Everything to Gain. Barbara Taylor Bradford

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ last long. Basically, they’re very close, like most twins are.’

      ‘Yes, I do know that.’

      ‘I’ve loads of chores, Diana, so I must get on. I’ll talk to you tonight. Have a lovely day.’

      ‘We will, and don’t work too hard, Mallory dear. Bye-bye now.’

      ‘’Bye,’ I said and hung up.

      My hand rested on the receiver for a few moments, my thoughts lingering with my mother-in-law.

      Diana was a sweet and caring woman, a truly loving human being, and I’ve always thought it was such a shame she never remarried after Andrew’s father died in 1968, when he was very young, only forty-seven. Michael Keswick, who had never been sick a day in his life, had suffered a sudden heart attack that had proved fatal.

      Michael and Diana, who originally hailed from Yorkshire and went to live in London after university, had been childhood sweethearts. They had married young, and Andrew had been born two years after their wedding; it had been an idyllic marriage until the day of Michael’s untimely death.

      Diana once told me that she had met quite a few men over the years since then, but that none of them had ever really measured up to Michael.

      ‘Why settle for second best?’ she had said to me during one of our treasured moments of genuine intimacy. On another occasion, she had confided that she much preferred to be on her own, rather than having to cope with a man who didn’t meet her standards, did not compare favourably to Michael.

      ‘I’d always be making mental notes about him, passing private judgements, and it wouldn’t be fair to the poor man,’ she had said to me. ‘Being on my own means I’m independent, my own boss, and I can therefore do what I want, when I want. I can come to New York to see all of you when the mood strikes me. I can work late every night of the week, if I so wish, and I can go up to Yorkshire whenever I feel like it. Or dash over to France on a buying trip, on the spur of the moment. I don’t have to answer to anyone, I’m a free agent, and believe me, Mal, it’s better this way, it really is.’

      I had asked her that day if Michael had been her only love, or if she had ever fallen in love again? And she had muttered something and glanced away. Intrigued by the way she had flushed, albeit ever so slightly, and averted her head with sudden swiftness, I had been unable to resist repeating my question.

      After a moment’s hesitation and an unexpected stiffening of her shoulders, she had finally turned her face back to mine. Her gaze had been direct, her eyes filled with the honesty I’d come to appreciate and rely on. I always knew where I stood with her, and that was important to me.

      Slowly, she had said in the softest of voices, ‘The only man I’ve ever been remotely interested in on a serious level, and very strongly attracted to is … not free. Separated for the longest time, but not actually divorced. And that’s not good. I mean, it would be impossible for me to have a relationship with a man who was legally tied to another woman, even if not actually living with her. Untenable really, and certainly no future in it.’

      Her shoulders had relaxed again and she had shaken her head. ‘I came to the conclusion a very long time ago that I’m much better off living on my own, Mal. And I am happy, whatever you think. I’m at peace with myself.’

      Despite those words that day, it has often struck me since that Diana must have moments of great sadness, of acute loneliness. But Andrew doesn’t agree with me.

      ‘Not Ma!’ he exclaimed when I first voiced this opinion. ‘She’s busier than a one-legged toe dancer doing Swan Lake alone and in its entirety. She’s up at the crack, behind her desk at the antique shop by six, cataloguing her stock of antiques, bossing her staff around and floating over to Paris to buy furniture and paintings and objets at the drop of a hat. Not to mention wining and dining her posh clients, and fussing over us, her dearest darlings. Then there’s her life in Yorkshire … she’s forever racing up there to make sure the old homestead hasn’t tumbled down.’

      Shaking his head emphatically, he had finished, ‘Ma lonely? Never. She’s the least lonely person I know.’

      At that time I had thought: Perhaps she keeps herself so frantically busy in order not to notice her loneliness, perhaps even to assuage it. But I hadn’t mentioned this to Andrew. After all, he was her son, her only child, and he ought to know her well, if anybody did.

      And yet there have been times over the years when I have noticed a wistful expression on Diana’s face, a sadness in her eyes, a look of longing almost. A yearning, maybe, for Michael? Or for that love who was not entirely available? I wasn’t sure and I have never had the nerve to broach the subject.

      Nora startled me, made me jump in my chair as she came crashing into my office. I sat bolt upright, gaping at her.

      ‘Sorry I’m late, Mal,’ she exclaimed, striding forward and flopping down in the chair opposite my desk.

      For a dainty, petite person she could certainly make a lot of noise.

      ‘Phew! It’s hot today! A real scorcher!’ Energetically, she fanned herself with her hand, gave me a smile. Then her face dropped as she took in my expression.

      ‘Oh sorry, did I give you a start when I came in?’

      I nodded. ‘You did. But then I was miles away, I must admit. Daydreaming.’

      A look of incredulity swept across Nora’s face. Narrowing her eyes, she uttered a dry little laugh. ‘Daydreaming! Not you, Mallory Keswick! That’s the last thing you’d be doing. You’re a human dynamo. I’ve never seen you waste a minute.’

      Her words amused me, but I made no comment.

      Rising, I said to her, ‘How about a glass of iced tea, before we get down to the task of putting this house in order for the weekend?’

      ‘Sounds good,’ she answered, immediately jumping up, leading the way out of the office. ‘I didn’t stop at the market stand on the way here. It’s better I buy your vegetables and fruit tomorrow, Mal. They’ll be fresher for Monday’s barbecue.’

      ‘That’s true. Listen, are you and Eric coming? You haven’t really given me a proper answer.’

      She swung her head, looked over her shoulder at me, gave a quick nod. ‘We’d love to, and thanks, Mal, for including us. It’s good of you.’

      ‘Don’t be so silly, you and Eric are like part of the family.’

      She didn’t say anything, just moved on into the kitchen, but there was a small, pleased smile on her face, and I knew she was happy that I’d asked her again, that I had not taken no for an answer.

      Nora, who was about forty, was a slender pixie of a woman, with unusual, prematurely silver hair, an intelligent but merry face and silvery-grey eyes. She had been my helper for the past year and a half, almost since we had moved in, and her husband Eric, who worked at the local lumber yard, did carpentry and outdoor chores for us at weekends. Married for nearly twenty years, they were childless, and both of them doted on the terrible twins, as I jokingly called Jamie and Lissa at times.

      Nora was a practical, down-to-earth, no-nonsense woman, a real Connecticut Yankee with her feet on the ground, which made us totally compatible, since I tend to be plain-speaking СКАЧАТЬ