Honeysuckle House Page 3

  ‘And what will you do? Help out in the market garden shop? With three A-levels?’

  ‘Don’t be such a snob!’ Kizzy laughed. ‘Jess Owen got four last year and she still works in the supermarket. Qualifications don’t mean anything these days. All we want is to be together and be as happy as you are …’

  Rosie bit her lip. Now was not the right time to tell her daughter that her parents’ marriage was falling apart more painfully with each day.

  ‘Mum, tell Dad for me, will you? He can get things moving at the Nook for the reception. I’m going to have a bath and an early night …’ She left the room quickly before Rosie could add to her arguments.

  The darkening sitting room seemed full of shadows. Rosie didn’t switch on the lamps, but sat on the sofa, somehow comforted by the darkness.

  Kizzy could marry whether she and Leon agreed or not. Marriage …

  Rosie shook her head. She just couldn’t let Kizzy go through the pain that she was experiencing. She would have to persuade her to re-think.

  She stood up and moved over to the phone and quickly dialled the Nook.

  ‘William? Sorry to ring at your busy time, love. Could I have a word with Dad, please?’

  Leon would agree that Kizzy must get her qualifications first, of that Rosie was sure. He was so proud of his daughter’s academic achievements. And it wasn’t as if they were going to block the wedding – only ask them to postpone it.

  ‘Sorry? What? Well, when did he leave?’ Her heart sank like a stone. ‘OK, William. No – no problem. I’ll speak to him when he comes in …’

  Hugging her arms round her waist, Rosie wandered to the sitting room window and stared out into the blackness of the evening. Somewhere out there the sea crashed ceaselessly on to the beach. Somewhere, Leon was laughing, talking, charming people as he had once charmed her.

  Kizzy was at one end of the chain of love – while she was surely at the other. It was hard to know which was the more painful …

  Hours later, Rosie was unable to sleep. She had heard William come in just after one o’clock and go straight to his room, obviously exhausted by yet another night single-handed at the Nook. And Leon’s car was still in the drive …

  She’d had a bath, forced down a milky drink, tried to concentrate on a novel, but nothing worked. She felt as tense as a runner in the blocks waiting for the starter’s pistol. Sleep was impossible. Relaxation was hopeless.

  Where was Leon? She let her hand stray to the empty space beside her in the big double bed. It seemed like a huge void now. Cold.

  With her stomach cramped in tight knots, she slid her feet to the floor and pattered to the window.

  The street was quiet under the orange street light glow. No lights showed in the other houses. Highcliffe’s residents slept snugly.

  The moon drifted across a wine-dark sky, buffeted by the occasional black cloud.

  Suddenly, white headlights sliced through the nocturnal solitude. The car purred to a halt outside and Rosie pulled the curtains aside. Maybe Steven had given Leon a lift home.

  The car was long, low, and opulent. Definitely not Steven’s. Rosie watched as the passenger door opened and Leon, looking not a day older than William in the soft nightglow, slid out.

  Rosie’s heart fluttered. The tension inside began to lessen. At least he was home …

  Closing the passenger door quietly, he moved round to the driver’s side of the car and leaned in the window. The treacherous moon chose that moment to disperse the clouds and illuminate the street.

  The driver of the car was young, beautiful, and blonde. A stranger.

  Rosie watched as Leon, her husband, leaned farther inside the car and kissed the blonde, beautiful stranger tenderly and with love.

  Numb with shocked disbelief, Rosie gripped the curtain between rigid fingers. Nausea rose in waves, roaring in her ears, paralysing her whole body. She’d known there was something … but not this. Never this!

  In the glorious silver moonlight, the car slid away. Leon watched it until it turned the corner then moved towards the house.

  Rosie was too horrified to cry; shout; to move even. She wanted to feel anger, but there was nothing, just the constricting of her throat and an iron band crushing her lungs. Her eyes were still drawn to the street, as if some miracle would rewind the whole awful scene and make it merely a bad dream.

  Leon hesitated on the drive, glanced up towards the bedroom window, then hurried off down the road in the opposite direction from the car.

  He knew he couldn’t creep into Honeysuckle House, tip-toe up the stairs, and slide into bed beside Rosie as if nothing had happened. How could he, when Felicity’s perfume still lingered on his clothes and her kiss still lingered on his lips? His wife deserved better than that.

  Quickening his pace in the darkness, he wondered if he was alone in finding this sort of situation impossible to cope with. How did other men react? Did they all feel remorse and shame at the pain they were inflicting when they fell foolishly in love with someone else?

  The shingled track scrunched beneath his feet as he ducked beneath overhanging trees to reach his destination. A light glowed dully in an upstairs room. Leon rapped on the door with relief.

  ‘What the –’ Steven Casey, still fully dressed, pulled open the door and stared at his visitor. ‘Leon! What’s happened? Has Rosie – No, don’t tell me, come in.’

  Gratefully, Leon climbed the twisting wooden stairs to the flat above Steven’s antiques shop. Once in the living room, he turned to face his friend.

  ‘I’m sorry. There was nowhere else I could go …’

  ‘She knows, then?’ Steven reached for two glasses and the whisky decanter and poured two large drinks. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ve tried to tell you –’

  ‘Rosie knows nothing.’ Leon swallowed half the contents of his glass in one gulp. ‘That’s not why I’m here.’

  ‘Then why?’ Steven refilled the glass. ‘It’s a heck of a time for a social call!’

  ‘I went out with Felicity tonight. We went for a meal in Dawley – I was checking out the opposition. Then we walked around the Old Granary – you know, the place I want to convert – in the moonlight, just visualising how it could be …’

  ‘Leon –’ Steven cleared the sofa of second-hand books and two tabby cats and sat down ‘Get to the point. I’m not interested in the hearts and flowers.’ Leon sank down beside him. ‘It’s just – each time I’m with her it feels more right …’ He sighed. ‘I was late getting back … I couldn’t go indoors. Rosie doesn’t deserve this.’

  ‘No, she doesn’t,’ Steven said. ‘You’re behaving like an idiot! You’ll lose her, Leon. And if you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!’

  ‘But the Four Seasons is my dream and Felicity has become part of it. You know, Steve, when I think of the Four Seasons, I see Felicity beside me, not Rosie …’

  ‘Then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought!’ Steven exploded. ‘Rosie and the kids are your reality, Leon, not some half-baked dream. OK, Felicity is a gorgeous lady, but so is Rosie. Stop all this nonsense – now.’

  ‘That’s rich coming from you!’ Leon helped himself to another drink. ‘You never keep the same woman in your life for more than a couple of months …’

  ‘Ah, but I’m not married.’ Steven squinted into his glass. ‘And if I had a family like yours, I know I wouldn’t be jeopardising it like this. Not for anything. I whisked young Jamie away from Brennan and Foulkes this afternoon just before you and Felicity appeared. If you’re going to flaunt her, it might be a good idea not to do it in front of your children!’

  ‘Oh.’ Leon groaned. ‘Why was Jamie in Dawley?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’ Steven stood up quickly. ‘I doubt if you’re at home often enough to ask any of your kids anything these days! There’s a blanket in the airing cupboard – you can share the sofa with the cats – and first thing in the morning, go back to Honeysuckle House and grow up!�
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  Leon winced as the door slammed shut behind Steven. He hadn’t expected sympathy – he knew the high regard in which his friend held Rosie – but understanding, yes. Wasn’t there anyone who would understand?

  He collected the blanket and pulled it over him, while the cats watched him from baleful amber eyes.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Leon muttered at them. ‘I’m not going to steal your bed for ever …’

  With a sigh he buried his head in the musty cushions and heard St Peter’s clock striking three.

  Kizzy heard the chime of St Peter’s and turned in her sleep. Church bells … wedding bells … In three months’ time she would be the most beautiful bride Highcliffe had ever seen. She’d have to tell Dad in the morning.

  Jamie snuggled beneath the duvet, listening to the church clock. Three o’clock – hours before he had to get up. The bells echoed away, reminding him of Christmas and childhood. Tomorrow he’d bunk off school after registration and go into Dawley again and try to win his money back in the arcade …

  William tossed and turned, exhausted but unable to sleep. Lisa hadn’t turned up again tonight, and Dad hadn’t stayed long enough to allow him to slip away. Why hadn’t she answered the phone? Two nights running and she hadn’t shown up. There was something very wrong. He’d have to find out tomorrow … Lisa might be just another waitress to Dad, but not to him. He was so tired … so very tired …

  One, two, three … Rosie listened to the shuddering chimes of St Peter’s. How long before daybreak? Surely this horror would recede with the daylight?

  Another woman. Had she driven Leon into the arms of another woman? A blonde, beautiful, rich woman.

  Her mouth was dry and her head ached, but still she felt no anger. She felt pain and – guilt? Yes, she almost laughed … she felt guilty. There must be some reason why Leon wanted someone else – and that reason could only lie with her. Was she staid and boring, as he’d accused her? Was she complacently happy with her life? Was she so determined to keep things as they always had been that her plans to stifle this last outrageous scheme of Leon’s had finally driven him away?

  She looked round the darkened bedroom with its brass bed and its Victorian furniture, its china pitcher and ewer, its watercolour paintings. This bedroom was hers and Leon’s – and this was where he belonged.

  Furiously, the anger finally swelled inside her and she grabbed her pillow.

  ‘No, I’m not staid and boring! Yes, I’m happy with my life – or at least, I was! No, I’m not complacent! And yes, I’m going to keep things just as they’ve always been – Four Seasons, blonde beauties, or not! You’ve got a fight on your hands, Leon Brodie!’

  She punched the pillow with each assertion, hot tears scalding her cheeks, then fell forward across the bed and wept quietly, until exhaustion swept her into oblivion.

  Pain – And Guilt

  William looked around the devastation of the dining room with an air of resignation. The table was a mess of half-finished cups of coffee and toast crusts, and by the two places he guessed that his brother and sister had breakfasted alone and then rushed off to school without a second thought.

  Helping himself to fresh coffee, he lowered himself into the carver. His parents’ bedroom door had been firmly shut when he’d crossed the landing, so they were obviously having a lie-in for once.

  He’d have to see Dad about the state of things at the Nook, of course, but he could wait. This morning he had more important things to sort out.

  After clearing the dining room table, he pulled on his denim jacket and stepped out into a typical damp morning. The rain was fine, a salt-spray mist gusted up from the sea, and he needed the windscreen wipers on the Mini as he drove along the High Street and turned towards the Common.

  The houses here were tall and narrow, belonging to an earlier era of grace and gentility, and parking was difficult in the winding street.

  He rang the bell at No. 22 and stepped back as the door was pulled open barely an inch.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’d like to see Lisa Ross, please. I believe she rents a room here?’

  ‘She does.’ The middle-aged woman opened the door a fraction wider. ‘She ain’t in.’

  ‘Could I wait, then?’ William smiled politely.

  ‘No point.’ The landlady shook her head. ‘I don’t know when she’ll be back. She’s moving her stuff out – could be gone all day …’

  ‘Moving? Where?’

  ‘Don’t know, and really I don’t care. Look, I don’t want to sound hard, but rules is rules – and Lisa didn’t stick to them. I gave her notice day before yesterday – and I didn’t have to do that. After what she’s done I could have asked her to leave immediately. As it was, I gave her till the end of the week. So, you see, you could be waiting all day. Sorry …’ And the door was firmly closed in his face.

  Bewildered, William walked slowly back to his car, the rain trickling irritatingly down the neck of his jacket.

  He sat inside, turning on the radio for company, but his thoughts soon blanked out the music. What on earth was Lisa up to?

  The young waitress had worked at the Nook for nearly four months. Leon had taken her on and William had liked her immediately, not just because she was small and pretty, with her long dark hair in a ponytail and a smile never far from her lips, but because she was genuinely interested in the Nook. So many of the waitresses were efficient and polite, and left the job behind the moment the last order had been served. But not Lisa. Lisa asked questions about the recipes, even made suggestions.

  They had become friends through their mutual interest in the kitchen – and that laughing friendship had developed into something deeper.

  Even so, Lisa remained something of a mystery, never volunteering any information about her past or her family.

  But none of that mattered to William. Although she had always turned down his invitations to the cinema when their nights off coincided, and never invited him into her lodgings when he drove her home after work, still their relationship had deepened.

  So what on earth had she done? What heinous crime had she committed that her landlady had felt obliged to throw her out? He couldn’t imagine his happy, laughing, gentle Lisa ever doing anything to upset anyone. That was how he thought of her, he admitted to himself. His Lisa …

  He was unsure of his next move. Should he wait a bit longer and see if she returned, or should he go back home and tackle Dad over the Nook?

  Ruefully he shook his head. Not the latter. Best leave Mum and Dad on their own for a while longer.

  The rain had melted into a sea-fret and a watery sun was peeling back the clouds. William drove slowly back down the High Street, busy with bustling Friday shoppers, and parked his Mini at the back of the Nook.

  The restaurant was open at midday with a limited menu for business lunches and light snacks, and although Marcia and Carl were perfectly capable of organising this session, either he or Leon always popped in to make sure everything was running smoothly.

  William gave a snort. He couldn’t remember the last time Dad had even bothered to put in an appearance at these lunchtime sessions. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he himself had had a whole day off.

  Things were going to have to change if he was to stay at the Nook.

  ‘Hi, William.’ Marcia grinned at him, pausing in the middle of setting the last of the tables. ‘No problems. Everything under control. Seven tables booked, the rest ready for casuals, deliveries in and stored, no staffing problems. You can go home now!’

  William returned her grin. Marcia was extremely efficient, and her husband, Carl, was quite able to manage the kitchen at lunchtimes. They had run their own restaurant in Dawley, had taken early retirement, then found that time hung heavily on their hands. They had been the daytime backbone of the Nook for five years now. William pushed through to the apparently chaotic kitchen. One quick glance told him that everything was perfect. Carl and the three lunchtime waitr
esses were drinking coffee and he poured himself a cup from the percolator.

  ‘Er – Lisa isn’t working today? She hasn’t phoned in?’

  The girls shook their heads in unison.

  ‘Leon coming in today?’ Carl questioned. ‘I really need to speak to him about the fishmonger …’

  ‘Speak to me.’ William drained his coffee cup. ‘Dad probably won’t be in until tonight.’

  ‘William –’ Marcia poked her head round the door. ‘You’ve got a visitor out front. She says she won’t come through to the kitchen.’

  William walked into the silent restaurant to find Lisa standing awkwardly just inside the door.

  ‘Lisa!’ He smiled at her, the smile dying as he drew closer. ‘What’s happened?’ His lovely, laughing Lisa looked dishevelled, dirty, and extremely tired. Instinctively he put his arms around her.

  ‘Oh, William … I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I’ve been so worried, Lisa. I went to your bedsit and –’

  She stiffened in his arms. ‘What did she tell you?’

  ‘I wasn’t prying.’ William stroked her damp, unruly hair. ‘But I do know you’re moving out.’

  ‘That’s why I didn’t come in to work. I know I should have phoned but I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he soothed her. ‘It can’t be that bad. Which of the dragon’s rules did you break?’

  ‘No children or pets …’ Lisa muttered.

  William shook his head, with the glimmer of a smile. ‘So which of those cardinal sins did you commit?’

  Lisa looked at him with huge sorrowful eyes. ‘Both.’

  Rosie had cleaned the dining room until it gleamed. She changed all the beds, dusted the spare bedrooms, washed the kitchen floor … and a glance at the grandfather clock in the hall told her it was still only lunchtime.

  She had been quite unable to relax, waking heavy-headed and feeling sick and remembering …