due to the instinctive frugality of her nature, but she also had to admit to herself that she didn’t like the idea of setting off somewhere to have a good time on her own. The prospect of booking into a cruise ship and being thrown in with all kinds of people she had never seen before was her worst nightmare. And there were no friends with whom she felt relaxed enough to risk exposing her personality to them over a sustained period. Jude was probably the person to whom she was closest, but the parameters of their relationship would not, to Carole’s mind at least, encompass the suggestion of their holidaying together. So the forthcoming trip to the West Country, although in the cause of their murder investigation, had suddenly become rather an attractive proposition. As soon as she heard they wouldn’t be sharing a room, Carole had become quite keen on the idea.
To her surprise, Stephen answered the phone. She hadn’t expected him to be in his Fulham home, and had anticipated having to call his mobile number. Carole still felt a little old–fashioned about mobiles, as if they were new and experimental technology. She was never confident that a message left on a mobile didn’t immediately vanish into the ether. Jude kept saying she ought to get one, but Carole didn’t feel the need. She didn’t get many calls on the landline at High Tor. What was the point of having two phones that didn’t ring?
“I just rang to ask about Gaby.”
“She’s still in hospital.” Stephen sounded weary. “They say there’s nothing to worry about, but they still want to keep her in, probably until the baby’s born. Which is something I can’t exactly understand, if there’s ‘nothing to worry about’.”
“I’m sure it’s just precautionary. The blood pressure.”. – “That’s what they say.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” Carole had never heard so much strain in her son’s voice. The responsibility of approaching fatherhood, maybe even the masculine guilt about having put his wife into her current hazardous condition, was weighing him down.
“In a month you’ll have a lovely little baby and you won’t remember any of the anxieties you went through.” Stephen didn’t reply to this. Perhaps he didn’t think it was worthy of reply. “Look, I’m ringing because I’m going to be away for a few days.”
“Oh? How long?”
“Well, it could be as much as a week.” Though somehow she didn’t think it would be. That had been another reason for her shock at Jude’s extravagance. Her neighbour seemed unthinkingly to write off a week’s rent for an investigation that might only last a couple of days. And, come to think of it, what were they investigating? Because of some extremely iffy clues, they were hoping to find Nathan Locke at Treboddick. But, given the fact that the police had already searched the place, how small were their chances of success?
“Where are you going, Mother?”
Oh dear, he was back to formality. “Cornwall,” she replied.
“Good.”
“Why do you say ‘good’?”
“Because you could do with a break.” A break from what, was Carole’s instinctive reaction. Since the Home Office had decided to dispense with her services, she had never quite lost the sensation that she was totally unproductive. The work ethic remained strong within her, and she still felt people without work were, at some level, worthless.
“Are you going on your own?”
“With Jude.”
“Excellent.”
“As I say, it may not be a full week, but…Anyway, if there are any problems with Gaby, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
“Of course. Though I’m not sure how. You haven’t got round to buying a mobile yet, have you?”
“No,” came the shamefaced reply.
“You really should. It’s so convenient.”
“Yes,” she agreed humbly. “But I’ll call you when I get down there. There’s probably a phone in the cottage.”
“Or you could just give me Jude’s mobile number.”
But that somehow didn’t seem right. Carole wasn’t sure of the etiquette of mobile ownership, but she thought it must be bad form to give out someone else’s mobile number as a personal contact – even though she knew that Jude would be the last person in the world to worry about something like that.
“I’ll phone you when we get down there.”
“All right,” he said in the voice a cotton mill owner might have used to a potential Luddite. “Oh, incidentally, Mum…” Thank God, he was relaxed enough to stop calling her ‘Mother’. But Carole’s joy was shortlived, as he went on, “I was talking to Dad today.” He never seemed to have any problem using the word ‘Dad’. “He was saying he’d love to see you.”
“Why?” came the icy response.
“Well, look, you are both about to be grandparents.”
“That doesn’t mean we cease to be divorced.”
“No, but I was thinking…you know, for the baby, it’d be nice if he or she was born into a family where everyone got on.”
“You and Gaby get on. That’ll be the most important thing for your child. And I’m sorry, Stephen, I wish that your father and I had ‘got on’ like a perfect fairy tale couple, but we didn’t, and at least we had the honesty to admit the fact.”
“I don’t know. I think Dad would quite like you to get back together…”
This was more than Carole could cope with. Though aware of her son’s fragile state of anxiety about Gaby, she couldn’t stop herself from snapping, “Well, I can assure you I do not share his opinion.”
After the phone call, she felt guilty about what she’d said. But by the time she went to bed – soon after ten, she and Jude were planning an early start – the reaction had receded. She’d have felt even more guilty if she’d lied about her feelings for David.
¦
There was a feeling of holiday about their journey down to Cornwall. The Wednesday had opened to a cloudless sky, late September maintaining the illusion that winter wasn’t just around the corner. And even as they drove along the M27 past Portsmouth and Southampton, they got a feeling of life opening up. Jude had always been part of a wider world, but since her retirement Carole had felt her horizons narrowing down to Fethering and only Fethering. She felt exhilarated to be seeing somewhere new.
It was also interesting to have a different person in the navigator’s seat. During her marriage Carole had done most of the driving, David beside her. Although he had a bad sense of direction and kept losing his place on the map, he was always convinced that he was right. As a result, the tension in the car quickly became palpable. So for Carole the mere fact of having someone else in the car was a stress trigger, even when the other person was Jude.
Though she had ferried her neighbour around on many short trips, they had never spent a whole day in the car together and, as ever in a new situation, Carole was anxious about giving away too much of herself. She had always eschewed intimacy. The idea that someone might know everything about her was appalling. The certainty that nobody did know quite everything was what kept her going.
But after about an hour of driving she relaxed. Jude was a very undemanding and unjudgemental companion. What was more, she had no interest at all in their route. She assumed that Carole knew the way she wanted to go and that was fine by her. Jude seemed more laid-back than ever. She didn’t say much, but there were few uneasy silences. Indeed, Carole found herself talking quite a lot, even confessing the fears that she could never voice to Stephen about the health of his wife and their unborn child. Jude was predictably reassuring. She even volunteered the use of her mobile phone to check on the family, which made Carole feel very embarrassed. She knew she would only have had to ask.
They hadn’t left quite as early as they’d intended. Eight-thirty had been the proposed departure time, and at eight-fifteen Carole had the Renault, packed with Gulliver and the luggage, parked outside Woodside Cottage. But Jude hadn’t been ready. She still had a couple of emails to do. Carole fumed quietly. It was all too reminiscent of travelling with David. Her husband had been the unusual and infuriating combination of a nit-picker and a bad time- keeper.
