Anne Mather - Relative Sins

Sara sighed. ‘All the same…’

Ben paused by the window. Drawing the curtain aside, he hunched one shoulder against the wall. Just like Alex, thought Sara helplessly. God, the sooner they left the better.

‘Anyway,’ she said, feeling obliged to try and rectify whatever damage Alex had done, ‘I thought you and I might go shopping this morning. You haven’t been to Newcastle. You never know, Father Christmas may have arrived.’

‘Father Christmas?’ Ben turned, trying to sound indifferent but not quite succeeding. ‘Where?’

‘At one of the stores in Newcastle,’ declared Sara, hoping that she wasn’t being premature. ‘I know he used to turn up in London about this time. I don’t see why it should be any different here.’

Ben frowned. ‘But how can he be in London and Newcastle?’ he exclaimed. ‘You said London’s a long way from here.’

‘It is.’ Sara finished her coffee, put the cup back on the tray and got to her feet. ‘But Father Christmas is magic, isn’t he? He can be everywhere, not just in one place.’

‘Like God?’

Ben could be painfully logical when he chose, and Sara half wished she hadn’t started this. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not like God. God lives in heaven. Father Christmas lives at the North Pole. With all the fairies and elves.’

Ben trudged back to the bed. ‘Is Daddy with God?’ he asked, and Sara realised that in explaining one problem she had created another. ‘Uncle Alex says that Daddy won’t be coming back. That he and Grandmama and Grandpapa are our family now.’

Sara expelled an uneven breath. ‘Did he?’ she said, wishing that Alex would just leave them alone. ‘Well, of course they are. But not like Daddy and me and you. We—’ she pointed a finger at the little boy’s jersey and then at herself ‘—have to stick together. You’d like us to have a home of our own, wouldn’t you? Just like we had before?’

Ben looked at her with solemn eyes. ‘But it’s not like it was before, is it?’ he said, as if it were she who didn’t understand. Then, with a sudden switch, he begged wheedlingly, ‘Can’t I go riding with Uncle Alex? I don’t like shopping. I’d rather stay at home.’

The words This isn’t your home! trembled on Sara’s tongue, but she managed to restrain them. It was going to be hard enough dealing with Elizabeth Reed with Ben on her side. It would be impossible if she alienated him as well.

‘We’ll see,’ she managed at last, as if there were all the time in the world to decide—and with that Ben had to be content. But he fussed about her as she was changing, evidently eager to resume his budding friendship with his uncle.

Using the tray as an excuse, Sara chose to use the back stairs to reach the kitchen, with Ben fretting at her heels. With a bit of luck Alex would have got tired of waiting and departed. She remembered Harry telling her that his brother was keen on horses, though these days he was seldom at home.

Which reminded her of something Alex had said the day before, and which until now had remained dormant. He’d said he’d bought Ragdale ! What was she supposed to think of that?

As she had expected, there was no sign of Alex in the kitchen, and when Ben demanded to know where he’d gone Mrs Fraser couldn’t tell him. ‘He may have gone over to the Erskines’,’ she said thoughtfully. And to Sara she added, ‘He sometimes goes for a swim in their pool. Mrs Erskine—she’s always glad of the company. That husband of hers works every hour God sends.’

Ben’s face dropped. ‘But he was going to take me for a ride,’ he protested loudly, tears again not far from being shed. He turned to his mother as if it was her fault—which, strictly speaking, Sara supposed it was—and sniffed dejectedly. ‘Now what am I going to do? You should have let me go.’

Mrs Fraser arched an enquiring brow, but Sara was beginning to feel besieged and she had no intention of explaining herself to the housekeeper. ‘Come along,’ she said. ‘You haven’t said good morning to your grandmother. Is she in the morning room, Mrs Fraser?’

‘No, Mrs Reed. She’s not up yet, I’m afraid. These days Mrs Elizabeth tends to take things more easily. She’s almost sixty, you know, though she wouldn’t like me to say so.’

Almost sixty! Of course; Sara supposed she must be. Yet when she had first come here Harry’s mother had seemed so much younger than fifty-four. But time, and Harry’s death, had to have taken their toll of his parents as much as anyone, and she decided that she must try to be more charitable when dealing with her mother-in-law.

Ben hunched his shoulders. ‘I’d have liked to go swimming too,’ he muttered, drawn again to his own grievances. ‘Where do the Erskines live?’ He looked up at his mother. ‘Couldn’t we go and find him? I bet he wouldn’t mind. He said he wished he had had a boy like me.’

Sara’s mouth dried at these words, but it was easier to address his earlier complaint. ‘I don’t think Mrs Erskine would be terribly pleased to see us, Ben,’ she declared crisply. And, at Mrs Fraser’s questioning look, she went on, ‘She doesn’t have any children of her own, does she?’

‘Did Alex tell you that?’ Mrs Fraser folded her arms, as she was inclined to do when she had some pearl of wisdom to impart. ‘No, the Erskines don’t have any family. But I hear it was a definite decision on their part.’

Sara’s lips parted. The temptation to ask what the other woman meant by that remark was appealing, but she had no wish for her curiosity to be passed on. She could just imagine Elizabeth Reed’s indignation if she learned that her daughter-in-law had been gossiping with the servants, and although Mrs Fraser was trustworthy her opinions weren’t always discreet.

‘Oh, well,’ Sara said now, grasping Ben’s hand firmly and heading towards the hall door. ‘We’ll just have to go shopping, as I suggested. Are there any buses to Newcastle, Mrs Fraser?’

‘There are.’ But Mrs Fraser looked doubtful about this. ‘Perhaps you should see what Mrs Elizabeth says. I don’t think she’d expect you to use the buses. If you’re set on going shopping, someone should take you in the car.’

‘I can drive, Mrs Fraser.’ Sara was trying hard not to feel resentful. Was she really expected to clear all her movements with Harry’s mother? She could feel her bid for independence slipping away. ‘Perhaps I could borrow a car instead?’

Mrs Fraser was looking increasingly anxious, and, realising that she couldn’t expect any satisfaction from this source, Sara made some remark about going to find Mr Reed and left the room. Surely Robert Reed didn’t stay in bed until mid-morning? Harry had told her that even though he was semi-retired Robert played an active role in the administration of the estate.

She was crossing the hall and reminding herself that she must remember to wear a sweater over her shirt when the front door opened. Ben’s accompanying tirade was immediately cut off as the object of his recriminations came casually into the house. Still wearing the black jeans and leather jacket that he had worn to her room earlier, Alex brought with him the sharp air of the morning and a not unpleasant scent of the outdoors.

‘Uncle Alex, Uncle Alex!’ Dragging his hand out of his mother’s grasp, Ben darted to meet him, looking up at the man delightedly, as if he were some kind of god. It was obvious that the boy was missing his father, but did he have to treat Alex so affectionately? wondered Sara with a sense of gloom. It made her feel like the wicked stepmother in some silly Victorian melodrama.

‘Now, then.’ Alex greeted his nephew with an equal amount of affection, swinging the child up into his arms and grinning into his excited face. ‘Does this mean we can go riding? Have you got your mother’s permission at last?’