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‘I’ve never heard about any English girl before,’ he told his uncle.
‘That’s because I don’t mention her. Don’t like to admit to having made a mistake. That’s a trait we both share... Should have married her when I had the chance, only I thought I’d kinda make her wait a little. I was young and I dare say a little swelled-headed at. times. She didn’t want to wait, though, and I lost her...
‘Oh, I got over it... kinda... I came home after the war, met your aunt Grace and we got married, but I never forgot my English girl. Margaret, her name was. Peggy, they called her. Pretty as a rose, she was, with the softest skin.’ He gave a sentimental sigh.
‘Oh, Grace and I got on well enough together. She’d lost a fiancé during the war herself and so we both knew the score. Kinda makes you think, though. When I look around me now, see all of you together... If I’d married Peggy perhaps my grandchildren would be here now. There’s nothing like having a family of your own, Brad.’
‘I have a family,’ Brad pointed out brusquely to him. And besides, she...my English girl...doesn’t want me, he wanted to say, but the habit of keeping his own problems to himself, which had begun with his parents’ death, was too deeply ingrained now to be overcome.
‘A man belongs where his heart is, Brad; that’s his true home,’ his uncle told him quietly.
His uncle was right, Brad acknowledged later as the first of the early-evening shadows started to fall and the family gathered around the fire, the little ones snuggling up to their parents, the older ones—the soon-to-be teen . agers—hanging together in their own small, private group, too old now to want to mimic those they saw as the babies of the family by staying with their parents and still too young to be allowed to separate themselves from the family group.
Abe picked up his guitar; he was a good musician, with a tuneful voice. When Mary-Beth had first met him he had been the lead singer in a local group; Brad smiled to himself, remembering how he had come the stern, heavy older brother, warning her about getting involved with a boy who played in a band.
Abe started to sing an old folk tune familiar to all of them; the other adults joined in, their voices gradually swelled by those of the youngsters, the unlikely mingling of all their voices producing a surprisingly harmonious sound—rather like the mingling of the family itself, Brad reflected. But for him a vitally important note was missing—a vitally needed sweetness, a vitally important person.
Quietly he turned away from the fire.
On the other side of the lake his boat still waited for those all-important repairs, but his dream of sailing her had lost its savour. His life felt empty...he felt empty, he recognised.
His uncle had been right. His heart wasn’t here any longer; it was thousands of miles away across the Atlantic with a woman whose soft cries of love still returned at night, every night, to haunt and torment him.
Claire...Claire...
CHAPTER TEN
SHE was obviously the first to arrive for their lunch rendezvous, Claire recognised as the head waiter escorted her through the almost empty restaurant and into the conservatory, seating her at a central table with a wonderful view of the hotel gardens with such a flourish that she felt it was a shame that there was no one else there to witness it.
Giving him a warm smile as a reward for his professionalism and a compensation for his lack of a worthy audience for it, she refused his offer of an aperitif.
If she hadn’t spoken to the other two earlier in the week to confirm their arrangement she would have been tempted to think that they weren’t coming.
Her heart had gone out to Poppy when she had telephoned her and heard her subdued voice.
‘The most peculiar thing has happened,’ Sally had told her importantly the day prior to her telephone call. ‘Chris has forbidden me, on pain of total withdrawal of my chocolate-bar allowance, to talk about it, but...’
‘But...?’ Claire had pressed, but Sally had shaken her head regretfully.
‘I can’t tell you, but if it is true I just can’t believe... Although Chris says he always thought that...’
‘Poppy’s fallen in love with someone else?’ Claire had suggested helpfully.
‘Well...no...no...’ Sally had shaken her head firmly. ‘I promised Chris I wouldn’t say anything. It’s all a bit delicate, you see...a bit...well, a bit difficult...and, to be honest, I’m still not sure I believe...’ She had given Claire an apologetic look. ‘I want to tell you but...’
‘It’s all right,’ Claire had comforted her. ‘Poppy is in a very vulnerable position at the moment,’ she had added gently, inwardly reflecting on how much she would hate it if she thought that people were gossiping, speculating about her relationship with Brad, especially since the semi-public knowledge of their jokingly made vow of celibacy seemed to have added a certain piquancy to any gossip about their love lives. ‘Obviously Chris wants to protect her from any additional hurt; that’s only natural.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Sally had agreed, giving her a grateful hug. ‘You will let me know if there are any signs of cracks appearing in the walls of female single solidarity, though, won’t you?’ she had added more light-heartedly.
‘Certainly not,’ Claire had told her roundly. ‘It’s one for all and all for one and you’re the last person I would tell,’ she had added teasingly.
‘Mmm...well, I haven’t heard anything from Star,’ Sally had continued, ‘in simply ages. I know she’s been away a lot. Did you know, by the way, that Uncle Tim has consulted her about a new PR image for the company? Aunt Irene told me.’
Claire had made a noncommittal response, only too well aware of the fact that she had been avoiding Irene and all too well aware of how easily her sharp-eyed and even sharper-tongued sister-in-law could destroy the fragile barrier of self-protection that she was trying to erect around herself.
It was no use deluding herself, she adm
itted wearily now; there was no real protection, no real escape from the heartache of loving Brad. She might be able to banish him from her thoughts during the day but she had no control over her subconscious at night, and she had lost count of the number of times she had woken up, her face wet with tears, aching with loneliness and longing for him...
‘Good, I’m not the last, then.’
Claire smiled as Star came hurrying towards her.
‘Poppy not here yet?’
Claire shook her head as she smiled at the younger woman. ‘She will be coming, though,’ she told her. ‘I spoke to her the other day.’
‘Mmm...she may be coming, but if the gossip I’ve heard is true she won’t—’ Star broke off as Poppy herself came into the conservatory.
If the gossip was that Poppy had fallen in love with someone new, then her appearance certainly didn’t bear it out, Claire reflected compassionately as she smiled at the new arrival. If anything, Poppy looked thinner and more unhappy than she had done the last time Claire had seen her.
As she patted the empty chair next to her own in a motherly fashion she studied her discreetly.
Poppy had definitely lost weight and she was very much on edge, glancing nervously over her shoulder as she sat down and lowering her voice as she greeted them, even though they were the only people in the conservatory.
‘Well, I don’t know about you two,’ Star announced, reaching for the menu that the head waiter had left on the table, ‘but I am hungry and fully intend to celebrate our first three marriage-free months. At least mine have been—marriage- and indeed man-free,’ she added archly, looking questioningly from Claire to Poppy. ‘Have you two...?’
‘I don’t have any plans to marry,’ Claire told her hastily, mentally crossing her fingers as she acknowledged her inability to claim the true spirit of their pact.
‘Nor do I,’ Poppy echoed, but her face was slightly flushed and Claire could have sworn that she saw the sheen of tears in her eyes before she blinked them away.
