Page 40 of Last Letter Home
Tina stooped to pinch dead blooms from a potted pelargonium. ‘It’s been so liberating moving here, Briony,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d miss London and my teaching, but I haven’t, not really. I’ve achieved so much in a short time. It’s been good for Roger, too, though he finds it a bit quiet. He was wearing himself out at that school, trying to be someone he wasn’t and not getting on at all with the whizzy new headmistress.’
Briony could glimpse Roger Sandbrook with Luke and Aruna through the open French doors of the sitting room, and heard his deep, carefree laugh, so like his son’s. Then Luke stepped outside with a bottle of sparkling wine, his face screwed up with concentration as he eased the cork up until it shot out with a pop.
‘’Tis done well, boy,’ his father cried as Luke went back inside. It was interesting how people were shaped by their jobs. No one hearing Roger Sandbrook speak could have any doubt that he had taught English and Drama. A moment later he emerged ceremoniously bearing a tray of crystal flutes filled with winking bubbles of pale gold. Springy hair like Luke’s stood up from a similar high forehead, but Roger’s was greying and his eyebrows were bushy as one day Luke’s would no doubt become. Their personalities were different. Roger was an ebullient man, though a kind one. Luke was more gentle, but just as kind.
Aruna stepped out after them with her own glass. She was quieter than usual, Briony thought, and wondered whether she found Luke’s parents overwhelming. They gave every impression of being fond of their son’s girlfriend, so this puzzled Briony.
‘What are we drinking to?’ Luke asked, when everyone had a glass.
‘How about wine and women, may we always have a taste for both?’
‘The girls won’t say that, Dad!’
‘Good health and happiness then. It’s lovely to have you with us, Briony.’
Briony thanked him, laughing, and drank. The champagne made her feel light as one of the puffs of cloud passing overhead. The evening was so warm and lovely and the garden with Tina’s exotic sculptures such an unexpected pleasure that she felt she was filling up with contentment.
‘Are you comfortable in your holiday let?’ Roger asked. ‘I gather it’s in the grounds of the old house.’
‘That’s right. Some people might find it shabby, but it’s just right for me. I like a bit of atmosphere.’
‘A nice one, I hope?’ Tina asked.
‘There aren’t actual ghosts, I don’t think. I occasionally wake up thinking I’ve heard something, but it’s probably the woodworm gnawing away.’
There was laughter at this. ‘I think it’s like a witch’s house,’ Aruna said. ‘You know, the gingerbread one where Hansel and Gretel picked sweets off it and the witch caught them.’
‘Are you a witch, Briony?’ Luke said, smiling.
Aruna made a little moue. ‘She’s as clever as one.’
‘Thanks, Aruna!’ Briony said, trying to laugh it off, while feeling a bit hurt. ‘Don’t forget what it meant to call a woman a witch. Next thing you’ll be blaming me for the ills of the community, calling for me to be thrown into a pond and, if I float, hanged.’
‘Didn’t they usually burn witches?’ Luke asked gravely.
‘Hanging was more usual.’
‘Hanging or burning, which would you prefer, Briony?’ Roger said, amused.
‘This is a horrible conversation and I can’t bear to listen.’ Tina set her empty glass on the tray and briefly covered her ears. ‘I’m going to put supper on the table.’
‘Would you like any help?’ Briony asked, seeing an opportunity to escape. She rather wanted to get to know Tina a little.
‘We’ll all come, won’t we, Aruna?’ Luke said, sliding his arm round Aruna’s waist. Aruna relaxed into him and smiled.
‘Thank you, everybody, but I’m fine,’ Tina said. ‘It’s mostly carrying things through, so I’ll borrow Briony.’
Briony was given oven gloves and charge of a salmon and broccoli tart, all toasted and fragrantly steaming. There were pottery bowls of salad and warm herb bread freshly made by Roger. She loved the inside of the cottage where the walls were stacked floor to ceiling with shelves of odd-sized books or studded with bright abstract paintings, though the men had to duck under the low doorways when they came in for supper. The wide table nearly filled the cosy dining room. The diamond-hatched window looked out onto a sunken lane where the evening sun poured through the restless beech trees, casting ever-changing patterns of flickering shadow.
‘Which part of the country do you come from, Briony?’ Tina asked after they’d started to eat. ‘I mean I know you live in London now, but were you born there?’
‘Mmm, this salmon is delicious. No, I was born in Surrey. A place called Birchmere. No one’s ever heard of it and nothing ever happens there. My dad’s parents grew up there, and my mum’s moved there after the war. Apparently Grandpa Andrews was from round here, which is really why I’ve come. I think Luke may have told you.’
‘He did mention the bare bones, didn’t you, Luke?’
‘I thought you’d like to tell it, Briony,’ Luke said.
She explained more fully about the film they’d seen in Italy and the letters that she’d been given.
