Its just the surprise of it, Patrick answered for her. I should have warned her that youve had your eye on that for years and you always get your own way.
Amen to that! Frederick said. The father and son clinked glasses.
But I like our flat, Ruth said.
Ruth borrowed a pair of Elizabeths Wellington boots for the walk, and her waxed jacket and her headscarf. She had not come prepared, because the after-lunch walk was always Fredericks time alone with Patrick. Usually Elizabeth and Ruth cleared the lunch table, stacking the plates in the dishwasher, and then sat in the living room with the Sunday papers to read and Mozart on the hi-fi. Ruth had once gone with the men on their walk, but after a few yards she had realized her mistake. They strode along with their hands buried deep in their pockets, shoulder to shoulder in a silent enjoyable communion. She had delayed them at stiles and gates because they had felt bound to hold her hand as she clambered over them, or warn her about mud in gateways. They had kept stopping to ask if they were going too fast for her or if she was tired. Their very generosity to her and concern for her had told her that she was a stranger, and unwelcome. They wasted no politeness on each other. For each other they shared a happy, wordless camaraderie.
The next Sunday Frederick announced: Time for my constitutional, and then he had turned to Ruth: Will you come with us again, Ruth? It looks like rain.
As she had hesitated, Elizabeth said firmly, You two run along! I wont have my daughter-in-law dragged around the countryside in the rain! Ruth will stay here with me and we can be cosy. Well kick our shoes off and gossip.
After that, the two men always walked alone after lunch and Ruth and Elizabeth waited for them to return. There was no kicking off shoes. Elizabeth was a naturally formal woman, and they had no mutual friends for gossip. Ruth punctiliously asked after Miriam, Patricks elder sister, who was teaching in Canada. But Miriam was always well. Elizabeth inquired about Ruths work, which was filled with drama and small triumphs that never sounded interesting when retold, and asked after Ruths aunt, who had brought her up after the death of her parents. Ruth always said that she was well, but in truth they had lost contact except for Christmas cards and the occasional phone call. Then there was nothing more to say. The two women leafed through the newspapers together until they heard the dog scrabbling at the back door and Elizabeth rose to let him in and put the kettle on for tea.
Ruth knew that Manor Cottage mattered very much to everyone when she was invited on the walk, especially when Elizabeth walked too.
They went across the fields, the men helping the women over the stiles. They could see the Manor Cottage roof from two fields away, nestling in a little valley. The footpath from the farmhouse led to the back gate and into the garden. The drive to the farmhouse ran past the front door. There was a stream that ran through the garden.
Might get a trout or two, Frederick observed.
As long as its not damp, Elizabeth said.
Frederick had brought the key. He opened the front door and stepped back. Better carry her over the threshold, he said to Patrick. Just for luck.
It would have been awkward and ungracious to refuse. Ruth let Patrick pick her up and step over the threshold with her and then put her down gently in the little hall and kiss her, as if it were their new house, and they were newlyweds, moving in.
The old ladys rickety furniture was still in the house and it smelled very faintly of damp and cats pee. Ruth, with a strong sense of her alien childhood, recognized at once the flavour of a house that the English would call full of character, and that her American father would have called dirty.
Soon air out, Frederick said firmly. Here, take a look.
He opened the door on the sitting room, which ran the length of the cottage. At the rear of the cottage were old-fashioned French windows leading to a muddy garden, desolate under the November sky. Pretty as a picture in summer, he said. Wed lend you Stephens. He could come over and do the hard digging on Tuesdays. Mow the lawn for you, trim the hedges. Youd probably enjoy doing the light stuff yourself.
So relaxing, Elizabeth said, with a nod to Ruth. Very therapeutic for Patrick!
They turned and went into the opposite room. It was a small dark dining room, which led to the kitchen at the back overlooking the back garden. The back door was half off its hinges, and damp had seeped into the walls. There was a large old-fashioned china sink, with ominous brown stains around the drain hole, and an enormous ash-filled, grease-stained coal-burning range. Oh, youll have such fun with this! Elizabeth exclaimed. Ruth, how I envy you! Its the sweetest little room, and you can do so much with it. I can just imagine a real farmhouse kitchen all pine and stencils!
A laurel bush slapped waxy green leaves against the kitchen window and dripped water mournfully on the panes. Ruth gave a little shiver against the cold.
Upstairs is very neat, Frederick observed, shepherding them out of the kitchen through the dining room and back into the hall. Pop on up, Ruth. Go on, Patrick.
Ruth unwillingly led the way upstairs. The others followed behind her, commenting on the soundness of the stairs and the attractive banister. Ruth hesitated on the landing.
This is so lovely, Elizabeth said, throwing open a door. The master bedroom, Ruth. See the view!
The bedroom faced south, down the valley. It was a pretty view of the fields, and in the distance a road and the village.
Sunny all the day long, Frederick said.
And here are two other bedrooms and a bathroom, Elizabeth said, gesturing to the other doors. She led Ruth to see each of them. And this has to be a nursery! she exclaimed. The pretty little room faced over the garden. In the cold autumn light it looked grey and dreary. Roses at the window all the summer long, Elizabeth said. Look! I think you can just see our house!
Ruth obediently looked. Yes.
She turned and led the way downstairs. While the others returned for a second look at the damp kitchen, Ruth went outside and waited in the cold front garden. When they emerged, all smiling at some remark, they looked at her expectantly, as if they were waiting for some pronouncement that would make them all happy, as if she should say that she had passed an exam, or that she had won the lottery. They turned bright, hopeful faces on her, and Ruth had nothing to offer them. She felt her shoulders lift in a little shrug. She did not know what they expected her to say.
You do love it, dont you, darling? Patrick asked.
Its very pretty, she said.
It was the right thing to say. They looked pleased. Frederick closed the front door and locked it with the care of a householder. Ideal, he pronounced.
Patrick slipped his arm around her waist. We could go ahead, then, he said encouragingly. Put the flat on the market, make an offer on this place, move house.
Ruth hesitated. I dont think I want
Now, stop it, Patrick, Elizabeth said reasonably. Youve only just seen it. Theres lots to take into account. You have to have a survey done, and you have to have your own flat valued. Ruth needs time to get adjusted to the idea; its a bigger change for her than anyone! She smiled at Ruth conspiratorially: the two women in league together. You cant rush us and make a decision all in one afternoon! I wont allow it!
Patrick threw her a mock salute. All right! All right!
Its a business decision, Frederick supplemented. Not simply somewhere to live. You and Ruth might have fallen in love with it, but you have to be sure its a good investment too. He smiled fondly at Ruth and tapped her on the nose with the house key before putting it into his pocket. Now dont turn those big eyes on me and tell me you have to have it, little Ruth. I agree, it looks like an excellent bargain for the two of you, but I shall let my head rule my heart on this one.
Hark at him! Elizabeth exclaimed. She slipped her hand in Ruths arm and led her around the corner of the house to the back garden. Hes determined to have the place, and he makes it sound like it is us who are rushing him. Come and see the garden! Its just bliss in summer. A real old-fashioned cottage garden. You cant plant borders like this in less than twenty years. They have to mature.
Ruth trailed after Elizabeth to the back garden and obediently admired the decaying, dripping wallflowers and the seedpods of stocks. At the back of the flower bed were the tall dead spines of delphiniums and before them were bloated pods of last seasons love-in-the-mist. The lawn was soggy with moss; the crazy-paved pathway was slick with lichen and overgrown with weeds.
Best way to see it, Frederick said. He picked a stick and switched at a nettle head. See a property in the worst light and you know it. Theres no nasty shocks hidden away. You know what youre getting. If you love it like this, little Ruth, then youll adore it in summer.
I dont think I could really Ruth started.
Good gracious, look at the time! Elizabeth exclaimed. I thought I was missing my cup of tea. Its half past four already. Frederick youre very naughty to drag us down here. Ruth and I are faint for tea!
Frederick looked at his watch and exclaimed in surprise. They turned and left the garden. Ruth plucked at Patricks sleeve as he went past her. I cant get to work from here, she said swiftly. Itd take me hours to get in. And what about when I have to work late? And I like our flat.
Hush, he said. Let them have their little plans. It doesnt do any harm, does it? Well talk about it later. Not now.
Here, Patrick! his father called. Dyou think this is a legal right of way? Can you remember, when you were a boy, was there a footpath here?
Patrick gave her a swift, encouraging smile and joined his parents.
Ruth was quiet at tea, and when they finally pulled away from Manor Farm with a homemade quiche and an apple crumble in the usual Sunday box of home-cooked food on the back seat, she still said nothing.
They were in an awkward situation. Like many wealthy parents, Frederick and Elizabeth had given the newlyweds a home as their wedding present. Ruth and Patrick had chosen the flat, but Frederick and Elizabeth had bought it for them. Ruth dimly knew that shares had been sold, and sacrifices made, so that she and Patrick should start their married life in a flat that they could never have afforded, not even on their joint salaries. House prices might be falling after the manic boom of the mid-eighties, but a flat in Clifton would always have been beyond their means. Her gratitude and her sense of guilt showed itself in her sporadic attempts at good housekeeping, and her frenzied efforts to make the place look attractive when Frederick and Elizabeth were due to visit.
She had no investment of her own to balance against their generosity. Her parents had been classical musicians poorly paid and with no savings. They had left her nothing, not even a home; their furniture had not been worth shipping to the little girl left in England. Patricks family were her only family, the flat was her first home since she had been a child.
Frederick had never delivered the deeds of the flat to Patrick. No one ever mentioned this: Patrick never asked for them, Frederick never volunteered them. The deeds had stayed with Frederick, and were still in his name. And now he wanted to sell the flat, and buy somewhere else.
Ive loved that cottage ever since I was a boy, Patrick volunteered, breaking the silence. They were driving down the long sweeping road towards Bristol, the road lined with grey concrete council housing. Ive always wanted to live there. Its such luck that it should come up now, just when we can take it.
How dyou mean? Ruth asked.
Well, with my promotion coming up, and better hours for me. More money too. Its as if it was meant. Absolutely meant, Patrick repeated. And dyou know I think well make a killing on the flat. Weve put a lot of work in, well see a return for it. House prices are recovering all the time.
Ruth tried to speak. She felt so tired, after a day of well-meaning kindness, that she could hardly protest. I dont see how it would work, she said. I cant work a late shift and drive in and back from there. If I get called out on a story its too far to go; itd take me too long.
Oh, rubbish! Patrick said bracingly. When dyou ever get a big story? Its a piddling little job, not half what you could do, and you know it! A girl with your brains and your ability should be streets ahead. Youll never get anywhere on Radio Westerly, Ruth, its smalltime radio! Youve got to move on, darling. They dont appreciate you there.
Ruth hesitated. That part at least was true. Ive been looking
Leave first, and then look, Patrick counselled. You look for a job now and any employer can see what youre doing, and how much youre being paid, and youre typecast at once. Give yourself a break and then start applying and they have to see you fresh. Ill help you put a demo tape together, and a CV. And we could see what openings there are in Bath. Thatd be closer to home for you.
Home?
The cottage, darling. The cottage. You could work in Bath very easily from there. Its the obvious place for us.
Ruth could feel a dark shadow of a headache sitting between her eyebrows on the bridge of her nose. Hang on a minute, she said. I havent said I want to move.
Neither have I, Patrick said surprisingly. They were at the centre of Bristol. He hesitated at a junction and then put the car into gear and drove up towards Park Street. The great white sweep of the council chamber looked out over a triangle of well-mown grass. Bristol cathedral glowed in pale stone, sparkled with glass. I would miss our little flat, he said. It was our first home, after all. Weve had some very good times there.
He was speaking as if they were in the grip of some force of nature that would, resistlessly, sell their flat, which Ruth loved, and place her in the countryside, which she disliked.
Whether I change my job or not, I dont want to live in the back of beyond, she said firmly. Its OK for you, Patrick, its your family home and I know you love it. But I like living in town, and I like our flat.
Sure, Patrick said warmly. Were just playing around with ideas; just castles in the air, darling.
On Monday morning Ruth was slow to wake. Patrick was showered and dressed before she even sat up in bed.
Shall I bring you a cup of coffee in bed? he asked pleasantly.
No, Ill come down and be with you, she said, hastily getting out of bed and reaching for her dressing gown.
I cant stay long, he said. Im seeing Ian South this morning, about the job.