Feeling foolish as her panic subsided, Joely quipped, ‘I thought you’d forgotten me.’
Ignoring the comment, Freda said, ‘I won’t be joining you for dinner tonight, but Brenda has something prepared. Please bring your printed pages to breakfast tomorrow.’ And with a strange little gesture that might have been a wave, she returned to the stairs and disappeared down them.
Still shaken, Joely took a Larousse encyclopaedia from a bookshelf and propped the door open while she returned to the writing room to send her day’s work to the printer. She had no idea what the last few minutes had been about, the music, the opening of a hidden door, keeping her waiting so long in a locked room. Perhaps they were about nothing at all and she was spooking herself into creating discomfiting scenarios where they had no place to be.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Joely, can we talk. Please call me. Cx.
Joely looked away from the text she’d received while in town earlier and stared at the flames in the kitchen hearth. She hadn’t replied yet, and had decided she wouldn’t until she was sure of what she wanted to say. There was so much going around in her head, words inflamed with anger, softened by sadness, riven with guilt even, and she didn’t think any of them belonged in a text. Or in a phone call. They needed to see one another face to face for what she had to say, and whatever he had to say would have to wait until she was ready.
Freda was sitting in her usual chair, apparently lost on her own thoughts as she too watched the fire. It was listless, yellow flickers rising from a glowing pile of hot, scorched logs. There was a mouth-watering aroma emanating from the Aga, one of Brenda’s flavourful veggie concoctions, and Joely found herself remembering what her father used to say to her mother when something smelled delicious.
‘It makes you want to take a bite out of the air.’
She missed him so much; the grief was as tenacious as the bond they’d shared, as consuming at times as the need to hold onto him, but he’d gone and she felt as though she was clutching at air.
She shifted slightly in her chair and glanced at the time. Brenda had left several minutes ago and neither Joely nor Freda had spoken since assuring her they understood what time the pudding was to come out of the oven, and yes they’d be sure to have a lovely evening, thank you.
Freda’s legs were stretched out towards the fender, the latest pages in her lap, but Joely had no idea yet if she’d read them for she’d done another of her disappearing acts for the day. However, Joely had spotted her standing at the end of the meadow earlier staring out to sea. She hadn’t moved, had seemed oblivious to the wind that was buffeting her short hair and padded coat as she fixed her gaze on whatever she was seeing in the waves.
The next time Joely had looked out of the window Freda had no longer been there.
She’d turned up here, in the kitchen, about ten minutes ago, bringing only her iPad, which she’d put on the table before coming to sit down. It was very possible, Joely realized, already bracing herself, that at some point, probably while she was being subjected to more of Freda’s stinging criticisms, they were going to listen to the music that had accompanied the start of Sir and young Freda’s intimate affair.
More minutes ticked quietly by and Joely’s thoughts wandered to her mother who hadn’t sounded her usual self when they’d spoken last night. (Not from the Valley of Rocks this time, but from the small, square balcony over the front porch, which Joely had accessed through the window of her blue bedroom. She’d managed to get two bars of reception and had frozen half to death during their short conversation. It hadn’t been easy to hear either, thanks to the combined roar of wind and waves.)
‘A bit of a cold, that’s all,’ her mother had insisted when Joely had asked if something was wrong. ‘Nothing to worry about. How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ Joely replied, glad her mother couldn’t see how the bellicose weather was tossing her about like a piñata. ‘Still not sure how much longer I’ll be here,’ she shouted.
‘Is she treating you well?’ her mother shouted back.
‘I guess so. She makes sure I’m fed and lets me use her writing room, which is pretty amazing.’
Though her mother responded, Joely didn’t catch the words and when she asked her to repeat them her mother simply said, ‘It was nothing. I just wish …’ Whatever the wish was Joely still didn’t know because they’d lost the connection then and she’d been unable to get hold of her when she’d driven into town earlier.
Certain now that her mother was wishing she’d come home because Holly was being difficult, Joely decided she needed to try and call again later to find out what was really going on. It might be true that Holly was usually an angel where her beloved Grandma was concerned, but considering how unsettled she was by her parents break-up she couldn’t be relied upon to be at her best. And who could blame her for that?
‘Is something wrong?’ Freda asked, gaze still fixed on the flames. ‘You seem … agitated.’
Wondering if Freda had superpowers, Joely tried to think how to answer, but before she could, Freda said,
‘Is my memoir bothering you? I think you might disapprove of young Freda. You’re right to. Or perhaps you’re afraid of what’s coming next.’
Irked by the assumption that everything was about her, Joely bit back a tart response – after all, everything was supposed to be about Freda. However, it would do the woman no harm to realize that her ghostwriter had a life beyond that of some fancy form of messenger. ‘Actually I have a few issues going on at home,’ she confessed.
Freda didn’t break her gaze as she gave a brief grunt.
Definitely everything has to be about Freda.
More emptiness passed with a backing percussion of heavy rain and a howling wind until Freda finally said, ‘I thought as much. Now that you’ve brought it up, would you like to talk about it? I can be a good listener.’ She paused as though considering the truth of this, and apparently coming to a positive conclusion she added, ‘It can help to confide in someone who has no agenda.’
Joely couldn’t help it, she said, a touch wryly, ‘You mean you can be objective, the way you’re hoping I can be for you?’
Freda’s eyebrows arched, and only then did Joely notice how pale and tired she seemed, and as she wondered if reading the latest pages had been a strain for her she wondered too what had been on Freda’s mind when she’d stood in the meadow staring out to sea.
‘Tell me why you’re upset,’ Freda prompted. A smile hovered close to her lips. ‘Age and experience might count for something, so perhaps I can give some useful advice.’
Joely found herself considering the offer and what detail she might go into, and since there was no one else to talk to right now, and because she needed to hear herself voice her concerns, she said, ‘My husband’s left me for my best friend; my daughter’s obviously having difficulties with it; I think my mother’s stressing about my daughter, and my husband wants to talk to me – I don’t know what about, but it could be divorce.’
Freda withdrew her hands from her pockets and rested her elbows on the chair arms, linking her long fingers together. She allowed several moments to pass as she considered what Joely had told her and finally said, ‘The heart of the matter is your husband’s betrayal.’