Lizzie Marshall's Wedding (18 page)

Despite the fact that Max had seen her completely naked more than once, she blushed at the thought of him undressing her and also at the thought of his mother knowing he had. Unless, of course, it had been Margaret, which Becky somehow doubted.

She dressed and made her way down to the kitchen where she found Lily sitting at the table, on Max’s lap, buttering toast. Margaret was sitting next to them and Victoria was making a pot of tea.

‘Good morning,’ Margaret said, smiling apologetically at Becky ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Very well thank you.’ Becky hadn’t forgiven her yet but she had no intention of being rude.

‘Morning. You gave us quite a scare last night, my dear. Poor Max was beside himself with worry. It’s good to see you looking so perky. Did I hear correctly? That used to be your room when you lived here,’ Victoria said.

‘Yes. Yes it did. Good morning.’

‘Come and sit down and have a cup of coffee, or tea, if you prefer. Victoria’s just made a fresh pot. Max and Lily are making you breakfast; aren’t you dears?’ Margaret pulled out a chair next to her.

Max grinned up at Becky. ‘So far, you seem to be having a lot of butter and a little bit of toast.’

Becky smiled then walked towards the chair Margaret had offered her, and sat down.

‘I know I owe you an explanation and I will tell you but I think it’s best to save that until ...’ Margaret glanced towards Lily.

Becky nodded and took the mug of coffee Max passed her.

‘Won’t you tell us about your life here and how you came to leave?’ Victoria said, ‘We’d all like to hear about it. I remember hearing that there were some magnificent parties and I actually came to one of the summer fetes, oh, it must have been over twenty years ago. It was quite something.’

Becky nodded. ‘Yes. They were. Are you sure you want to hear about it?’

She glanced towards Margaret, who stretched out her hand and squeezed Becky’s free one.

‘Yes dear, we are.’

Becky gave a deep sigh. ‘Well ... Firstly, I’m not actually a Beckleston; not by blood anyway.’ She saw the looks passing between Margaret, Victoria and Max, just as they had last night but ignored them and continued. ‘I can’t remember my real father; he abandoned my mother and me, so my mother brought us to live in the village when I was about Lily’s age. She met Horace Beckleston and they fell in love, despite their considerable age difference – she was twenty-four, he was fifty-nine – and they married within about a month of meeting. It seems he had led a rather reclusive life but he changed completely when they met.’

‘Yes. I remember that. He had almost locked himself up like a hermit. Perhaps he had a guilty conscience,’ Victoria said waspishly.

Again the looks. This time Becky didn’t ignore them. ‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on here and maybe when you say what you have to, I’ll understand Margaret, but I can’t help feeling you know something unpleasant about my father – Horace, I mean and I find that really hard to accept. He was one of the nicest, kindest men I have ever met. He loved both my mother and me completely and showed us nothing but love, devotion and gentleness from the first day we met until the day he ... died.’

‘I’m sorry dear. You’re right though, my story does involve Horace but we’ll try to keep our opinions to ourselves. Please continue.’

‘Okay.’ Becky licked her lips. Talking about her life was stirring old memories and not all of them were happy. ‘Well, suffice to say, I led a charmed life from the day they married. There were parties and dances, summer fetes and Christmas Eve balls, picnics and outings. It was every child’s dream childhood. My father – Horace that is – changed my surname to his; he had planned to legally adopt me but for some reason, that never happened and he died when I was sixteen, with my mother, in a car crash.’

‘Oh! How dreadful,’ Margaret said.

Victoria added, ‘That must have been awful.’

‘It was,’ Becky said glancing in Max’s direction. She could feel him watching her.

He smiled comfortingly. Lily was playing with his long, agile fingers, making them into the shape of the church, then the steeple then opening them to show all the people. ‘The vicar’s there too,’ he said and winked at Becky.

She smiled. She remembered playing the same game with Horace.

 ‘That’s it really. This house had been a magical place for me but once they were gone, it ... it lost most of its sparkle. I still go to the pond though, whenever I’m upset or need to think. It was a special place for all three of us. We had picnics there and swam in it and it holds such memories of wonderfully happy times. I’m sorry.’ Tears were rolling down her cheeks and she brushed them away with her hands.

Max passed her his handkerchief. ‘And now I understand why you were so angry with me that first day I met you, at the pond. You thought I was stopping you from being somewhere that meant so much to you. I’m sorry Becky. I had no idea.’

She shrugged. ‘How could you?’

‘So, what happened then?’ Victoria coaxed. ‘I remember the house passing to Edward, Horace’s younger brother. He was a nasty piece of work, that one. He sold it didn’t he? Did he throw you out?’

‘No. Actually, he treated me rather well, in a detached and business-like way. He said he would have to sell the house but that I could remain until it was sold and he hired Connie Jessop as housekeeper to look after both the house and me. I was sixteen, devastated from losing my parents and not a happy person, so it was not a match made in heaven but we rubbed along. I spent most of my time with Jess and Susie when I wasn’t at school; Edward sent me to Roedean as a boarder a few months after my parents’ deaths but I spent all my holidays here. The house was sold when I was eighteen. I went to university and moved back here when I got my degree. I had always loved helping to organise the events here so I set up my business and, here we are today.’

‘I thought there was some entailment or other which stopped the house from being sold. How did Edward get around that?’ Margaret asked.

‘He didn’t need to. The entailment was binding on sons only. Neither Horace nor Edward had sons – or any children of their own come to that, otherwise the house could have gone to a daughter, after Edward, although not with the entailment. He was the last son and the entailment ended as soon as the last son inherited. He sold it to an American family but they never moved in for some reason and it started to deteriorate, although they retained Connie Jessop and Bill Jenkins, to make sure it didn’t go to rack and ruin. The Americans sold it, obviously, to you.’

‘Didn’t Edward go to South Africa?’ Victoria said.

‘Yes. We used to exchange Christmas cards but that stopped after a few years. He hasn’t been back and I haven’t seen him since the day I moved out. It was odd last night, being in my room because it’s almost exactly as it was the day I left. I’ve been back of course. Connie often used to let me pop in, when the Americans owned it, even though, strictly speaking, she shouldn’t have but the last time I slept in that room, I was eighteen and heading off to university. Edward sold the house fully furnished; he just took a few pieces of value, himself and he allowed me to take a few mementoes and all of father’s ... Horace’s, diaries.’

‘Hor ... Horace kept diaries?’ Margaret said, an odd inflection in her voice and her eyes met Victoria’s and held them. ‘For how long?’

Becky saw the look passing between Margaret and Victoria,

‘From about the age of twelve upwards – until the very day he died. I often re-read them, to remind myself of the happy days we spent here. I read them all when I first got them but now, I only read the ones mentioning my mother and me.’ A thought suddenly dawned on her, a memory really, of something she had read. ‘Oh my God! You ... you aren’t THE Margaret are you? The one Horace fell in love with when he was nineteen?’

CHAPTER NINETEEN

‘May I go and see if the robin is still there Mummy?’ Lily asked, taking her chance to speak when everyone in the room fell silent.

‘Oh Lily, I’m sorry darling. Of course you may,’ Becky said dragging her eyes and her attention away from Margaret’s startled face. ‘You’ve been a very good girl sitting there so quietly and patiently. I’ll get my coat and we can go and look.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ Max said. ‘Are you okay mum?’ He gave Margaret a concerned look. She had turned very pale.

‘What? Oh. Yes I’m fine.’ Her eyes were fixed on Becky.

‘I ... I’m sorry I blurted that out,’ Becky said. ‘I hope I haven’t made things worse. I –’

‘No.’ Margaret stopped her. ‘It was just a shock to hear ... to know ... that Horace kept a diary. Although, he wasn’t in love with me, I can assure you of that. I need to explain why I behaved the way I did yesterday; I need to tell you about my past.’

‘Yes, and I really want to hear it. I have to say though, if you are the Margaret in his diaries, whilst I can fully understand you being upset, I can’t understand why you would ... feel such loathing towards him. And he was most definitely in love with you. Until he met my mother, he had never loved anyone other than you – and he was fifty-nine when they met, as I believe I said. He had loved you and you alone, for all those years and he never stopped regretting the day he let you go.’

‘What?’ Margaret was clearly stunned. ‘That’s not possible. I ... I still have the letter he wrote me when he said ...’ she caught sight of Lily jumping in the air and stopped. ‘Now isn’t the time but I’ll show it to you and then you’ll understand.’ Her eyes filled with tears.

‘And I’ll show you his diaries – and so will you.’ Becky turned to face Max. ‘You can stay here, if you like; we won’t be long.’

‘No way. I’ve got to make sure you don’t fall in the pond again.’ He smiled and stood up, taking Lily by the hand.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t go near the pond until it’s repaired and refilled. After that, I can’t make any promises. Trespassing or not, it will always be a special place for me.’ She smiled back at him.

‘You’re welcome to visit the pond whenever you want to Becky,’ Margaret said, a hint of colour finally returning to her cheeks.

‘Thank you Margaret.’

Max glanced from Becky to his mother, then Becky took Lily’s other hand and they went to find their coats – and the robin.

‘Are we still on for dinner tonight?’ Max said when they got outside. ‘I’ll completely understand if you’d rather stay home and rest.’

Becky was miles away. She was thinking about the diaries and how unbelievably strange life can be. So many people with so many secrets. She was eager to hear Margaret’s version of events; they were clearly very different to that of her father’s.

‘Sorry Max. I’m still trying to get my head around everything. Life is very strange isn’t it?’

He nodded in agreement. ‘Tell me about it. I feel as if my whole world has been turned upside down in a matter of days. I’m thirty-seven years old and until last night, I had never heard of Horace Beckleston or of my mother’s involvement with him. I’ll let her tell you about it but it strikes me that people shouldn’t keep secrets. Nothing good ever comes of them.’

‘I was thinking exactly the same. I can’t wait to hear your mother’s side of the story. I’ve a feeling it must be very different from my father’s.  About tonight though; I’m happy to do whatever you’d like. I’m fine, honestly.’

Max stopped walking and pulled Becky towards him as Lily ran ahead to find the robin she’d seen fly into the Holly Tree.

‘Whatever I’d like! Are you sure about that Fifi? I seem to remember having a rather erotic conversation with you about you planning to tie me to a bed and have your wicked way with me. I don’t think you’re quite up to that tonight are you?’

The look in his eyes made her go weak at the knees. How could he have such an effect on her? Just because little flecks of gold seemed to light up his eyes like miniature fireworks exploding around his dark pupils and because strands of unruly thick blond hair fell across his forehead and his generous mouth curved up at one side when he said something intentionally provocative. She watched his lips curve into a full smile and it gave her goose-bumps.

‘I don’t know about tying you to a bed,’ she said. ‘I’m seriously considering pulling you to the ground and making love to you right now. God Max, everything about you turns me on. I want you so badly this minute that I don’t even care if the vicar sees.’

She slipped her hands inside his coat and around his waist and started tugging at his shirt. She raised her face to his and saw his lips part and his eyes grow dark with passion then he seemed to pull himself together.

‘You might not mind the vicar seeing but you would mind your daughter.’ He nodded in Lily’s direction.

Becky spun round in horror, saw her daughter standing at the foot of the Holly tree then turned back to Max yanking her hands out from his coat. ‘You see! You drive me so mad with longing that I even forget my own daughter! What on earth is wrong with me?’

‘I think,’ he said, taking her hand in his then heading towards Lily, ‘we are both suffering from the same thing.’

‘Becky dear. Lizzie is on the phone for you. Shall I tell her you’ll call her back?’ Margaret was standing on the terrace, waving the hands-free phone in the air.

Becky glanced towards Margaret then across to Lily.

‘Go,’ Max said, ‘I’ll look after Lily.’

‘Good heavens Becky!’ Lizzie said, ‘Margaret has just told me what happened to you! Are you okay? Don’t worry about me. I can speak to you next week. It’s not urgent. I should have told her not to bother you.’

‘No Lizzie. It’s fine. How can I help you?’

‘Are you sure? Margaret told me that you had a nasty fall. I hope Max is taking good care of you. He’s the best person to have around in these situations, believe me. Always knows exactly what to do in a crisis.’

The mention of his name made Becky’s heart do a little flip and she suddenly knew exactly what was wrong with her – she had fallen in love with Max Bedford.

The realisation was both thrilling and terrifying. She’d only known him for a few days and in that time, she’d gone from disliking him immensely to loving him – and that was a problem. He’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want a serious relationship ... and yet ... the way he looked at her; the things he said ... was it possible that he felt the same? Of course not. She was being ridiculous.