True Colours (7 page)

The open day at St Eldred’s School was painful. I wore my new outfit, which Charles barely noticed, and a brave face, which he later said looked like a death mask. Harry, bless him, was delightfully oblivious of it all. He was excited to be getting a foretaste of his new adventure and when we arrived he was in his element. By the time the day was over he had already made several friends. I know I should be happy about that – and I am. I wouldn’t want him to be miserable or homesick of course. But with every smile and handshake, every introduction to Charles’s old school friends, their wives and assorted offspring, some of whom had been at the school for several years already, I felt the bond between Harry and me stretching to its limit – like an elastic band, just a snap away from breaking.

A selected few ‘old boys’ and their wives, including Charles and me were invited to take tea in the head’s study and I found myself sitting next to one of Charles’s old school friends. She looked at me sideways over the rim of her teacup.

‘Will this be your son’s first term?’

I nodded, trying to smile. She nodded sympathetically.

‘He’s rather young for boarding school, isn’t he?’

I felt my heart contract again and tears begin to gather but I blinked hard and smiled at her. ‘He is a bit. He’s eight – nearly nine.’

She nodded sympathetically. ‘It’s all a bit traumatic, isn’t it? But Richard, who starts next term, is our third and believe me once they’ve been away from home for a while you get used to it. See it
as the beginning of new freedom. The long summer holidays will be so exhausting that you’ll be glad to wave him off to school again every September.’ She looked at my expression and laughed. ‘Oh, you might not think it now, but believe me you will.’

I knew I never would.

As we were leaving the head’s wife, Mary Masterson buttonholed me. ‘My dear, I’ve been meaning to have a word with you,’ she said quietly.

She was a kindly woman in, I’d guess, her early fifties; the twin set and pearls type, with greying hair cut in a sensible short style and very little make-up. I took one look into her sympathetic blue eyes and felt my throat thicken again. She reached out and took my hand between both of hers.

‘I’ve been watching you this afternoon. All this is rather difficult for you, isn’t it?’

I nodded. ‘He’s so young to be going away to school.’

‘Harry is your only child?’

I nodded.

‘I thought as much. I agree he is a little young but he seems a very well adjusted little boy. I really wouldn’t worry about him,’ she said. ‘I make it my business to keep a close eye on the young ones and make sure they don’t feel lost during the first few days. We have a very good Matron too. She’s brought up a family of her own and she understands children. She’s firm but very kind.’

I returned the soft pressure of her hand and withdrew mine. ‘Thank you. That’s very reassuring,’ I said. ‘It’s just me being silly. Harry’s really looking forward to starting here next month. I just can’t help wondering how he’ll feel when….’

‘When the realization that he’s actually left home behind kicks in?’ She smiled. ‘Call it a rite of passage. He’ll soon get used to it. He seems a friendly little chap. He’ll be in his father’s old house of course and with so much to get involved in here he’ll soon slip into the routine.’

I hoped she was right.

In the car on the way home Harry sat beside Charles in the front of the car. He chattered non-stop about his new school: the science lab with its state-of-the-art equipment, the sports facilities, including a
rugby pitch and a super-size swimming pool and the ‘dorm’ where all the boys had their own small private space complete with wash basin. Clearly he couldn’t wait for the new term to begin. I knew then that nothing between us would ever be quite the same again.

I cried myself to sleep that night, stuffing a corner of the sheet into my mouth so that Charles wouldn’t hear. He’d enjoyed the day almost as much as Harry had

And he couldn’t understand why I couldn’t be happy for our son.

‘He’s going to get the best education money can buy at St Eldred’s,’ he said at breakfast next morning, looking exasperatedly at my red-rimmed eyes. ‘Surely you don’t begrudge him that.’

‘Yes, Harry’s bright,’ I argued. ‘So surely he’d do just as well at the local Grammar. In my opinion private schools are only for children who need small classes and special attention.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s
sake
!’ he snorted. ‘What a stupid, ignorant point of view. I suppose you can’t help it, taking your upbringing into consideration. St Eldred’s is one of the finest public schools in the country, not a school for children with learning difficulties. I hope to God you didn’t voice your left wing opinions in public yesterday.’

‘Of course I didn’t.’

‘Thank God for that!’ He looked at me disdainfully. ‘I never had all this nonsense with my mother,’ he told me. ‘In fact I think she was glad to see the back of me by the time I was old enough to go to St Eldred’s. But unlike you she had a busy social life. You should get out more, Fran. What about voluntary work or a bridge club – both even? You spend too much time on your own, thinking and worrying about things.’

‘That’s why I’d like to come back to work,’ I ventured. ‘You know I hate gossiping women and do-gooders. I’d rather be occupied with something productive.’

But as usual his patience snapped as soon as I suggested working for him again. ‘Oh
Fran
! For God’s sake! We’ve been through all this a hundred times.’

‘Well why not? I was good at my job, wasn’t I?’ I knew I was pushing it too hard but I couldn’t help it. ‘I know you, and I know the firm. I could be really useful to you.’

He gave a deep, exaggerated sigh. ‘Why can’t you get it into your head – that part of your life is over and done with?’ he told me. ‘You are my wife and Harry’s mother, not my PA any more. It’s unprofessional to blur the boundaries.’ He got up to leave but paused in the doorway. ‘Anyway, I’ve already got a PA.’

I opened my mouth to argue but he was already gone. As I watched from the window I saw his car speed off down the drive, leaving me feeling frustrated and misunderstood.

There were times when I longed to ring Katie or Sophie and tell them how I felt – ask them what they would do, but I never did. Neither of them had children of their own. Katie wasn’t even married. When we met I’d hidden the fact that I had a husband who seemed to have lost interest in me. I’d played up the fact that I had a beautiful home and plenty of money. They couldn’t possibly know how it felt to have my son taken away – just as that other little one was taken from me? I could never tell them about that any more than I could tell Charles. So, with my sad secret and so much else locked up inside me there was no one I could turn to for advice. I had to face the fact that soon Harry would be gone, leaving me here rattling around the house like some useless, unfulfilled ghost to cope with it on my own.

On the day that Harry was to travel to St Eldred’s, Charles refused to let me accompany him. He took Harry himself in the car, dragging him away from me as I gave him a final hug and speeding off without a backward glance. I guessed that Harry would get a lecture on the way about toughening up and not becoming a mummy’s boy.

I wandered round the house for a couple of hours, feeling like a lost soul and dreading the empty weeks ahead. Then I caught sight of the swimming pool through the bedroom window. The blue water sparkled temptingly in the sunlight and on a sudden impulse I decided to have a swim. The pool had only been installed at the end of April and I’d hardly used it. Maybe that was one thing I could do with all this new freedom – improve my swimming skills.

It was a beautiful morning, warm and sunny without a cloud in the sky. As I opened the gate to the paved enclosure the boy who came daily to maintain the pool was just finishing. He raised a
cheery hand to me.

‘Morning Mrs Grayson. Fancied a dip, did you?’

‘I thought it was about time I made use of it,’ I said.

He rolled up his hose and vacuuming equipment and stowed it in the little wooden building that housed the heating element. ‘Right. I’ll be off then,’ he said. ‘Enjoy your swim.’

I shrugged off my robe and slid into the water. It felt cold at first but after the first length it was silky and refreshing. I rolled on to my back and did a length of backstroke, beginning to relax and enjoy myself. I was floating dreamily on my back, my eyes closed as the sunlight danced on my eyelids when I suddenly became aware that I was not alone. I opened my eyes to see a man standing at the pool’s edge watching me.

‘
Oh
!’ I hastily swam to the side.

‘Please, don’t be alarmed,’ he said as I clambered out of the water. ‘I didn’t like to disturb you as you were obviously enjoying your swim so much.’

I pulled on my robe and shook my wet hair. ‘What can I do for you?’

He held out his hand. ‘I’m Adam Fenn from Tropicalle Pools. I like to visit recently installed pools personally to check if everything is satisfactory.’

I shook the hand he offered. ‘Oh, I see. How nice of you. I don’t remember you coming before.’

He smiled. ‘I don’t install the pools myself. I own the company.’

I shook my head, embarrassed. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.’ Looking more closely I took in the well tailored suit and expert haircut. I should have known he wasn’t a foreman or some kind of labourer. ‘Look, please let me run inside and dress,’ I said. ‘I’ll make some coffee. I’m sure you could drink a cup.’

‘Please don’t go to any trouble,’ he called as I moved away.

‘It’s no trouble. I won’t be a minute. Please have a seat and make yourself at home.’

Upstairs I hastily dried myself and pulled on a tee-shirt and jeans. Glancing out of the window I saw that instead of sitting down he was walking round the pool, crouching down around the edges to examine various things. I ran down to the kitchen and hastily made coffee. When I arrived once more at the poolside with
coffee and biscuits on a tray he was just emerging from the room housing the heating system. I put down the tray on the table.

‘Come and have some coffee.’

Smiling, he joined me. ‘Well, I’m pleased to see that everything looks fine,’ he said, sitting down. ‘I only employ competent people but you never know. There’s nothing like a personal check.’

‘We’ve been very pleased with the pool,’ I told him, pouring the coffee. ‘My son loves it. He and his friends have spent all summer in it – till now.’ I stopped speaking abruptly as I felt my throat thickening again.

He took the coffee cup I passed to him without a word but after a moment he asked quietly: ‘Are you all right, Mrs Grayson?’

I forced a laugh. ‘I’m fine. Take no notice of me. My son has gone off to boarding school this morning and it’s a bit – a bit….’

‘A bit of a wrench?’ he finished for me.

I nodded. ‘I’m just being stupid, or so my husband keeps telling me, but he’s our only child you see and he’s only eight.’

He said nothing as I struggled to keep my emotions in check, hiding my face in my coffee cup. Eventually I looked up at him. ‘Do you have children?’

He paused. ‘I did,’ he said at last. ‘Twin girls, Amy and Angela. They would have been six this year.’

Would
! I felt my heart sink. I wanted to ask what happened but I couldn’t bring myself to probe. As though reading my thoughts he answered my unasked question.

‘It was three years ago. My wife was taking them for a visit to the grandparents in Yorkshire. They were involved in a pile-up on the motorway.’

‘And…?’ I whispered.

‘The car was totally wrecked and they were all killed,’ he finished the sentence matter-of-factly but I could see the pain in his eyes. He took a deep drink of his coffee. ‘The only consolation is that it would have been instantaneous,’ he added.

‘I’m so very sorry,’ I said, chastened. ‘Here am I whingeing on about my son going to boarding school when you….’

‘Let’s not dwell on sadness on a beautiful morning like this,’ he broke in. He took a deep breath. ‘So, what are you going to do with yourself now that you’re at a loose end? I expect you have some
interesting prospect lined up.’

‘No, I don’t and that’s the problem,’ I told him. ‘It’s better for men. You have your work. All I have is this house to rattle round in all day.’

‘Have you never worked?’

‘Oh yes. I used to be a PA. That was how I met my husband. I’d go back to work for him tomorrow if he’d allow it, but he doesn’t want me to.’

‘That’s a pity. What a waste of good experience and talent.’

I poured him a second cup of coffee. ‘Have you always been in the swimming pool business?’

‘No. I used to be a civil engineer but after I lost my family I needed a change. I sold the house – it had too many memories anyway – and put the money into “Tropicalle”. I design the pools myself and as you know they have various safety features that other pools don’t have, which is good for families with youngsters.’

‘And it’s taken off?’

‘Even better than I could have hoped,’ he told me. ‘I thought it might be a risk, going into a luxury business in times like these but I think a lot of people are investing in a pool rather than spend money on expensive holidays.’ He smiled. ‘And having one is a boon in the school holidays as you’ve already experienced.’

‘And having the boss himself checking that everything is satisfactory is certainly a bonus,’ I told him with a smile.

‘It’s been great talking to you, Mrs Grayson. Thanks for the coffee.’ To my dismay he began to get up and I hastily cast about for something to keep him a few more minutes.

In a sudden panic I blurted out: ‘You wouldn’t have a job going for a bored housewife, would you?’ The moment I’d said it I felt my face turning scarlet and I curled up inside with shame and embarrassment. He looked shocked and mortified by turn and I hastily made myself laugh. ‘Listen to me! What am I like? Sometimes I have this warped sense of humour.’ I stood up and held out my hand. ‘It’s been so nice to meet you, Mr Fenn. Maybe we’ll meet again – if we have a problem with the pool, I mean,’ I added hastily.