Rosie Thomas 4-Book Collection: Other People’s Marriages, Every Woman Knows a Secret, If My Father Loved Me, A Simple Life. Rosie Thomas
be out in a matter of hours. I’ll tell him you rang. Yes, yes of course I’m okay. It’s only Darcy I’m worried about.’
Almost as soon as she had replaced the receiver after one of these calls, the ringing would start again.
Barney and Cathy telephoned Lucy at Patrick’s Spitalfields house.
‘Shall I come home?’ Lucy asked them.
‘I don’t think you need to if you don’t want to,’ Cathy advised her. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Worried about Dad.’
‘Yeah. I meant you.’
After a moment Lucy answered, ‘Strange. Sad, and small. But I’m relieved to be myself again. Just me, no one else to be afraid for. As if I can deal with anything, if it’s just to do with me.’
‘Good. That’s good, isn’t it? Stay where you are for now. It’s probably better. I’ll let you know as soon as anything else happens here. There are reporters hanging about outside, trying to see in.’
Lucy put the phone down and sat in her leggings and holey grey jumper, cross-legged amongst the needlework cushions on Patrick’s Knole sofa. She pushed her thicket of beaded plaits and miniature pigtails away from her white face.
‘My dad’s been arrested, on a fraud charge. The police came this morning.’
Patrick had heard about Darcy Clegg from Nina.
‘Poor Lucy.’
‘Poor him, more. Don’t sympathize too much with me, or I’ll start crying.’
He patted her shoulder. ‘Fine. Not another sympathetic syllable.’
Lucy looked up at him. ‘Why’re you and Nina being so nice to me? You don’t even know me.’
Patrick shrugged. ‘Nina has her own reasons, I can’t answer for her. As for me, you can see I’ve got plenty of space.’
Lucy loved the spare grandeur of Patrick’s house. Even though she was a stranger, even though she felt weak and dismayed, she had been comfortable in it as soon as Patrick had brought her here from the clinic, yesterday morning. The rooms were half-empty and wholly soothing compared with those at Wilton. The covers and cushions here, all made of dark heavy stuff that seemed to have been mended and made from something else, looked even better after they had been sat on and lived with, unlike Hannah’s.
Lucy had slept surprisingly well, without need of the pills she had been given at the clinic, between darned linen sheets in a huge oak bed with an embroidered canopy.
‘It’s not really to do with having a spare bedroom, is it?’
‘It is very spare.’
‘Are you lonely?’
Patrick frowned at her. He liked this girl with her alternately disaffected and inquisitive manner, and he guessed that she was probably quite brave. There had been no sign of tears, despite her warning, but that did not make him think that the ordeal she had undergone had left her unscathed.
‘Yes. But no more so than plenty of other people.’
Lucy reached for his hand and wound her fingers between his.
‘I was lonely in that clinic. They were quite kind. I wouldn’t want Nina to think it wasn’t anything but fine in that way, only it was just me who was doing that thing. No one else could help me, and it was right that I should have to do it on my own. I felt very solitary. No baby, no nothing. Perhaps it was good for me. I’ve never had to be singular before, with being a twin. But I didn’t even want Cathy to come.’
Very softly, almost to herself, Lucy added, ‘It was right to do it that way. My responsibility. No one else to blame or judge. Anyway, you don’t have to be lonely now, with me here, do you?’
‘Thank you.’
Patrick settled beside her on the sofa, not trying to disengage his hand although the connection seemed strange. He did not hold hands much.
Understanding that she did not want to talk any more about her abortion he said, ‘Tell me about your father.’
She tilted her head downwards so that the teased hair hid her face.
‘All our life he has seemed so huge. When we were tiny he seemed to fill the sky and my sister and I thought he could do anything. Like fly, or stop the rain. He wasn’t around that much, but when he was everything seemed to flow out of him, fun and excitement and money and reassurance and confidence. He never said no to things like our mother did.’
Seeing Patrick’s expression Lucy grinned through her fringes. ‘Yeah. Spoilt kids, eh? He was always telling us that himself.’
The grin vanished. ‘Oh, God! Why am I talking about him in the past? When he got ill, it was – it was like the first time I’d understood that he really isn’t everlasting. Now there’s this, whatever’s happening. I feel like I should be looking after him.’
After a moment, she said, ‘I really love him. I don’t care what he has or hasn’t done.’
Patrick felt suddenly envious of Darcy Clegg, in prison or not. ‘I’m sure he would like to hear you say that.’
She nodded. ‘Yeah. I’ll have to try and tell him, when we both get home again.’
Jimmy Rose rang Wilton as soon as he heard the news. Hannah had gone upstairs with Laura, and it was Cathy who answered the telephone.
‘Lucy? Is that you?’
‘Who is calling?’ Cathy said coolly.
‘Ah, don’t be that way. I’ve been thinking and worrying about you. Have you decided what you want to do?’
‘Lucy isn’t here. She’s gone to London.’
In the silence that followed, in spite of everything else, Cathy allowed herself a little smile.
Anger edged the brogue out of Jimmy’s voice. ‘Why did you not tell me it was you?’
‘You didn’t give me a chance.’
‘All right. How is she?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Jesus! Why would I not? Do you think I don’t care for her?’
Cathy sighed. ‘She’s okay. She’s staying with a friend.’
‘Did she …?’
‘Yes. Yes, she did. By herself, because that was what she wanted. Are you happy now?’
‘Of course not.’ Jimmy twisted in the armchair to peer over his shoulder. He realized that Star had come in with her bag of exercise books earlier than usual. She put her burden down without looking at him and left the room again. Jimmy changed his tone.
‘I called to talk to Hannah. Will you tell her if there’s anything I can do she’s only got to ask?’
‘I’m sure she’ll be grateful.’
Sarky little bitch, Jimmy thought. Both of them.
‘But I don’t think there’s anything now. Daddy’s solicitor just telephoned. He’s been released on bail, and they’re on their way home.’
‘That’s grand news. Who stood bail for him?’
‘My uncle and Andrew Frost.’
Jimmy was shocked by this. He protested, ‘He could have asked me. Why didn’t he ask me?’
‘I don’t know. Because he asked Andrew, I suppose.’
‘Yes. Well, if there’s anything else, tell him.’
He hung up. Staring out of the window into the garden he saw the unpruned branches of shrubs whipped by an unseasonal