The Way We Were_ A Novel - Marcia Willett [51]
Aunt Em telephones. ‘I'm probably speaking out of turn,’ she says, ‘but I've had a thought. A friend of ours is thinking of letting her holiday cottage in Padstow on a long-term let. She's fed up with summer visitors and the weekly changeover and she wants to try having a tenant. It's very small and I couldn't help wondering if it might suit you once you've had the baby.’
Tiggy's first reaction is terror and then a faint excitement. ‘I still can't quite take in,’ she says, ‘that the moment will ever arrive when it'll be me and the baby. I simply can't imagine it. I don't know about the cottage. It sounds … possible.’
‘Poor Tiggy. Don't let me push you into anything. Archie says I'm interfering.’
‘No,’ says Tiggy quickly. ‘Oh, no, it's not that. It's pure cowardice on my part. And, anyway, I've got to make some plans soon.’
‘Well, there's no rush. She can't let it until the middle of September because she's already booked up for the summer but she's willing for you to see it. Since you're a friend of mine, and I've said you'd be a reliable and trustworthy tenant, she's prepared to keep the rent reasonable. I can't see that it would do any harm just to look and, after all, you might hate it. I'll come and pick you up after lunch and we'll go and have a poke round this afternoon.’
Tiggy is filled with gratitude and affection. ‘You are so kind. I'd love that.’
* * *
Aunt Em opens the front door and goes in, calling out to Tiggy. The dogs come rushing to meet her and she stops to talk to them, bending to stroke Bella's head and giving the Turk a pat, before making her way to the kitchen. She breathes in the scent with delight, seeing the luteum in a blue jug on the kitchen table.
‘Heavenly, isn't it?’ she says to Tiggy, who comes quickly in, and stands for a moment in the doorway. Em holds out her arms for a hug: she knows that Tiggy will be feeling nervous about the proposed visit to the cottage in Padstow and Em, too, is filled with anxiety.
‘Do you think it might be the answer?’ she says earlier to Archie, who rustles his newspaper uneasily.
‘I'm not sure that you should interfere,’ he says at last. ‘I can't see why it shouldn't work but you mustn't interfere.’
‘I'm not interfering,’ she says, hurt. ‘I'm trying to help.’
‘Ah,’ says Archie wisely. ‘It's a very fine line between helping and interfering.’
‘I know that,’ she answers crossly. ‘It's also easier to do nothing but it doesn't get us very far.’
He smiles then. ‘It's worth investigating,’ he admits. ‘It could be just the thing. But we must let Tiggy decide for herself.’
‘Naturally,’ says Em, still nettled at being accused of interfering.
‘We all want to see her settled, obviously.’ He shakes his head, folding the paper and putting it aside. ‘Though how on earth she'll manage I can't imagine. Poor kid.’
Em is softened by his sympathy. ‘Between us we'll cope somehow,’ she says.
Now, looking at Tiggy's anxious face, Em smiles encouragingly. ‘There's no need to feel pressured,’ she tells her. ‘It's just a faint possibility. Anyway, it's a lovely day for a drive to Padstow.’
Her eye falls on a little bronze model of a young boy: the swirl of the tunic, the set of his shoulders, the chin thrusting forward – the whole design is one of movement. Em stretches out her hand towards him.
‘How beautiful,’ she says. ‘It reminds me of something. Is it yours?’
Tiggy nods. ‘It's Merlin as a little boy,’ she says, picking him up, offering him to Em. ‘I was polishing him up a bit. He belonged to my grandfather. He was a great collector and he was fascinated by the myths of Arthur and Merlin.’
‘It's the most perfect thing,’ says Em, turning it round, examining the detail. ‘And even the signature carved here at the base: “Vischer”. That reminds me of something but I can't think what. This little fellow is really delightful.