The Way We Were_ A Novel - Marcia Willett [53]
‘I liked it,’ she says. ‘I think it might work.’
‘Splendid.’ Archie picks up the tea-tray and carries it out into the courtyard. Em follows with the teapot.
‘This is so different from Trescairn.’ Tiggy sits down on a little wrought-iron chair and looks around her. Brightly coloured flowers tumble and trail from terracotta pots and valerian clings to niches in the surrounding wall. It is hot and sheltered here, the flagstones warm beneath their feet. ‘Don't you miss the space after Trescairn?’
‘No,’ says Aunt Em firmly. ‘I do not. Nor do I miss the endless wind, the mists, the draughts and the dispiriting fact that hardly anything would grow in such inhospitable conditions.’
Uncle Archie grins at Tiggy. ‘Does that answer your question?’
‘Very definitely.’ Tiggy grins too. ‘What about you?’
‘Well, I'm rather fond of the old place but I could see Em's point. When my tenant here died we thought it was an excellent moment to make a change. And Pete and Julia were looking for something bigger. Worked out splendidly, hasn't it, Em?’
‘Splendidly’ agrees Em rather drily. ‘Though I had no idea how busy village life could be.’
Archie takes his tea from her and winks at Tiggy. ‘I neglect her,’ he says. ‘It's terrible.’
‘That's why he hopes you like the cottage,’ says Em, passing Tiggy her cup. ‘He thinks you'll distract me and I'll be too busy to keep on nagging him to stay at home more.’
Tiggy remembers what Aunt Em said earlier, about sharing in her life, and smiles.
‘Well, he could be right,’ she says.
2004
Em put the tea-things on the draining board. It was odd that she should remember the little incident; strange that scent could be so powerfully evocative.
But after all, she reminded herself, it was hardly surprising that she should be thinking about Tiggy just now, when Caroline was expecting Zack's baby: Tiggy's grandchild, incredible though that was to believe. It seemed an impossible idea simply because Tiggy had not remained to grow old like the rest of them. Em knew that in her mind's eye Tiggy would always be young, hardly more than a child herself, just as she'd been on that May morning twenty-eight years before in the kitchen at Trescairn.
The scent of the luteum was all around her and Em, once again, saw Tiggy's anxious expression and the delightful figure of the little Merlin. Now, stacking the plates on the draining board, emptying the teapot, putting the remaining scones into a tin, Em racked her memory. There had been something familiar about the bronze – and whose signature was it that had been carved into its base?
The raucous ring of the telephone sliced across the tenuous link with the past and Em put the incident out of her mind, wiped her hands, and went to answer it.
CHAPTER NINE
2004
Back at Penharrow, Liv helped Debs to pack away the shopping and then went into the office. Chris sat at his desk, looking preoccupied. She murmured ‘Hi’, and sat down at her own computer, not wanting to distract him. She had some new photographs to add to the website but she checked emails first: two new bookings and a nice message from a recent visitor who wanted to return in the autumn. Liv checked the diary, made notes, answered the emails. She wondered if Val had managed the laundry and done the ironing, and glanced across at Chris to see if she might ask him.
He was watching her with an expression that jolted her heart and sent the blood racing into her cheeks. Immediately he dropped his gaze to the computer screen, pretending to be absorbed, whilst Liv regained her composure.
‘Do you know if Val got the ironing done?’ she asked. Her voice sounded normal; that was good. ‘Don't want to interrupt you or anything but I can get on with it now if she didn't.’
He pursed his lips, shook his head, keeping his eyes on his screen. ‘I really don't know. She had a headache at teatime but I've been here ever since then.’
Liv got up. ‘I'll go and see.’ She went out into the yard, her heart still beating unevenly, but she didn't go into the house; she couldn't face Val just yet.