There was a woman standing in the street below, a tall, thin, blonde woman, dressed in a long black coat. She was staring up at the living room window. My eyes caught hers and I gasped in fright. The expression on her face was unreadable but, even at this distance, I could sense a concentration of emotion; some kind of fixed energy pulsing through her, concentrating her gaze. It occurred to me that I was still dreaming. I closed my eyes for a long moment, afraid to move. When I opened them again, she was gone. The street was empty. I felt light-headed again and clutched at my cool glass. For a mad second, I contemplated running downstairs and out into the street, to see if I could catch a glimpse of her; that blonde hair, that burning gaze, the enveloping black coat. No. I put my glass down on the windowsill and made my way back to bed. I lay under the covers, against Matt’s warm, sleeping side, my eyes wide, unwillingly awake.
Chapter Four
I took Becca to Caernaven with me once. Just once. It was the only time I'd invited a friend back there. I don't know why, but the person I was in London was not the person I was in Cumbria and I could never seem to reconcile the two. But Becca was different - we'd known each other for long enough for that not to matter. At least, not to matter much.
Some of it was Angus as well. It wasn't that he was rude, exactly, it was just that he didn't treat people the way I wanted him to. Some small childish part of me wanted him to be a dad, a proper dad; tweedy and avuncular, paunchy, eyes twinkling benignly from behind his glasses. A pipe-smoker, a cheek-pincher, a winker. No matter that he didn't actually wear glasses and wouldn't have dreamt of wearing tweed. In reality, he was tall, broad-shouldered; he kept his steel-grey hair cut savagely short; he smoked cigarettes and no lightweight versions either: Marlboro Reds. He veered between being curt and abrupt, or completely charming, depending on who he was talking to. Once I moved away from home, I seemed to lose the ability to read his moods – on my visits back, I got it wrong all the time; being skittish and cheeky when I should have been grave, solemn when I should have been light-hearted. I found myself embarrassing then, so how must he have felt? No, it was better to be by myself when I went back, less painful all round.
But Becca was a bit different. For a start, she was one of the least judgmental people I’d ever met – it was a big part of the reason I liked her so much. Supremely self-confident, she assumed everyone else had the same breezy attitude to life and all its challenges as she did. I knew she’d cope effortlessly with whatever mood Angus was in, and this helped me feel more relaxed myself. It was so simple when I looked at it in these dispassionate terms; I don’t know why it was so hard to carry it out in practice.
In keeping with this theory, I’d brought a couple of bottles of wine with me on the train, which Becca was keen to help me demolish. I’d never enjoyed the journey so much before; the two of us swigging wine and eating peanuts, swapping stories and giggling. I arranged for us to get a taxi from the station, so I knew there would be no awkward journey home with Angus. We’d arrive at dinner time, which would mean we’d all have something to do other than talk. It was all going to be fine, I told myself as I sloshed the last of the first bottle into our glasses.
“Bloody hell,” said Becca several hours later, as the taxi pulled up in front of the house. “It’s huge. You never told me it was going to be so big.”
I was pierced by the memory of Jessica's reaction on first seeing Caernaven. It made me struggle for words but, after a second, I managed to make some flippant comment. I paid the taxi driver and we clambered out, retrieving our cases from the boot.
Becca stood for a moment, taking in the monolith that was the front of the house, then turning to survey the view.
"Lovely spot," she said. "And you grew up here, you lucky thing. I grew up in Croydon, for God's sake. There's no comparison."
"Oh well," I said, rather awkwardly. I never knew what to say when people said things like that. "Let's go inside and get a drink."
Angus opened the front door as I put my hand out towards the handle.
"Angus, this is Becca, my friend. Rebecca, I mean."
“Pleased to meet you,” said Becca. He gave her a look I couldn’t decipher but shook her hand and smiled.
“Welcome, Rebecca. How was your journey?”
He put a hand on the small of her back, steering her through the front door. I gathered up as many bags as I could and struggled after them. Becca had stopped in the middle of the hallway and was exclaiming over the staircase.
“I’ll just dump these here,” I panted and let most of the bags fall with a thump. "I'll take you up to your room later." I turned to Angus. "I thought Becca could go in the Blue Room?"
He was already walking away and waved a hand at me.
"I'm sure that’s fine. Come and join us for a drink when you're ready."
Us? I stopped lugging Becca's suitcase across the floor.
"You alright?" said Becca.
I immediately put a smile back on my face. "No problem. Sorry about Ang - my father - he's sometimes a bit preoccupied. Don't take it personally."
"I hadn't," said Becca. "Taken what?"
I shrugged and rolled my eyes. "Oh nothing," I said. "Forget it. Let's go and get a drink, shall we?"
We made our way to the drawing room, Becca exclaiming all the while about the house, the antiques, the art and the sculptures. "So beautiful," she kept saying, lingering at one thing or the other until I virtually had to push her through the door of the room. I was sniggering under my breath at our childishness and it took me a few moments to notice that Angus was indeed not alone. Sitting very close to him on one of the couches was a young woman, almost as young as I was, with a cloud of soft brown hair and a very red mouth.
"Oh," I said, nonplussed. Then I collected myself. "Hello."
"This is Theresa," said Angus. He got up from beside the girl and moved towards the drinks cabinet. "Teresa, this is my daughter, Maudie, and her friend, Rebecca."
We all shook hands and there was a moment's awkward silence, then Becca stepped into the breach.
"How do you know Angus?" she asked.
Carnally, was my guess. I’d been wondering recently whether he had some new woman on the go – when something like this was starting up he became even more distant, and I’d noticed his usual phone calls to me had become even more sporadic. Theresa looked a little uncomfortable. I wondered whether she'd been told we were coming.
"I'm a teacher at Katherine College," she said. Becca and I made encouraging noises but she didn't seem to have much more to say. Angus brought us over some drinks.
“How long have you been teaching?” asked Becca.
“Not long,” said Theresa. “This is my first job.”
“What a surprise,” I murmured. I must have said it a little too loudly as she glared at me.
"Theresa will be joining us for dinner," said Angus. He put a hand on her waist, just a little too close to her backside. I had to look away. "We'll sit down at seven."
"Will we be dressing for dinner?" said Becca, grinning. I began to smile and then saw Angus's face. He didn't get it. He gave me a look.
“That would be lovely, Rebecca,” he said. “But I’m sure what you’re wearing would be quite adequate.”
I snorted and got another look. Teresa was looking out of the window, or at least towards the window. I didn’t think she was thinking of anything much.
The silence stretched out uncomfortably.
“Well, I’d better show Becca to her room,” I said eventually. Angus nodded and we were dismissed. I’m not sure Teresa noticed we were going.
Becca and I both hefted a case and headed for the stairs.