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Freda gestured for her to take a refill and said, ‘Now will you have some more toast? Half a slice doesn’t seem very much.’
‘Thank you,’ Joely replied, and helping herself to another half from the basket she set it down on her plate and bit into the first one to experience yet another heavenly assault on her taste buds. ‘This jelly is delicious,’ she told Brenda, dabbing crumbs from the corner of her mouth. ‘Is it your own recipe?’
Brenda beamed as she passed Freda a large pill organizer with a different colour for each day of the week. ‘My grandmother’s,’ she confided. ‘We’ve got a secret ingredient that stays in the family, but it makes all the difference.’
‘We’re very lucky to have some,’ Freda declared. ‘Brenda’s jelly sells out before she’s even made it, so I feel very fortunate that she keeps a jar or two back for me.’
‘Course I do,’ Brenda smiled fondly. ‘Can’t have you going without, can we? Now make sure you get it right, taking these pills can be a complicated business.’
Freda’s expression was droll as she obediently popped the medication and washed it all down with a mouthful of juice. ‘Do either of your parents suffer with the same affliction?’ she asked Joely. ‘It’s very common amongst us older people.’
Surprised by the question, Joely said, ‘I’m pretty sure my mother’s blood pressure is OK, and my father’s no longer with us.’
Freda immediately looked sad. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that,’ she said. ‘Was it recent?’
‘About eighteen months ago, but we still miss him.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you do. It’s never easy when a loved one passes. Do you have brothers or sisters?’
‘A brother, Jamie. He lives in Dublin with his wife and two children, so we don’t get to see him as often as we’d like.’
‘Dublin?’ She sat with the word or notion of it for some time, before suddenly continuing. ‘That’s a shame, although I’m sure it’s a perfectly nice place. Is he older or younger than you?’
‘Older.’
Freda nodded and fell silent again as though this was information that needed deeper consideration, or perhaps her mind had moved to other things. Whatever, she seemed not to hear when Brenda said,
‘Mrs D is always interested in people’s families, aren’t you, dear?’
When Freda didn’t respond Brenda put a finger to her lips as if to say they wouldn’t go any further with the subject for now. ‘All right, so I’ve got a lovely leek and potato soup going here for your lunch,’ she announced, turning back to the bubbling pot on the Aga. ‘There’s plenty of crusty bread in the box and a nice chunk of local cheddar if you want it. Mrs D isn’t vegan, but she’s very strict about where the dairy products come from. We don’t look much further than North Devon for supplies and always from farms we know treats their livestock well.’
‘You haven’t asked Joely if she’d prefer to have meat,’ Freda pointed out. ‘If you do,’ she said to Joely, ‘I have no objection, but …’
‘No, really, I’m vegetarian,’ Joely assured her. ‘I care about animals too, and the planet.’
Freda smiled. ‘Of course, the planet,’ she echoed and seemed to sink into the timeliness of the reminder. Then suddenly banging her hands on the table, she said, ‘I think we’re going to get along well. I told Brenda we would. Didn’t I say that, Brenda?’
‘It’s exactly what you said,’ Brenda confirmed. ‘Mrs D and Edward carried out a careful search before settling on you,’ she informed Joely. ‘They had to be sure it was the right person or it wasn’t going to work.’
Joely said, ‘Edward?’
‘My nephew,’ Freda explained. ‘He did most of the liaising with my publisher, and when they presented me with a shortlist I had a feeling right away about you. Naturally, I had to read some of your work first, and I’m delighted to say I was most impressed, particularly by the fiction you’ve helped to produce. It wasn’t possible to tell how much of the books were ghosted – my guess is quite a lot – and if I’m right about that it means your talent for capturing your client’s style is exceptional. Not once did I feel a stranger’s presence creeping into the prose, something that always makes me shudder, nor were there excessive amounts of sentiment in the autobiographies. In fact, in my opinion, they were far better served by the kind of subtlety and restraint that I’m certain was your careful hand, because the official authors I’m thinking of are not known for those qualities.’ Her smile was roguish and infectious. ‘So my dear,’ she continued, ‘I say that you have precisely the right sort of skill to undertake a memoir such as mine.’
Pleased by the praise, and even faintly embarrassed, Joely said, ‘I’m glad you think so, and I’m looking forward to starting—’
‘But you’ve already started,’ Freda interrupted in confusion. ‘I take it you read what I left for you yesterday?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Joely assured her, not wanting to think of how this might now go if she hadn’t, ‘and I was left wondering why you need me when you’re writing it so well …’
‘It’s only the beginning. There’s a long way to go, and beginnings are always easy. You are to be my objectivity. I want you to tell me what you thought of those first pages, but not in the way you’ve just tried, using flattery and self-modesty, and not now. I’m tired after my early start this morning so I’m going to lie down for a while.’
Joely watched her get up from the table and hold her coffee mug out for Brenda to refill. In a softer tone she said,
‘I have some documents I’d like you to look through and sign if you’re willing. You’re probably familiar with NDAs – non-disclosure agreements?’
Though Joely certainly knew what they were this was the first time she’d been asked to sign one. ‘I’ll be happy to,’ she replied, thinking of what she’d already discussed with Andee and though it wasn’t much at least Andee was someone she could trust to keep things to herself.
‘The forms are there,’ Freda said, nodding towards a buff file at the end of the table. ‘When you’re done, give them to Brenda and she’ll send them off to the lawyer.’ She checked the time. ‘Let’s say we meet back here at one-thirty for some soup before we get started. Now, if you’ll excuse me …’
After she’d disappeared through a door in the corner Joely looked over at Brenda who was once again busying herself at the Aga as if nothing unusual had happened – and in truth Joely couldn’t say that it had. What was more unusual, now she came to think of it, was the fact that she hadn’t been asked to sign an NDA before. It would make sense if the client was anxious to stop her going to the press before he or she was ready to reveal all they had to tell.
Maybe they’d instinctively trusted her, and with good reason, for it had never occurred to her to try to make money out of selling someone’s secrets.
‘Can I get you more coffee?’ Brenda asked, coming to clear Freda’s side of the table. ‘It’s still hot.’
‘Thanks.’ Joely smiled and held out her mug.
Taking it, Brenda clutched it in both hands and stood gazing at Joely as if she were some sort of prodigal returned. Then she said, ‘Mrs D can be a bit different sometimes, changeable like, and she gets lost somewhere inside her own head, you know, the way writers do, but take it from me she’s a wonderful woman. I’ve worked for her over twenty years and I wouldn’t ever want to work for anyone else. My Bill feels the same. That’s my other half. He takes care of the maintenance and garden around here and drives her if she wants to go anywhere.’
Mindful that Freda hadn’t mentioned where she’d been until this morning, Joely said, ‘Did he drive her yesterday?’
‘Oh yes, and waited overnight to bring her back.’
‘So where did they go?’
Brenda tapped the side of her nose, ‘Oh now, that’s not for me to say. Anything she wants you to know she’ll tell you herself. That’s the way it is, and I respect that.’ She raised the mug. ‘I’ll get that coffee.’
Not sure whether she’d been scolded or warned or simply brought up to speed, Joely reached for the file, but before starting to read she said, ‘Can I ask one thing? Mrs D mentioned her husband—’
‘Oh, he’s gone,’ Brenda sighed sadly. ‘We lost him about three years back. Terrible it was, and him still so young, relatively speaking. It’s when she stopped going out, not that she was a gadabout before that … Well, like I said, whatever she wants you to know she’ll tell you herself, and,’ she added with a twinkle, ‘I daresay you’ll end up knowing a lot more than me once this memoir’s done. That’s provided she tells you everything – and how would we know if she doesn’t?’
‘I guess,’ Andee said, when Joely called her from the thatch-roofed pub on the harbour front to tell her about the NDA, ‘the question is, do we want to know?’
Puzzled, Joely said, ‘Don’t we?’
‘Only teasing,’ Andee laughed. ‘Of course we do, and I’m more intrigued than ever now you can’t talk about it. I take it you signed.’
‘I didn’t see any harm in it, so yes.’ Thanking the barman as he put a small glass of local ale in front of her, she said, ‘I can’t help wondering where she went yesterday.’
‘Does it matter?’
‘No, but why not just say?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that, apart from to remind you that you’re dealing with an obsessively private person. Can you hang on a moment?’
As she waited Joely sipped the ale and smiled her appreciation at the barman who’d offered her a glass on the house as a welcome to Lynmouth. Whether he did this for every newcomer she had no idea, although she doubted it, considering what a popular tourist destination this was. So it probably meant that word had got out, presumably through Brenda, that Mrs Donahoe had a rare guest who should be treated well.
She’d walked into town, wrapped up in a padded coat, scarf and hat, enjoying the brittle, bright winter sunshine and how much less eerie the Valley of Rocks felt when under a blue sky. Still otherworldly, that was for sure, the kind of place where cults would come for midnight rituals and poets for divine inspiration. The towering rocks were like monarchs gazing Canute-like out to sea, and the valley itself, sheltered from the elements, was a dry, stony bowl in the landscape that had the feel of an amphitheatre, or, as she’d thought yesterday a place on the moon. The only sounds came from the low burble of hikers as they passed through, the cry of cormorants and clatter of goats’ hooves as they scrambled over scree and slate and dilapidated walls.
Going through the clifftop town she’d passed the new and old cemeteries, a school and the Convent of Poor Clares that appeared deserted, so where were they now? There was an abundance of teashops and coffee bars, Victorian town houses doubling as hotels and B & Bs, a candle-maker, an art gallery, a beautiful old church, and a filigree archway leading to the famous funicular. Riding down over the cliff face in the quaint green carriage had been utterly joyful, not unnerving at all in spite of the twenty-nine-degree angle and a teenage wit telling his friends they were going to crash.
‘Hi, sorry about that,’ Andee said, coming back on the line. ‘So where are you now?’
‘At the Rising Sun, next to the harbour,’ Joely replied, drinking more of the Exmoor ale and thinking she could get to like it as much as the pub with its low white ceilings, criss-crossed with black beams, undulating stone walls and notice for ferret racing at Brendon Town Hall. ‘Did you know you can see Wales from here? Well, yes, of course you did, and the Rhenish tower on the harbour wall used to be where they stored water for indoor baths. That was before it got itself a lightbulb and became a beacon.’
‘Are you reading from a guidebook?’ Andee asked drily.
‘How did you guess, but it’s fascinating stuff, or I think so anyway.’
‘Great, now tell me more about Freda Donahoe. Are you going to get along with her?’
Pulling a face, Joely said, ‘I hope so, but I don’t think she’s going to be easy. Still, show me a client who is, and I’ll show you someone who doesn’t care about the end result. She was married, by the way. Her husband died about three years ago, I think unexpectedly, but the housekeeper was sparing with details.’
‘So one of the tragedies?’
‘Quite possibly, because apparently that was when she became a recluse, but the parts of the memoir I’ve read date back to the late Sixties. Still, it’s only the beginning so the end could have happened three years ago.’
‘A long way to go. Listen, I’m afraid I’ll need to ring off in a minute, but are we still on for meeting up at the weekend? I don’t mind driving over there again, but I’ll wait to hear from you about your schedule.’
Talk of the weekend inevitably turned Joely’s thoughts to Callum and the couple of days away he was planning with Martha. It made her feel so lonely all of a sudden, so cut off from their life together, from the joy they used to gain from shared experiences, and now here she was, all on her own in a new place she knew he’d love.
Andee said gently, ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes, I’m here,’ Joely replied brightly.
‘Any news from London?’
Joely’s heart twisted and sank. ‘None so far today. I’ll text Holly and my mother before I go back to the house; the others will just have to find a way to live without me.’
Sounding sympathetic, Andee said, ‘I know this isn’t much comfort, but they seem to be having a hard time living with themselves after what they’ve done.’
‘And I’m supposed to feel sorry for them?’ Joely countered.
‘Not at all, but try not to make things worse for yourself by creating scenarios in your head that are probably a long way from the truth.’
Knowing how caught up she was in that very form of self-torment Joely felt her tension begin to unravel. ‘Thanks for that,’ she said, ‘and now I should probably let you go.’
After ringing off she sat quietly finishing up her ale, enjoying the peace and quiet of a near-empty bar, the only sounds coming from the clank and rattle of a delivery going on somewhere outside and the noisy birds around the shore. Then she picked up the sough of the waves and hum of voices outside; the salty scent in the air wafted in as someone opened the door and mingled with the yeasty smell of beer. Although she couldn’t seem to stop fixating on Callum and how sad she felt that he wasn’t here, she was also aware of how relieved she was to be so far away from him and Martha-the-manta-ray with lovely horn-shaped fins and twenty-foot width.
Stop being childish, Joely. Focus on this assignment instead, because after this morning’s brief meeting it’s clearly going to be far from dull.
She looked down as her phone buzzed with a text.
I know you’re not going to answer this, but I wanted to let you know that Holly’s gone to stay with your mother. I think she misses you, as do I.
The last three words hit Joely hard. Why had he added them? What was the point when he didn’t mean them, probably hadn’t even thought about them, merely done what he always did as though nothing between them had changed? Damn you, Callum, she seethed inwardly. Damn you for making me think there might still be hope when you’re about to go away with Martha. What the hell is wrong with you?
She tensed as another text arrived. If it was from him, she was going to ring and tell him to stop messaging, that she didn’t want to hear from him and anything important about Holly she could hear from Holly herself or her mother.
Are you somewhere in the house, or have you popped out? FMD.
Not sure whether she was relieved or angry that it wasn’t him she checked the time and noting that it was still more than an hour before she and Freda had agreed to meet in the kitchen, she sent a reply. On my way back. Walking, so should be there by one thirty.
She wasn’t expecting a response to that so was surprised when one came saying, You should have taken the car.
Since it wasn’t possible to tell whether this was a rebuke or simply a kindly reminder that it was at her disposal, Joely swallowed the rest of her drink, zipped up her coat and after thanking the bartender she started back to Dimmett House.
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