Part 21 (1/2)
She didn't know how she was going to tell her family that Jean-Paul had gone. She decided to tell them that he had gone home to see his mother. That way, if he changed his mind, he could always come back. How she hoped that he would change his mind. She told the children at teatime, hiding her face in the tomato and basil sauce she was cooking for their spaghetti. They gave it a moment of their attention before returning to more important things like building a camp under the refectory table in the hall. Ava stared into the saucepan, holding back her tears. They would never know the sacrifice she had made for them.
Ava had made a cheese souffle and roasted a pheasant in order to take her mind off Jean-Paul's departure. The children had played in the hall with the dogs, diving in and out of their camp, pulling the books off the table in their exuberance. Ava cooked to the sound of the radio, but the country songs she liked just made her cry, so she tuned into Radio Four and listened to a short story instead. When Phillip returned for dinner, the children were in bed. Ava handed him a gla.s.s of red wine warmed by the Aga and kissed him. Seeing his smiling face in the doorway confirmed that her sacrifice had been worth it. What sort of woman would she be if she left him and the children and ran off to France?
However, the fact that she had made the right decision didn't make it any easier to bear. She tried to pick the right moment to tell her husband: it was vital that she showed no emotion. Tears, blus.h.i.+ng, wobbling lower lip and chin would only give her away. She had never been very good at acting. In her school days she had always been given the least responsible parts, like janitor, cook or ”member of crowd scene.” Now she was required to give an award-winning performance, but she was insufficiently talented to pull it off. So instead of telling him at the table she decided to toss the news to him while she was bent over the dishwasher, stacking the souffle plates.
”Darling, Jean-Paul has gone home for a break, to see his mother.” She closed her eyes at the mention of his name and squeezed back tears. Her throat constricted and her face reddened. She stood up and faced the window where her miserable reflection stared back at her from the gla.s.s.
”Good” was his reply. ”You know, I've been thinking about your holiday idea.”
”Oh?”
”Yes, I think we both deserve a break. Do you think your mother could come and look after the children?”
”Well, I was thinking perhaps Toddy would take them.”
”No, she's got too much on her own plate to take on our three.” Finally, it was safe to turn around. She took the pheasant out of the oven and lifted the lids off the vegetables.
”I'm sure Mummy would love it, and the children adore Heinz,” she replied, relieved as she felt the shame drain from her face. ”We could ask Mrs. Marley to cook, that way she won't have to worry about food. I'll get Toddy to keep an eye. Maybe she could take the boys off Mummy's hands a little and have them for a couple of afternoons.”
”Splendid.”
”When were you thinking of going?” They served themselves and sat down.
”The end of May. The children will be at school all day so Verity won't have to do much more than get them up in the mornings and pick them up after school and put them to bed. I think a week would do.”
Ava pulled a face. She didn't like to leave the children. ”You don't think that's too long?”
”Seven days? No, you need a proper rest.”
”Make it five, darling. I'll get twitchy after that and they'll miss us. Why not leave on a Monday and return on a Friday, that way we're back for the weekend.”
”It's up to you.”
”Yes, that's better. Five days. Where shall we go?”
”Leave it to me. Tuscany perhaps, or somewhere in Spain. I'll think about it.”
”Thank you,” she said, sighing heavily.
”Are you all right, Shrub? You don't look happy.” He took her hand across the table and studied her face. ”You don't look happy at all.”
”Oh, I'm fine,” she said brightly.
”You're still thinking about having another baby, aren't you?”
”It's on my mind, yes.”
”It's worrying you.”
”It's a big decision.”
”Very big. You've got plenty of time to decide. Don't let it make you miserable. If you really want another child, Shrub, I'll do my best to comply. You know I can't deny you anything. It should give you joy, not make you sad.”
”I know. I'm just not sure I'm doing it for the right reasons.”
”We have three beautiful children who give us tremendous pleasure.”
”I know.”
”Think about it on holiday. The suns.h.i.+ne and rest will do you the power of good and put life into perspective. Now, give me a smile, darling. You've made a feast. I raise my gla.s.s to you. You're a wonderful woman, Ava.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. ”And you're my Shrub.” Ava was stunned. That was a gesture unique to Jean-Paul. Phillip had never kissed her hand before. She felt her cheeks burn and the overwhelming desire to cry. ”Darling, you look like you're about to burst into tears.”
”You're so good to me,” she said, unable to hold back anymore. Phillip chuckled, a.s.suming her tears were inspired by his loving rea.s.surance.
”You deserve nothing less.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ”When I married you, you were a girl. You've grown into a woman I am so proud of. You're beautiful, intelligent, interested in everything, but, above all, unique. There's not a person in the world who resembles you in any way. I'm the luckiest man in the world to have found you.”
”You're making me cry,” she said, grateful for the excuse.
”Cry all you like, Shrub, darling,” he said gently and kissed her hand again.
XXIII.
First bees and insects on the flowers of the ivy on top of the wall. Lavender crocuses appearing in the gra.s.s.
Ava expected Jean-Paul to come back. The place was so empty without him it seemed inconceivable that he would not return to fill it. He belonged there now as much as the dovecote and the hollow tree, and his absence upset the harmony of the garden. Like a homing pigeon she made her way to the cottage, hoping that she would see the lights on and smell the smoke wafting out of the chimney; but it was cold and empty and unwelcoming. She stood on the stone bridge and leaned over, gazing at the hypnotic flow of water below. The breeze was warm and sugar scented, caressing her skin like soft fingers. The bushes and trees rang out with the song of birds. Above them all sang the skylark, its voice brave and clear and unwavering. Little violets opened their purple faces in the sun and white periwinkle trailed its wreaths along the riverbank.
She wandered through the gardens in a daze, allowing her melancholy to possess her like a malady. She lingered amidst the sweet smells of daphne odora and viburnum, drawing them in through her nostrils, antic.i.p.ating the ecstatic soaring of her spirits, but nothing came. Her sorrow was heavy like stone.
Finally, she climbed into the car and drove to Toddy's, a rambling old farmhouse nestled in the valley five miles up the road. She turned into the drive, not noticing the pink cherry blossom fluttering in the suns.h.i.+ne like cl.u.s.ters of little b.u.t.terflies. She parked her car outside the house and walked around to the back where Toddy was busy in the stables with her horses. When she saw Ava she waved heartily. Ava returned her wave with a forced smile.
”What a pleasant surprise first thing in the morning!” Toddy exclaimed, emerging from one of the stables in riding boots and jodhpurs that clung to her legs like a second skin. ”Are you all right? You look frightfully pale.”
”I'm fine, just a bit down,” Ava conceded. There was no point pretending.
”Anything specific?”
Ava shrugged and took a deep breath. ”I'm just tired,” she replied, thrusting her hands into the pockets of the long stripy coat she wore over jeans. ”Phillip's gone off to London. I barely see him these days. He's so engrossed in his book.”
”Men! At least he's got an interesting job, unlike Ben who can't even mention his business without my eyelids drooping. Of all the men in the world, I have to marry an accountant!”
”Keeps you on the straight and narrow!”
”I've learned to be devious over the years, trust me. Come inside. I could do with another cup of coffee. You look like you could do with something stronger.”
Lying on a beanbag in the middle of the kitchen table was Mr. Frisby. ”He's been unwell,” Toddy informed her, running a hand over the sleeping animal's back. ”Nothing serious, just a cold. Must have caught it from the twins. Earl Grey or bog-standard builders' tea?”
”Earl Grey,” Ava replied, sinking into the armchair. The kitchen smelled of coffee and toasted currant buns. Toddy clattered about taking cups from the cupboard and fis.h.i.+ng two spoons out of the dishwasher she hadn't bothered to unload.