Part 26 (1/2)

'Oh? What are you writing?' She thought of all those emails he'd written to Felicity. Perhaps this was how he was coping with his grief. Putting it all down on paper.

'I'm trying my hand at poetry. But please don't say anything to Dominic; he would only belittle what I'm doing. In his view there's only room for one poet in the family, and he's it.'

Harriet had once attempted to read one of Dominic's so-called epic poems but had soon given up; she hadn't been able to make head nor tail of it. Felicity had tried to explain what it was about and had drawn Harriet's attention to the effectiveness of his syntax, as well as the symbols and allegories he'd used, but eventually her sister had admitted defeat and told Harriet that she was a philistine. 'I refuse to believe you can't hear the beauty of his language,' she'd said. 'The man's a genius.'

'What kind of poetry do you write?' Harriet asked Miles. Part of her wanted him to come right out and just say it - I'm writing about my love for Felicity. How much I adored her. How much I miss her. But the greater part of Harriet wasn't ready to have her hurt and disappointment further compounded by a confession. To be forced to listen to Miles opening his heart to her about Felicity was more than she could bear. She hated knowing that even in death, Felicity was always going to be the main attraction in her life. That those who had known her sister would always want to talk about Felicity in preference to her.

'Oh, you know, the usual thing,' he replied. 'Regret and lost opportunities.'

'And love? Surely that's a given. Every poet writes about that.' Stop it, she told herself. Back off before it's too late. Don't give him the chance to tell you you're nothing but a poor imitation of the woman he would have gladly ripped out his heart for.

He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and shot her a sideways glance - a nervous, guilty glance, she noted. 'Like you say, that's a given. But as Samuel Johnson wrote, ”Love is only one of many pa.s.sions.” It can appear in many guises. And when you least expect it.'

'I'll have to take your word on that,' she said coolly, and quickened her pace to catch up with the children.

'Can we let Toby off the lead now?' Carrie asked.

'Yes. But the usual rules apply - '

'We know,' they both chorused, 'don't go near the water!' They charged off whooping and yelling.

Miles laughed. 'They've got you totally sussed, haven't they?'

'They're much too smart for their own good. I can't think what they'll be like when they're teenagers. Completely uncontrollable knowing my luck.'

'Nonsense. They'll be great, and lots of fun. I know you won't believe me, but you really are turning out to be a great mother to them.'

'Not true. I can never be that. Felicity was their mother, and always will be. I'm merely the caretaker.'

'I think you underestimate yourself. And the children. They've become very fond of you.'

Reminded of what Dominic had said to her in Dublin - that the children relied on her and needed her - Harriet was brought up short by a bolt of self-pity. Very likely, because her situation made her as desirable as a bucket of fish eyes, the children's fondness for her would be the nearest she ever got to be being loved. Being relied upon isn't enough, she wanted to scream. Self-pity morphed into stinging bitterness and she set off at a ferocious pace, wanting to put as much distance as possible between herself and the man who had loved Felicity in a way she would never know.

But Miles was hot on her heels. He put a hand out to stop her. 'Harriet, what is it? What did I say?'

'The children,' she blurted out. 'We mustn't let them go on too far without us.' Then, hearing Toby give off a loud bark, she turned her head sharply. Further up the towpath, stooping to stroke Toby while chatting to the children, was Will Hart.

'Hi,' Will said when Harriet and her companion joined him and the children. He held out his hand to the other man, deciding on sight that if he was a rival for Harriet's affection, he'd have to shoot the good-looking young blood dead on the spot. 'I'm Will Hart, the Maple Drive neighbour from h.e.l.l.'

'Hi, I'm Miles.'

'Ah, one of the McKendrick boys; I've heard about you.'

'Really? From Harriet?'

'No, from Dora Gold. I think she knows everything about everyone in the road, which makes her fascinating company.' He smiled, first at Miles and then at Harriet, and began to feel he'd walked in on something. Something between the two of them. He checked out Harriet's body-language. If it was possible, she looked more agitated than usual, kicking at the leaves on the ground and looking anywhere but at Miles. He was disappointed to see she wasn't wearing her cute beret. 'Carrie tells me that you've found the coolest house ever?' he said.

She looked up at him. 'Yes, it's far better than I could have hoped for. I've made an offer on it already and I've arranged to see it again tomorrow with Mum and Dad.' Her face suddenly brightened and she smiled one of her rare smiles. 'Why don't you come with us? We could make a party of it.'

Surprised at the invitation, he said, 'Thanks, I'd like that. What time?'

'Seven. It'll be dark, so you won't see the location at its best, but you'll get the general idea. We won't be able to all squeeze into the one car, so - '

'No worries. I'll follow behind. I know my place.' He wondered if Miles was also included in the party.

'Oh, and before I forget,' she said. 'That Jools Holland concert you mentioned - remind me of the date again?'

Will was thrown. He thought he'd blown it the other night when he'd deliberately asked Harriet in front of Dora in the hope that she would be too embarra.s.sed to turn him down outright. When he'd returned home with no answer at all, he'd given up hope. But now here she was bringing the matter up of her own accord. What stupendous constellation of lucky stars had brought about this stroke of good fortune? He must remember to thank Jarvis for standing in for him so that he could have the afternoon off.

Chapter Forty-Two.

Will knew from Gemma that Suzie was bored and missing her friends from university. He couldn't do anything about the latter, but to give her something to think about other than ante-natal cla.s.ses, the benefits of breastfeeding and the understandable fear of giving birth, he had asked her to help out in the shop. Jarvis had said he thought it was an excellent idea. 'So long as there'll be no danger of a towels-and-hot-water situation arising,' he'd cautioned. 'I'm useless in a crisis.'

'Don't worry,' Will had said, 'she's got ages before the big day.'

'Do you think she might end up getting hooked on the business? I've a feeling you'd like that, wouldn't you? I can see the sign above the shop now: ”Hart and Daughter”.'

That was the thing about Jarvis; he saw the truth long before it hit most people right between the eyes. Will had never thought of it before, but the prospect of having one of his children on board was a pleasing one. It gave him a sense of pride. Was that why old man Stone had been so eager for Maxine to follow in his footsteps?

The more he thought about Suzie coming to work for him, the more ideal it seemed. Given that she would have such an understanding boss, she would be able to work the hours that would fit in around the baby. In the early phase, when the baby was sleeping like the proverbial baby, she could even bring it in. Obviously that would only be a short-term option, but it was certainly worth thinking about. However, in the long-term, to make a decent extra salary he'd have to find a way to up their turnover. She would have to accept that while she worked for him she would never be well off, but there were worse things that could happen to her.

He hadn't mentioned anything about this long-term option to Suzie - he didn't want to appear as if he was making decisions for her - but what he'd so far suggested was that she was more than welcome to help out in the shop if she wanted. He'd also offered her the chance to go round the salerooms with him. 'Any way to get out of the house would be fantastic, Dad,' she'd said.

So today, Monday morning, they were heading north on the M6 to attend an auction in Lancas.h.i.+re. 'You will say if you need to make a loo stop, won't you, Suzie?' he said. 'When your mother was pregnant she hated to be out of range of a loo. We once made half a dozen stops during a two-hour journey.'

'If I ask you to pull over it will be because I've got a mad desire for a Mars bar wrapped in cheese then battered and deep fried.'

'Stop the car!' Will groaned. 'I need to be sick.'

Suzie laughed. 'I heard a bloke on the radio saying it was his favourite meal, so I gave it a go. You should try it; it's bliss on a plate.'

'More like a heart attack on a plate.'

'Did Mum have any funny cravings?'

'A few. I remember stocking up on peanut b.u.t.ter when she was expecting Gemma. I'd made the mistake of a.s.suming she'd repeat the craving she had when she was pregnant with you, but she'd moved onto cheese and onion crisps. She used to eat them in bed when she couldn't sleep, washed down with a bottle of Dandelion and Burdock. Hasn't she told you any of this herself?'

Suzie turned away and looked out of the side window. 'I think she's hoping it might all go away if I don't discuss it with her.'

'I'm sure that's not true, Suzie.' But sadly, it probably was.

'We took Nana Ruby out for tea on Sat.u.r.day,' she said more cheerfully.

Aware that she'd abruptly changed the subject, Will said, 'I know, I spoke to her in the evening.'

'Nana told me she can't wait to be a great-grandmother.'