A Week in Winter: A Novel Read online

  ‘Mum loved me,’ he’d say. ‘That’s all you need. One person really loving you and believing in you. Anything else is a bonus.’

  He’d said that when she’d been whingeing once about her mother always getting at her and how they’d always argued.

  ‘What about your dad?’ he’d asked—and she’d admitted that her father had always been on her side, always defending her and encouraging her.

  ‘Well then.’ Jude had shrugged. ‘It’s more than a lot of people have.’

  She’d thought about it afterwards, wondering if it were feeble to want your mother’s approval too. After all, she’d always had Maudie. She could telephone Maudie, of course. Maudie was always ready to listen to her problems, although she’d been on Patrick’s side over the Mary thing. Maudie always held a rather detached view, which was helpful but not always particularly comforting. She’d once told Posy that too much sympathy could be ruinous, enervating, weakening, and that it was more helpful to look at things with a clear eye, but there were moments when unadulterated sympathy was very pleasant. Now, she felt, was one of those moments. At times like these she longed to ride out on to the moor with Hugh. The combination of Dartmoor and Hugh’s brand of companionship always lifted her spirits—but both were too far away on this Sunday afternoon to be of much help.

  As she turned into Hyde Abbey Road, Posy found that she was thinking of her mother. What a shock it must have been for her; how humiliating. Posy shrank from thinking about how she must be feeling; how bitter and lonely it would be to face life alone after nearly thirty years of marriage.

  Posy thought: She’s got the boys. They’ll be on her side.

  Scrabbling in her bag for her key, Posy felt guilt creeping round her heart. She’d tried not to judge her father nor to feel angry with him, waiting until she could think it through calmly. It was selfish to expect him to stay in an unhappy relationship and an unsatisfying job, simply so that she could have him there on the few occasions when she wanted to go home. At the same time she felt that it was wrong to walk out on a marriage simply because you’d had enough. She felt thoroughly muddled and miserable and longed to talk it through calmly with someone who would understand.

  Posy shut the door behind her. She could talk to Jude, if he were around, or Maudie. There was no sign of Jude, however, and Jo was out too. Posy stood for some moments beside the telephone before she dialled the number.

  ‘Hello, Mum,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s me. Posy. Just wanted to see how you are.’

  Her mother laughed somewhat mirthlessly. ‘You mean that your father has told you his news.’

  Posy’s heart sank. ‘Well, yes. It’s a bit of a shock, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s not a shock to me to know that your father is a coward. You’ve always been prejudiced about him, of course, so I can’t expect you to understand how I feel.’

  ‘I just wondered if you wanted to talk about it.’

  ‘Why? So that you can gloat?’

  ‘No.’ Posy tried to hold on to her temper. ‘I don’t particularly approve of his going if you want to know the truth.’

  ‘You amaze me. I thought he could do no wrong as far as you’re concerned. I thought you’d encourage him to go off and help the disabled. Didn’t you tell him how wonderful and noble he is?’

  ‘Actually, no. No, I didn’t. Well, never mind. I just thought you might like to know that I’m sorry …’

  ‘I’m sure you are. You’re going to miss him. It’s not nice to be rejected, is it? Perhaps, now, you’ll just begin to understand how I’ve felt about you and Maudie all these years.’

  ‘Right. OK then.’ Posy felt disappointment, along with all the old familiar antagonism, burning inside her. ‘I’m here if you need me. See you.’

  She replaced the receiver, wanting to burst into tears. After a moment or two she dialled another number.

  ‘Hi, babe,’ she said. ‘It’s me. How are you? … Great. And Polonais? … Well, yes, I do. I’m hoping I might come down again next weekend if that’s OK? Brilliant. Thanks, Maudie. Oh, and do you think you could arrange for me to go out with Hugh for an hour or two? … Thanks. Yes, I will. I’ll be really looking forward to it. So what’s been going on down in Devon, then?’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  ‘How are you?’ asked Rob eagerly. ‘How are things going? I’ve had a call from someone called Jenny at the solicitor’s in Truro. She was really positive. Thinks it can all happen quite quickly.’

  ‘There’s no reason why not.’ Melissa closed her eyes so as to be able to imagine him more clearly. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Up in our bedroom. I can get the best signal here.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I know.’ It was there she’d telephoned to Mike, sitting on the broad window seat. ‘Can you see the rooks?’

  ‘Yes.’ She knew he was turning round, looking out of the window, peering upwards. ‘See them and hear them. It’s a wonder you can’t hear them too, the racket they’re making.’

  Hot tears slipped from beneath her closed lids, sliding down her cheeks. She could see the bulky, twiggy nests, propped in bare branches, silhouetted against a cloudy, windy sky; she could hear the acrimonious argybargy, punctuated by the high, plaintive cries of the lambs on the moor below.

  ‘Are you still there?’ His voice was anxious.

  ‘Yes.’ It was barely more than a sigh. The pain in her heart was suffocating. ‘Yes, I’m here. Wishing I was there with you.’

  ‘Oh, Melissa.’ His voice was strong with happiness. ‘It won’t be long now. I’m arranging for the building society to do a valuation. You’re sure you’re happy to leave it all to me?’

  ‘Of course I am. You’re on the spot. Only … Rob. Don’t waste any time, will you?’

  ‘I promise I won’t.’ He rejected such a foolish idea cheerfully. ‘But don’t worry. We won’t lose Moorgate now. Lady Todhunter was delighted. She telephoned and wished us every happiness. Wasn’t that nice of her? She wants to meet you.’

  ‘That’s … very friendly.’ She felt exhausted. ‘Rob. I have to dash. This was just a quick one. I wanted to say “hello”.’

  ‘It’s wonderful to hear your voice. I love you, Melissa. I know it seems as if the whole thing was a dream but it won’t be long before we’re here together.’

  ‘No.’ She made a tremendous effort. ‘Of course it won’t. I love you too, Rob.’

  She switched off her mobile, her mouth trembling with grief.

  ‘Lissy,’ said Mike from the doorway. ‘Lissy. Should you be doing this?’

  She stared at him, her eyes dark with pain. ‘I have to speak to him,’ she said. ‘I have to, Mike. Whilst there’s still time.’

  He went across to her, crouching beside her, holding her tightly. ‘I’m just afraid that it’s making it worse for you,’ he murmured. ‘It’s so unutterably bloody.’

  She leaned against him. ‘It’s odd, isn’t it, that I can visualise it all so clearly? I can hear the rooks quarrelling and the sound of the lambs crying for their mothers. I was only there five days, yet it seems like a lifetime. He’ll be all right, won’t he, Mike?’

  ‘Yes, he’ll be all right.’ He rocked her, feeling her bones beneath his hand, the lightness of her. ‘Of course he will. He’ll need a bit of time but he’ll recover.’

  ‘And you’ll see him?’

  ‘I shall see him. Perhaps, later, I’ll go and stay with him. Luke and I might go together, for a weekend.’

  He spoke hesitantly, unwilling to describe a future in which she could have no share, but when she raised her head to look at him her face was full of wonder.

  ‘Oh, that would be good, Mike. I had so many dreams when I was there, at Moorgate. Such strange dreams about lots of people all there with me. I’d like to think that you might go to Moorgate—you and Luke.’

  ‘Rob might find it a comfort too. I’m sure we’ll be friends.’ He wanted to weep, to scream, to vent his rage. Instead he loosened his hold, helping her up. ‘You
’re cold. Come on. Hot coffee and chocolate time.’

  ‘Jenny’s already been in touch with him, bless her. And Rob’s getting the building society’s valuation organised. At least he doesn’t need an independent survey. No one could know more about the house than Rob.’

  She followed him into the kitchen, steadier now, concentrating on what needed to be done. As he filled the percolator he watched her covertly. She was thinner; the marks of suffering were drawn lightly but ineradicably on her face. The drive to Cornwall, the whole Moorgate experience had taken a greater toll even than he had feared. She sat at the table, wrapped in her long woollen bouclé coat, breaking some chocolate into squares and eating it thoughtfully.

  ‘Mike, how would it be if I were to write a letter to Rob?’

  He frowned consideringly. ‘How do you mean? What kind of letter?’

  ‘Well.’ She paused, thinking it through. ‘I know that you’ll go to see him, once the sale is finalised, but supposing I wrote it all out. The whole bit. Why I went to Moorgate in the first place and how I feel about him. And why I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. I could explain it to him, couldn’t I, and tell him what it’s all meant? I want him to know just what he did for me, Mike. It’s been like a miracle. Something to hold on to when things are … difficult. In some ways it’s made it worse. You know what I mean, don’t you? Ever since Rob, it’s made it much harder to let go. To know all that I shall be missing is simply agonising but, at the same time, I can relive it all and lose myself in it. I had one glorious week when I thought that there was nothing left but waiting. I want him to know all that.’

  ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea.’ He began to fiddle with the mugs lest she should see the heartbreak in his eyes. ‘I can tell him, of course, but it will be much better coming from you. Your own words will mean a lot to him and he’ll be able to keep the letter. In his place I should be really glad of it.’

  ‘Well then.’ Her face was bright with contemplation. ‘I think I’ll do it. I should like to. Not anything morbid or self-indulgent, just saying how it was.’

  ‘That’s right.’ He stood the mug of coffee beside her. ‘I can give it to him when I see him.’

  ‘OK.’ She smiled at him, comforted by this new sense of purpose. ‘I’ll get on with it. Are you managing to get any work done on your new book?’

  ‘The page proofs of the last one arrived when you were away last week.’ He grimaced. ‘Just when I was beginning to feel really involved with my new characters.’

  ‘How irritating.’ She could sense his frustration. ‘Listen. Why don’t I check the proofs for you? I’d be very careful. I am a lawyer, after all. I’m used to reading small print and contracts.’

  ‘That would be great.’ He was genuinely grateful. ‘If you think you could manage it. But don’t distract yourself from Rob’s letter.’

  ‘No, I won’t do that. I need to think about it for a while. How I intend to approach it and things like that but I could get on with the proofs straight away.’

  ‘Fantastic. Could you work here at the table? I’ll get them down from my study and you can see how you manage.’

  ‘I’ll make a start while Luke’s still asleep,’ she promised. ‘It will be a very welcome distraction from thinking about how things are going down in Cornwall. Oh, Mike, I shall be so pleased to know that all the documents have been signed and sealed and that Moorgate is Rob’s.’

  Maudie finished drying up the lunch things, put them away and went into the living room. She’d been putting off the moment when she should telephone Selina and tell her about the offer on Moorgate. It had crossed her mind to tell Posy when she’d spoken to her on Sunday evening but in her heart she knew that it was not the right thing to do. Selina must hear the news from Maudie herself. Anything else would be cowardly. Nevertheless, she’d allowed herself to procrastinate and, even now, she was picking up Daphne’s letter and glancing through it; anything to postpone the moment. With a sigh of irritation and a twinge of apprehension, she dialled the London number. Selina answered so listlessly that Maudie’s anxiety increased.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, with an attempt at cheerfulness. ‘Hello, Selina. It’s Maudie.’

  ‘Good heavens!’ Selina laughed, an artificial cackle which upset Maudie further. ‘The vultures are gathering. Who told you? Posy? Don’t tell me Patrick had the courage to telephone?’

  ‘Told me what?’ Surprise lent an added crispness to Maudie’s voice. ‘What are you talking about? I’ve phoned to give you some news. Not very good, I’m afraid, from your point of view.’

  ‘That’s par for the course, then.’ Selina laughed again. ‘So what now? Come along, Maudie, dear. Spit it out. Tell me this news. Is Polonius dead? Oh, no, of course not. You said the news wasn’t very good, didn’t you?’

  ‘Whatever is wrong, Selina?’ Maudie stared in perplexity at the recumbent Polonius. ‘Why should Polonius be dead?’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Have you been drinking?’

  ‘Yes.’ She was giggling now. ‘Ten out often, dear stepmama. And what business is it of yours if I have?’

  ‘None at all.’ Maudie employed the old trick of disinterest. ‘It just seems rather early in the day for it. But why not, after all?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Selina sounded rather sullen now. ‘I’ve enough to drive me to drink. So Posy didn’t tell you?’

  Maudie sighed. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Selina. This is clearly a bad moment. Perhaps we should try again later.’

  ‘Patrick’s leaving me.’

  Maudie was silent. The trick had worked but she felt no triumph; she was too surprised. Posy had been so certain that the affair with Mary was over.

  ‘Are you still there?’ Selina asked peevishly. ‘Of course, I suppose it’s too much to expect sympathy from you?’

  ‘Why should he leave you?’

  ‘You tell me! Probably because I intervened between him and his little tart last year and he’s still sulking.’

  ‘Do you mean he’s going away with her?’

  ‘Oh, no. No, it’s nothing to do with her. He’s giving everything up to go off and work with the poor. He’s going to live in a commune in Wales.’

  ‘You’re drunk, Selina,’ said Maudie coldly. ‘I’ve never heard such nonsense.’

  ‘Well then, for once we agree, dear stepmother. But it’s the truth. He’s tired of being boring old Patrick Stone and he’s decided that he wants to do something worthwhile. So he’s leaving me and the children for good works.’

  Maudie thought: So that’s why Posy is coming down again so soon.

  Aloud, she said, ‘Isn’t it rather drastic?’

  ‘Rather drastic?’ Selina’s shrill tones indicated that she was finding Maudie’s cool reaction irritating. ‘Rather drastic? It’s bloody disgusting. After thirty years he’s walking out just because he’s bored. Bored!’

  ‘I simply can’t believe it.’

  ‘Well try, dear. He’s given in his notice and he’s leaving at Easter. It’s all arranged.’

  Maudie was silent: too startled to speak. She heard a clink of glass and a gurgling of liquid.

  ‘Are you still there? Did you hear what I said? He’s like a child with a new toy and I simply can’t get through to him. So. What was your news, stepmother?’

  ‘It’s not good, Selina. I’m sorry to have to tell you this now. I have an offer on Moorgate.’

  ‘Oh God!’ There was a louder crash of glass, followed by the sound of sudden, noisy weeping. ‘Oh, I can’t stand this. Not now. Oh, Christ! This is just too much.’

  ‘Selina,’ said Maudie desperately, ‘please listen to me. Moorgate would never have worked. You must know that, in your heart. With or without Patrick, Moorgate was not right for you.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing now,’ sobbed Selina. ‘Mummy and Daddy have gone. Patricia’s so far away she might as well be dead. I hardly see the boys any more. And now dear old Moorgate … Oh, God, I hate you, Maudie!’<
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  The receiver was slammed down and Maudie replaced her own handset more slowly. She felt old and shaken, distressed by Selina’s outburst, shocked by her news. It was so improbable that it had the ring of truth about it—and how typical of Patrick to be prepared to give everything up for an ideal. It sounded as if he had simply come to the end of his tether and, unable to cope with his wife and his job any longer, had switched off. She picked up her address book and looked for the number Patrick had once given her for emergencies. She dialled it, her hand trembling a little. His secretary answered and presently she heard Patrick’s voice.

  ‘Maudie?’ He sounded concerned. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘It’s Selina.’ She decided not to beat about the bush. ‘I just phoned to tell her that I’ve accepted an offer on Moorgate. She’s taken it very badly. She sounded very odd, Patrick, as if she’d been drinking, and she hung up in a terrible state.’

  ‘I see.’ He sounded noncommittal.

  ‘I’m sure you can’t speak openly at the moment but I was hoping you could perhaps find an excuse for going home. You know I wouldn’t be making a fuss about nothing, Patrick.’

  ‘Yes, Maudie.’ His voice was warm. ‘I know you well enough for that. I’ll attend to it.’

  ‘Thank heaven! If you could telephone later just to put my mind at rest I’d be very grateful.’

  ‘I’ll do that too.’

  ‘And Patrick? Don’t tell her I called you.’

  Maudie hung up and sat staring out into the garden. The warm weather, which had swept away the snow, had left a soft grey dampness in its wake and the afternoon wore a muted, dun-coloured mantle. A blackbird was building in the high thick hedge, pausing briefly in the bare branches of the lilac tree, before plunging into the privet with her beak full of nesting material. A male bullfinch struck a note of pure bright colour as he perched on the bird table and a rabble of sparrows squabbled below him on the grass.