Chapter 9

Eighteen years later - Sunday, 23 May - Robert & Catherine discuss Elizabeth's will. [Catherine]

Elizabeth Lawley died aged 70. Her husband Robert was by then a senior tutor in History at one of England's collegiate universities aged 53. His rise from a humble background is explained by the influential position in the University of Elizabeth's previous husband's and her substantial wealth. Influence from Wilson's first labour government also had an effect. His personal talents consolidated these advantages and continued to do so after her death.

The old house was in darkness as I parked the car.

Had no one had the sense to come and stay with Robert?

I'd hardly had time to see him yesterday after the funeral and Helen was fussing over him. I'd actually felt a bit shut out. I'd been dying to know who the small, chestnut-haired girl was. She'd been weeping behind a pillar, trying to keep out of sight but the tears had been more than casual pity for an acquaintance.

The light came on as I walked up the path to that familiar porch. I barely needed a light. Robert opened the door.

"Hello Catherine," he said, "I was going to ask you to come over but then I knew you'd come, so I saved a phone call". I followed him along the passage, thinking that he was observing the conventions, even with me. He had no idea that I'd be coming. After all, I should have been halfway to Edinburgh by now. I'd only stopped over because I was worried about him.

"Are you all right?" I asked, fatuously. He didn't reply until we were in the study that had been Andrew's and then Elizabeth's and now Robert's. I'd expected the lounge.

"I'm not thinking." He said, sitting down behind the desk. "The funeral was good to stop thoughts and keep the grief under control. I've just been looking through Elizabeth's things. Just reading things that she wrote keeps her ghost here, just behind my shoulder. You know, there's lots of Andrew's stuff and his wife's scattered about the house. And I suspect I'll be just the same. I'll keep her here with all this ephemera."

He tossed a document over to me. "What I really wanted to ask you about was this. It's a copy of Elizabeth's will." I skimmed through it. It was messy - an original will made when she met Robert and then codicils added over the last eighteen years - probably about fifty of them - small bequests - changes as friends had died - nothing very exciting. All witnessed - the witnesses made interesting reading. I knew the outline pretty well. Half the residue to Robert and the other half equally divided among the five of us children.

"You're going to have fun sorting out these codicils" I said, " - well not fun exactly - sorry."

"No, no", he said, "that's not the problem. She went through them about a week ago, redrafted them and they're with her solicitor. She was very kind, resigned. These last three weeks have been well organised. She just kept me going through her timetable. I had hardly any time to think." A long pause - he was miles away.

"You'd better stay the night," he said, glancing at the clock. "You can't drive up to Edinburgh tonight. Sleep here and make an early start. I do need to talk and it won't be easy."

"My bag's in the car anyway. That's OK. Have you eaten."

"No." he said, " and I don't think I will. But I can feed you."

"I'll have a sandwich later." I told him, "Grief is good for my waistline."

He scoffed at me. "Are you fishing for compliments? You look marvellous. You'll be as beautiful as your mother when you're seventy-one. How about a drink?"

"Now you're talking. Secret whisky please." Robert got up and headed for the cupboard where the best Scottish malts were kept. "I hope I do look as good as Mum when I'm seventy but only on her terms - not vanity, just a gift for a man I love. Worth working at. You're looking pretty good yourself." He gave me the whisky. I saw he'd got a beer for himself.

He raised his glass. "Just me working class tastes!" he said in the South Yorkshire accent that had vanished over the last eighteen years. "Good stuff'd be wasted on me. Nay lass, it's part of what I want to talk about, how I look an' that." He brooded and then continued in what was now his normal voice.

"I don't think I'd model clothes for Tony now. Elizabeth kept a portfolio of those photos, you know. " He gestured to the bookcase behind him. "Every single one. I never knew. It makes me feel quite ashamed of the clothes I wear now. Tony could make any man feel like Paris and any woman like Helen. I'm surprised that you never sent Tony into bankruptcy by cadging clothes off him."

"Ha! Tony's far too canny for that. He uses the family to dispose of the experiments that he doesn't dare sell. I don't think anyone ever got more than two of Tony's seconds - and we certainly never got the label to flaunt. You had to take Tony's choice and size - no messing. Do you remember what a podgy thing Barbara was? Tony gave her the most fabulous dress - three sizes too small! Now look at her!"

I looked at him - an eligible widower! This step-father of mine was only five years older than me. He was a man any woman might love - well, any woman with sense. The awful Tracey excepted - not that he'd ever had a hard word to say about his first wife and her betrayal. God! I thought, if anything happened to David (cross fingers and toes) then what might I do with Robert?

Or even - I was staying here tonight alone with this man - not my stepfather, just a man.

I felt the blush spread across my throat and chest, then rise to my face. My vulva was suddenly hot and wet - I'd seen that portfolio! Robert got up and came to me. He crouched beside me and I turned into his arms. He kissed me on the lips, not demandingly but he seemed to be inviting me to choose. Then, relief!

Oh you kind, kind man.

He knew I would refuse. He knew me better than I knew myself. Crisis over. I kissed him softly.

"What would you have done if I'd failed that test? Did you test me?"

He looked at me, a little puzzled. "Test? You mean if you'd kissed me with an 'all the way' kiss? I'd have taken you to bed I suppose. If you'd meant it I don't think I could possibly resist you. But you wouldn't. I think of you as a daughter." But he looked a little doubtful and still puzzled. "Next time round? If you see what I mean. But, I don't know, when you were looking at me, I just had to come and kiss you. I've almost never kissed you before, have I?"

Thank goodness - a girl can only stand so much!

"Look," he said, getting up, "I really wanted to know if you thought I was still attractive." Now he was blushing. I was getting lost in this.

"I've just wet my knickers thinking about what I'd do with you if anything happened to David. I just hope I'm not tempting fate. I don't know what happened." Robert looked a bit taken aback. "But you don't want to know what a hunk you are just now. I will not believe that you are lining up replacement nooky, having just buried Mum. We've got crossed lines." Where was that whisky? Robert had crumpled in the chair. There were tears running down his cheeks. Bugger! I started crying too. Mum was going to leave a mighty hole in my life.

He said, "You know, you're going to miss Elizabeth as much as I am. What are we going to d..." and he was really weeping, totally abandoned. We wept in each other's arms, standing by the desk. At last, we could talk again, sniffing and gulping. He released me and stood up straight.

"I'm not ready to start mourning yet. There's just too much of her left. She's still here and I'm not doing what she wanted. She intended me to do something after her death that I'm terrified of. I'm not lining up replacement nooky - as you put it - but she might have been. And not just nooky." He refilled my glass and filled one for himself. "Come on. Let's leave this mess behind and sit in the warm" He led the way into the sitting room where there was a fire. What mess, I wondered, mystified. Or rather, which of the messes. I sat by the fire. He put the will in my lap and sat far away from me on the other side.