Page 48

Penzance

The programme on art had just finished. I was fuming.

Everything that had come out of Paul’s mouth had sounded like the words I’d written that hadn’t been good enough.

The arguments he’d used were mine. Once dinner was in the oven, I went into the bedroom to find the box with my thesis. Maybe I was misremembering.

After a walk through the garden, I was back in control of my emotions.

Paul was something I would deal with later.

Right now, Mum and the business came first. Paul could head back to London, and then once things were sorted here, I would finish with him.

I froze. How did I have a life without him? It was all I’d known for ages.

I heard a car pull in and braced myself. If I remained cool and didn’t rise to anything, it would all be easier. I slapped a smile on my face and turned as Tash escorted Paul into the house.

‘That smells divine. I’d love to stay for dinner.

’ Tash grinned and Paul sent me a look. I ignored him and laid another place at the table.

Without asking, he went to my father’s wine rack and selected the best bottle he could find.

Before he could open it, Tash said, ‘That doesn’t go with roast chicken.

’ She removed the bottle and the corkscrew from his hands.

I took a bottle of Gavi out of the fridge, hiding my smile. Tash dared to go where no one else did.

Paul stalked off and returned with a large whisky.

‘That looks lovely, Paul. May I have one?’ Mum asked.

‘Ren can get one for you.’ He took a large sip.

Mum frowned at him. ‘She’s sorting the dinner.’

He looked at her, then put his drink down and left the kitchen.

‘Is he often this tetchy?’ she asked me.

I was about to say no, but to be honest, he was. ‘Yes.’

‘Why do you put up with it, dear?’

Tash walked into the room. ‘That’s a very good question.’

I didn’t answer as Paul returned carrying a small whisky for my mother. An awkward silence filled the kitchen, but he took no notice of it as he sat down. Meanwhile, Tash brought the salad to the table, saying, ‘Paul, why don’t you carve the chicken?’

‘Ren can.’ He glanced at my mother.

‘She’s mashing the potatoes right now and you mentioned repeatedly in the car how hungry you were.’ Tash looked intently at him. ‘You’ll eat sooner if you help.’

I pounded the potatoes wondering why I hadn’t seen this before. He was about to push back, but instead he rose and set about carving the bird. I refused to look at him directly. Tash would have kept his feathers ruffled all afternoon.

What I wanted more than anything was to sit quietly and think things through.

How was I going to make sure my mother had enough money for her care?

Did we have to report the state of the business?

The one thing I was grateful for was that my uncle hadn’t been about to mortgage the buildings.

Dad and I would have had to agree to it.

So if his house didn’t sell, money from the sale of the business property should cover most of what my father had loaned him.

But I couldn’t see any future for Barton’s.

This saddened me, and that was a surprise.

I’d enjoyed working with Tash on Harbour House and I wanted Sheba and Viv’s work to receive the accolades it richly deserved.

There were still so many questions. Why had neither of them had an exhibition until the 1960s as my research unearthed?

Tomorrow I would pin down Tilly, the gardener.

She would be able to answer some of it, I was certain.

‘I forgot to mention, Ren, your uncle called,’ Mum said.

‘He hasn’t returned my calls,’ Paul muttered.

‘You have business with him?’ Tash asked, taking the green beans to the table.

He sent her a filthy look when she came for the plate of chicken.

She ignored him and helped my mother with her food.

The mashed potatoes were done, and I noted that Paul had finished his whisky and poured himself a healthy glass of wine and a small glass for my mother.

Nothing, not even an offer, for Tash or me.

Not that I minded. I was too tired and it wouldn’t help me to think clearly.

Dinner passed in silence and Paul finished the bottle of wine. Tash raised an eyebrow but for once kept her silence. However, my mother didn’t.

‘Paul, that’s a bit much.’

His face was a picture as he stopped himself from his first response. ‘It’s been a hard day.’

Tash rolled her eyes, and I thought how if his had been hard, mine had been a disaster.

Part of me wanted to laugh, but I held back.

The day wasn’t over yet. Tash rose and told Paul to help her clear.

Reluctantly he joined her, and she made him wash up while I helped Mum, who wanted to go straight to bed.

All this news had exhausted her. Our pace was slow, but once in her room, I helped her to change and get into bed.

As I bent to kiss her, she said, ‘Darling, when we can arrange it, I think it’s best if I go into a home.’

I sank down on the side of the bed.

‘Things will only become harder. Your father and I discussed this, and we should have told you.’

‘You should have.’

‘I’m sorry. I think I haven’t seen things clearly.’ She sighed. ‘You’ve spent so little time with us.’

I closed my eyes for a moment. ‘It was wrong. I should have been here more.’

‘Is Paul always this rude?’ she asked. ‘I don’t remember him being so, but then things are slipping.’

I was unable to reply. Tears threatened. I nodded. It was the truth, and I was only just seeing it clearly now. I kissed her again and headed back to the kitchen.

Tash was on her own, standing at the sink. He had crossed the line with her. It was clear on her face.

‘I know you love him, but I don’t understand why. He’s destroying you and it’s killing me.’

‘Tash—’

‘No, you don’t see what he’s made you. He’s taken away the gorgeous girl who was going to take on the world.

He’s starved you of love, the right type of love, the type that builds you up, not pulls you down.

He’s a thug, he’s underhand, devious, and he’s poisoned the people around you so he has you to himself.

’ She drew in a breath. ‘I know you don’t want to hear these words, but he controls you. ’

‘No.’

‘Yes. Normal people don’t hack into their partner’s emails. They don’t go behind their back. He’s changed you, and not for the better.’

I shook my head back and forth, not wanting to hear what she was saying. It hit home, though, and I agreed with every word she said.

‘Find your inner strength and leave him. Please. Because watching this happen to you is soul-destroying. I love you. You are a wonderful, intelligent woman, and you’ll shine again once he is out of your life.’

I simply stood still. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Paul pouring himself another whisky. Tash had spoken quietly, in such a measured tone that it made her words more penetrating. There was no reply I could make to it. It was an ultimatum of sorts.

She dried her hands on a tea towel. ‘I’ll meet you at Harbour House tomorrow at ten.’ She leaned in and hugged me. ‘I love you and I believe in you.’

She peered into the sitting room. ‘Will you be OK? He’s beyond angry.’

I swallowed. Part of me wanted her to stay but I needed to talk to Paul, and that wouldn’t happen if she was here. It had to be alone. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘He’s never been violent, has he?’

I shook my head. He’d come close once, but that was five years ago, when he thought I was flirting with a colleague. He’d promised never to do it again. Thus far he’d kept that promise.

She stared at me. ‘I’m just a call away.’

‘Thanks.’ I walked her to the door and watched her drive away with my heart sinking.

All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

Instead I went into the sitting room. Paul glared at me over the rim of his glass.

This was not a good start. He was drunk and I was filled with anger.

Tash was right. Now was the time. I called a taxi.

‘A taxi is booked and will be here in a few minutes.’

He glared at me. ‘I’m not leaving.’ He knocked back the rest of his whisky.

‘You are.’

He laughed and rose to his feet. ‘I will do what I want.’

‘You’ve been doing that all along. Like stealing my work.’ I braced myself.

‘So what?’ He swayed a bit. ‘You didn’t need it.’

‘What? That makes no sense.’ I stepped back from him.

‘You had me. You didn’t need your work and I did.’

The look in his eyes worried me.

‘You are worth nothing without me.’ He was slurring his words. ‘You can’t even recognise an original painting.’ He took a step closer.

‘There is nothing wrong with caution.’

‘Ah yes, caution. I keep you safe and protected. You owe me.’ There was hate in his expression. I’d seen it once before, when he verbally abused a museum curator who had misattributed a reference. By the end, the man was broken. But I would not be.

‘I don’t owe you anything.’

‘Oh, you do. You were a wreck eight years ago and I took pity on you, protected you.’

‘You stole my work, my words, and you continue to use it.’

‘So what? No one knows. You don’t need it doing your little job.’

I drew in a deep breath and regretted it. The smell of stale booze coming off him was repulsive. His calm veneer gone along with the control he normally had over himself.

‘You are a cow, a stupid lazy cow and you are lucky I look after you.’

‘No, I can see I’m not lucky at all. You have lied to my parents, lied to my uncle, and God knows who else. You have hacked into my emails and tried to control my life.’

‘Tried? I am your life. Without me you are nothing, nothing at all.’

‘Well, then I will just have to find that out myself. You are going now. You can take the sleeper back to London and be glad I’m not reporting you to the university.’

He didn’t move. His eyes narrowed. I prayed my mother couldn’t hear this. He took another step towards me. On the table was a bronze of a nude. I picked it up. ‘Come any closer and I will use this.’

He laughed.

The doorbell rang.

‘Your taxi.’ Still clutching the bronze, I fled to the hallway and opened the door.

The driver took one look at my face and mouthed, ‘Are you OK?’

I nodded.

He picked up Paul’s bag and walked to the sitting room. ‘Come on, mate.’

Paul looked from me to the driver. He wouldn’t make a scene. Not in front of someone else. His demeanour changed and he became all charm. ‘Just coming,’ he said, grabbing his backpack. It was then that I noticed the papers stuffed in there. My thesis.

Acting faster than I’d thought I could, I grabbed them as he was stepping out the door. He didn’t notice, as he was telling the driver to take him to the station. I closed and locked the door, then sank to the floor and began to shake.

When I looked up, my mother was standing there in her nightdress. ‘Oh my darling girl.’

‘He’s gone.’

She stroked my head with her right hand. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ she said.

She held out her hand. I took it and stood. Then she wrapped me in her arms, and I cried for the lost years.