For Better For Worse

‘No, of course not. No… I had a phone call from Julia this afternoon. She’s been offered a part in a film which necessitates her spending a month or so in Hollywood during the summer holidays. She wants me to have Vanessa.’

‘Oh, no. How can we?’ Eleanor protested. ‘We haven’t got the room, Marcus!’

‘No, I know,’ he agreed. He was frowning again, Eleanor noticed.

‘Unfortunately, though, there isn’t anywhere else for her to go. And after all, she is my child.’

Eleanor winced, sensitively aware of the slight edge of defensive irritation creeping into his voice. Was he privately thinking that had it not been for Tom and Gavin there would be room for Vanessa?

‘Did you explain to Julia how difficult it would be for us to have her?’

‘I tried,’ he told her drily. ‘But Julia has the gift of hearing only what she wants to hear. And it seems that she’s already announced to Vanessa that she’ll be coming here.’

Eleanor closed her eyes in helpless dismay. She felt no personal animosity towards Marcus’s ex-wife, nor any deep jealousy of the relationship they had once shared-after all, she knew enough from what Marcus had told her about his first marriage to accept that he meant it when he said that the marriage had been a disaster from start to finish and that they had been so wildly incompatible that they should never have married in the first place. In a different moral climate they would probably have contented themselves with a brief affair, he had told Eleanor, but in those days such things were not as permissible or acceptable.

However, she was bitterly aware that when it suited her to do so Julia was inclined to feed Vanessa’s suspicion and resentment by casting her in the traditional role of wicked stepmother, and if they refused to have Vanessa now, no doubt she would be blamed for that refusal.

‘Oh, Marcus…’ she protested helplessly, and then to her horror she did something she couldn’t remember doing in years. She burst into tears.

‘Hey, come on,’ Marcus told her gently as he took her in his arms. ‘Things aren’t that bad…’

‘No,’ Eleanor contradicted him, as she looked up with a small sniff. ‘They’re worse than you think. Louise told me today that she wants to end our partnership. She and Paul are going to live in France. In a château…’

Half an hour later, having calmed down enough to have told Marcus the full story, she sipped the glass of wine he had poured her and asked him quietly, ‘Marcus, what am I going to do? I can’t afford to keep on the office and I can’t work from here. There simply isn’t room.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘We don’t really have much option, do we? We’re going to have to find somewhere bigger, and soon. We’d better start making a trawl of the estate agents and arrange to have this place valued.’

‘Oh, Marcus… I’m so sorry. I know how much you love this house.’

‘Not as much as I love you,’ he told her firmly, coming over to her and removing her wine glass from her hands as he took her in his arms.

‘What do you think of our chances of remaining uninterrupted?’ he murmured against her mouth as he kissed her. ‘These days whenever we make love, I feel as though I’m holding my breath, wondering if we’re going to make it. A race against the all too likely arrival of one or other of our offspring. When we do find a another house, I intend to ensure that our bedroom is fitted with an early warning system, and a lock.’

Later, lying in bed next to Marcus, Eleanor told him sadly, ‘It isn’t just the break-up of our partnership that bothers me. It’s the fact that Louise so obviously didn’t feel she could talk to me. The fact that she waited until virtually the very last minute to say anything to me. I feel such a fool for not realising… for not suspecting…’

‘She deceived you,’ Marcus told her quietly. ‘And discovering any kind of deception on the part of someone we believe we know and trust is always hurtful. It hurts us where we’re most vulnerable. In our emotions and in our pride…’

‘Pride?’ Eleanor questioned him, lifting her head to look at him.

‘Mmm… Because it shows us that we’ve made an error of judgement… that our trust has been misplaced.’

‘Yes,’ Eleanor agreed, adding, ‘At first I just wanted to blame Paul and then I realised that Louise must have wanted to end the partnership as well. If only she’d said something to me sooner…

‘What’s happening to me, Marcus? I feel as though my whole life is falling apart. First Tom and now this…’

‘Tom?’

‘I didn’t even know he’d eaten the ice-cream,’ she told him sadly. ‘You knew, but I didn’t. And I didn’t…’ She stopped abruptly, not wanting to burden Marcus with the rest of her problems. ‘What kind of mother am I? What kind of wife when I can forget to organise a babysitter for a dinner party? What kind of partner when I don’t know, can’t see what’s going on under my nose?’

‘Hey, come on… You must accept that you can’t take on the responsibility for everyone else around you. You’re only human, Nell. Just like the rest of us… and, just like the rest of us, sometimes you get things wrong. You can’t be perfect, you know. After all, perfection is often a very sterile and empty concept. It’s our imperfections that make us human… loveable… and loving…’

He kissed her slowly and asked softly, ‘Do you know how much I want to make love to you?’

‘Again?’ Eleanor asked him, smiling at him.

‘Again,’ he confirmed as he reached for her. ‘Very, very definitely again.’

Three days later, when Eleanor was searching through her briefcase for something else and she inadvertently came across the advertisement she had torn from the magazine, it seemed almost like fate.

She told herself as she dialled the number of the estate agent that she was wasting her time, that the house was almost bound to have been sold.

When she discovered that the bids were still to come in, a feeling of unfamiliar and almost childlike excitement filled her.

She stared at the photograph again. It was the kind of house—the kind of home she had longed for so often as a child; solid, permanent, it offered the kind of security she had yearned for so desperately.

It would be a perfect home for them, close enough to London for Marcus to commute, rural enough to give Tom and Gavin the benefits of growing up in a country environment. More than enough room to accommodate them all comfortably, including Vanessa.

With a bit of careful planning there was no reason why she should not be able to work from there. Of course it would mean regular visits to London to collect and deliver translations, but the benefits of moving to the country far outweighed the disadvantages. She would have more time to spend with the children for one thing. More time to share with Marcus.

This would be a shared home, a new start for all of them, somewhere they could all have a stake in, feel a part of.

Vanessa would be able to choose her own room and its décor. Tom would feel secure in the knowledge that his room was solely his.

Surely with so much space at their disposal, with so much security, they would all be able to integrate far better. Life would be easier, free of the small but potentially very destructive tensions which now seemed to infuse it.

She couldn’t wait to share her excitement with Marcus. It was the ideal solution to all their problems and she was surprised that she hadn’t thought of it before.

She smiled to herself. Perhaps Louise had after all done her a favour in announcing that she intended to terminate their partnership.

She hummed happily under her breath, her face alight with happiness, and new purpose.

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_1e51c568-c176-59e3-80cc-0d924de6219c)

‘FERN?’

Anxiety prickled down Fern’s spine as she heard Nick’s voice. He walked into the kitchen, frowning when he saw that she was dressed for going out.

‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.

‘I promised I’d help Roberta sort through the stuff she’s collected for her jumble sale.’

‘What time will you be back? I’m leaving for London this afternoon. You’ll have to pack a case for me. I’ll need my dinner suit. Did you remember to take it to the cleaners?’

‘Yes,’ she told him quietly. There had been lipstick on the collar of his dress shirt; bright scarlet lipstick, the colour Venice had been wearing the night of her dinner party.

People, even the most casual of acquaintances, did kiss these days, she reminded herself as she looked away from him.

Why didn’t she just ask Nick if he was involved with Venice?