The Way We Were_ A Novel - Marcia Willett [79]
‘So you're Val,’ she'd said, as though she'd heard a great deal about her. ‘Great to meet you. What a set-up you have here.’ She'd laughed, making a little face. ‘A fun threesome. I'm impressed that you don't mind that these two were an item. That's really cool. I'd be afraid that they were getting up to allsorts of things when I couldn't see them. Old flames can cause a lot of trouble. Isn't that so, Liv?’
There had been no appropriate answer, only confusion and embarrassment. Cat had been delighted.
‘You're right,’ Chris had said grimly to Liv much later, after she'd gone. ‘She's bad news. Val's furious.’
Liv parked the car, glancing round the yard. From two of the cottages light streamed out but the other two were dark and two cars were missing: probably the visitors had gone out to supper. She'd just put her key in the latch when she heard footsteps behind her, caught the smell of Chris's cigarette.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Nice evening?’
‘I've been to welcome Mum back,’ she said; her heart was beating just too fast for comfort but her smile was friendly, nothing more. ‘It's a bit miz coming home to an empty place after a week with family so I stayed for supper.’ She paused, door open now. ‘Everything OK?’ Then, very casually, ‘Like some coffee?’
‘I've got a message from Val.’ He sounded rueful. ‘Debbie's phoned. Can't get in until lunchtime tomorrow. Val says could you open the shop in the morning?’
‘Sure. No problem.’
He hesitated and she waited. The silence stretching between them was far more eloquent than any words could have been.
‘Better take a rain check on that coffee. But thanks, Liv.’ His voice was regretful.
‘See you in the morning, then.’ Liv went inside and shut the door firmly.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
2004
Julia woke early the next morning. She rolled on to her back and lay for some moments, staring at the ceiling, thinking through the events of the previous day No revelation had been revealed to her at three o'clock, as Liv had foretold, but she felt too tired to pursue her anxiety: tired but not relaxed. Presently she got out of bed, pulled on a thin cotton dressing gown and went downstairs. Frobisher opened an eye and thumped his tail once or twice but showed no desire to rise. Julia pushed the kettle on to the hotplate, took a mug from the dresser and spooned in coffee and sugar. Yawning hugely she unlocked the back door and looked out into the early summer morning.
No wind stirred the soft, warm air; the sun had already risen high above Rough Tor. Julia made her coffee and, pushing her bare feet into gumboots, stepped out into the garden. She crossed the grass to stand beside the wall where she could look over the moor towards St Breward and, far beyond, to the white china clay pyramids behind St Austell. It was eerily quiet; no birds sang. On the slopes below Trescairn a group of skewbald ponies cropped the bleached grass where stunted gorse flowered amongst the scattered rocks.
Drinking her coffee, Julia allowed the peace and beauty to soothe her troubled spirit. She stood the empty mug carefully on the uneven stone wall, pushing her thick hair behind her ears as she bent to look at a small root of heather growing in the crevice, touching the tiny purplish-pink bell-like blossoms. Frobisher came out to find her, sniffing along the base of the wall where, earlier, a fox had passed. He disappeared into the dense shadow of the rhododendrons, and Julia picked up her mug but remained leaning against the wall, unwilling to relinquish this moment of tranquillity, remembering.
1977
A baby is crying: a thin, high wail that pierces the fog of sleep and brings Julia fully awake. She lies for a moment, with eyes closed tightly against the coming day, curled into Pete's comfortingly warm but unyielding back. As the months have passed she's grown more adept at blocking the unhappy memories that assail her awakening and, anyway,