Nicola Upson - Angel with Two Faces

‘Yes.’ He looked grave again, and Josephine realised that Ronnie was right to be worried about her father – the sadness on the estate was taking its toll on him as much as anyone. ‘It’s like talking to someone who’s only half there. Any mention of the future, and she just retreats further into herself.’

‘What will happen to them?’

‘I ought to be able to answer that, but it’s not a simple question. Financially, I’m happy to take responsibility for them until they get back on their feet – no matter how long it takes.’

‘It’s more than that, though, isn’t it? They need a reason to look forward.’

‘Exactly. And maybe I’m doing the wrong thing by taking care of all the practical worries for them – perhaps they’d find a focus more quickly if they were forced to fend for themselves, but I’m afraid cruel to be kind doesn’t sit easily with me. There must be something which will make them happy, and I’d rather let them find it in a gentler way if I can.’ He looked at her, a little embarrassed. ‘Does that sound absurdly naive?’

‘No, not at all. But it does sound like a long-term occupation.’

‘It’s easier with Loveday, I admit – partly because she’s still so young, and partly because she’s interested in everything. She adores the horses, you know – she’s very like her father and her brother in that way – and I want to encourage Morwenna to let her help out a bit round the estate when she’s better. She never had the patience to stick with school, although she’s bright and Morveth did what she could – but Loveday’s an independent spirit, and just the sort that this place needs.’

‘You must be used to patching this estate together by now,’ Josephine said, as they walked down the drive which divided the parkland from some marshy reed beds and the lake. ‘Doesn’t it ever get you down? The responsibility, I mean – for the people, as well as the land. Don’t you ever hanker after an easy life?’

He smiled. ‘Is there such a thing? Look,’ he said, pointing across to the farmland which lay beyond the water. ‘You can trace the history of our landscape for hundreds of years just in this one view – all those winding lanes and tracks between the farms, cut by the passage of people and animals through the centuries. Can you see how some of the layouts differ from others?’ Josephine nodded, noticing that groups of oddly shaped fields with sinuous boundaries were interspersed here and there with more regular patches of land. ‘There are different ways to manage somewhere like this,’ William continued. ‘Sometimes a new broom sweeps clean because it’s easier than taking the time to repair what was there before. But that doesn’t work with people.’

‘I suppose the war was the ultimate broom,’ Josephine said as they turned and walked back towards the house. ‘It must have changed a way of life that had been undisturbed for years.’

‘Yes, although I think those old ways were winding down, and perhaps a lot of the changes would have happened anyway. And not everything changed for the worse – the war did, at least, bring us together a little. Hating the next village always used to be a point of principle down here.’

‘Co-operation isn’t a Cornish trait any more than it’s a Scottish one, then?’

‘No. I suppose in that respect we’re quite similar.’

‘Much more so than I’d realised – the clan spirit is very much alive and kicking here. In some ways, I suppose I find that easier to understand than Archie and the girls do, even though they’re born to it. Where I grew up – where I live – everyone knows everyone unless they arrived the night before, and sometimes even then.’

‘And you’re afraid to flirt with anyone in case he’s your fiancé’s cousin?’

Josephine laughed. ‘Well, it’s not quite that bad, but nearly.’

‘So a Cornish life might suit you?’

She hesitated, unsure of what was meant by the question and feeling suddenly cornered, the way she always did when a conversation became too personal. ‘I’ve got responsibilities at home,’ she said, a little more abruptly than she intended, ‘and it might feel similar, but there’s a long way in between.’

‘Yes, of course – you have your father to think about. The girls told me.’

Aware that she had been too defensive, Josephine tried to soften her explanation. ‘I used to think about it a lot,’ she said. ‘What it would be like to set up home somewhere different, and where I’d go if I did. I remember walking along the Moray Firth one day – all right,’ she laughed as she saw him raise a sceptical eyebrow, ‘I know it’s not exactly the other side of the world but I thought I’d start gradually. Anyway, I was walking along, wondering where to build the hypothetical cottage, and I realised I was fooling myself. Two minutes from a cinema and three minutes from a railway station is my idea of perfection.’

He held up his hands in defeat. ‘All right – who am I to argue with perfection?’ and then, more seriously, ‘I’m glad it suits you, though.’

‘How well do you know Morveth?’ Josephine asked when they had been silent for a minute or two.

He looked at her curiously, intrigued by the sudden change of topic but too polite to say so. ‘I’ve known her all my life, but it was Lizzie – Archie’s mother – who was really close to her. You should ask Archie about Morveth – she was very good to him when his parents died.’

Josephine had every intention of discussing Morveth with Archie, but she said nothing. ‘The other day – at dinner on the first night I was here – you were going to say something to Archie about Morveth and his mother, but you changed your mind.’ She wasn’t going to tell William what Morveth had revealed to her, but she was keen to find out if he really did have no idea. ‘I was intrigued by what that might have been.’

‘You don’t miss anything, do you?’ William said, impressed.

‘Oh, believe me – I do, and the wrong end of the stick is absolutely covered in my fingerprints, but I did notice that.’

‘Well, it’s not really a secret – just something that Archie might find difficult to understand. You know the talents we were talking about with Morveth – the clothes, the healing…’ The convenient miscarriages, Josephine added silently, but only nodded. ‘Well, Lizzie had those powers, too. She and Morveth – they believed in the same things. I thought at first that she was doing it to spite our dear pious brother, but it ran deeper than that. Like I said, there’s no great darkness in it – even Wesley believed in the power of an acorn to heal a broken bone – but Archie has a very analytical mind, and his life revolves around evidence. That’s a difficult combination, particularly since the war. The idea that death is just one stage in a continual cycle of renewal – which is what Morveth believes – is very difficult to accept for people who have seen that sort of suffering – and rightly so, I think.’

‘And you? Where do you stand between brother and sister?’

‘Oh, I believe in whatever gets you through – as long as it doesn’t harm anyone else.’

Burdened with yet another secret from Archie, Josephine looked at her watch and saw that it was later than she thought. ‘I’d better go and change for dinner,’ she said. ‘Ronnie and Lettice will be waiting.’

‘There’s really no need,’ William said. ‘You look lovely as you are, and standing on ceremony for the sake of it seems rather futile after the last few days. Wouldn’t an extra cocktail before dinner do you more good than a change of shoes?’

She had to agree that it would, and they went inside. Ronnie and Lettice were already in the library, and Josephine was not surprised to see that they had found time for drinks and perfect footwear. Reminding herself that it was their job to look good, and that fashion was anathema to a decent plot, she sank into one of the comfortable chairs by the fire and watched the creation of the perfect Martini.