really well when you’re alone together, as you wouldn’t have taken him down to Cornwall if that weren’t the case. So, what’s the problem?’

‘Hmm. It’s … difficult. Greg and Mum seem to assume we’re more than friends but are keeping it low-key. The invite to the party last Saturday was extended to us both and there’s a weekend thing in February being planned. And now Oliver is talking about inviting me to stay at his place to go sightseeing.’

Daniela can hardly contain her excitement. ‘But that’s great, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ She’s right. ‘I’m probably just being overly cautious. You know, once bitten, twice shy and all that.’

‘Oh, my gosh … the thought of my two best friends in the whole wide world getting together is amazing! And I know you’ll be in safe hands, because Oliver isn’t just a gentleman, he’s a gentle man, too. He has a big heart.’

Yes, one that you broke without even knowing it, my lovely friend. Besides, Oliver and I haven’t even kissed, aside from on the cheek. There have been moments when we’ve come close to it at the cottage, but he senses a hesitancy in me. Am I holding back because knowing that Daniela was his first – and only – love, by the sound of it, I worry that I’d never be exciting enough for him?

‘You won’t say anything, will you?’ I press her.

‘Of course I won’t! I’m well aware that this is a huge deal for you, and you’ll want to take things slowly.’

‘Thanks for understanding. I’ve told Mum, and Grandma, several times over that we’re just good friends, but I know they’re both hoping it will develop into something more.’

‘He’s not the sort of man to rush into anything, Sienna, so take your time. Let it all happen naturally and you’ll be just fine.’

Oliver is tall, dark, handsome, intelligent and fun to be around, but there’s an interesting undercurrent that Daniela once described as a Mr Darcy trait. The serious side of him is very serious indeed and it’s enigmatic. He can’t see it, but other women can, and it’s compellingly attractive – but is that enough of a basis for me to throw caution to the wind and begin opening up my heart again?

The following morning, when Elizabeth and I get together to go through the monthly household accounts, she seems a little preoccupied. There are no surprises, and everything is ticking over quite nicely, but she’s obviously troubled about something.

‘I think that about wraps up November, unless you have any specific questions?’

‘No. As usual, you’re doing a marvellous job of keeping on top of everything, Sienna.’

‘I have a printout of what we’ve spent so far with regard to the party and a pretty firm forecast for the total spend once all the invoices come in.’

Elizabeth merely glances at the bottom line on the sheet. ‘It’s good to see we’re on target and will be within budget. It’s going to be the party of all parties.’ She stares off into the distance for a few seconds. Maybe this is one of her off days – times when a haunting sadness threatens to overwhelm her, and I’ve learnt not to react to it. After all, words are just words when what she’s missing is the presence of the love of her life.

‘Can I get you a cup of tea, or coffee?’ I check, wondering if she’d appreciate being alone in the study to reflect. It was Freddie’s favourite haunt, and he spent a lot of time in here.

‘No,’ she replies, snapping back into normal mode with surprising alacrity. ‘My brother, Stephen, is pressuring me to allow him to do a thank-you speech at the party.’ Her expression is steely. ‘I told him, firmly and very politely, that no one can replace Freddie. He was an accomplished after-dinner speaker, a wonderful raconteur of jokes and a joy to listen to. Stephen will turn it into a long dedication to Freddie, followed by a list of thank-you messages, when we have the official magazine to do that. Do you think that people will be put out if we break tradition and dispense with the customary speech? I’d rather like your grandma to express our thanks to the cast once the play is finished and announce that the buffet is open. And that’s it.’

I pause to reflect, coming to the conclusion that she’s right. No one can replace Freddie. ‘It’s exactly the right thing to do, Elizabeth. Everyone knows it’s in Freddie’s honour and we’ll all be thinking of him on the night.’

She gives me a watery smile. ‘My sentiment to a T! The last thing we want is people going home feeling tearful, isn’t it? I love the photograph of my darling husband that’s on the flyleaf of the programme. And his favourite quote in Latin – memento vivere , remember to live. If my brother spent more time attending to his own life, rather than trying to meddle in mine, we wouldn’t be having cross words.’

My goodness! Elizabeth rarely expresses her annoyance, but her fuse has certainly been lit.

I’m about to say, I’m sure he means well , and, thankfully, I manage to stop myself in time because it’s not true. That term ‘lording it’ really does apply to Stephen if he’s given a chance. He rarely acknowledges any of the staff; we’re just there to do our jobs, and while he’s more than happy to bark orders at us when Elizabeth is out of earshot, no one takes him seriously.

People work at Silverberry Hall because we’re like one big family and now that Elizabeth is on her own, it’s about making sure things run smoothly. To my knowledge, the only person who has ever been handed a lukewarm cup of coffee is Stephen, and Georgina did it with a sickly sweet smile on her face. I’m not a mean person, but it’s a day I remember with a sense of mischief and satisfaction. No one points to her, calling her over with an impatient wave of the hand and a flippant, ‘You, there!’ when they want something.

I bet Freddie is up there laughing right now. But Elizabeth is no pushover and if Stephen doesn’t back off soon, sparks will fly!