‘Wel ,’ Scott said, ‘I have to hand it to you. I real y do, Mother.’
‘Thank you.’
‘So, it’s al arranged—’
‘Yes,’ Margaret said. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, pet, but I’m sure you’l see it’s for the best.’
‘Wel ,’ Scott said casual y, ‘it’s not for long—’
‘Four nights.’
‘Oh no,’ Scott said, ‘just three.’
‘You said four nights—’
‘Did I? I don’t think so. Don’t want to overdo it, the first time.’
‘Four nights,’ Margaret said firmly. ‘Thursday to Monday. Four nights.’
‘We changed it,’ Scott said.
‘You changed it?’
‘Yup,’ he said. ‘We changed it. I’ve sent her the tickets.’
‘It’s hardly,’ Margaret said, ‘worth her coming for three nights—’
‘It’s what she wanted.’
‘I’m not at al sure—’
‘It’s arranged. It’s done. It’s sorted. You’l see her on Sunday. I’l bring her out to Tynemouth on Sunday.’
‘Scott,’ Margaret said. Her tone was suspicious. ‘Scott. Are you tel ing me the truth?’
He looked down at the new bedlinen, lying pristine in its shining packets, on his black sofa. He smiled into the telephone.
‘Course I am,’ he said to Margaret. ‘Course I am! Why would I lie to you about a thing like that?’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Francis Leverton approved of his daughter-in-law. Miriam was not only good-looking, and had produced two little boys in five years, but she was a woman of competence and flair who shared Francis’s view that a great deal more might be made out of Mark than he might manage if left entirely to his own devices. They had never gone so far as to discuss Mark and his possibilities – and failings – openly, but a tacit understanding existed between them that sometimes the way forward for Mark had to be – tactful y, of course – pointed out to him; especial y if it was a situation in which his natural warmth of heart might influence matters in a way not beneficial to either the firm or the family.
Such a situation had arisen over Chrissie Rossiter – or, as Francis Leverton firmly cal ed her, Chrissie Kelsey. Richie Rossiter had been a fixture in Francis’s household for years, on account of his wife and her sisters being ardent fans, and ful of a proprietorial pride that he had lived in the same London postcode as they did. When Richie died, the Leverton family had been shocked and ful of sympathy for the widow and her daughters, and then the subsequent revelation that Chrissie was in fact the mother of Richie’s second family had slightly tempered the sympathy.
So when Mark arrived home, a little late, for Friday-night dinner and found his parents as wel as his wife and her brother and his wife waiting for him, and explained why he had been delayed, his father had reacted by saying, in his measured, paternalistic way, that lawyers were not counsel ors and that he, Mark, must endeavour not to confuse a natural human compassion with such professional help as was appropriate to give, and duly recompensed for. Francis then glanced at Miriam for support. Miriam, however, was not in the mood for complicity. She was preoccupied with the chicken she had prepared being up to her mother-in-law’s exacting standards, and also, in this case, aware that one of the elements that made Mark, in her view, a much more satisfactory husband than her father-in-law would have been was both his warmth of heart and his preparedness to blur boundaries and chal enge codes of conduct if the habits of a lifetime seemed to him to have become no more than habits. So she picked up her fork, and smiled at her father-in-law and said she was sure he was right but that there wasn’t, was there, a universal solution to al the arbitrary human problems that Mark had to deal with every day.
Mark had been amazed. He was used to confronting Miriam and his father together, and to acknowledging, often reluctantly, that he might have –
yet again – al owed his heart to rule his head. But here she was, at his own dining table, standing up for him, and to his own father. He shot her a look of pure gratitude, and adjusted his shirt cuffs so that she could see he was wearing the Tiffany links she had given him. She, in turn, smiled steadily at his father.
It was a long evening. Francis had needed to dominate the proceedings by way of recompense for Miriam’s defection, and had prolonged the prayers and rituals to a stately degree. He had also talked at length – at great length – about the value of professional distance from personal dilemma, and Miriam’s sister-in-law, who had grown up in a very liberal household where Friday nights were casual y observed, if at al , grew visibly restive and began, with increasing obviousness, to attract her husband’s attention.
‘It’s the babysitter—’
Miriam kissed her father-in-law very warmly as he was leaving, and squeezed his arm.
‘Lovely dinner, dear,’ her mother-in-law said, ‘but I prefer not to put thyme with the chicken.’
In the kitchen, among the dirty plates and glasses, Mark put his arms round his wife.
‘What was al that about?’ he murmured into her hair.
She gave a little shrug.
‘I just felt sorry for her. For Chrissie whatsit.’
