Moving On (2011) Page 8

  ‘No! You never said! Are you clear now?’

  ‘Yes. Three years since treatment finished and counting towards the magic five. But cancer changes you, makes you realize what’s important.’ She fixed Molly with a steady gaze that made her look like their grandmother. ‘I’ll be up front about it: I wasn’t upset when you and Craig split up. I’d been expecting it for a while. I think you’ll do better on your own.’

  ‘Everyone had been expecting it – except me. They say the wife is always the last to know.’ Molly shrugged. ‘It’s taken me a while to get used to it.’

  ‘Why have you decided to leave your old home? I thought you loved it? We had some great times when my parents brought me to visit. I thought you’d get a job nearby, meet someone else – you’re definitely the marrying sort – and make a new life.’

  Molly explained about the difficulty of selling the house and her cousin was suitably sympathetic. ‘It must be Craig behind it. Who else could it be?’

  ‘Try telling that to people. Everyone except Jane next door thinks I’m crazy.’

  By the time Les came home from work, they’d had their first glass of wine and were deep in reminiscences. He gave Molly a hug, then ran upstairs to change and was out of the house within quarter of an hour.

  She was definitely tiddly by the time she went to bed, but she hadn’t laughed as much for years and that felt good.

  Stuart Benton helped the two men carry the cartons and miscellaneous smaller possessions into the house, then stood for a moment in the conservatory. He really liked the feel of this house, which was much larger than his parents’ home next door, though of the same era: Edwardian.

  Wendy came out from the nearby kitchen to join him. ‘She’s left the whole place immaculate. What a great house this is!’

  He pulled her to him for a quick kiss and grinned down at her. ‘Told you I’d find us somewhere nice.’

  ‘I thought it was your mother who found it.’

  ‘Same difference.’

  Her face grew sombre. ‘How bad is your father?’

  ‘That’s one of the things I want to find out. They’re both being very cagey about it, but he’s looking . . . fragile. And she’s looking sad. I can understand them not wanting to broadcast the fact that he’s got cancer, but I’m their eldest child, their only son. Surely they can tell me what’s going to happen? Surely there’s something you and I can do to help Mum?’

  ‘Just being here will help them, I should think.’

  ‘I hope so. Now remember, pretend we don’t know what we’ll be doing next year.’

  ‘You’ll have to tell people eventually.’

  ‘I’m not sure I will. It may be helpful for the company to have an invisible partner, given that it’s dealing in big security projects, at least while we’re setting things up and can’t afford to hire a lot of staff.’

  ‘You could just retire, you know. We could afford to do that on your army pension.’

  He made a scornful noise in his throat. ‘I’d go mad with nothing to do but play golf. I can’t see myself ever wanting to retire completely.’

  ‘Well, don’t ask me to work with you. I’m going to do my own thing too from now on.’

  He plonked a kiss on her cheek and stepped back. ‘I know. Go for it. Do whatever it takes to get your creations off the ground. You’ve supported me for long enough.’ He looked beyond her. ‘Mum! Come to have a good old nose round?’

  Jane joined them, smiling. ‘Of course I have. I’m also curious about that big gate. Was it really necessary?’

  ‘You can’t be too careful in my business. And before you ask, I paid for it, not Molly. We do have a year’s lease here, after all.’

  ‘Well, you know your own business best. Now, show me round. I never got beyond the kitchen and sitting room, hardly even that when Craig was living here. He didn’t encourage poor Molly to waste time gossiping with the neighbours. She came across for a coffee with me usually.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘Don’t get me started. Arrogant, selfish, treated his wife like a doormat. Denis can’t abide him.’

  ‘And now he’s trying to stop her selling the house to anyone else.’

  ‘Seems like it. Nothing can be proved, of course, but I’ve seen him drive past a couple of times and this road isn’t a short cut to anywhere, so he’d certainly not be passing by chance. I note it down now every time I see him pass. He’s definitely keeping an eye on the place, and why would he want to do that when he’s got married again and is living several miles away?’

  ‘Let him keep an eye on it, Mum. By tomorrow, I’ll be keeping an eye on whoever drives past. And with that personalized number plate of his, I can set my new electronic toy to keep a watch for him.’

  ‘You and your toys!’

  He smiled. ‘Given the vandalism, no one should question my need to use it here. Maybe I’ll have a word with the local police as well. You did say Molly reported the crimes to them?’

  ‘She did, but they weren’t major crimes, and there wasn’t much to go on, so they more or less shrugged it off by saying they’d drive past occasionally. We’ll have the whole world driving past at this rate!’

  ‘There’ll be more and more need for people to take personal security precautions like these, I think. And talking of that, Mum, I’m going to be fitting some up on your place while I do it to this house, and you really should get double glazing put in.’

  She pulled a face. ‘I don’t see the need. We’ve nothing worth stealing. And I like my old-fashioned windows. Leave it be, Stuart. No one’s targeting me.’

  ‘You never know. Besides, even having a security system puts some people off.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘And Dad’s not exactly fit to tackle intruders, is he?’

  Her face grew sad. ‘No.’

  He put an arm round her and gave her a big hug. ‘Want to talk about it?’

  ‘Not really. It’s terminal and untreatable. I’m glad you’re going to be close by. This is one time when I’ll come to you for help if I need it – though Denis and I have organized everything as well as we can.’

  ‘How long has he got?’

  As she bent her head, he saw a tear roll down her cheek, so he waited.

  ‘Up to six months. They’re not sure.’

  Stuart sucked in breath and gave her another hug.

  The following day Craig couldn’t resist driving past the house again. He was wondering which window to have broken next, maybe the other hall window. No, not that one. He wished now that he hadn’t arranged for the hall window to be broken, as it was a valuable feature. But needs must break a few eggs when dealing with someone as stupid and stubborn as his ex.

  He stopped the car further down the street to make sure she wasn’t out in the garden. He had every right to drive wherever he wanted, but still, it was better not to be too much in her face. Though he could always tell people he was doing it because he missed his old home dreadfully. And he did miss the prestige of living on Lavengro Road, not to mention resenting that a stupid bitch like her had the house.

  From the end of the street he could see a man strolling round the front garden, a bald chap who looked as if he pressed weights or something. He looked vaguely familiar, but Craig couldn’t place him. Had she got herself a lover, then? No, not Mrs Meek and Mild. Who’d want a fat sow like her?

  And it looked as if she’d put some sort of gate across the drive. It was open now, so he couldn’t see it clearly. What a stupid bitch she was, spending money on that sort of thing! She should just have cut her losses and got out.

  Stuart went out to examine the creeper that covered part of the front wall. It was pretty but he’d have to trim this part to give a clear vantage point for his new electronic device. He automatically glanced up and down the street and saw a car parked there, a BMW with that number plate. He immediately glanced away and strolled back into the house, then ran up the stairs and went to the landing window, where he’d left a pair of bin
oculars.

  It was Craig Taylor’s car, no doubt about that: a showy silver BMW with a personalized number plate. And although the windows were tinted, they weren’t dark enough to hide the person driving it, not when Stuart was wearing his special glasses.

  ‘Well, well, Mr Taylor,’ he muttered. ‘You can’t keep away, can you? Stupid, that.’

  He would, he decided, wait until after dark to set up his surveillance equipment. No need to advertise what he was doing.

  He watched the car start to move slowly forward and stop for a few minutes outside the house, so that the driver could look directly into the garden. Bad security, that, to have such an open entrance. If this was his house, he’d put up a visual barrier or two. He might do that anyway. He was sure Molly wouldn’t mind. A decorative wooden fence could be put up quite cheaply and could hide all sorts of other devices, if necessary.

  He waited till the car had driven away then, whistling cheerfully, he went out to buy the bits and pieces he needed for this house and his mother’s from a very discreet shop he loved visiting.

  On Saturday morning the two women went shopping and Helen bought a new skirt, while Molly couldn’t resist a novel by her favourite author. It felt good to dawdle around town, chatting, stopping for a coffee.

  After an equally leisurely lunch, they drove to the hotel where the reunion was to be held, a smallish place in Wiltshire with very friendly staff. The view from Molly’s room was over the golf course to one side. People of all ages were earnestly hitting balls or waiting patiently for their turn to start playing. Craig had played golf, not for love of the game, but because it was a good way to make contacts. She’d never been attracted to it.

  Looking to the other side, she could see some building work going on down the slope from the hotel and wondered what it was. It looked like a residential development. So close to a golf course? That surprised her.

  After she’d unpacked what she needed, she looked in the folder of information provided for guests and found a brochure detailing the leisure village that was being built next to the golf course. It sounded a great idea, offering a community lifestyle rather than just a dwelling. She’d heard of such places but never visited one.

  She went back to stand by the window, loving the view. That had been the one thing her old home was missing, a view. She could see sunlight glinting on water in the distance. Plans of the new development showed a few tiny lakes dotted about. There were mature trees and sweeps of grass between the houses and the golf course. This place didn’t look as if it was being developed by eco-vandals.

  It might be a good idea to look for a similar place for herself once she’d sold her house, if not here then elsewhere. She didn’t fancy living in isolation. The big old house had felt very lonely for the past few months, with Brian and Rachel home so rarely.

  After finding out the opening hours from the brochure, she decided to go and look at the show houses before she left the following day, to get some idea of what might be available if— no, when she sold her old home. She had to keep reminding herself to think positively!

  Then she forgot about her future as she went down to the room set aside for the Peel family reunion, and was immediately surrounded by relatives exchanging reminiscences. Those people she didn’t know were happy to meet ‘Patsy’s lass’, and those she did know were eager to catch up with her news and share theirs.

  She wouldn’t neglect her extended family again, she decided. They’d asked about her children. To her shame, she’d never introduced Brian or Rachel to any of them except Helen. Craig had kept her so busy supporting his career, and had arranged for the children to do after-school activities which would enable them to meet the right sort of people.

  Why had she let him take over her life like that? She’d read books about abused wives after he left her, and while he’d never hit her, he’d controlled her in an unconscionable way, which amounted to the same thing.

  She suddenly felt extremely weary, so she waved to Helen, who was still talking earnestly in one corner, mimed a yawn and slipped out of the function room.

  As she walked across the semicircular reception area, a burly young man in a dark suit sitting behind the desk smiled and nodded to her. When she turned the corner to the lifts, she bumped into another man coming from a side passage. ‘Oops, sorry.’

  ‘My fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

  He moved on, glancing back with a slight frown as if he thought he’d recognized her, then shaking his head as if to banish the idea.

  She watched him go. He was attractive, about her own age, in fact; one of the most attractive men she’d seen for ages. Dark hair, greying at the temples, trim body, very elegant suit with a tie that was awry and made her itch to straighten it. But he looked tired. Did he work here? She definitely hadn’t met him before, but she felt as if she knew him. She wished she did.

  Smiling, she got into the lift. How long was it since she’d even looked at a man in that way, let alone fancied one?

  It felt good, a sign of the new Molly.

  Six

  The following morning Molly met some of her relatives for a leisurely buffet breakfast, then said goodbye to her cousin Helen. She refused a warm invitation to stay with them for another few days but promised faithfully to keep in touch, giving Helen her new mobile number.

  It was, she felt, important to be independent right from the start of this trip, even though she was nervous and uncertain about what she would do next.

  She was supposed to book out of the hotel, but suddenly changed her mind and decided to stay for another day, possibly longer. It would be a useful centre for her search; it was such a lovely part of England, with lush, rolling countryside and picturesque villages. She’d forgotten just how beautiful Wiltshire was.

  Why not look for a job near here?

  The receptionist changed her booking, but said she could only have the room for another two nights because the hotel was completely booked out for a big wedding. She pointed out the rack of tourist brochures and Molly selected a handful. But she already knew what she wanted to do first: go and look at the show houses. She’d peered down the hill at them several times from her window, liking the style; feeling they were modern and yet classical in their symmetry and balance.

  Since the show houses weren’t open for another half-hour, she decided to lie on the bed and relax with her new book.

  She woke an hour later, amazed at herself, because she didn’t normally sleep at all during the day. She stretched lazily, feeling better than she had for ages, then strolled down the hill to the sales office. The man she’d bumped into near the lift the previous night was sitting behind the desk, speaking earnestly to a fit, tanned couple, who were in their sixties at a guess. A younger couple was looking at the photos and floor plans on the wall and even as Molly watched, they glanced impatiently towards him.

  A sign on his desk said Euan Santiago. He looked up with a professional smile of welcome, while listening to the woman. He nodded and turned to Molly. ‘Would you like to—’

  ‘I’ve just come from the—’ she began at the same time and they both stopped with a smile.

  ‘Oh, thank goodness!’ he exclaimed. ‘The agency said they might not find anyone, but if ever I needed help, it’s today. If you’ll just wait at the other desk for a few minutes, I’ll explain the set-up and you can start straight away. Give brochures to anyone who comes in.’

  She opened her mouth to protest that he was mistaking her for someone else, then closed it again. He looked frazzled, and she had plenty of time to spare. No harm in helping a fellow human being, especially one so attractive.

  He finished dealing with the first couple and moved across to the others, who were looking rather impatient now.

  Just then the phone rang and after a moment’s hesitation, she put out her hand as if to pick it up and looked at him questioningly. When he nodded and pointed to a name on the wall, she smiled to show her understanding. Picking up the p
hone, she said calmly, ‘Marlbury Leisure Village. May I help you?’

  ‘Is Euan there?’ a woman’s voice asked.

  ‘Who’s speaking, please?’

  ‘His secretary. I gather he’s busy?’

  ‘Yes. Look, I’m new here. Your name would be . . . ?’

  ‘Avril Buttermere. Could you ask him to ring me at home when convenient? I’ll be here all day.’

  ‘Certainly. And your number is . . . ?’

  ‘He knows it, but you’re right to ask.’ She reeled it off.

  Molly put the phone down then sat listening with interest as he explained about the development, before sending the couple off to view the show houses on their own.

  He turned to her. ‘Thanks for jumping in. I’m Euan Santiago, by the way.’

  ‘Molly Peel. And before I forget, your secretary wants you to ring her at home when convenient. I have the number.’

  ‘Avril? No worries. I know her number by heart.’ He grinned and perched on the edge of his desk, looking suddenly like a schoolboy dressing up as an older man. ‘I can’t tell you how glad I was to see you. The agency have earned their money today, I can tell you.’

  ‘I’m not from the agency.’

  He looked at her in shock. ‘Ah. Sorry for the mistake and thanks for your help.’

  She took a deep breath, reminding herself to be brave. ‘But I am looking for a job, so if you’re short of staff, even temporarily . . .’

  ‘Are you, now?’ He gave her an assessing gaze. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

  She’d written out a summary and learned it off by heart, at Nikki’s suggestion, so that she wouldn’t fumble for words when she needed to make a good impression. Taking a deep breath, she launched into her spiel. ‘I’m recently divorced and looking for work. I originally trained as a secretary but haven’t been in the workforce for years. However, I’ve been acting as unofficial secretary and organizer for my hus— my ex-husband, who was a high-powered executive for many years. I know my way around a computer, am used to dealing with people of all sorts, I’m a good organizer and can whip up a dinner party for twelve at the drop of a hat. I’m—’