Voices in the Summer Read online

  Laura jibbed at this scheme. She believed that if she did so, it would be a form of nepotism, as well as undermining her determination to be independent.

  Phyllis said that she would be independent. She’d be earning her living.

  Laura pointed out that she already owed Phyllis enough. She wanted to start her career—whatever it was going to be—under an obligation to nobody.

  But nobody was talking about obligations. Why turn down a wonderful opportunity, simply because she was Phyllis’ niece?

  Laura said that she wanted to stand on her own two feet.

  Phyllis sighed and explained patiently that she would be standing on her own feet. There was no question of nepotism. If she wasn’t good at her job and couldn’t do the work, there would be no delicate compunctions about sacking her.

  This was scarcely comforting. Laura muttered something about needing a challenge.

  But Hay Macdonalds was a challenge. Laura might just as well take up this challenge as another.

  The argument continued, spasmodically, for three days, and Laura finally gave in. But at the same time, she broke the news to Phyllis that she had found herself a small, two-room flat in Fulham and that she was leaving Hampstead and going there to live. This decision had been made long ago; it had nothing to do with the argument about the job. It did not mean that she no longer wanted to live with Phyllis. She could have stayed forever in that warm and luxurious little house high on the hill above London, but she knew that it could not work. Their circumstances, subtly, had altered. They were no longer aunt and niece, but two adult women, and the unique relationship that they had achieved was too delicate and precious to risk putting into jeopardy.

  Phyllis had a life of her own to lead—still full and exciting, despite the fact that she was now well into her fifties. And at nineteen, Laura had a life to make, and this could never be achieved unless she had the willpower to fly Phyllis’ cosy nest.

  After her initial dismay, Phyllis understood this. But, ‘It won’t be for long,’ she prophesied. ‘You’ll get married.’

  ‘Why should I get married?’

  ‘Because you’re the marrying kind. You’re the sort of girl who needs a husband.’

  ‘That’s what people said to you after Maurice died.’

  ‘You’re not me, darling. I’ll give you three years as a career girl. Not a moment longer.’

  But Phyllis, for once, was wrong. Because it was nine years before Laura set eyes on Alec Haverstock, and another six—by which time Laura was thirty-three—before she married him.

  * * *

  ‘Here we are.…’ The tinkle of ice against glass, the tap of high heels. Laura opened her eyes, saw Phyllis beside her, setting down the tray on a low coffee table. ‘Were you asleep?’

  ‘No. Just thinking. Remembering, I suppose.’

  Phyllis lowered herself into the other sofa. She did not lean back because to relax in any way was totally foreign to her character. She perched, looking as though at any moment she might spring to her feet and dart away on some vital errand.

  ‘Tell me all. What have you been doing? Shopping, I hope.’

  She poured a tall tumbler of lemonade and handed it to Laura. The glass was frosty with cold and agony to hold. Laura took a sip and then put the glass on the floor beside her.

  ‘No, not shopping. I’ve been to see Doctor Hickley.’ Phyllis cocked her head, her face at once assuming an expression of alert interest, her eyebrow raised, her eyes wide. ‘No,’ said Laura, ‘I’m not having a baby.’

  ‘Why did you go and see her, then?’

  ‘Same old trouble.’

  ‘Oh, darling.’ There wasn’t any need to say more. They gazed at each other dolefully. From the garden where she had been having a little necessary visit, Lucy appeared, through the open windows. Her claws made a scratching sound on the parquet as she crossed the floor and leaped lightly up into Laura’s lap, where she curled herself into a comfortable ball and proceeded to go to sleep.

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Oh, it’s been going on for a bit, but I’ve been putting off going to see Dr Hickley because I didn’t want to think about it. You know, if you don’t take any notice and don’t look, perhaps it will go away.’

  ‘That was very silly of you.’

  ‘That’s what she said. It didn’t make any difference. I’ve got to go into the hospital again.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘As soon as possible. Maybe a couple of days.’

  ‘But darling, you’re going to Scotland.’

  ‘Doctor Hickley says I can’t go.’

  ‘I can’t bear it for you.’ Phyllis’ voice sank to match the total despair of the situation. ‘You’ve been looking forward to it so much, your first holiday in Scotland with Alec … and what’s he going to do? He isn’t going to want to go without you.’

  ‘That’s really why I came to see you. To ask you a favour. Would you mind?’

  ‘I don’t know yet what the favour is.’

  ‘Well, can I come and stay with you when I come out of hospital? If Alec knows I’m here with you, he’ll go to Glenshandra with the others. It means so much to him. And everything’s been planned for months. He’s booked the hotel rooms and rented a stretch of the river for fishing. To say nothing of the Boulderstones and the Ansteys.’

  ‘When would that be?’

  ‘Next week. I’ll be in the hospital for a couple of days and I don’t need nursing or anything.…’

  ‘Darling, it’s too awful, but I’m going away.’

  ‘You’re…’ It was unthinkable. Laura stared at Phyllis and hoped that she was not going to burst into tears. ‘You’re … not going to be here?’

  ‘I’m going to Florence for a month. With Laurance Haddon and the Birleys. We only arranged it last week. Oh, if you’re desperate. I could put it off.’

  ‘Of course you mustn’t put it off.’

  ‘What about Alec’s brother and his wife? The brother who lives in Devon. Couldn’t they take care of you?’

  ‘Go to Chagwell, you mean?’

  ‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic. I thought you liked them when you stayed with them at Easter.’

  ‘I did like them. They’re perfectly sweet. But they’ve got five children, and it’s holiday time, and Janey will have quite enough to do without me arriving, all pale and wan, and expecting breakfast in bed. Besides, I know how one feels after these operations. Absolutely drained. I think it’s something to do with the anaesthetic. And the noise at Chagwell is never below about a million decibels. I suppose it’s inevitable with five children around the place.’

  Phyllis saw her point, abandoned the idea of Chagwell, and sought for other solutions.

  ‘There’s always Mrs Abney.’

  ‘Alec would never leave me with Mrs Abney. She’s getting on now, and she can’t cope with the stairs.’

  ‘Would Doctor Hickley consider postponing the operation?’

  ‘No. I asked her, and she said no.’ Laura sighed. ‘It’s one of those occasions, Phyllis, that I long to be part of some enormous family. To have brothers and sisters and cousins and grandparents and a mother and a father…’

  Phyllis said, ‘Oh, darling,’ and Laura was instantly repentant.

  ‘That was a silly thing to say. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Phyllis, ‘if you got a nurse to look after you, then she and Mrs Abney could cope between them.…’

  ‘Or I could just stay in hospital?’

  ‘That’s a ridiculous suggestion. In fact this whole conversation is ridiculous. I don’t think Alec will want to go to Scotland and leave you behind. After all, you’re practically still on your honeymoon!’

  ‘We’ve been married for nine months.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he call the whole thing off and take you to Madeira when you’re better?’

  ‘He can’t. He can’t just take holidays when he wants. He’s too horribly important. And Glenshandra is … a sort
of tradition. He’s been going there forever, every July, with the Ansteys and the Boulderstones. He looks forward to it for the whole year. Nothing ever changes. He’s told me that, and that’s what he loves about it. The same hotel, the river, the same ghillie, the same friends. It’s Alec’s safety valve, his breath of fresh air, the one thing that keeps him going, slaving away in the City for the rest of the year.’

  ‘You know he loves what you call slaving away. He loves being busy and successful, and chairman of this and that.’

  ‘And he can’t let the others down at the last moment. If he doesn’t go, they’ll think it’s my fault, and my stock will go down to subzero, if I spoil it for them.’

  ‘I don’t think,’ said Phyllis, ‘that your stock with the Ansteys and the Boulderstones matters all that much. You have only to think about Alec.’

  ‘That’s just it. I feel I’m letting him down.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t help it if your wretched insides suddenly go mad. And you were looking forward to going to Scotland just as much as he was. Or weren’t you?’

  ‘Oh, Phyllis, I don’t know. If it was just Alec I was going with, it would be so different. When we’re together, just the two of us, I can cope. We can be happy. I can make him laugh. It’s like being with the other half of myself. But when the others are there too, I feel as though I’d strayed by mistake into some club or other and I know that however hard I try, I can never be a member.’

  ‘Do you want to?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s just that they all know one another so well … for years and years, and for most of the time Alec was married to Erica. Daphne was Erica’s best friend, she’s Gabriel’s godmother. Erica and Alec had this house called Deepbrook down in the New Forest, and they all used to go there for weekends. Everything they’ve ever done, everything they remember together, goes back fifteen years or more.’

  Phyllis sighed. ‘It is fairly daunting. Other people’s memories are hard to take, I know. But you must have realized all this when you married Alec.’

  ‘I didn’t think about anything like that. I only knew that I wanted to marry him. I didn’t want to think about Erica and I didn’t want to think about Gabriel. I simply pretended that they didn’t exist, which was quite easy, considering that they were both safely miles away, living in America.’

  ‘You wouldn’t want Alec to drop all his old friends. Old friends are part of a man. Part of the person that he is. It can’t always be easy for them either. You have to see it their way.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’

  ‘Do they mention Erica and Gabriel?’

  ‘Sometimes. But then there’s an ugly silence, and somebody quickly starts another conversation.’

  ‘Perhaps you should bring up the subject by yourself.’

  ‘Phyllis, how can I bring the subject up? How can I chat away about the glamorous Erica, who left Alec for another man? How can I talk about Gabriel, when Alec hasn’t set eyes on her since the split-up?’

  ‘Does she write to him?’

  ‘No, but he writes to her. From the office. Once, his secretary forgot to put the letter in the post, and he brought it home with him. I saw the address, typewritten. I guessed then that he writes to her every week. But he doesn’t ever seem to get one back. There are no photographs of Erica in the house, but there’s one of Gabriel on his dressing table and a drawing she did for him when she was about five. It’s in a silver frame, from Asprey’s. I think if the house caught fire and he had to salvage one precious possession from the flames, that picture would be it.’

  ‘What he needs is another child,’ said Phyllis firmly.

  ‘I know. But I may never have one.’

  ‘Of course you will.’

  ‘No.’ Laura turned her head on the blue silk cushion and looked at Phyllis. ‘I may not. After all, I’m nearly thirty-seven.’

  ‘That’s nothing.’

  ‘And if this business with my insides blows up again, then Doctor Hickley says I’ll have to have a hysterectomy.’

  ‘Laura, don’t think about it.’

  ‘I do want a baby. I really do want one.’

  ‘It will be all right. This time, everything will be all right. Don’t be depressed. Think positively. And as for the Ansteys and the Boulderstones, they’ll understand. They’re perfectly nice, ordinary people. I thought they were all charming when I met them at that lovely dinner party you gave for me.’

  Laura’s smile was wry. ‘Daphne, too?’

  ‘Of course, Daphne too,’ said Phyllis stoutly. ‘I know she spent the evening flirting with Alec, but some women can’t help behaving that way. Even if they are old enough to know better. You surely don’t think there was ever anything between them?’

  ‘Sometimes, when I’m feeling blue, I wonder.… After Erica left him, Alec was on his own for five years.’

  ‘You must be mad. Can you see a man of Alec’s integrity having an affair with his best friend’s wife? I can’t. You’re underestimating yourself, Laura. And, which is infinitely more dangerous, you’re underestimating Alec.’

  Laura put her head back on the sofa cushion and closed her eyes. It was cooler now, but Lucy’s weight lay like a hot-water bottle upon her lap. She said, ‘What shall I do?’

  ‘Go home,’ said Phyllis. ‘Have a shower and put on the prettiest garment you own, and when Alec comes home, give him an iced martini and talk to him. And if he wants to give up his holiday and stay with you, then let him.’

  ‘But I want him to go. I really want him to go.’

  ‘Then tell him so. And tell him that if the worst comes to the worst, I’ll cancel Florence, and you can come and stay with me.’

  ‘Oh, Phyllis…’

  ‘But I’m certain he’ll come up with some brilliant brain wave, and all this heart-searching will have been for nothing, so don’t let’s waste time talking any more about it.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘And now it’s nearly four. What would you say to a delicious cup of China tea?’

  2

  DEEPBROOK

  ALEC HAVERSTOCK, ex-Winchester and Cambridge, investment analyst, manager of the Forbright Northern Investment Trust, and a director of the Merchant Bank, Sandberg Harpers, hailed—and some people found this surprising—from the heart of the West Country.

  He was born at Chagwell, the second son of a family that for three generations had farmed a thousand acres or so of land that lay on the western slopes of Dartmoor. The farmhouse was built of stone, long and low, with large rooms made to accommodate large families. Solid and comforting, it faced southwest, over sloping green pastures where the dairy herds of Guernsey grazed, and down to lush, arable fields and the reedy margins of the little river Chag. Farther still lay the horizon of the English Channel, often veiled in a curtain of mist and rain, but on clear days blue as silk in the sunshine.

  The Haverstocks were a prolific family, sprouting various branches all over Devon and Cornwall. Some of these offshoots veered towards the professions and produced a string of lawyers, doctors, and accountants, but on the whole the male members of the clan stayed stubbornly close to the land: building up pedigree herds, raising sheep and ponies on the moor, fishing in the summer, and hunting during the winter months with the local foxhounds. There was usually a youthful Haverstock riding in the yearly Hunt Steeplechase, and broken collarbones were treated as lightly as the common cold.

  With the inheritance of land passing from the father to the eldest boy, younger sons were forced to look elsewhere for their livelihood and, following the tradition of Devon men, usually went to sea. Just as there had always been Haverstocks in the farming community of the country, the Navy Lists, for a hundred years or more, were never without their quota of Haverstocks, ranging from junior midshipmen to full captains, and sometimes even an admiral or two.

  Alec’s uncle Gerald had followed this tradition and joined the Royal Navy. With Chagwell entailed to his older brother Brian, Alec was expected to follow the same c
ourse. But he was born beneath a different star than his bluff, seagoing forebears, and it led him in a totally different direction. It became very clear after his first term at the local preparation school, that although tough and resourceful, he was also very bright. With the encouragement of the headmaster of this small school, Alec sat for and won a scholarship to Winchester. From Winchester he went to Cambridge, where he rowed, played rugger, and read economics, to emerge at the end of his last year with an honours degree. Before he had even left Cambridge, he had been spotted by a talent scout from Sandberg Harpers and was offered a job with them, in the City of London.

  Alec was twenty-two. He bought himself two dark City suits, a furled umbrella, and a briefcase and flung himself into this exciting new world with the reckless enthusiasm of some previous Haverstock riding his hunter straight for a five-barred gate. He was installed in the department of the bank that specialized in investment analysis, and it was at this time that he first met Tom Boulderstone. Tom had already been with Sandberg Harpers for six months, but the two young men had much in common, and when Tom asked Alec to move into his flat with him, Alec accepted with alacrity.

  It was a good time. Although they were both kept with their noses firmly pressed to the Harper Sandberg grindstone, there was still plenty of opportunity for the sort of irresponsible enjoyment that only occurs once in most people’s lifetime. The little flat bulged with a constant stream of bright young things. Impromptu parties grew out of nothing, with spaghetti boiling up in a saucepan and crates of lager piled on the draining board. Alec bought his first car, and on weekends he and Tom would rustle up a couple of girls and go down to the country to other people’s houses, or summer cricket matches, or winter shoots.

  It was Alec who introduced Daphne to Tom. Alec had been at Cambridge with Daphne’s brother and was asked to be a good fellow and keep his eye on this innocent creature who had just come to work in London. Without much enthusiasm Alec did as he had been asked and was delighted to discover that she was as pretty as paint and marvellously entertaining. He took her out once or twice on his own and then, one Sunday evening, took her back to the flat, where she made him and Tom the worst scrambled eggs he had ever tasted.