Tendrils of the Past

ONE

Dorset, April, fifteen years ago

The bodies were found by a mother on the school run. ‘Abby usually comes running down the path as I draw up,’ said Mrs Emily Barton, aged 34. ‘I waited a moment or two and when she didn’t appear I went up the path and rang the bell. There was no reply, which was strange; then I noticed a light on in the front room. So I looked through the window and – I saw them.’

Dorset, February/March, fifteen years ago

‘Sarah!’

Sarah Drummond loaded the last of the carrier bags into her boot and closed it before turning. And caught her breath. God, it was Luke! How was she supposed to greet him? Once it would have been an enthusiastic hug, but those days were long gone. Thanks to Lily.

‘I thought it was you!’ he said as he reached her and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘How are you? How’s the family?’

She smiled a little stiffly. ‘Fine, thanks. And you?’

‘Oh, same old, same old. Our lives are so hectic we hardly ever meet! Ships that pass in the night! How’s old Charles? We see each other occasionally at the golf club, but only for the passing word.’

‘He’s fine,’ Sarah said. Then, making an effort, ‘He’s been made a partner in the firm.’

‘That’s great! Do congratulate him for me!’ He paused, eyeing the empty trolley. ‘Suppose I park that for you and we go for a coffee and catch up?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I have to collect Mia from nursery.’

‘Ah. Well, mustn’t keep you, but I can at least relieve you of your trolley.’ He gently removed it from her grasp. ‘Good to have seen you, Sarah, and regards to Charles.’

Bloody Lily! she thought, as she climbed into the car. She knew Charles regretted losing Luke’s friendship – or at least the manifestations of it – and it seemed Luke felt the same. As she drove to the nursery her mind drifted back over the years.

She and Lily had been room-mates at university, where they’d shared clothes and confidences and covered for each other over missed essays. And a year or two later it was to Lily she first confided that she was falling for Charles. Significantly, it seemed now, it was as they were discussing marriage that an unexpected divergence of opinion emerged, Lily stating categorically that she didn’t intend to have children. Sarah, who’d always adored babies, was taken aback.

‘Really?’ she’d exclaimed. ‘Why ever not?’

Lily had shrugged. ‘Not part of my life plan,’ she’d replied, and refused, then or later, to be drawn further. And Sarah, having told herself Lily would change her mind when she met the right man, soon forgot the comment.

Within the year Lily had met and married Luke and the couple became their closest friends, with whom they dined, went to the theatre and spent the occasional holiday. But as time passed Lily changed. Her career in advertising went from strength to strength and their interests no longer coincided, Lily’s veering instead towards those of the high-powered executives she met in boardrooms around the globe. The inevitable result was that contact between the two families dwindled, breaking down completely soon after Abby was born.

Now, as Sarah drew up outside the nursery, she wondered for the first time whether Luke would have liked a family.

‘You’ll never guess who I bumped into today,’ she remarked over supper.

‘Then you’d better tell me!’ Charles rejoined.

‘Luke, in Waitrose car park of all places! I can’t remember when I last saw him, which is amazing when we all live in the same town.’

‘I see him sometimes at the golf club but they’re both away a lot on business.’

‘He asked me to congratulate you on the partnership.’

Charles nodded and Sarah was aware of a twinge of guilt, knowing she was chiefly to blame for the parting of the ways. But it was due to Lily’s behaviour, and she still recalled her shock when she realized the width of the gulf now existing between them.

Abby had been about three months old at the time. She was teething, and Sarah and Charles had endured several sleepless nights when Lily arrived unannounced on the doorstep, looking as though she’d stepped from the pages of Vogue. Sarah was acutely conscious that her hair was a mess, her face bare of make-up, and that her patched jeans and old sweater were hardly le dernier cri. To add to her dismay Lily’s cheerful greeting woke the baby, whom they’d just succeeded in putting down – and she did not appreciate being shushed.

‘My goodness, Sarah, you really have turned into a brood mare!’ she’d exclaimed, laughing to camouflage the barb.

It was like a slap in the face and Sarah was stunned. She’d held her emotions in check for the remainder of the visit, but on Lily’s departure her temper flared.

‘How dare she speak to me like that?’ she stormed. ‘If that’s her opinion of me, I never want to see her again!’ Charles had managed to calm her down and they had in fact met Luke and Lily on a couple more occasions. But the spiteful remarks kept coming, each masquerading as banter while hinting none too subtly that Sarah’s interests were now confined to breast feeding and potty training, and finally she called a halt. Both husbands tried to heal the rift but Lily was uninterested and Sarah too hurt for them to succeed. The once-strong friendship unravelled, and until that morning Sarah had seen neither Lily nor Luke for the last four years.

Charles reached for her hand, bringing her back to the present. ‘OK, sweetheart?’ he asked.

She shook off her memories and nodded. ‘OK,’ she said.

‘Hello, darling!’

It was her mother’s voice and Sarah, struggling to hear her above the clamour of the children’s teatime, moved into the hall.

‘Hi, Mum.’

‘I’m phoning to invite you and Charles to dinner a week on Thursday. I do hope you’re free.’

Sarah smiled to herself. So this was how she was playing it! ‘Er, yes, I think so. Thanks, we’d love to come.’

‘And I thought I’d invite Theo and Imogen too, make it more of an occasion. Dinner rather than lunch this time,’ she emphasized, ‘so we can have a pleasant grown-up conversation without the distraction of the children.’

‘Point taken.’

‘I adore them, as you know, but now they’re older they tend to dominate the conversation.’

‘I said point taken, Mum.’ Sarah gave a little laugh. ‘You’re not fooling me, you know! We’re well aware that Thursday week just happens to be your birthday!’

‘Well, yes, but that’s immaterial.’

Anything less immaterial would have been hard to imagine. ‘Speaking of which, we’ve still not decided what to give you. Is there anything you’d particularly like, or would you prefer a surprise?’

Cicely Fairfax paused. ‘Well, there is something, since you ask. What I should really like is a photograph of you.’

‘Oh, Mum!’ Sarah protested, embarrassed.

‘Really; you supply us with plenty of the children, which is lovely, but I haven’t a recent one of you. And I mean a studio portrait, of course.’

‘Oh Lord, do I have to?’

‘No, dear, but I’d appreciate it.’ Which, from her mother, meant she’d no option.

‘Very well,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I’ll book a sitting.’

‘Thank you, darling. I look forward to it.’

Sarah had confidently expected that it would be at least another four years before she saw either Luke or Lily again, but, as sometimes happens, the couples were thrown together on two further occasions in quick succession, the first occurring barely ten days after the encounter in the car park.

The golf club dinner was traditionally held at the Grange Hotel in February in an attempt to brighten a cheerless month, and to add to the sense of occasion the dress code was black tie. Sarah had bought a new dress and was looking forward to the chance to dress up. The girl next door was babysitting and it was with an air of happy anticipation that they set out that evening. But as they paused in the foyer to check the seating plan the first doubts surfaced: they’d been seated at the same table as Lily and Luke, who, since they’d not attended the dinner for the last four years, they’d not expected to be present.

Sarah caught at Charles’s arm, but he shook his head. ‘No need to panic; there’s another couple at the table, so Lily’s bound to behave herself.’

‘She’d better!’ Sarah returned grimly. ‘Or I shan’t be liable for the consequences!’

They saw them as soon as they entered the bar, Luke distinguished-looking in his dinner jacket, Lily in ice-blue satin. Her short fair hair was expensively cut and her boyish figure showed off her designer dress to perfection. There was no option but to join them.

‘So, Sarah, we meet again!’ Luke greeted them. ‘And Charles!’ They shook hands. ‘Good to see you both! I believe we’re dinner companions.’

Lily touched her cheek first to Sarah’s, then Charles’s, her perfume enveloping them in its spicy thrall. ‘Such a long time!’ she murmured vaguely.

‘Let me get you some drinks,’ Luke said. ‘What’ll you have?’

After the initial awkwardness the atmosphere eased, helped when they were joined by other friends, with whom they stood chatting till they went through for dinner. Luke was seated directly opposite Sarah and, glancing up from her crab soufflé, she was disconcerted to find he was watching her. Something in his expression raised the hairs on her arm and as their eyes met he gave her a slow smile before turning to his neighbour. She quickly looked away, but her heart had set up an uncertain beat. Idiot! she told herself furiously. It’s only Luke! But she was careful for the rest of the meal not to look in his direction.

The rest of the evening passed without incident; she and Lily were able to chat on a carefully censored basis, and Sarah was reasonably sure their table companions were unaware of any tension.

But later, in bed with Charles, she remembered the look in Luke’s eyes when she’d caught him unawares, and gave a little shudder.

George and Cicely Fairfax lived in a substantial house on the outskirts of Sherborne. Both were prominent members of the community, he a school governor and member of the Town Council, she on the board of several charities. George had taken early retirement at the age of sixty and they were planning a round-the-world cruise later that year.

New acquaintances could be forgiven for thinking them mismatched, though in fact they were devoted to each other. Cicely was petite and immaculately groomed and, though herself approaching sixty, her hair was still gold and her face almost unlined. Renowned for never raising her voice, she was nonetheless a force to be reckoned with, seldom failing to achieve her aim. George on the other hand was a large, untidy man, a big softie to his family but known by previous employees to have a quick temper. Privately their son-in-law dubbed them ‘Goldilocks and the Bear’.

It was starting to snow as Charles turned into the open gateway and parked next to Sarah’s brother’s Bentley.

‘I hope it doesn’t settle,’ he commented. ‘I’ve a meeting in Shaftesbury tomorrow.’

‘Your daughters would love it!’

Her father was at the door. ‘I see the weather’s closing in! Come in, come in and get warm.’ He took their coats and ushered them down the hall to the sitting room where the rest of the family was assembled. Sarah handed over the gift-wrapped package and Cicely exclaimed with pleasure, tearing off the paper to reveal the framed portrait.

‘Oh, darling, it’s lovely!’ she cried, turning it round for the others to admire. ‘Exactly what I wanted!’

‘Worth all my suffering, then!’ Sarah said, and turned to her brother and sister-in-law. ‘How are you both? We haven’t seen you since Christmas.’ And she was struck again by how glamorous Imogen was, with her fall of chestnut hair and her enigmatic smile. She was the fashion editor of a glossy magazine and apparently making quite a name for herself.

‘Before we begin catching up,’ George said, ‘a toast is in order.’ He kissed his wife’s cheek. ‘Happy birthday, my love, and many more!’ He raised his glass. ‘To Cicely, Mamma and all other sobriquets that she answers to!’

They joined in toasting her health before, at George’s gesture, seating themselves on the chairs round the fire.

‘So, what’s everyone been up to since we last met?’ Sarah prompted.

It was Theo who replied. ‘Actually we have a spot of news.’

‘Oh?’ Cicely turned to her son. ‘Have they offered you a knighthood at last?’

He laughed. ‘Patience, Mother! Seriously, you know we’ve been wanting to move to the country for some time now? Well, we spent last weekend with Guy and Anya in Bath, and while driving to a pub for lunch, by a stroke of pure luck we saw exactly the house we’ve been looking for – and it was for sale!’

‘So we bought it on the spot!’ Imogen finished.

‘Subject to survey, I trust!’ put in George.

‘Of course, subject to all the necessary checks, but really, Father, it’s perfect! An old converted farmhouse, with a fair bit of land so Imo can have the horse she’s always hankered for!’

He took a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. ‘These are the estate agents’ particulars. It’s been on their books for a while, so the owners were only too delighted to show us over that afternoon.’

The glossy brochure was passed round showing photographs of an attractive farmhouse, its kitchen, bedrooms and entertaining rooms. Charles and her parents were exclaiming with enthusiasm, but for Sarah the news came as a blow. She’d always been close to her brother and when younger had shared with him things she’d felt unable to discuss with her mother. Even recently she’d turned to him when a disagreement with Charles was slow in resolving itself.

‘We’ll miss you,’ she said.

Theo looked up, meeting her troubled eyes. ‘It’s only an hour away, sis,’ he said gently, ‘not Outer Mongolia!’

She smiled reluctantly. ‘It looks lovely,’ she said.

But the news cast a cloud over the evening, and although the rest of it passed pleasantly enough, it was with a heavy heart that she returned home through a glistening white landscape.

The snow lasted several days, affording great enjoyment to the Drummond children among others and considerable inconvenience to their elders. The last of the slush had only just cleared by the following weekend, when Sarah and Charles had another engagement – this time a ‘half-century’ party for the twin daughters of Charles’s boss, both of whom worked for the company and who were celebrating their twenty-fifth birthdays.

The party was in the form of a dance with buffet so there was no formal table plan, but Charles’s colleagues, arriving ahead of them, had taken over one of the tables bordering the dance floor, and beckoned them over. Sarah had met them all before at office parties, so was looking forward to an enjoyable evening. What she was not expecting as she seated herself was to catch sight of Lily and Luke across the room. She’d not forgotten that fleeting but subtly worrying exchange of glances at the dinner, and Luke was positively the last person she wished to see. She could only hope they’d escape notice among the crowd.

But an hour or so later Charles returned from the free bar with the news that he’d met Luke, who’d wondered whether it would be OK if he asked her for a dance.

‘I hope you said no!’ she said quickly.

He looked at her in surprise. ‘Well, of course I didn’t! Be reasonable, love; I know Lily’s not your favourite person but Luke’s OK. He said he’ll come over after supper, which they’re setting out now. I suppose I’ll have to do the decent thing and dance with Lily.’

‘What are they even doing here?’ Sarah demanded, her face flushed. ‘He doesn’t work for Bennett’s and he can hardly be a friend of the twins!’

‘Apparently he did some business with us over the Christmas period,’ Charles said. ‘The old man’s clearly taking the opportunity to mix business with pleasure.’ And he turned to reply to a query from one of his colleagues.

Sarah’s appetite had deserted her and it was an effort to swallow enough of the delicious fare to avoid comment. It was only a dance, she kept assuring herself, and with all these people here what could possibly go wrong?

Sure enough, once coffee had been served and dancing began again, Luke came over, tall, handsome and very sure of himself, and gave her a mock bow.

‘May I have the pleasure of this dance, Sarah?’ he asked formally.

Since she’d no choice she came to her feet and into his arms, aware of the interest of the other wives. They moved into the centre of the room to join those already dancing, and Sarah felt his hand tighten on hers.

‘This is very pleasant,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We should meet more often.’

Sarah’s mouth was dry and her heart racing. ‘I’m sure Charles—’ she began, but he interrupted her.

‘I’m not talking about Charles,’ he said.

Her eyes flew to his face and she saw again the expression she’d caught at the golf club. His arm tightened round her waist, drawing her closer, and she gave a little gasp.

‘Luke, please!’

‘Please what?’

She didn’t reply. Why hadn’t she noticed it was a slow dance he’d claimed her for? She should have prevaricated, waited for a fast tune when couples danced opposite each other. And yet, whispered a treacherous little voice inside her, what harm are we doing? It’s a long time since Charles made me feel like this.

The music was sensuous, dreamlike, and it was easier not to resist, to drift along with Luke’s cheek against hers and his body pressing close, and to shut her mind to all else. She lost all sense of time until with a last lingering chord the music ended and everyone moved apart, applauding.

‘I’ll return you to your husband,’ Luke said quietly, ‘but I’ll call you.’

Was that a threat or a promise? Blindly she turned and wove her way through the crowd towards her table. Only one couple was still seated, and they greeted her with a smile. Luke had followed her as protocol demanded and she flung him a quick glance over her shoulder.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and hastily sat down.

‘Thank you!’ he replied, and with another little bow merged back into the crowd.

Sarah reached for her glass and drank, trying to steady her hand. Something had changed in the last few minutes, something she knew to be momentous and possibly dangerous, and she felt powerless to prevent it. If, indeed, she wanted to.

By the next morning she had regained a sense of balance. It was highly unlikely that Luke would contact her – like herself, he’d have been temporarily seduced by the soft lights and sweet music. In fact, in the cold light of day, it seemed doubtful he’d ever intended to.

In the meantime life continued its normal pattern; the children were transported to and from school and nursery, the shopping attended to and all the other regular commitments fitted in – charity work, book group meetings and so on.

On the following Friday she strapped Mia into her car seat, collected Abby from school and drove to the hypermarket on the edge of town. She’d invited a couple of friends to dinner the following evening, and some ingredients needed for the meal weren’t available locally.

She parked the car, transferred Mia into the trolley seat and, with Abby skipping alongside, braved the crowded interior, shopping list in hand. The store was huge, several times larger than their usual supermarket, and, unfamiliar with its layout, she found herself constantly dodging backwards and forwards rather than making steady progress, often finding that the next item on the list was in an aisle she’d already visited.

‘Can I have an ice cream?’ Abby begged for the third time, swinging on the handle of the trolley and causing it to lurch sideways.

‘Stop that, Abby,