Anne Mather - Season Of Mists

‘I was just going to bring us both a pot of tea upstairs,’ she declared, her rosy cheeks dimpling with pleasure. ‘But now you’re up, we can have it down here.’

Abby squeezed the hand the old lady offered, and went to sit at the kitchen table. She might never have been away, she reflected, blinking back a feeling of emotionalism. Thank heavens for Aunt Hannah, she thought, drawing a steadying breath. Right now, she needed someone to talk to.

‘So …’ The old lady set the tray between them, and seated herself opposite. ‘You’re here!’ She reached for Abby’s hand again. ‘Are you going to stay?’

‘Just for the weekend,’ said Abby brightly, trying to behave naturally. ‘You know that. I told you in my letter——’

‘Yes, I know. But you also told me you were worried about Matthew, and now that I’ve met him, I can understand why.’

Abby sighed, and rested her chin on her knuckles. ‘You mean what happened last night?’

‘I mean the reasons behind what happened last night,’ replied Hannah, pouring the tea. ‘Abby, why haven’t you told Matthew the truth?’

‘How could I?’ Abby cradled her cup in her cold hands. ‘He’d never believe me. Not now.’

‘What do you mean? Not now?’

Abby shook her head. ‘It was easier to pretend his father was dead. I mean—so far as we were concerned, he was.’

‘Oh, Abby!’

‘Well …’ Abby tried to justify herself. ‘Aunt Hannah, Piers had disowned us; he’d disowned Matthew. Could you have told him that?’

‘When did he find out?’

‘About two years ago.’

‘How?’

Abby hesitated. ‘He—must have seen his birth certificate.’

‘And?’

Abby put her cup down. ‘He read one of your letters, while I was out.’ She made a helpless gesture. ‘It was my fault. I should have realised he was getting older, more inquisitive.’

‘You mean he put two and two together.’ Hannah sighed. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, I should have been more careful.’

‘Why should you?’ Abby was quick to reassure her. ‘I mean, you never used Piers’ surname. But his Christian name is rather—uncommon.’

‘But you told Matthew the truth, then?’

‘I told him that Piers and I were incompatible. That our marriage had been a mistake, and we had agreed to separate.’

‘Is that all!’ Hannah stared at her impatiently. ‘Didn’t you tell him about the rows? About Tristan?’

‘Would that have made it any better?’ Abby expelled her breath wearily. ‘It was too late, don’t you see? Any chance I had had of gaining Matt’s sympathy was gone. He blamed me. He still does, as last night proved.’

‘Oh, my dear!’ Hannah looked concerned. ‘Tell me again what happened. You were upset last night. And I didn’t like to probe too deeply; not then.’

‘Oh——’ Abby flung herself back in her chair. ‘It was awful!’ She shook her head reminiscently. ‘Matt had been so good, so—helpful. I really had begun to believe he’d turned over a new leaf. I had no idea he knew about Piers’ letter and the divorce. If I had, I’d have thought twice about bringing him.’

Hannah nodded. ‘Go on. You said you saw Piers at the barrier.’

‘That’s right. He’d come to meet Miss Langton. Apparently she’d been visiting some friends in London, and she happened to travel back on the same train. In first class, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘Well——’ Abby caught her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, ‘when I saw Piers, I thought at first——’ She broke off. ‘I’m sure you can guess what I thought.’

‘That I’d asked him to meet you?’

‘Hmm,’ Abby nodded. ‘It was stupid, I realise that now. But at the time, it seemed the only explanation.’

‘And you told Matthew?’

‘Not then, no. But I was stunned, shocked; you can guess how I was feeling.’ She lifted her shoulders helplessly. ‘And Matt—being Matt—came to the obvious conclusion.’

‘But why did you let him run after Piers? Surely you must have had some idea of what might happen.’

Abby sniffed. ‘I didn’t let him. I couldn’t stop him. He was gone almost before I realised it.’

‘And he introduced himself to Piers as his son.’

‘Yes.’ Abby felt the whole weight of this realisation bearing down on her.

‘Still,’ Hannah poured herself more tea, ‘at least Piers didn’t disown him in front of Miss Langton.’

‘No.’ Abby was grudging. ‘But he didn’t exactly welcome him either.’

‘You couldn’t expect that.’ Hannah studied her niece’s pale face with compassion. ‘My dear, can you imagine what a shock it must have been for Valerie? No one in the valley even knew you had a son. And the Langtons regard Piers as one of them.’

Abby finished her tea and pushed her cup over for more. ‘I suppose you’re right. But at the time, all I was aware of was Piers looking at me as if he could have killed me!’

‘Well, you’ve certainly put the cat among the pigeons, haven’t you, my dear? I mean—an ex-wife is one thing, a stepson is something else.’

Abby shrugged. ‘Piers doesn’t regard Matt as his son. I expect he told Miss Langton that, the minute we got out of the car.’

‘Well, at least you didn’t have to wait for a bus,’ pointed out Hannah dryly. ‘Piers’ Daimler must have been an improvement on that.’

‘I suppose so.’ Abby shuddered again. ‘But it was the longest journey of my life. No one spoke, not even Matt. Perhaps he was regretting what he had done. Anyway, we all just sat there, like dummies, waiting to get to our destination.’

‘Didn’t Piers ask how you were? Why you were here?’

‘Not in the car. I don’t remember anything he said, just his hostility. It was awful!’

‘And how did he introduce you to Valerie?’

‘Oh—as his ex-wife, I think. It was humiliating. I think she thought Matt was some kind of punk!’

Hannah half smiled. ‘Well, you have to admit, it’s not every day a youth rushes up to your fiancé and claims that he’s his father!’

‘No.’ Abby had to giggle at this. ‘I suppose it was quite amusing really. I just wish it hadn’t happened.’

‘Never mind.’ Hannah put the cups aside and regarded her warmly. ‘You’ve no idea how good it is to have you here, Abby. The cottage has been so empty all these years.’

Abby allowed her to take both her hands, and they looked affectionately at one another. ‘It’s good to see you, too, Aunt Hannah,’ she said gently. ‘And what’s all this about you misbehaving yourself?’

‘Oh——’ Hannah drew her hands away. ‘You mean that conversation you had with Dr Willis. I told you in my letter, I have no intention of leaving the cottage. If I die, I intend to die here, and not in some home, with none of my own things around me.’

‘I’m sure you’re allowed to take your own things with you, Aunt Hannah,’ Abby exclaimed. ‘Your personal things, at least.’

‘And my furniture? That dresser, for instance. Do you think I could take that? And my china cabinet, in the front parlour?’

‘Aunt Hannah——’

‘Don’t bother. I know what you’re going to say. I can’t expect a residential establishment such as Rosemount to provide space for all the odds and ends its inmates have collected over the years.’

‘You make it sound like a prison, Aunt Hannah!’

‘It would be, to me. Abby, can’t you see? Can’t you understand? I’ve lived in this cottage almost all my life. I don’t want to leave it now.’

‘Then you’ll have to have a nurse—or a housekeeper. Someone who could take care of you——’

‘I don’t want some strange woman in my kitchen,’ the old lady interrupted her crisply. ‘I don’t want any female telling me what to do in my own home!’