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‘And did it ever occur to you to use any kind of contraceptive?’ I hated myself for sounding like a disapproving headmistress. Having plucked up the courage to make his confession, it was hardly the response Freddy would have been hoping for.

  He couldn’t hide his embarrassment. ‘She said she was on the pill. I didn’t think I needed to do anything else.’

  ‘So, all those talks you had at school about Chlamydia and STDs didn’t ever resonate with you, then? You didn’t think you needed to protect yourself as well as the girl?’

  Freddy looked down at his size thirteen feet. ‘What do you think Pearl is going to say?’

  ‘Oh, she’s going to have a field day with this one,’ I replied. ‘She’s been harping on at me for years to produce a grandchild for her.’

  Freddy’s flush deepened. ‘I mean, Ruby and me, we’re not together.’

  ‘No, of course not. Why would you be?’ I was beyond the realms of rational speech. I had to keep calm. ‘Freddy, exactly what are you and this girl, this Ruby, doing about this baby? Does she plan on keeping it?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘So, you will have to accept some sort of responsibility for it, won’t you? You’ll have to provide financial support.’

  ‘How am I going to do that when I don’t have a job?’

  ‘You might have to think about getting one. You’ve more or less finished at Goldsmiths now, apart from your final project. Why don’t you start looking?’

  ‘I wanted to go off travelling for a bit over the summer.’

  ‘Freddy!’

  He scowled at me. ‘What now?’

  ‘You can’t, can you? You’ve got no money, no visible means of support. How an earth can you expect to afford to go off travelling?’

  ‘I could sell the Lambretta, and Pearl gives me money.’

  ‘Pearl gave you money to live on while you are at uni. It’s not to fritter away on a bloody gap year, especially not now, not with this. Who is this Ruby, anyway? Is she at college with you?’

  He nodded. ‘She’s a second year.’

  ‘And when is this baby due?’

  ‘Next month.’

  ‘Next month? Jesus Christ! And she’s only just told you?’

  ‘Well, no, I’ve known for a little while actually.’

  ‘Oh Freddy.’ No wonder he’d been so cagey the last few times I’d seen him. He’d had this hanging over him for months. ‘Why didn’t you say anything before?’

  He shrugged. ‘I dunno. Didn’t know how to tell you, I s’pose. But with this thing happening with Pearl, I thought you ought to know.’

  ‘Oh, thanks very much. So the baby will be here before the wedding?’

  ‘Is it definitely going ahead? You couldn’t stop it then?’

  I smiled. ‘Jack Robshaw is a benign old bloke she met on a cruise. It’s his son who is the powerboat champion.’

  Even that couldn’t coax a smile onto his face. ‘Oh. So how do you think she is going to react to my news?’

  ‘You know Pearl. She does tend to take things in her stride.’ There was no point making a bad situation worse. The fact that Freddy had told me first confirmed my suspicion he was, and always had been, slightly in awe of Pearl. It seemed quite sad that we both had such a strained relationship with the woman who had only ever done what she thought was best for us. ‘What do Ruby’s parents think of the situation?’ I asked. ‘Have you met them?’

  Freddy shook his head. ‘No point really, if me and Rubes aren’t together.’

  ‘What a mess, Freddy.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He looked totally pathetic, wrapping Pearl’s pink quilted kimono around himself. I swapped sofas and came and sat beside him, putting my arm around his shoulders. To my surprise, he suddenly buried his head in my chest. Was he actually crying?

  ‘Oh Fred,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll get through this. We’ll manage. Nothing’s insurmountable.’ I tried to sound confident, but it was hard not to feel overwhelmed by the course of events of the last few weeks. It was as if I’d been caught up in a whirlwind, a tornado, and deposited in a parallel universe. Where was my good witch of the south when I needed her? Or more importantly, why couldn’t I wake up and discover it had all been a bad dream?

  I took Freddy out to lunch, by which time we had both consoled each other, sobered up, and attempted to plan a strategy. Topping the list was the need for Freddy to get a job. Over our roast vegetable paninis, we scoured the internet. Freddy’s fine art degree – 2.2 hoped for, but a 3 more realistic – had equipped him for very little in terms of south London employment opportunities, but he was surprisingly open to my suggestions that he should at least follow up a couple of leads for bar work.

  After lunch, Freddy hopped on his scooter and zipped across London to his digs in Newcross, while I returned to Battersea and flopped onto my bed in a state of nervous exhaustion, only to be woken within half an hour by the doorbell.

  In anticipation of my reluctance to put the flat on the market, without any warning Pearl had gone ahead and contacted a local estate agent. Magda Pepowski announced she had been instructed to carry out a preliminary valuation and showed me a copy of my mother’s email to prove it. I scrutinised the message. Pearl had never emailed in her life without my say-so. Jack had obviously set her up with a new account.

  With a weary sigh, I let Magda in – my only saving grace being that both my bedroom and Freddy’s were in a state of complete disarray, although the open window policy had eliminated the foul smells in Freddy’s. I wished now I’d left the window closed. Unfazed, Magda Pepowski shoved dirty cups into the dishwasher, wiped work surfaces, dusted, vacuumed, and made up the beds before taking numerous photographs.

  ‘I’ll be in touch with your mother,’ she said. ‘I’ve got clients queuing up to buy places like this. I could sell it ten times over in a week.’

  The very words I had feared.

  If Pearl was now capable of engaging an estate agent, she was equally as capable of sending her own letter of resignation to Anita. Still in a state of shock, I sat down on my bed and dialled Anita’s private number.

  I came straight to the point. ‘If you receive a message from Pearl telling you she’s quitting, ignore it. She says she wants Single in St Johns Wood and Welcome to Weymouth Hill to be her last two books. You’ve got to convince her to keep going.’

  There was a very pregnant pause before Anita replied. ‘What’s brought this on?’

  I couldn’t betray Pearl’s confidences before she made her official announcement about the wedding. That would be unforgiveable. ‘It’s just a blip,’ I assured Anita. ‘She’s just back from that long cruise, remember, and it seems the time away has dampened her enthusiasm.’ I resisted the temptation to add and resulted in a complete personality transplant.

  ‘Well Divorced in Dulwich didn’t last as long in the bestseller charts as we’d hoped,’ Anita said. ‘Churning out three or four books a year is a big commitment.’

  ‘Yes, but her fans expect it,’ I pointed out.

  ‘The market has become very competitive,’ Anita replied. ‘There are plenty of other authors ready to take up Pearl Gates’ crown. Sales of the last Christmas book were below par.’

  ‘That’s because the market is flooded with seasonal specials, spin-off novellas, and celebrity biographies,’ I argued. Anita knew I put a great deal of effort into sustaining Pearl’s career, but perhaps she didn’t realise just how much my own life was invested in it. I handled all Pearl’s correspondence, maintained her website, interacted with readers, travelled to conferences and seminars, arranged book tours, wrote speeches. It was almost impossible for me to envisage a life where those tasks no longer existed.

  I pressed on with my case. ‘I just feel this all a bit premature. I think Pearl’s career could go on for many more years yet. She still has a lot to offer. She’s only just started on the radio and TV circuit. Look how popular she is proving with a whole new audience.’

  ‘I appreciate wha
t you are saying,’ Anita agreed. ‘But maybe there has just been a little bit of originality lacking in her writing of late.’

  I decided it was time to be brutally honest. ‘Look, Anita, the fact is, if Pearl quits, I’m out of a job.’

  There was another very pregnant pause. ‘You won’t be out of a job, Becca. You’re a brilliant editor. You could get any amount of freelance work. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve allowed that one unfortunate incident in your past to cloud your whole judgement on life. You are a clever, talented writer, yet you hide behind your mother and use her like a crutch. This could be just the opportunity you need to get out there from behind her shadow and start making a name for yourself in your own right.’

  It wasn’t quite what I wanted to hear. I thanked Anita for her time and stretched out on my bed, not knowing what to do next. It was almost if Pearl and Anita were on the same page, while I was still a chapter behind.

  Chapter Eight

  My life was spiralling out of control. Resilience could well have been Pearl’s middle name, but it wasn’t mine. I wasn’t good at accepting change. I liked a fixed schedule, a six-month plan. Now I couldn’t even predict my movements for a week ahead. I had no idea what the future held.

  Pearl expressed her satisfaction with Magda’s valuation, and an open house was arranged for the following weekend. She wanted to take Freddy shopping for his wedding suit, and Freddy needed to break the news she was about to be a grandmother. It made sense to head back to Rivermede.

  The weather forecast was looking good; perfect conditions for a walk and further exploration of Kerridge. I threw my wellington boots into the back of the car. Since the encounter in the pub, I’d been doing my best not to think about Nick. I didn’t want to examine my feelings. Seeing him again had opened up an emotional maelstrom I’d spent the best part of the last fifteen years trying to suppress. I told myself I didn’t want to run into him again, and yet I knew in my heart of hearts I did.

  We had unfinished business to discuss. I wanted to get to the bottom of what he was really doing in Kerridge, and I needed to know why, and when, it had all gone so very wrong between him and Saskia. Not that I had any idea where Stella Markham’s houseboat, and Nick’s stake-out, was moored, but as Freddy and I set out in the car for the drive down to Hampshire, I realised the possibility of bumping into Nick was the one aspect of the whole weekend I was actually looking forward to.

  I was glad to see Freddy had made a small effort to spruce himself up for our trip to Rivermede. He’d had a haircut and removed his lip piercing. Although when I remarked on the improvement, he explained it was only a temporary arrangement while his mouth ulcers cleared up. Freddy’s attempts to find work had so far proved fruitless but he told me somewhat proudly that he’d had two interviews.

  ‘And?’ I asked hopefully.

  ‘They said they’d get back to me,’ he replied with a nonchalant shrug. His enthusiasm of the previous week appeared to have worn off.

  We arrived at Rivermede just as Heather was preparing lunch. I was immediately despatched to the kitchen to request more sandwiches, while Pearl fussed over her darling, and not seen for ages, little boy.

  When I returned to the drawing room, Pearl announced she had already commissioned a local dressmaker to design her frock, and waved some sketches and material swatches at me.

  ‘These are her ideas for you,’ she said. ‘You need to choose one and then we can arrange a consultation. Once Nev gets back this afternoon, I’ll get him to run us into Southampton for Freddy’s suit fitting.’

  ‘I thought your fiancé was called Jack, not Nev?’ Freddy looked confused.

  ‘Nev’s our butler-cum-handyman,’ Pearl explained. ‘He’s had to take Jack to an appointment this morning, but they should be back soon. We can head out after lunch.’

  Heather brought the sandwiches and was introduced to Freddy. Freddy seemed awestruck that Pearl now had staff.

  ‘Wow, Pearl, what does this bloke Jack do to earn the money to run this place? He must be worth a packet.’

  ‘Jack’s retired now,’ Pearl explained patiently, as Freddy wandered around the drawing room devouring his hastily prepared tomato and lettuce sandwich as if he hadn’t eaten for a week – which he quite possibly hadn’t.

  ‘What did he do before he retired?’ Freddy asked

  ‘He owns a boatyard,’ Pearl said. ‘His late wife inherited it from her father, together with Rivermede. There’s no boatbuilding now, though. Jack apparently put a stop to that because the company was making such a loss. The old boatbuilding sheds were knocked down and Jack turned the site into a marina. His company buy and sell boats, and carry out a few repairs and lease moorings. After we’ve been to Southampton to look at clothes, we can always ask Nev to give you a guided tour and then you can see it for yourself.’

  So, Jack had waved his magic wand and turned a loss-making boatyard into a profitable marina. I was keen to learn more, especially in light of Nick’s warnings. I had arranged to meet Stella later that afternoon and made a mental note to ask her what she knew about the Robshaw family history. She had sent me the draft notes she had commenced previously, together with some photographs and photocopies of newspaper cuttings from the time of her sailing triumph. There was no need for me to accompany Freddy and Pearl on their shopping trip – especially not now Pearl was becoming an independent woman. She seemed a little put out when I mentioned this, as did Freddy.

  ‘Oh, you have to come, Becs,’ he whined, ‘otherwise she will choose something hideous for me.’

  ‘Your opinion might be quite helpful,’ Pearl agreed.

  ‘Take photographs of Freddy modelling potential outfits on your brand-new iPhone and send them to me,’ I suggested.

  Over coffee, I kept trying to catch Freddy’s eye, hoping he would take the hint and break his news to Pearl. He kept his eyes averted. When we heard Jack and Nev arrive in the hallway, he looked like a prisoner receiving a last-minute reprieve from the gallows.

  ‘When are you intending to tell her?’ I hissed as Pearl hurried out to greet Jack.

  ‘It don’t feel right, not yet,’ Freddy replied. ‘After we’ve been shopping, or this evening, maybe.’

  ‘You should tell her when you are on your own, not when she’s with Jack,’ I pointed out.

  ‘I’ll do it in my own time,’ he muttered.

  ‘Here he is, here’s my boy,’ Pearl gushed, wheeling Jack into the room. She draped herself over Jack’s shoulders like a human shawl. ‘Isn’t he the most adorable young man, Jack?’

  Jack eased himself out of Pearl’s embrace. It was obvious from his expression that he thought Freddy anything but adorable, but he soon replaced his look of horror with a smile.

  ‘Welcome to Rivermede, young man,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks, Jack,’ Freddy replied. ‘It’s a great place you’ve got here. Have you lived here for a long time?’

  ‘Only fifty years or so,’ Jack chuckled. ‘Have you had lunch already, Pearl?’

  ‘Yes, sorry,’ she said. ‘You didn’t say what time you’d be back.’ She turned to me. ‘Jack can be very secretive about his whereabouts sometimes. He and Nev are as thick as thieves.’

  Jack tapped the side of his nose and gave Pearl another one of his indulgent smiles. ‘Never you mind what I’ve been up to, my love.’

  Freddy looked as if he was about to throw up.

  ‘I want Nev to take us into Southampton to look at morning suits,’ Pearl announced.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Jack replied. ‘Are you all going?’

  ‘No, I’ve got some business to sort out in the village,’ I said.

  ‘Good on you,’ Jack winked. ‘Can’t stand clothes shopping either. Well, we’ll catch up at dinner, young Fred.’

  I waved Pearl and Freddy off, and then set out for The Ship of Fools. I could have driven, but I decided instead to walk.

  I followed the path along the river. The track seemed much shorter in dayligh
t, and the tide was out. The River Deane was a dirty brown channel, dribbling tributary rivulets through the seaweed and the mudflats. At various points along the bank I could see the kelp-encrusted reminders of former landing stages and piers, remnants I presumed of the Deane’s boatbuilding past. The eerie skeletal remains of long abandoned vessels protruded from their muddy graves.

  The pub was quiet. Stella took me into the kitchen and introduced me to her partner, Chloe – a truculent, ferocious-looking woman who kept her hand firmly on the meat cleaver while we spoke. Stella suggested we continue discussions upstairs in her private office.

  ‘I’m having second thoughts,’ she confessed straight away. ‘As you might have just gathered, Chloe doesn’t think this book is such a good idea.’

  After reading through the paperwork Stella had mailed, I was half-tempted to agree. But the story had potential, and right now it appeared to be my only future employment prospect. Stella’s account of the race itself was far too technical to be of any interest to anyone who wasn’t a sailing fanatic, and she had made no attempt to refute Owen’s allegations of cheating. It was as if all the fighting spirit had been sucked out of her. The book could be her opportunity to recapture it.

  ‘Is Chloe worried about the consequences?’ I asked.

  Stella nodded. ‘Chloe is concerned that there might be an impact on our business if this all gets raked up again. What if we start losing customers? It’s not just that. There’s the other side of the coin. We don’t want to be a freak show, have people coming to the pub just to ogle at us.’

  ‘I totally understand that,’ I agreed, ‘but the whole point of the book would be to put the record straight. I’ve had a look online. Owen’s rants in the press were very personal. I realise his pride was hurt, but I don’t understand why you didn’t do more to defend yourself?’

  ‘Against Owen? He was the wronged man whose wife had a lesbian affair whilst sailing halfway around the world, leaving him sick with worry on the mainland with two kiddies. Back then, Owen was a bit of a national treasure, wasn’t he? He had everyone on his side.’