“She’s running away as fast as she can,” said Jake.
“She’s moving out,” Marina added.
“Going to live with her boyfriend, is she?” said Bertha, tossing her handbag onto a chair.
“That’s right,” said Grey. “I’m off, darling. I’ll be back for lunch.”
“No news from William Shawcross?” asked Jake.
“Nothing yet. I’ll chase him up. I’m sure he’s in high demand,” replied his father.
“There are others we can approach.”
“But Shawcross is the one I want,” said Grey.
Bertha began clearing away the breakfast. It was Grey who noticed first that she didn’t lumber over to the counter and turn on the kettle, or sigh wearily, clutching her back and complaining about her aches. He made eyes at his wife. Marina hesitated in the doorway to see what he was grinning about. Sure enough, Bertha, clothed in a bright purple dress with a red bead necklace dangling merrily over her bosoms, was almost dancing around the table, stacking the plates and saucers, a hum hovering upon glossy lips.
“At least someone’s in a good mood this morning,” said Grey.
“Oh, yes,” Bertha replied. “It’s a beautiful day.”
“But Clemmie nearly killed you,” said Jake.
“But she didn’t.” She piled the plates on the sideboard and opened the dishwasher.
“You look very nice,” said Marina. “Color suits you.”
“I know. That’s what Mr. Santoro said, and he’s a man who notices women.”
Marina didn’t dare look at Grey in case she laughed. “He certainly does,” she agreed.
“I’ll do an hour here then go over to make up his room. Then I’ll come back and finish off,” Bertha informed her.
Marina looked at Jake in surprise. “You’re in charge of Mr. Santoro’s room?”
“It’s not a job for the young ones,” Bertha said importantly.
Jake got up. “She’s the right woman for the job,” he said, grabbing his jacket and slipping past his stepmother, who still stood in the doorframe.
“Fine,” Marina said tightly. “Just don’t forget to come back and finish off here.”
Bertha smiled. “Of course not. Clemmie’s room will need a good going over once she’s moved out. Who knows what we’ll find in there.”
Marina strode over to the hotel in search of Harvey. She found him in the garden, talking to Mr. Potter. Harvey had his hands on his hips while Mr. Potter leaned heavily on his spade. The two of them were laughing cheerfully as they shared a joke.
“Harvey,” said Marina as she approached, “I need you.” She hadn’t meant to sound so desperate. Both men turned to look at her in alarm.
Harvey immediately noticed the strained look on her face. “Catch you later, Potter,” he said before striding across the lawn towards her. “Is everything okay?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Righty-oh.” He followed her through the Children’s Garden, where the little aqueduct remained barren, and through the French doors into her office. She collapsed onto the sofa with a moan.
“Clemmie’s moving out,” she stated, shaking her head forlornly. “I don’t know what to do.”
Harvey sat beside her, his wise old face smiling at her kindly. “When did she tell you?”
“This morning. She had a row with Rafa last night, and now she’s moving in with a man she doesn’t even care about.”
“Marina, love, it’s out of your control. She’s a woman now.”
“But I see her making a terrible mistake.”
“Which you are powerless to do anything about.”
She swallowed back tears. “Rafa said he had upset her, but it’s not really about him. It’s about me.” Harvey took her hand between his big rough ones and stroked it tenderly. She turned to him slowly, her dark eyes shiny and sad. Suddenly, she wasn’t a woman in her fifties but a little girl, gazing up at him lost and alone. “I can’t have children, for the love of God, I can’t have children of my own … and … and …” The words caught in her throat.
“It’s okay.” He drew her into his arms and held her tightly as a father would hold a hurting daughter.
She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, tears squeezing through her lashes. “I can’t even win the love of my stepchildren.”
He embraced her with all his might, wanting more than anything to make her smile again. “But that’s normal, Marina. Stepchildren will always love their natural parents more, and most often they see the stepparent as a usurper. It’s the way it will always be.”