Lying in Wait(84)

‘My life is a pretence. I would not recommend it for everyone, and I’ve grown fond of you,’ she said, lighting a long cigarette.

There was a touch of sadness about the way she said it, and I thought of her poor dead son and the fact that she had never mentioned him since the day we discussed Annie’s murder.

At the sale, she picked a silk and wool-mix dress in a shade of emerald green for me. I pointed to my hair. She threw her eyes up to heaven in an exaggerated look of exasperation. Yvonne was not a devotee of the ‘red and green should never be seen’ idea which had most fashion houses dressing me in whites, blues and russet tones.

‘Nonsense. Try it on.’ And I did and it was perfect.

Laurence answered his door and said, ‘Wow.’

‘Do you think she’ll approve?’

‘It doesn’t matter whether she does or not.’

I hoped it was true. We had arranged to go to Avalon together. Laurence drove. He was quiet on the journey.

‘Well, at least give me some dos and don’ts,’ I said.

‘Nope. I don’t want you to have to pretend, but try not to say “fuck”,’ he said, smiling.

‘Like Helen?’ We laughed.

When we drove up the long driveway to the house, I caught my breath. It was a mansion from the front, but as we drove around the side of the house to park beside a garage, I could see that it was twice as long as it was wide.

‘Oh my God.’

‘It’s just a house.’ He squeezed my hand.

‘But it’s –’

‘Just a house,’ he whispered, and put a finger to my lips. I kissed it.

I could see a shape through the windows and it moved as we walked around the outside to the front door. She got there before us and held the door wide open.

‘Welcome, welcome!’

She was extremely classy-looking. I had come across some older models of around Laurence’s mum’s age on assignments, but the years had touched Mrs Fitzsimons very lightly, with just a few strands of grey at her temples and some faint lines around her bright blue eyes. She was tall and very slim, and only slightly stooped in the shoulders. She had dressed simply in a black cashmere dress and a long string of pearls.

She smiled at me broadly. ‘I am so glad to finally meet you, Karen. You are as pretty as a picture!’

Even though Laurence was directly behind me, I could sense his relief.

‘Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Fitzsimons.’ I handed her a box of Milk Tray.

‘Oh, thank you, darling, but please, call me Lydia. Laurence, you told me she was beautiful, but you are stunning, my dear, simply stunning.’

‘Hi, Mum.’

She hugged Laurence first and then embraced me warmly, though her limbs were thin and bony, and swept us into the house. I had never been in a house like it in my life. I had been to a stately home on a job, and Avalon reminded me of that. A crystal chandelier hung beside a central staircase, and although the house showed a few signs of wear and tear, it was far grander than I had imagined. I tried to think of what Ma and Da would say if they were here. I didn’t think they could ever be relaxed in such surroundings. I wondered how Lydia might receive them, but she was perfectly sweet to me, complimenting my hair and my dress as she poured me a gin and tonic. I was grateful for the drink because, despite Lydia’s kind welcome, I knew I might have to answer uncomfortable questions about my background. Laurence had told me to be honest, though he admitted that he hadn’t revealed that I was married. ‘Keep that one for another day, eh?’

She and Laurence talked about his work and plans for the cottage, which she approved of wholeheartedly. She told him how well he looked, and congratulated him on his renewed exercise programme. She nodded in my direction. ‘Clearly, Karen is a great influence.’

When she headed towards the kitchen, I offered to come and help but she put her hands up. ‘Not at all, I have everything under control, don’t worry about me. Maybe Laurence will give you a tour of the house?’

And so Laurence showed me out of the drawing room, across the hall and into the dining room, the breakfast room, the playroom, the pantry, the cloakroom and the library before taking my hand and leading me up the stairs.

‘One day, all this will be ours …’ he whispered.

I nudged him and we laughed. I saw the bedroom he had slept in for most of his life, a man’s bedroom, sparse and functional despite the corniced ceiling and grand fireplace. I looked out at the view down the avenue through the barren trees and tried to imagine what it must be like to grow up in this luxury. Would Annie still have grown wild? I put the thought out of my head.

An old rocking horse stood on the corner of the landing. ‘I was never allowed to play with that, I can’t remember why. Perhaps it was too delicate,’ he said.

Out of respect for her privacy, we didn’t enter his mother’s room, but the other three bedrooms and a box room – ‘that’s where the maid used to sleep in Mum’s day’ – were structurally beautiful, though old broken furniture and books and boxes lay scattered around the rooms, covered in dust. A large empty room with a mirrored wall and a ballet barre was next door to Lydia’s bedroom. I couldn’t hide my astonishment.

‘Yeah, Mum did ballet when she was younger. She still practises every day.’

No wonder she was in such great shape.