Kitabı oku: «The Widows’ Club», sayfa 5

8

The buzz of the hedge trimmer set Faith’s teeth on edge as she set about cutting back the leylandii conifers that had grown at least another foot since her gardener, Leon, had tackled it earlier in the year. The hedge divided the land at the rear of the property from that of the neighbours, and she liked it to be high enough to shield her from prying eyes without leaving the rest of the garden in shade. Leon had made the job look easy.

It was Derek who had employed him, and Faith had continued with Leon’s services for as long as she could, but sacrifices had to be made and she had taken the difficult decision to cut back his hours. For appearances’ sake, Leon continued to maintain the front gardens, but Faith was no stranger to hard work and could take care of the rest. If by chance Mr Newton caught a glimpse of her cutting back the conifers, he would see only a figure dressed in black, wearing a baseball cap. He would never presume it was the second Mrs Cavendish.

If anything, pruning the hedge was a novel form of exercise, and Faith had convinced herself it was fun until the rotating blades of the trimmers snagged on a gnarled branch and she lost her balance. She stretched out her arms instinctively to stop herself from falling off the stepladder, and her grip on the trimmers loosened. With her finger still on the trigger, it arced forward and the whirring blades narrowly missed slicing into her thigh. She held back the cry for fear of being overheard, but the near miss left her shaken. She wept angry tears as she hacked at branches that she would not allow to defeat her.

When the job was done and the cuttings cleared away, Faith returned to the house, grabbed a bottle of Chablis from the kitchen, and dragged herself upstairs. She filled a deep bath and added a generous measure of her prized Jo Malone bath oil, because today she deserved it. Stripping off the cheap supermarket clothes she had been wearing, Faith sank beneath the suds and felt her old self return.

With Brahms playing in the background and her wine within easy reach, Faith leafed through a travel brochure. For as long as she cared to remember, planning a holiday was her way of surviving the pre-Christmas frenzy, and a couple of travel reps had been in touch already, having noticed their most loyal customer had yet to book her next trip. Faith had kept them dangling and there was no suggestion that she might forgo a holiday next year. It was something Faith had yet to admit to herself.

A two-week cruise around the Norwegian fjords took her fancy and as she folded the corner of the page, her phone rang. Her thumb hovered over the red decline button as she took a sip of wine. With an exasperated sigh, she accepted the call.

‘Hello, Ella,’ she said affably.

Faith’s stepdaughter had made numerous attempts to call her over the weekend but irritatingly hadn’t left a voicemail. Her persistence, combined with Faith’s curiosity, had finally paid off.

‘I’m glad I caught you at last. I was getting worried.’

‘Ah, sorry about that. I treated myself to a little pamper weekend with friends,’ Faith said as she put down her glass and flexed her hand. Her attack on the garden had cost her a couple of broken nails, and her skin had acquired a roughness she didn’t like. With the money she had saved today, maybe she could afford a spa.

‘I hope you had a good time,’ Ella replied after a slight hesitation, as if she detected the lie.

Faith wouldn’t be surprised if Mr Bloody Newton had a telescope trained on the house, but no matter. A fib told with confidence was far more compelling than whispering truths.

‘Who knew a few days’ relaxation would be so exhausting?’ Faith said with a yawn. She lifted a leg out of the water and watched rivulets of scented oil glide over her skin and caress her tired muscles. ‘It’s probably my body’s reaction to all that pummelling and prodding. Those Swedish massages are brutal.’

‘I can imagine,’ Ella said, possibly convinced. Possibly not. ‘As long as you’re looking after yourself.’

If Faith didn’t do it, who would? Derek was gone.

She closed her eyes to staunch unexpected tears; she was stronger than this. She was a survivor and could face whatever life threw at her, even if it was getting harder. Only this week she had discovered that her department would face yet another reorganisation. It was an occupational hazard and, whilst Faith was good at defending her corner, it would invariably mean more duties being heaped upon her. She had no interest in acquiring new skills, she had adapted enough in her life.

Faith took another sip of wine and painted a smile on her lips loud enough for Ella to hear. ‘So what can I do for you?’

‘I have some news. Jack and I have set a date for our wedding. It’s next July.’

‘Oh, how lovely,’ Faith said. It was a brave step for Ella, considering that her mother was testament to how a marriage could fail, and Faith wasn’t exactly a good advert either. She wished her well.

‘It’s only going to be a small affair, but we would love it if you would come.’

‘I wouldn’t miss it.’

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ said Ella.

Faith couldn’t think of anything worse than an intimate wedding breakfast where Rosemary would deliver the speech in the stead of the father of the bride. Glancing at the travel brochure resting on the edge of the bath, she wondered if the wedding was the justification she needed for one last escape.

She yawned again. ‘Sorry.’

‘Before I let you go, there’s something else I wanted to run past you.’

Reaching for her wine, Faith had an inkling she was going to need it. She should have known there was an ulterior motive for the call. ‘Shoot,’ she said.

‘Last time I saw you, when you were having a clear-out, we talked about you making a fresh start,’ Ella said. She paused for her stepmother to agree, but Faith remained tight-lipped. Only one of them had mentioned a fresh start. ‘I know it’s a difficult decision, but I was talking to Jack, and we wondered if it would be less of a wrench if I was the buyer?’

‘Why on earth would you want to come back here, Ella? You hated your father,’ Faith said, suspecting Rosemary was the true architect of this plan. She wanted the house back, and she had no qualms about using Ella as her puppet.

‘I don’t hate him,’ Ella said softly.

Despite her annoyance, Faith smiled at the lie that had been delivered without conviction. Ella would have to do some serious backtracking to explain away the years of scorn she had poured over her father’s memory.

‘I had a happy childhood there before I went off to uni,’ she said. ‘And up until he dumped Mum, I thought Dad was a good dad. Who knows? Being back home might help me remember him in a better light.’

Faith almost choked on her wine. Rosemary would turn in her grave, if only she had one. ‘Anything’s possible.’

‘And wouldn’t it make life easier for you? Why pay for the upkeep of a house when you use only a fraction of it?’

Faith could almost admire Rosemary. She hadn’t missed a trick. She had heard about the furniture sale and now the gardening, not to mention the car that hadn’t been updated in over a year. She had picked up on all the signs that money was tight, and this was the argument she had told her daughter to use.

‘And you think you can afford a house like this?’

‘Not if we had to pay the full market value,’ Ella said cautiously, ‘but if we came to a private arrangement, there would be savings for both of us in terms of fees.’

Faith sat up, the water having lost its warmth. ‘You have thought this through.’

‘And will you?’ asked Ella. ‘Imagine a life full of new beginnings rather than living with empty rooms that remind you of what you’ve lost.’

To the untrained ear, the arguments were reasonable and persuasive, but not to Faith. How dare they discard her feelings so casually. She was well aware of the empty rooms. They were like open wounds, and Derek’s family was ready as always to stick the knife in.

‘Jack and I hope to have kids one day, Dad’s grandchildren,’ Ella continued. ‘Don’t you think he’d want us to bring the house back into the family?’

Faith forced down the corners of her mouth. ‘I thought I was family, Ella.’

She imagined Ella kicking herself in the pregnant pause that followed. ‘You’re right, you are family. And you’d always be welcome.’

‘I appreciate your concern and, as I’ve told you before, you’ll be the first to know if I do decide to sell, but I’m not there yet.’ Through gritted teeth, she added, ‘I won’t be pushed.’

‘That wasn’t my intention,’ Ella said. ‘I just wanted to float the idea past you as something you might want to consider. I’ll be honest, I was in two minds whether to say anything at all, but I thought it was worth you knowing that there’s another option on the table.’

‘And that’s very kind of you,’ Faith managed to reply. ‘But if you don’t mind, I don’t want to think about it right now. I’m tired.’

The call ended amicably enough and as Faith drained the bath, she attempted to put her words into action by not thinking about Ella’s kind offer. Wrapping herself in a fluffy towelling dressing gown, she picked up her wine and travel brochure and made her way downstairs. She paused in the palatial hallway and shuddered as an image came unbidden of Ella’s offspring running through the house with Rosemary holding up the rear.

Faith could tell herself that the house was simply bricks and mortar, but it meant so much more to her than that. It represented the last vestiges of the dreams she had shared with Derek, and she would rather live with empty rooms than in some tiny apartment. She didn’t want to downsize. Her parents had lived in a dingy flat above her dad’s workshop, and the place she had rented before marrying Derek hadn’t been much better. She loved this house. She would never surrender it, especially not to Rosemary.

Setting down her wine on a side table in the living room, Faith rolled up the travel brochure into a tight cylinder and fed it to the log burner that had been left ready to light. Faith would fight with all she had to keep Derek’s legacy, and if that meant chipping more fingernails and sacrificing more luxuries, so be it. She flicked a match and as she watched flames lick at the glossy paper, her phone rang.

Faith was in no mood to continue her discussion with Ella, but when she realised it was an unknown number, she felt no relief.

‘Hello?’ the caller asked when Faith offered no greeting. ‘Is that you, Faith?’

‘Who is this?’ she asked, feigning ignorance.

‘Erm, it’s Nick,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind me disturbing you.’

‘What can I do for you?’ she asked, leaving him to decide if she approved of him disturbing her or not. In fairness, his guess would be as good as hers.

After realising Nick had tricked her into giving him her number, Faith had been more annoyed at herself than him. She had let her guard down, having assumed she was in safe company in the support group, and Nick had taken advantage of that.

‘It’s our next meeting on Tuesday and since we’re practically neighbours, I wondered if you wanted a lift,’ he said. ‘Steve keeps inviting me over to the pub and I thought you might be tempted if we can go in one car. I don’t mind not drinking.’

Nick had gone from offering a lift to inviting her out for a drink in one deft move. Though she was quietly impressed, his efforts were wasted. ‘I never go to the pub, which makes me think we’d be better travelling separately,’ she said. ‘Some of us have work the next day.’

‘Oh, that’s right. You’re a bio-something scientist,’ he replied, his tongue tripping over the syllables, a telltale sign that he didn’t always pass on the opportunity for a drink. ‘Maybe you could tell me more about it when I pick you up – as long as you use small words. I was never good at science.’

‘I think you’re cleverer than you let on.’

Nick let out a groan and Faith could hear the scrape of a palm rubbing against stubble. ‘I used to think so,’ he admitted. ‘And I’m hoping the group will help me regain my confidence. I felt so much better after the last meeting. A lot of what you said about grief being a random mix of emotion struck a nerve.’

After a poor start to their conversation, Faith felt she was finally speaking to the Nick who had opened his heart to the group and not the bullish persona he used to impress his clients. Derek had been the same, but her husband had eventually learnt that he couldn’t win her heart the same way he won his contracts.

Realising where her thoughts had led, Faith stepped away from the flames she had been fanning. She didn’t need nor want another man in her life. Romance was overrated, as poor April was in the process of discovering. Jason had cheated on her and, dead or alive, April needed to settle the score. That was where Faith could help. What her friend needed was some good old-fashioned revenge sex.

‘If you’re that keen on becoming a part of the group,’ she told Nick, ‘you can pick me up on the condition that you make an effort to get to know everyone. We all have something different to contribute, each with our own unique experience and perspective. What you can’t get from me, you’ll find from someone else.’

Faith was applying a final layer of mascara when the doorbell rang. She grabbed a silk blouse and buttoned it over her skin-tight jeans as she padded barefoot downstairs. Pausing halfway, she watched the dark silhouette of a man waiting for her. His tall, broad frame filled the leaded windows in the front door and she saw him reach up to ring the bell again, only to hesitate. His hand dropped and his silhouette shifted as he moved from one foot to the other. There was the flash of silver as he checked his watch. Nick was fifteen minutes early.

With a smile spreading across her face, Faith opened the door and put Nick out of his misery. ‘What time do you call this?’ she demanded.

He returned her smile. ‘Sorry, in my line of business, it’s better to be early than late.’

‘You’d better come in,’ she said, pushing the door open with her elbow as she continued to fasten the last of her buttons.

Nick’s footfalls echoed down the hallway. ‘It’s an amazing place you have here,’ he said, sneaking a furtive glance into the first reception room. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a stack of boxes atop the dining table. ‘Have you just moved in?’

‘I’ve been here ten years, the first six of which I spent with Derek,’ Faith explained, closing over the dining room door. She was in fresh negotiations with the antique dealer to sell more of the furniture and had gathered up smaller items to auction on eBay. Every little helped.

‘My husband had more traditional tastes and was loathe to make changes,’ she continued. ‘I’ve modernised here and there since he died, but it’s a work in progress.’

‘Preparing for a new phase in your life?’

‘Something like that,’ she replied, feeling no urge to explain her current dilemma. ‘You can wait in the sitting room while I finish dressing. Did you want a drink?’

‘I think I had more than my fair share the other night,’ he said with a sheepish grin. ‘I’m sorry if I was out of turn phoning you. I hope I didn’t make you feel awkward.’

‘If anyone was feeling awkward, it wasn’t me,’ she said. ‘I take it you don’t feel the need for Dutch courage tonight.’

‘I don’t touch the stuff if I’m driving and not only because my livelihood depends on a clean licence. It’s devastating what damage drink-driving can do,’ he said. ‘Ah, sorry. I guess you already know that.’

‘Derek’s accident had nothing to do with alcohol.’

‘Can I ask what happened?’

‘You can ask, but you’ll have to wait until we’re in the car before you get an answer.’

Faith left Nick to wonder, but within ten minutes, she was setting the alarm and locking the front door. Nick had parked his car in front of her drive. The night was damp and drizzly and the haze from the street lamp picked out the black BMW’s sleek lines and elegant curves.

When Nick opened the passenger door, a waft of polished leather filled Faith’s nostrils. ‘The limo business must be good.’

‘What can I say, it’s a dream job.’

‘My husband loved his car,’ she began as they pulled out of the drive. ‘He locked it away in the garage without fail, and in the winter he was known to cover the engine in a blanket. Not that he knew much about the inner workings. Derek didn’t know a spark plug from a crankshaft, but he was fastidious about keeping it properly maintained. He’d take it to a garage for something as simple as changing a wiper blade.’

‘Most people are the same these days, even me. The problem is a lot of it’s computerised.’

‘That was part of the problem,’ Faith said. ‘Some kind of ABS warning light came on and when Derek explained that it was the brakes, I made sure he had it looked at straight away.’

‘The brakes failed?’

‘Not then. The car dealer couldn’t find anything wrong with the car,’ she explained. ‘And the second time it happened, they claimed the fault was with the sensors and simply replaced them.’

‘Easier than taking the car apart.’

‘Exactly,’ Faith agreed. It had been one of the strengths of the case she had brought against the dealership. ‘A week later, the warning light was back on. It was a busy time for us. I was going away on a spa break and Derek had a lot of work pressures. It was me who suggested he ignore it. It was my fault.’ Faith turned her head away from Nick and squeezed her eyes shut.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I should have made him get it checked again or cautioned him about driving too fast. I don’t know. I could have done something …’

‘You don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.’

‘No, I’m fine,’ Faith said, facing front again. ‘Typical of Derek, he had been speeding down the M60 when the accident happened. From CCTV footage, it looks like the ABS failed while he was in the fast lane approaching slow-moving traffic. He clipped a couple of cars as he veered towards the hard shoulder and smashed into a barrier.’

‘I guess he didn’t stand a chance.’

‘But Derek almost did survive. He was halfway out of the car when it went up in flames.’ She had watched the recording, and it was scorched into her memory. ‘It was a miracle there were no other fatalities. I suppose I should be thankful for that, but one fatality was one too many.’ She could feel a familiar anger rise up through her body. ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

‘Christ, I’m so sorry. I hope you sued the garage for every penny they had.’

Faith didn’t answer. It was none of his business and she had grown tired of crowing about money she no longer had.

‘Something like that has to make you stronger,’ Nick continued awkwardly.

‘All adversity changes us.’

‘And you’ve had more than your fair share,’ Nick replied, taking his eye off the road to scrutinise her face.

Faith found herself laughing. ‘I’ll save my stories about my alcoholic father for another time.’

‘You’re an incredible woman, Faith,’ he said before tearing his gaze from her. When Faith refused to respond, he squirmed in his seat. ‘What I mean is, the whole group is inspiring. However sad the circumstances, it’s been humbling to hear other people’s journeys.’

‘You’ve had a journey of your own.’

‘I suppose I have,’ he said, rubbing his knitted brow. ‘It’s just that I listen to stories like yours, or the others who had families to take care of, and … I don’t know, I feel like I don’t have a right to complain.’

Faith examined him as she might a specimen under a microscope. ‘Oh, the group is going to have a field day with you.’

His features softened. ‘You can’t scare me. They’re a great bunch.’

‘I bet you were expecting a group of wailing weirdos.’

It was Nick’s turn to laugh. ‘Not at all.’

‘Liar,’ she said. ‘I know I was.’

They were approaching Hale Village and, as they passed the hall, Faith noticed the Christmas decorations. ‘Has Justine mentioned the Christmas party to you yet?’ she asked. ‘It’s in a few weeks.’

‘Yes, and I’m fully paid up. I hope you’ll be going.’

‘I think it’s important that we all make the effort,’ Faith replied as Nick drove into Ivy Farm Court car park. April’s Corsa was in front of Tara’s shop. ‘And I was wondering if you might do me a small favour.’

Nick killed the engine and the internal lights lit up his face as he turned towards her. Faith was dazzled by his violet eyes. They were incredibly trusting. ‘Anything,’ he said.

‘I need your help persuading April to come to the Christmas party.’