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‘Sorry I can’t,’ Philippa told him with a smile, ‘I’m having lunch with Simon.’
‘Umm. Nice kid, he was making himself useful in the computer room this morning. He’s got a very receptive mind. Dave, our technician, was most impressed.’
‘Yes, computers and motorbikes are the loves of his life at the moment. Scott’s gone out,’ she added awkwardly, ‘with Cara… for lunch.…’
‘She’s probably heard the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I expect it’s the first time she’s come up against any resistance to her daddy’s almighty dollar. Cara’s been brought up with the idea that anything Cara wants, Cara gets. Her father is a widower and he dotes on her.’
‘And you don’t? Philippa guessed speculatively.
‘She’s eighteen for God’s sake and acts like she’s going on for thirty. If she doesn’t quit playing around she’s going to get hurt.’
‘And that matters to you?’ Philippa guessed. His thin features flushed. ‘Yeah, it would.’ He pushed his fingers wearily through his hair. ‘Guess you must think me all kinds of a fool, it’s plain she’s got her sights set on Scott.’
‘But Scott doesn’t want to marry, or so you said?’
‘No,’ he agreed dryly, ‘but he’s a man like any other and knowing the way Cara’s mind works, she probably thinks it’s only a short step from his bedroom to the altar. Don’t forget, Scott needs that contract from her father, and she isn’t above using a little coercion.’
Her head was aching half an hour later when she left the office. She had worked hard all morning, but the moment she stopped her thoughts were immediately occupied by all her problems. She still had Simon to face, although he had seemed to accept the brief explanation she had given him this morning. She was gnawing on her bottom lip when she walked into the main block.
Mrs Robinson looked up and smiled when she walked into the kitchen. What did Scott’s housekeeper think about her presence in the house? None of Scott’s other employees lived in. Was she the subject of gossip and speculation in the village?
‘Young Simon’s outside with Mrs Garston,’ Mrs Robinson told her. ‘Round in the walled garden they are I think, Mrs Garston likes it there, it’s sheltered and warm. It’s her companion’s day off today, but she and Simon seemed to be getting on like a house on fire. Still that’s often the way of it, young and old finding a common meeting ground. If you wouldn’t mind telling them that lunch is ready for me. It’s fresh salmon, Mrs Garston’s favourite.’
‘Simon’s too,’ Philippa told her, adding wryly, ‘not that he gets it very often.’ Mrs Robinson didn’t have the local accent, and obviously knew nothing about her and Simon, but Philippa wondered how long it would be before the gossip percolated through and how long before the housekeeper started to glance at her more warily.
She needed no directions to find the walled garden, but nevertheless she listened carefully while Mrs Robinson explained how she could find it. As she crossed the cobbled courtyard at the back of the house and skirted what had once been the stables and were now garages, Philippa marvelled at the changes Scott had wrought. Where there had been neglect and untidiness all was now in order. From the stables a path led through the woods to the home farm. She had trodden it often enough on her way for milk and eggs from the farmer’s wife, just as she had often met Scott in the sanctuary of the woods. In the autumn they were normally let out for the shooting rights, and she wondered if this was something Scott had continued. She could remember quite vividly how he had told her about his plans for the estate, for making it pay, but Computex seemed to have solved all his problems in that direction, and remembering his fierce love of Garston she wondered if he would indeed be prepared to marry Cara Laine to secure the future of Computex. Nothing changed she thought drearily as she walked towards the gate which opened into the walled garden. Eleven years ago she had wondered the same thing about Mary Tatlow. Then she had been wrong, but this time?
She spied her quarry long before they were aware of her presence. Eve Garston sat on an old wooden bench beneath the willow tree, Simon on the ground at her feet, listening raptly to something she was telling him. The smooth grass muted the sound of Philippa’s approach, and she had reached them before either of them realised she was there, Simon’s brief ‘Hi mum,’ mingling with Eve’s pleased, ‘Philippa, how nice, come and sit down beside me and tell me how you are. It’s been so long.…’
‘Eleven years. But I’m afraid I can’t sit. Mrs Robinson has sent me to tell you both that lunch is ready. It’s salmon, so both of you should be pleased,’ she added unthinkingly and then flushed as guiltily as a small child, biting her lip when she saw the thoughtful look Eve Garston gave her. She had always liked Scott’s mother and had felt acutely sympathetic towards her, guessing how she suffered under the domineering rule of her father-in-law. He hadn’t approved of their marriage, or his second son’s career, and she guessed that Eve had been made to suffer for her husband’s defection, although she always seemed serene, despite the appalling pain of her arthritis. Had Eve known of her feeling for Scott? She had been too wrapped up in him at the time to pay much attention to his mother, it had been Scott’s grandfather who had dominated all her anxious thoughts.
She was touched to see how easily Simon went to help Eve to her feet, matching his pace to her slow one. ‘You have a very charming son, Philippa,’ Eve told her with a smile, ‘I’ve enjoyed our talk together.’
‘Mum, Mrs Garston was telling me about her plastic hip joints,’ Simon informed her, ‘and all about her operation.’
‘Not quite as dramatic as it sounds, but oh, the blessed relief from pain. Scott tells me that you’re going to work for him as his secretary.’
‘For a little while. Simon’s headmaster thinks he would do better in a small school environment and when Scott offered me the job.…’
Eve seemed to accept her explanation quite easily but Philippa noticed the way her eyes lingered on Simon while they ate their lunch, and the seemingly innocuous questions she asked Philippa about her life in London, although Philippa noticed she made no reference to her lack of a husband or Simon’s lack of a father, so presumably Scott had told her about Geoff.
‘You must be very proud of Scott,’ Philippa said as they finished their coffee. ‘He’s done very well.’
‘Mm… but I’d rather see him happy than rich. As a mother you will understand that.’
Philippa glanced at Simon’s silky downbent head, his hair so like Scott’s in texture and colour.
‘Yes,’ she agreed sombrely, ‘yes I do.’
The afternoon passed swiftly enough with Scott returning at three to load her down with more dictation but she was glad to be kept busy and out of his sight, hating the elusive traces of Cara’s strong perfume which clung to his jacket, tormenting with images of them kissing, perhaps even.…
Over dinner she met Eve’s companion and instantly liked her. ‘Simon and Philippa are staying at the house while Philippa is working for me,’ Scott explained. ‘It makes things easier all round.’
‘It’s nice to have a young face about the place,’ Eve commented gently, ‘I enjoyed our chat this morning, Simon, perhaps we can talk again tomorrow.’
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‘If you like,’ Simon agreed, patently flattered. ‘I could teach you to play draughts tonight, if you want,’ he added. Philippa saw the twinkle in Eve’s eye. ‘I should like that very much,’ she assured him. ‘When shall we start?’
