'I mean I've decided I want to have a chance to write,' Lucy told her. 'I need peace and quiet to work, Fanny, and that's impossible living here with you and the children.'
As she had anticipated Fanny looked both affronted and hurt, but she wasn't going to allow herself to be dissuaded; she knew exactly what she was going to do.
She hadn't wasted the days before Fanny's return. A phone call to Beverley explaining that she wanted to be in London the better to do some research on her second novel-some of which was to be set in the city-had elicited the information that Beverley knew of a senior editor with another firm who had been seconded to New York for twelve months and who was desperately looking for the right sort of tenant for her flat-and one who would be willing to look after her Siamese cat.
A quick dash up to London and lunch with the other woman had convinced them both that they had found exactly what they were looking for. Lucy had enough money of her own to be able to live in the flat, if only frugally, without touching any of her capital-she was a first-rate typist and if need be could always augment her income in that way since she was determined not to touch a penny of Oliver's or Tara's.
She had even been to see Mr Patterson to explain her intentions to him, telling him quite firmly that she could not spend the rest of her life looking after two children who already had a mother.
If it turned out that Saul intended to keep the Manor House, which in view of his revelations about his wealth was entirely possible, then she was going to sell the Dower House, but she was keeping this to herself for the time being.
One telephone call which had given her a good deal of pleasure had been the one she had made to Neville to tell him crisply and concisely exactly why his own plans were doomed to failure. He hadn't been pleased, but his bile had barely touched her. She was beyond feeling almost anything now … beyond even the pain of Saul's cruel rejection.
'But Lucy … we need you,' Fanny wailed.
'No you don't,' Lucy responded reasonably. 'You could always employ an au pair to keep an eye on the children, Fanny. Oliver starts school in the autumn and Tara's no trouble.'
'But this place is so isolated. I'll be lonely.'
'Then buy something closer to town,' Lucy said reasonably. 'I'm sure if you approached Mr Patterson he'd release enough of Oliver's capital for you to do that.'
'But Lucy, you don't understand. Your father wanted Oliver to stay here … in what is his rightful home.'
'Then my father should have made proper arrangements for him to do so,' Lucy told her crisply, suddenly tired of the demands that were made on her in the name of duty. Her father had never really loved her, not as he loved Oliver, and why should she sacrifice herself in order to virtually bring up his son? She would go mad if she had to stay here much longer, haunted day and night by the memory of the way Saul had looked at her, tormented by memories of how he had touched her … seduced her into believing he loved her. She shuddered now, fighting to break free of the powerful mental images.
'It's all decided, Fanny,' she went on firmly. 'I'm leaving at the end of the week.'
As though she realised that she couldn't be swayed Fanny went silent.
She would miss the children, Lucy acknowledged later in the week, surveying the growing pile of boxes stacked on the study floor. But she couldn't stay here. So far she had been lucky-she had seen no sign of Saul. Only she knew how, during those first awful days, she had hoped to hear his car outside, his footsteps across the floor, hope slowly withering and then dying as the hours went by without any indication from him that it had all been some terrible mistake and that he loved her after all.
She could only presume now that he was deliberately keeping out of sight and her pride would not allow her to stay somewhere where she was so obviously unwanted-and so vulnerable.
He had been so willing to believe the worst of her-had wanted to believe it, she was convinced now. Perhaps he had engineered the whole situation simply to get back at her, had deliberately and callously set out to make her fall in love with him, while not caring the least about her at all. And then, when he had discovered he was her first lover, he had been too shocked to conceal his true feelings: his lack of desire to have any sort of permanent relationship with her. She would probably never know the whole truth-nor did she want to, she told herself firmly. It was over-for good.
* * *
She had to make several journeys to London with her things, her car being too small to transport them all in one go. If and when she sold the Dower House she would have to find somewhere to store her furniture-or get rid of it. Perhaps her uncle might agree to store some of it for her; he and her aunt had a massive Victorian riverside house with plenty of storage space.
Thinking of her uncle reminded Lucy that it was some time since she had seen him, and also that he had no idea of her new address.
Now that he was semi-retired he worked from home, so on the first day of her new life in London she set out to see him.
As always her aunt and uncle were delighted to see her, her aunt kissing her warmly and chiding her for leaving it so long between visits as she drew her into the house.
Margaret Summers clucked anxiously over Lucy's pale face as she ushered her into the sunny room where her husband worked.
'Look who's here, Leo,' she exclaimed as she opened the door.
'Lucy-my dear.'
Leo Summers hugged his niece warmly, noticing as his wife had done that she looked far too fine-drawn and pale.
He had never truly taken to the man his beloved sister had married and it was his private opinion that as a father he had left much to be desired. Mind you, love and caring did not always produce a happy child, as he knew. Their own son Neville was a bitter disappointment to him; to both of them really, although Margaret always remained tremendously loyal to their only child. Perhaps if they had been able to have more as they had planned … As always when he thought about his son, his eyes clouded a little.
'Come and tell us what you're doing with yourself,' Margaret insisted, correctly reading the look in her husband's eyes.
'Well I've left the Dower House and I'm working in London.' As Lucy had anticipated this bombshell provoked an avalanche of questions.
'I never agreed with the way your father expected you to take on the responsibility of Fanny and the children,' Leo said when she had finished. 'But Lucy, you've always loved the country so much. Why didn't you come to us instead of finding a flat? You know we'd have loved to have you.'
'I'm twenty-five years old,' she reminded him wryly, 'and it's time I stood on my own two feet.'
'Umm … Well at least I hope we'll see a little more of you now. How about the book; how is it going?'
They talked about her work for half an hour while Margaret went to make some coffee. When she came back there were four cups on the tray instead of three and she looked slightly apprehensive.
'It must be our day for visitors,' she told her husband. 'Neville has just arrived.'
Lucy didn't miss the way her uncle's face tightened at the mention of his son's name, but before he could say anything Neville himself came sauntering into the room.
'Well well, cousin Lucy,' he drawled, eyeing her mockingly. 'What brings you here?'
'Your parents,' she told him evenly, refusing to let him bait her. She knew quite well that he would still be angry with her over the sale of the Manor.
'Lucy's decided to move to London,' his father told him.
'Really?' There was a distinct look of curiosity in his eyes as he studied her. 'A sudden decision I take it?'
'Not really. It's something I've been thinking of for a while.'
'And what will you do with the Dower House, when Saul sells?' he asked her.
'It isn't decided yet that he will.'
'No? It seems pretty conclusive to me. He's gone back to America and according to that cleaning woman he employs he's made no plans to come back. Fanny hasn't seen or heard from him. He's gone for good by the looks of it.'
Gone … Saul was gone.
The coffee cup she had just picked up seemed like a dead weight in her hands. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She wanted to cry out in protest that Saul wouldn't leave without telling her, but everything seemed to be shifting out of focus around her; she tried to cry out and found that her vocal chords seemed to be paralysed. A strange roaring sound engulfed her, the blackness into which she was falling punctuated by her aunt's sharp cry, and then nothing …
* * *
She came round to find she was lying on the chaise longue in her uncle's study. There was no sign of Neville but her aunt and uncle were both hovering anxiously beside her.