Full Circle (8 page)

Less than an hour before, she had been too sleepy to concentrate on her book. But what had happened between then and now had left her wide awake. Her fury at Harold had gone, swept away by the sight of his desolation and grief. Her thoughts moved to his son. She remembered Bella's adoration of her so-perfect husband again and tried to connect all that she'd heard about him with the man who had bundled his father away with no consideration for the older man's confusion. Perfect husband be damned, she thought, he's a big-headed pig and, if it hadn't been that I didn't want to make things even harder for his poor, muddled father, I would have enjoyed telling him so. I bet if I walk over to the farm tomorrow Mr Carter won't so much as remember what happened just now.

But in the morning events took another turn. It was too early to make her planned visit to the farm so just before ten o'clock she decided to have an hour working on the garden's transformation. She was a determined novice and only time would tell her whether the herbaceous plants she had put in would make healthy roots, but so far they hadn't had time to give up the ghost and, at least in front of the house, the garden began to look cared for. Pushing a wheelbarrow bearing her tools she was just emerging from the shed when she heard the garden gate slam shut. Oh, no, not Harold Carter again! That was her immediate reaction, but it died even as it was born. The man coming towards her was a stranger, and yet there was something vaguely familiar about him.

‘Violet Harding's niece? But, yes, I can see that you are.'

‘That's right, Louisa Harding. Are you a neighbour?' Her smile was welcoming as, leaving her wheelbarrow, she came towards him with her hand outstretched. Surely he couldn't be from the village; even in a crowded town he would have stood out. Perhaps six foot tall, dark brown hair of the kind that wasn't quite straight and yet neither was it wavy; it stayed happily as it had been combed without the aid of any hairdressing favoured by so many men. His moustache was well trimmed; his dark eyes seemed to tell her that he found life a very pleasant affair. But more than any of that, there was something in his bearing, his general appearance, which would have set him apart even without the obvious advantage of his good looks. Louisa had never been a regular cinemagoer but, looking at her handsome visitor, her mind took a leap and arrived at Errol Flynn. His answer to her question took her by surprise.

‘Yes and no,' he said, taking her hand in a firm grasp. ‘I'm Leo Carter—'

‘Leo? But then who took Mr Carter home last night?'

‘It's last night I wanted to speak to you about,' he said, not answering her question. ‘I'm sorry about Dad. Are you desperately keen to garden or can we talk for a few minutes?'

‘The garden can wait. But I'd been told Mr Carter was staying with you and Bella, so I naturally assumed that was who took him home.'

‘That was David, my brother. He collected my father from our place yesterday evening and brought him back to the farm. I ought not to have let him come. David stayed the night at the farm and phoned me indecently early this morning. I should have realized that being back here would unsettle my father, but he'd seemed so much better that I honestly thought his mind had adjusted to all that had happened.'

‘Come inside. I see my opposite neighbour has found her casement window needs her attention.'

Leo Carter laughed, turning to wave a greeting towards the woman opposite who was making pretence of rectifying a fault in the latch of her window. Now, pretending not to notice him, she quickly closed it and moved behind the curtain.

‘Nothing changes,' Leo said with a chuckle. ‘Yes, let's go indoors. I'll give her half an hour and there won't be a person on the High Street who hasn't heard that I've come a'calling.' Then, more seriously, ‘Will you mind?'

‘Not in the least, if they have nothing better to think about.'

She had left the front door propped open and as they reached it he looked back at the middle cottage of the three on the opposite side of the lane and gave a cheery wave.

‘You've not changed things much in here,' he observed as she led the way to the sitting room. ‘No wonder the old boy thought he'd stepped back in time last night. I always liked coming here when I was a kid. She was a pretty special person, your Aunt Violet.'

‘I wish I'd known her properly. I remember her just as a bright light in my early childhood. She was shunned by my family.'

‘And by you, too? Bright lights have a way of holding your attention? Or did your views coincide with those of your family?'

She felt she ought to have been annoyed by his hint of criticism. Why should she explain herself to this stranger? Whatever the reason, that was exactly what she found herself wanting to do.

‘Apparently she didn't hold your silence against you,' he said, the movement of his handsome head indicating that he was referring to the home he'd quickly realized Louisa had inherited.

‘I feel ashamed to think that while I was concentrating on myself, she remembered me.'

‘Don't waste time on regrets for something that can't be altered. Violet Harding was a woman of intense understanding and compassion. If she'd felt any bitterness on account of your neglect you would hardly be entertaining me this morning in what used to be her home.' Then, with a smile that could only be described as mischievously flirtatious, ‘So let's just enjoy where Fate has brought us on this lovely Sunday morning.' Taking a cigarette case from his jacket pocket, he opened it and offered it to her. ‘Only one thing is missing: a good strong cup of coffee.' Then, with a smile that started in his eyes and must have helped him to get his own way all through life, ‘No milk, thank you, and no sugar.'

The Miss Harding her colleagues had been sure was treading the path to spinsterhood nudged her and whispered silently that he was a conceited bore. But she was caught up in the unexpected delight of his manner.

‘An excellent idea.' She couldn't have held back her smile even if she'd wanted to. ‘I'll accept that cigarette when I've made it. It won't take long.'

‘Better, I'll come and give my manly advice. Don't you find men are at their best in an advisory capacity?'

‘I'd be the last to know. I'm not in the habit of seeking advice.' She was enjoying herself. ‘If you're coming with me you might as well be useful. You'll find cups and saucers in—'

‘I know exactly where they are. This kitchen has always seemed special. When I was on school holiday this was often my place of escape.'

‘Escape from what?' For he certainly didn't strike her as the type to hide away out of fear.

He chuckled, following the journey his memories were taking him back through the years. ‘A variety of things, depending on the season. My
bête noire
was following the digger and picking up the potatoes. The coffee smells good. Where shall we go? Indoors or out?'

‘Out, on a morning like this. Why didn't Bella come with you to see me? Or is she keeping Mr Carter company?'

‘She was still in bed when I left home this morning. Having had a call from Big Brother, I was up with the larks. David spent last night at the farm to make sure Dad stayed in his own bed like a good lad, but he had to be back home and on the golf course by half past nine; that's his sacred ritual for Sunday morning. A man of habit is Brother David, so I promised to get up here by eight o'clock. A social visit from him to Bella and me is rare, but he said he had to pass the door yesterday so he looked in. Dad behaved perfectly, not a sign that his mind is getting muddled. How is it that people have a new cunning when the situation demands? Anyway, he and David talked about the business – I left them to it. I have enough Monday to Friday without a second helping at the weekend. Then David informed me he was taking Dad home to the farm. He said Bella and I were making a fuss about nothing, and all the old boy needed was to be back in his own surroundings. And like a fool I wanted to believe him. Of course, I hadn't bargained for someone to be living in Violet's house yet.'

‘Well, I'm afraid he will have to get used to it,' Louisa told him with a sharp edge to her voice.

By that time she had erected a small garden table by the newly painted seat while he followed, carrying the tray.

‘He will,' Leo answered. ‘Bella will see to that. She is incredibly good to him. I believe she genuinely cares about him.' Then, as if he'd just become aware of where the conversation had brought them, ‘And so she should. He's a damned nice guy. When I was younger I used to look up to him and want to be just like him. Rotten the tricks life can play on a man.'

‘Or a man on a woman,' replied staid Miss Harding, who managed for a moment to gain the upper hand and spare a thought for the unknown Alice Carter.

‘Ah, that too.' Then, with a change of tone as if he wanted to steer them away from a topic he'd rather avoid, ‘Good coffee. Now we can have that cigarette and enjoy the glorious Sunday morning sleepiness of the countryside. You like it here?'

‘
Like
isn't quite the word. I feel as if I'm a different person – at least most of the time. The country had little to do with my past, but I certainly have no wish to go back to all I left behind. What you were saying just now about retreating here during the school holidays rather than helping on the farm – that surprised me. Bella had given me the impression that your heart was in the land and not in the industrial world.'

‘My heart? It's certainly not in that wretched factory where I spend so much of my time. But working on the farm? Oh, no.
Being
on the farm,
living
there, that's one thing, but actually getting up at the crack of dawn, working in all weathers, that's quite another. You know, there are plenty of men who think there can be no better life.'

He surprised her more by the minute. She had been brought up to expect that strangers no more than skimmed the surface of conversation and yet here they were digging deep and getting to know one another without the peripheral niceties of new acquaintances.

‘I learnt a lesson from Aunt Violet, or rather from Aunt Violet's will,' she told him. ‘When I came to see the solicitor I had no expectations that a spinster aunt would have anything but perhaps a few pounds in the bank – or even a few debts to be paid. When the solicitor put me in the picture I meant to sell the house. Then I came here – do you remember about Saul on the road to Damascus? It was like that, as if I suddenly saw my future clearly, as if I had found a new freedom, a new appreciation. I don't mean I was like Saul in a religious sense.'

‘Are you sure?' His words surprised her. ‘I'm not some Holy Jo, but if life gives you anything to hang on to surely it's to be found in the country. In any benighted town the only thing one knows of the change in the seasons is that it's warmer or colder, or that the shop windows have their lights on earlier. It's the country that is meaningful.'

Louisa looked at him with more interest, surprised by the sincerity of his sudden outburst and even more surprised that a man of such obvious self-confidence should be embarrassed by his show of honesty. She thought of Bella and her adoration of him.

‘Bella put it well,' she said. ‘When she knew I had decided to leave my job and start a new life here, she was frightened for me. She told me the place had thrown fairy dust in my eyes.'

‘And had it?'

‘After just a few summer weeks I can't answer that. If we meet again in six months ask me then and I'll give you my answer.' Then, changing the subject and with a feeling of guilt that she was harbouring Bella's adored husband when he ought to be at the farm reassuring himself that his father was fit to be left: ‘It's a pity you couldn't bring Bella with you. She must be getting near to having the baby? I remember how proud she was about it but I forget when it's due.'

‘In a few weeks' time, I believe. If that business hadn't happened last night I think my father would have been able to be left on his own. The Johnsons have lived in one of the farm cottages almost forever and they would have kept an eye on him. Of course, I hadn't realized this house was now lived in. He saw the lights … and forgot everything else.'

‘Surely you don't think he'll do it again? Why didn't you take his key away from him?' The new and liberated Louisa was overtaken by her previous self, who was permanently at the ready not far below the surface. ‘I'm not prepared to lock myself in here in case your father has a memory lapse.'

‘Indeed.' He nodded in agreement. ‘As things are, I intend to take him home with me again.' But, despite his words, was she imagining it or did she see a glint of amusement in his eyes? Either way, the tone of their conversation seemed to her to change. They spoke politely enough but their words added up to nothing of importance, nothing to remember afterwards. It was five minutes later, when he was midway through explaining to her the rotation of vegetable crops at a farm such as Ridgeway, that he suddenly broke off mid-sentence and turned to her, his expression telling her that his interest hadn't been on what they were talking about but something far more important.

‘I must get going. I'll finish your lesson at a later date.'

‘Yes, of course, you mustn't leave Bella too long.' But did he even notice the cold over-politeness in her tone? Her underlying lack of confidence had got the upper hand, making her ready to believe he had stayed to talk more out of kindness to a lonely woman than because he had been interested in anything she said.

‘What? No, it's not that! It must be this house, as you say. From nowhere I just had my own road to Damascus experience. I know exactly what has to be done. I must get back to the house and phone Bella to tell her to pack a couple of cases, then I'll make sure the Johnsons will hang on to Dad for the day.' He sounded eager to put into action whatever it was he had been thinking about while he'd been talking to her. ‘I'll collect Bella and bring her to Ridgeway. She's good with my father – having her around will help him settle.' Then, with a smile that only minutes ago would have fooled her into believing he was sharing a secret: ‘I can work things so that I can use the house at the farm as a base. A lot of my time is spent out, talking with agents and all that sort of thing. Play my cards right and I need only look in at that Birmingham hell-hole once or so a week.' Like a mischievous child who has thought up some prank, she continued, ‘Now what could be better than to live at the farm but not be roped in to
work
on the land? Miss Louisa Harding, Louisa – it suits you, a delightful name – talking to you has made me see clearly what I should have done ages ago.'