voice was brittle as
glass. 'I picked up a message on my mobile on the
way to the station. Peter can't come. He says that
something's come up and he can't get away.'
She repeated his words with a deliberately inflected
irony and, watching her, Hester could see
that Clio was torn between an automatic desire to
defend him and a very real need to submit to her
disappointment. It interested her to see that, at
some level, Clio clearly did not believe in Peter's
reason for cancelling his visit, though it might
be considered a quite reasonable one. The brittle
voice, the flush on her cheekbones were the outward
and visible signs of an inner resentment and
humiliation. Hester wondered how best she might
help her without trespassing.
'Of course, you did say that the agency was
having difficulty with a client's account.' She offered
it as a kind of stepping-stone out of the shoal waters
of indiscretion and back to the more solid ground
of Clio's self-esteem. 'You'd know all about that.'
'Oh, yes. I know all about that and I don't believe
it.'
Hester was silenced for a moment by this flat
statement. Yet there was an air of unhappiness –
even fear – beneath Clio's angry reaction that
forced Hester into a more open approach.
'You think it was for personal reasons?'
Clio glanced at her, as if assessing Hester's
motives, and looked away again. 'Yes I do. I think
he's got problems at home and he chickened out.'
'Well, asking him down here was a very significant
step,' said Hester thoughtfully.
'Was it?'
Clio sounded so anxious that Hester was seized
with compunction. 'It was a reasonable request, but
think about it, Clio. You were asking him to leave
the safe, neutral ground of your relationship and
come to meet your family. Think how it must have
seemed to him.'
'But I didn't mean it like that. He wanted to see
me and I thought, Why not here? I thought you'd
get on well together. There was no way you were
going to ask him his intentions or embarrass him.'
'But did he know that?'
Clio, remembering her conversation with Peter,
bit her lip. 'I told him you weren't in the least
that kind of person. I thought he'd be able to
handle it. He's very good at keeping his relationships
separate. Why make a big deal over a trip
down here? He comes to my flat.'
'But does he meet your friends there? Or family?'
'I don't have any family besides you, do I? Mum
and Dad can never be persuaded to leave their olive
grove in Greece and I hardly know my cousins. Not
much risk of running into family.'
'So this was his first opportunity.'
Hester hadn't meant her remark to sound so
brutal but Clio flushed and turned away.
'I'll go and organize some lunch,' she said. 'And I
hope you're up for dinner at Woods tonight, Hes.
I'm damned if I shall cancel the table.'
CHAPTER SIX
Lucy Faringdon was eating chocolate cake in St
Martin's Tea Room. The atmosphere of the café,
with its cheerful log fire and low-beamed ceiling
and the busy traffic of people in the narrow lane
beyond the window, all added to her enjoyment of
the rich, sweet cake. The true, deep-down source
of her happiness, however, lay in her sense of
freedom. This morning a very good friend, who
had worked with Jerry for the last twenty years at
Chichester College, had come to see him and she'd
been able to leave them contentedly together and
come out into the town.
She sipped at her latte and then sat for a moment,
simply relaxing gratefully into this moment of
respite. Here, sitting by the fire, she felt an
irresponsible light-heartedness that she knew from
experience would be very short-lived. Nevertheless,
she set herself to extract every moment of present
pleasure – the melting texture of the cake on her
tongue, the taste of the coffee – whilst also dwelling
on the future promise of some shopping: nothing
necessary or dull, just a few little treats. Deliberately
putting away from her all the usual anxieties
relating to Jerry's deteriorating health, she continued
to plan her
glass. 'I picked up a message on my mobile on the
way to the station. Peter can't come. He says that
something's come up and he can't get away.'
She repeated his words with a deliberately inflected
irony and, watching her, Hester could see
that Clio was torn between an automatic desire to
defend him and a very real need to submit to her
disappointment. It interested her to see that, at
some level, Clio clearly did not believe in Peter's
reason for cancelling his visit, though it might
be considered a quite reasonable one. The brittle
voice, the flush on her cheekbones were the outward
and visible signs of an inner resentment and
humiliation. Hester wondered how best she might
help her without trespassing.
'Of course, you did say that the agency was
having difficulty with a client's account.' She offered
it as a kind of stepping-stone out of the shoal waters
of indiscretion and back to the more solid ground
of Clio's self-esteem. 'You'd know all about that.'
'Oh, yes. I know all about that and I don't believe
it.'
Hester was silenced for a moment by this flat
statement. Yet there was an air of unhappiness –
even fear – beneath Clio's angry reaction that
forced Hester into a more open approach.
'You think it was for personal reasons?'
Clio glanced at her, as if assessing Hester's
motives, and looked away again. 'Yes I do. I think
he's got problems at home and he chickened out.'
'Well, asking him down here was a very significant
step,' said Hester thoughtfully.
'Was it?'
Clio sounded so anxious that Hester was seized
with compunction. 'It was a reasonable request, but
think about it, Clio. You were asking him to leave
the safe, neutral ground of your relationship and
come to meet your family. Think how it must have
seemed to him.'
'But I didn't mean it like that. He wanted to see
me and I thought, Why not here? I thought you'd
get on well together. There was no way you were
going to ask him his intentions or embarrass him.'
'But did he know that?'
Clio, remembering her conversation with Peter,
bit her lip. 'I told him you weren't in the least
that kind of person. I thought he'd be able to
handle it. He's very good at keeping his relationships
separate. Why make a big deal over a trip
down here? He comes to my flat.'
'But does he meet your friends there? Or family?'
'I don't have any family besides you, do I? Mum
and Dad can never be persuaded to leave their olive
grove in Greece and I hardly know my cousins. Not
much risk of running into family.'
'So this was his first opportunity.'
Hester hadn't meant her remark to sound so
brutal but Clio flushed and turned away.
'I'll go and organize some lunch,' she said. 'And I
hope you're up for dinner at Woods tonight, Hes.
I'm damned if I shall cancel the table.'
CHAPTER SIX
Lucy Faringdon was eating chocolate cake in St
Martin's Tea Room. The atmosphere of the café,
with its cheerful log fire and low-beamed ceiling
and the busy traffic of people in the narrow lane
beyond the window, all added to her enjoyment of
the rich, sweet cake. The true, deep-down source
of her happiness, however, lay in her sense of
freedom. This morning a very good friend, who
had worked with Jerry for the last twenty years at
Chichester College, had come to see him and she'd
been able to leave them contentedly together and
come out into the town.
She sipped at her latte and then sat for a moment,
simply relaxing gratefully into this moment of
respite. Here, sitting by the fire, she felt an
irresponsible light-heartedness that she knew from
experience would be very short-lived. Nevertheless,
she set herself to extract every moment of present
pleasure – the melting texture of the cake on her
tongue, the taste of the coffee – whilst also dwelling
on the future promise of some shopping: nothing
necessary or dull, just a few little treats. Deliberately
putting away from her all the usual anxieties
relating to Jerry's deteriorating health, she continued
to plan her
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