The Postcard, page 18
The friend who had recommended that Suzie stay at the Starfish hadn’t been wrong; it was comfortable, friendly, classy and luxurious. She had booked a room on the top floor and had a fine view of the harbour with the Atlantic Ocean beyond. How Mummy would have loved it, she thought, and how wonderful that she wasn’t able to – this was something Suzie could keep all to herself, she thought meanly, immediately reprimanding herself. But then, she reminded herself, Margot and she had enjoyed many things together. She sighed. That was then and this is now.
The therapist finished her buffing and popped Suzie’s feet back into the bath of warm soapy water. ‘Have you thought about what colour polish you’d like, Miss Leighton?’
‘Scarlet,’ replied Suzie.
‘I’ve got a lovely bright one just in, called Boudoir Passion. I’ll go and get it for you to see.’
The colour was just right and as the young girl massaged and moisturized Suzie’s legs and toes before applying the Boudoir Passion, Suzie settled with a decaf skinny latte and the Daily Mail. She’d always loved reading the Mail. It was such a bitch. Mummy and she had had many laughs over the stories it raked up over libidinous politicians and the hideous plastic surgery of over ego’d celebrities.
There had once been a particularly nasty review for one of Penny’s television programmes. How they had enjoyed that, whilst tutting at how appalling some journalists could be.
Ah, but now Mummy had gone, Suzie sighed again, and at last she had her life back, money in the bank and time to have a little pleasure of her own. It was what she deserved. After all, it was she who had dedicated her life to the care of her mother. Penny had behaved so badly when she discovered the truth about her parentage. Not once had she phoned or written to apologize or even to thank Margot for being the mother she had never had. Dreadful. But Suzie was prepared to be the better person and put all that behind her. She wanted to see Penny and be sisters again. She wondered what Simon, the vicar husband, was like. Penny had never been into wet men, so presumably he must have a bit of oomph about him. And what was the little girl like? Golly, she was an aunt now. Yes, it was just the right time to become a family again.
What she’d seen of the vicarage from the outside and through the window, she’d rather liked. It was clearly large enough to have two, maybe three spare bedrooms so there was no problem with accommodating her. She’d prefer a room at the back of the house as the sun would be glorious on that side and she’d make sure she got it.
Yes, Suzie was looking forward to her next chapter in life. She’d go over to Pendruggan again tomorrow and see if she couldn’t catch Penny.
The therapist finished the pedicure with a coat of quick-drying oil. ‘How’s that for you, Miss Leighton?’
Suzie wiggled her toes prettily. ‘Very nice, thank you.’
‘Would you like another coffee or a glass of champagne before Marcus does your hair?’
‘Champagne would be lovely.’
The next morning was fine and bright with a soft haze over the horizon. Suzie had breakfast on her stylish balcony, wrapped in a deeply piled dressing gown, feeling the morning sun’s warmth on her face. She was very pleased with her new haircut. Marcus had taken off all the length that her mother had so encouraged and given her a short pixie cut with superfine silvery highlights through the tips. She felt young and free and ready for whatever the day held.
She intended to catch Penny early, before ten.
As she walked through the Starfish lobby, freshly showered and made-up, she noticed one or two admiring glances and lapped it up. Outside, her little red MGB roadster was waiting.
As she unlocked it and began to unhook the soft roof, a young bellboy raced down the hotel steps to help.
‘I’ll do that for you, Miss Leighton.’
‘How kind.’ She flashed a friendly smile at him. ‘It’s rather ancient. Nothing electric on these.’
‘But this is a classic car,’ he beamed. ‘What year is this one?’
‘When were you born?’ She twinkled at him.
‘Nineteen ninety-four.’
‘Ah well, she’s a lot older than you. And a little older than me. Nineteen seventy and 1.8 litre. Still goes like a rocket – just like her owner.’ She gave what she hoped was a beguiling smile.
The bellboy blushed and didn’t reply. He was busy tucking the folded roof down across the back of the car and stroking the paintwork. ‘She’s beautiful. A beautiful car for a beautiful lady.’
‘What a flatterer you are,’ Suzie admonished. ‘Maybe you’d like a little ride in her one day?’
He looked away, embarrassed. ‘That would be great.’
‘Well, then, I’ll try to make it happen.’
She folded herself into the car and started up the engine. Waving at the bellboy she reversed onto the road and sped off up the hill towards Pendruggan. Flirting with the poor young man had given her quite a buzz. In this mood she could charm the birds from the trees, or at least her sister into taking her in.
The lanes were glorious and the smell of warm fields and new leaves was heady in Suzie’s nostrils.
The lane down to Pendruggan was narrow and winding but she kept her foot on the throttle, enjoying the way the car handled and the ruffling of her new, short hair.
A Volvo with a bald and spectacled man suddenly came round a corner towards her. He stopped safely but the little MG, going faster, slewed to a stop on the muddy verge. He lifted his hand to acknowledge her and opened his window. ‘Are you OK? These lanes are a bit tricky.’
She was angry and her heart was still pounding. ‘I’m perfectly capable of driving in these conditions. You were coming too fast and on the wrong side of the road.’
‘This is a single track lane,’ he offered politely.
‘Well, keep to your side then,’ she said rudely before engaging first gear and squeezing quickly past him.
Simon watched her go in his rear-view mirror. ‘You can always tell the ones from up country,’ he said to himself.
The vicarage was looking charming in the early light as Suzie parked in the drive. The sun was winking off the large Victorian sash windows and the front garden was full of early tulips. She walked to the front door and knocked loudly. Immediately she heard the sound of a young child crying and footsteps on a tiled floor, approaching.
She stepped back and arranged her face into a grieving yet unthreatening expression.
On the other side, Penny was soothing Jenna who was balanced on her hip after knocking her head on a cupboard. ‘Shh, my darling. We don’t want to frighten the postman, do we? He might have a nice letter for us.’ Jenna rubbed her head and nestled into Penny’s neck. Penny kissed her and opened the front door without a thought.
‘Penny,’ said Suzie. ‘It’s me, Suzie.’
Penny froze in shock before slamming the door in her sister’s face.
The noise made Jenna jump and then start to cry again.
Penny staggered to the stairs and sat down heavily.
Outside Suzie took stock. It was obviously a big shock for Penny to have her arrive like this, unannounced. But she had written to say she would be arriving soon. She had taken her non-reply as a tacit acceptance.
She knocked on the door again.
Nothing. No sound, no movement.
She bent down and opened the letterbox. ‘Penny? Please can you open the door? I come in peace. I just want to see you and talk about everything that’s happened. Mummy. Daddy. You and me. I want nothing from you but acceptance and the hope we can be sisters again?’
There was no response from within.
She stood again and wondered what to do. Maybe Penny needed half an hour to think it over. Suzie turned her back on the house and faced the village green. There were council houses on the opposite side, and to the left a row of pretty cottages. The church was almost directly behind her and looked Victorian and bog-standard, but the large farmhouse on the right of the green was exceptional. She walked back to the top of the drive and turned right with the intention of taking a closer look at the farmhouse. It must be at least five hundred years old. On her way she spotted a village shop. The sign over the large and fussy front window announced Queenie’s Village Shop and Post Office. The door was open and as she passed she spotted an old lady sitting in an armchair, the better to see the village goings on. The woman was staring at Suzie and gave her a nod.
‘Morning,’ called Suzie, not wanting to stop.
‘All right, me duck?’ replied the woman. ‘Can I ’elp you? Are you lost?’
‘No, no thank you. I’m just exploring the village. Lovely farmhouse.’
‘Ain’t it? It was one of the stars of the Mr Tibbs’ telly programmes, you know.’
Suzie looked at it again and realized that was what it had reminded her of.
The woman pulled out a bag of tobacco and a packet of cigarette papers. ‘That won’t never ’appen again. They’ve stopped the programme now. Poor Mrs Canter. She’s the one what put us on the map. You may have seen me in a couple of episodes. I was a background artist.’ She expertly rolled a cigarette and put it to her lips. ‘That David Cunningham was a lovely man. A proper star. Can’t believe ’e’ll never be Mr Tibbs again.’ She lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply then exhaled on a rattling cough. ‘Want a pasty? I’ve got some left.’
Suzie could think of nothing worse but something the old woman had said led her to believe she could get some information from her. ‘Mrs Canter?’
‘The vicar’s wife. Penny Leighton, she is, professionally.’
‘How is she?’
‘All right. A bit tired with the baby and that. I ’eard ’er mother died as well. That and losing Mr Tibbs … not been a good time for the poor girl.’
‘No, it can’t have been,’ said Suzie thoughtfully. ‘Is she well-liked here?’
‘Why d’you ask?’ said Queenie, screwing up her shrewd eyes. ‘You ain’t a journalist, are you, because you can push off if you is.’
‘No. I’m not a journalist. I’m …’ Suzie gave her most winning smile. ‘I’m her sister.’
‘Oh my good gawd!’ said Queenie. ‘Why dintcha say so? ’Ere’s me not offering you tea nor nothing.’ She got to her feet, excited to be on the brink of receiving fresh gossip. ‘Come in and ’ave a cuppa tea with me. Ain’t Penny in?’
‘I’ve arrived as a bit of a surprise.’
‘A surprise!’ exclaimed Queenie. ‘I’m not sure she’s up to surprises at the moment, what with her broken wrist an’ all. Only had the plaster cast off a couple of weeks.’
‘Broken wrist?’
‘Yes, poor mite. There was that and the accident with the pills—’
‘What accident with the pills?’ Suzie asked sharply.
Queenie looked sheepish. ‘I’ll let her tell you about that – if she wants to. Now come on in and ’ave a cuppa.’
Back at the vicarage, and still sitting on the stairs, Penny had watched Suzie walk away, but as her car was still in the drive she obviously intended returning at some stage. Why had Simon had to leave so early? They must have passed each other in the lane.
Jenna lifted her pudgy hand and tweaked Penny’s nose.
‘OK, my love,’ said Penny. ‘Let’s get you washed and your teeth done then we’ll have a story before your sleep. I’ve got a good one. All about two sisters and a mummy who pretended to be the mummy of one of them but she wasn’t really. And the little girl didn’t find out for a long time and still doesn’t know who her mummy is. Shall we do that story?’
Jenna shook her head. ‘Goosie book,’ she said.
Penny smiled. ‘OK, Goosie book it is. Let’s forget all about the other story, for a while at least.’
23
Suzie’s chat with Queenie had been most illuminating. It would seem that Suzie’s arrival couldn’t be better timed. Her sister, the successful, independent golden girl, was having a bad time in her life. Good. What she needed was someone to help her and care for her. Who better than her own sister? Suzie had charmed Queenie into spilling plenty of details without giving anything away herself. Now she was walking back to the vicarage, ready to claim her sister’s affection and hospitality.
Upstairs in the vicarage, Penny had put Jenna down for her nap and was quickly applying a make-up that she usually reserved for getting big budgets out of mean broadcasters. Her war paint. She swapped her track pants for black jeans and her stained T-shirt for an ivory silk shirt. She hadn’t had time to wash her hair but a spritz of dry shampoo and a messy up-do completed her armour. She was ready.
She didn’t have to wait long.
The door-knocker banged three times but Penny took her time opening it. She stood in the kitchen and inhaled slowly and deeply, then checked herself in the mirror and pulled her shoulders down and back. Keep going, Penny. She took the first step into the hallway then walked calmly towards the front door.
*
Suzie fidgeted uncomfortably outside on the step. What was her sister doing? Too frightened to open the door? In that case she was in a worse mental state than Queenie had led her to believe. She heard the rattle of a wheelbarrow behind her and turned to see a youngish man with sleek dark hair and a boilersuit standing beyond the drive staring at her.
‘’Ow do,’ he said.
‘How do you do?’ she responded.
‘Mrs Canter playing hide-and-seek?’ he asked.
Suzie barked a short laugh. ‘Does she do that often?’
‘No,’ said the man.
The door opened behind Suzie, taking her off-guard. She turned quickly and saw her sister.
‘Good morning, Suzie. I’m so sorry about earlier – a small crisis with my daughter. You may have heard her crying? Come in, come in, I’ve got the coffee on.’
Suzie stared at the confident, groomed woman in front of her who was now turning and walking away towards a room at the back of the house. Suddenly she felt wrong-footed.
The kitchen was flooded with the morning sun. There was a bunch of paperwhite daffodils sitting in a jug on the scrubbed table. The smell of coffee was bubbling from the percolator and there was Penny, looking entirely in control and very much in her domain.
‘Do sit down.’ She pointed Suzie towards a comfortable kitchen chair. ‘Do you take sugar? I forget.’
Suzie sat. ‘Black. No sugar.’
Penny placed two mugs on the table and added milk to hers. ‘So, welcome to Pendruggan. How long are you staying?’
Suzie fixed a winning smile to her lips. Two could play at this game. ‘That very much depends on you.’
‘Me?’ said Penny, raising her eyebrows in sardonic disbelief.
Suzie kept smiling. ‘Yes. I’ve come to offer my help as a sister and an aunt.’
‘Why now? After all these years?’ asked Penny suspiciously.
‘Oh Penny, darling. This is me you’re talking to, your sister. I hear on the grapevine that your television programme has been cancelled and that, on top of Mummy dying and having a small child to look after …’ She took a beat. ‘Well, at your age that must all take its toll on your well-being. I just want to be here for you and help you with all the support you need.’
Penny managed a glacial smile that did not reach her eyes. ‘I am absolutely fine, Suzie. My husband and I and little Jenna are a very loving unit. We support each other.’
Suzie sighed and toyed with her coffee mug. ‘How lucky you are. When you left home it was just Mummy and me and I had to pick up the pieces – alone.’ She looked wanly round the beautiful room. ‘How lovely that you have found such happiness.’
Penny felt the pressure of old buttons being pushed. Anger rose in her. ‘You’re still young. There’s a lot of life to live out there,’ she said sharply.
‘I don’t have your confidence, I’m afraid.’ Suzie took a sip of the coffee that Penny had made deliberately strong. Penny watched in satisfaction as her sister winced. ‘Golly, you do like caffeine, don’t you?’
‘I like to feel alive,’ parried Penny.
The back door opened and startled them both. ‘Hello,’ smiled Simon as he came in carrying a loaf of bread and some hymn books. ‘Ah, the lady in the red sports car! We met in the lane.’
Suzie apologized at once. ‘I am so very sorry. Was it you in the Volvo? I’m not familiar with these lanes. Can you forgive me?’ she finished winsomely.
Simon put his hand out. ‘Simon Canter, Penny’s husband.’
Suzie shook it. ‘Suzie Leighton, Penny’s sister.’
‘Ah. I see,’ said Simon, putting the books and bread down on the side and moving to stand by Penny. ‘I was very sorry to hear about the death of your mother. My deepest condolences. I know the news knocked Penny for six.’
Penny pursed her lips and gave him a small scowl. Suzie rattled on. ‘Dreadful for us both, but at least Penny didn’t have to face the challenge of watching Mummy die. That was left to me, and what a privilege it was. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.’
‘Well, she was your mother,’ said Penny.
Suzie cocked her head to one side and gave Penny a cool stare. ‘She treated you as her own.’
Simon could see tension brewing. He had two choices. Either leave for his office or stay and mediate.
He chose to stay. ‘Can you stay for lunch, Suzie? It would be good to talk.’
She gazed at him as if he were a true saint. ‘That would be very kind. I don’t want ever to be a burden but you see …’ a small crystal tear dropped from her brimming eyes and slid down her cheek, ‘you are the only family I can turn to.’
Simon gave her a measured glance and for a second Suzie thought she might have overdone it, but he said, ‘Then you must stay for lunch and tell us your plans for the future.’ He turned to Penny. ‘Mustn’t she, Pen.’
Penny gave a short snort. ‘Well, that would be the Christian thing to do, wouldn’t it?’ She scraped her chair back and went to the fridge. ‘I’ve got some soup and bread and cheese?’
‘Let me help you,’ said Suzie, jumping up. ‘But first perhaps you could tell me where the little girls’ room is?’
Penny rolled her eyes as Simon directed her to the downstairs loo. When he came back Penny was banging a saucepan onto the Aga.
