‘It’s not a fairy wood, love,’ says Alison. ‘It’s just a wood.’ And then, feeling bad, she adds, ‘But we can have a walk in it later and see if there are any fairies.’
Lila grins. ‘You know I don’t really believe in fairies. It’s babyish!’ She jumps out of the car, making shapes in the gravel with the toe of her shoe. Alison grabs the bottle of wine they’d picked up at Tesco on the way over and clutches it to her chest. Gareth takes her hand and squeezes it reassuringly.
Imogen flings open one of the large double doors at the front of the house and steps out. If she’s shocked or annoyed at their unplanned visit on a Saturday, she doesn’t let it show. She steps out onto the gravel driveway in just her socks. Lila runs into her arms and Imogen swings her niece around. Josh hovers behind her, looking uncertain. They are dressed for their new country life in jeans and warm jumpers and the kind of woolly socks you buy to go camping in.
‘Come in, come in,’ cries Imogen, taking Lila’s hand. But she avoids eye contact with Alison.
Alison follows her sister, who is still holding Lila’s hand, over the threshold into a spacious hallway with intricate mouldings, ornate coving, antique sideboards, gilt-edged mirrors and paintings on the wall. The floor and the stairs are carved from Bath stone and Alison can hardly breathe as she takes it all in.
‘Shoes off, Lila,’ Alison says and her daughter immediately slumps to the floor and pulls off her favourite glittery pumps she’d insisted on wearing.
The four adults stand stiffly, watching Lila. Imogen looks relieved when her niece jumps up again and grabs her hand. Alison can hear Imogen telling Lila that Josh made a delicious lemon drizzle cake last night. Lila excitedly claps her hands, saying she loves lemon drizzle cake, while Josh continues to smile uncertainly. He’s crap with kids, Alison observes. He’s hardly spoken two words to Lila in her whole life.
They head downstairs and Gareth presses his hand into her back, leaning in to whisper in her ear, ‘Are you okay?’
She turns to him and nods. ‘It’s just all so …’
‘I know,’ he says, still whispering. ‘Be nice. She’s your sister and she’s happy. You need to make it up.’
Alison grimaces in response but she feels like the worst person in the world. She wants to be happy for Imogen and she’s trying, she really is.
The kitchen is beautiful in a vintage boho kind of way with lace at the side window and an Aga and delicate bone-china cups hanging from a dresser. There’s a butler sink and a large wooden table with mismatched chairs. In the corner by the French doors is a high-backed armchair in a floral-patterned fabric. The sun streams through the glass and the doors are open onto the huge garden, the edges of the wood visible in the distance. It’s idyllic and Alison never wants to leave while simultaneously fighting the urge to run to the car and drive back to Cardiff.
A gorgeous pale Golden Retriever is laid out in a patch of sunlight. So this must be the famous Solly that Imogen is so taken with.
Lila squeals as soon as she claps eyes on him and rushes over to throw her arms around his neck. ‘Be careful,’ Alison warns. She dumps the bottle of wine on the wooden worktop.
‘Oh, he’s a teddy bear,’ says Imogen, taking cups from the dresser. ‘Sit down, both of you.’ Her voice is more clipped when speaking to them. ‘Do you want some cake?’
Alison sinks onto one of the chairs, Gareth next to her. Josh is faffing around by the Aga with a pair of oven gloves, muttering something about putting in a casserole for dinner. That’s one thing Gareth can’t do – cook – and, for a moment, Alison allows herself to imagine what it would be like if this was her life: if she had this house and a man who cooked delicious cakes and hearty casseroles, if money was no object. If they had a wood for Lila to run about in and a polar bear of a dog to cuddle up to and take out for walks. She glances at Josh as he picks up a pretty cake stand with the lemon drizzle on top and carries it to the table. He’s handsome, she supposes, if you like that kind of floppy-haired, wide-eyed boyish look. She prefers rugby types like Gareth, personally. And Josh lacks Gareth’s warmth. She’d always been under the impression that Josh didn’t like her. He never made the effort to come to see them in Cardiff, and when Alison, Gareth and Lila visited them inBristol – usually meeting at a restaurant – he’d be vacant, almost, like he was going through the motions but didn’t actually want to be there. As a result Imogen usually overcompensated for him by chatting too much, all hand gestures and desperate attempts to bring Josh into the conversation.
Josh makes a ceremony of cutting the cake and giving out slices on the delicate side plates. He cuts an extra-large slice for Lila and hands it to her, smiling at her shyly. Then he sits next to Gareth and does what he always does – starts talking about football – which is really the only thing they have in common, even though Alison knows Gareth prefers rugby.
‘So what do you think of the villa?’ asks Imogen. Their conversation is stilted, and Alison knows her sister is being polite for Lila’s sake.
She swallows the cake. ‘It’s stunning. It really is,’ she says truthfully. She wants to get Imogen on her own so they can talk properly.
‘I love it!’ exclaims Lila, finishing off her cake. ‘I wish we lived here.’
‘You were lucky to spend that time here with Mum,’ says Alison, stabbing her cake with a dessert fork. ‘It must have been special.’
Imogen doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but then she nods and says that yes, it was.
‘Aunty Immy. Can we go for a walk in the wood?’ Lila asks.
‘Yes, of course, if it’s okay with Mummy?’
There’s something calming about being here, in this beautiful kitchen that speaks of a bygone era and which isn’t as stuffy and old-fashioned as Alison was expecting. Her sister has always loved that chintzy look whereas Alison preferred a more modern aesthetic, but she can feel this house take hold of her and she relaxes into its embrace. ‘Come on then. Let’s go and see this famous wood, before the sun goes in. It’s supposed to rain this afternoon.’ This is the ideal opportunity to get Imogen by herself so they can really talk.
They leave the men still discussing football, and as Alison passes Gareth she squeezes his shoulders gratefully for making an effort. She can see that Josh is trying too, and, for the first time, has noticed a shift in power between him and Imogen. It has always struck Alison that her sister walked on eggshells around him, with her quick, worried glances in his direction, always checking if he was okay.
They take Solly and Lila into the woods and Alison’s glad she brought a jacket as it’s chilly in the shade of all the towering trees. ‘I still can’t believe all this is yours,’ says Alison, keeping her eyes on Lila who has thrown a ball for Solly to catch. ‘It’s lovely to think of Mum here. She must have felt safe.’
Imogen nods but doesn’t say anything. Alison wonders if this is the right time to bring up their father. She has to clear the air between them.
Instead Imogen says, ‘I’m sorry I sent you that text message. But I was so angry when I found out.’
‘I’ve tried to call you a few times to explain.’
