Whispers in the Sand. Barbara Erskine
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but never admitting that this was because, perhaps, she did not, after all, love him quite as much as she ought to. It did not matter. No other man came along to whom she was attracted. Was she, she sometimes wondered, a bit frigid? She enjoyed sex with Felix, but did not miss it when it became less and less frequent. Nevertheless, the news that his latest girlfriend was pregnant hit her like a sledgehammer. The dam, which had held back her emotions for so long, broke and a torrent of rage and frustration, loneliness and misery, broke over her head in a tidal wave which terrified her as much as it shocked her husband. He had not planned this change in his life. He had expected to carry on as before, visiting Shirley, supporting her, and when the time came paying, no doubt through the nose, for the child, but not becoming too involved. His instant and genuine enchantment with the baby had shaken him as much as it had pleased Shirley and devastated Anna. Within days of the birth he had moved in with mother and child and Anna had consulted her solicitor.
After the uncontested divorce Felix’s friends had been strangely supportive of her, perhaps realising that something unplanned and unexpected had taken place and feeling genuinely sorry for her, but as one by one they rang to give her their condolences and then fell into embarrassed silence she realised that in fact she had very few friends of her own and her feeling of utter abandonment grew stronger. Strangely, the one piece of advice they all passed on before hanging up, was that she take a holiday.
And now here was Phyllis, saying the same thing.
‘You must start with a holiday, Anna dear. Change of scene. New people. Then you come back and sell that house. It’s been a prison for you.’
‘But, Phyl –’
‘No, Anna. Don’t argue, dear. Well, perhaps about the house, but not about the holiday. Felix used to take you to all those places where you did nothing but sit by swimming pools and watch him talk business. You need to go somewhere exciting. In fact you need to go to Egypt.’
‘Egypt?’ Anna was beginning to feel her feet were being swept from beneath her. ‘Why Egypt?’
‘Because when you were a little girl you talked about Egypt all the time. You had books about it. You drew pyramids and camels and ibises and you pestered me every time I saw you, to tell you about Louisa.’
Anna nodded. ‘It’s strange. You’re right. And I haven’t thought about her for years.’
‘Then it’s time you did. It is so easy to forget one’s childhood dreams. I sometimes think people expect to forget them. They abandon everything which would make their lives exciting. I think you should go out there and see the places Louisa saw. When they published some of her sketchbooks ten years ago I was tempted to go myself, you know. I’d helped your father select the pictures, and worked with the editor over the captions and potted history. I just wanted to see it so much. And perhaps I still will one day.’ She smiled, the twinkle back in her eye, and Anna found herself thinking that it was entirely possible that the old lady would do it.
‘She was an amazing woman, your great-great-grandmother,’ Phyllis went on. ‘Amazing, brave and very talented.’
Like you. Unlike me. Anna bit her lip and did not say it.
Frowning, she considered Phyllis’s words, aware that the old lady’s beady eyes were fixed unswervingly on her face.
‘Well?’
Anna smiled. ‘It’s very tempting.’
‘Tempting? It’s a brilliant idea!’
Anna nodded. ‘I did actually suggest once or twice to Felix that we go to Egypt, but he was never interested.’ She paused, aware of a stirring of something like excitement deep inside her. After all, why not? ‘You know, I think I might just take your advice. I haven’t exactly got a lot of pressing plans.’
Phyllis sat back in her chair. Closing her eyes she turned her face to the sun and a small smile played across her features for a moment. ‘Good. That’s settled then.’ There was a pause, then she went on, ‘This is heaven. There is no nicer time of the year than the autumn. October is my favourite month.’ Her eyes opened again and she studied Anna’s face. ‘Have you spoken to your father yet?’
Anna shook her head. ‘He hasn’t rung me since the divorce. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.’
‘For separating from Felix?’
Anna nodded. ‘He was so proud of having Felix for a son-in-law.’ She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice for a moment. ‘The son he never had.’
‘Silly man.’ Phyllis sighed. ‘He’s got more and more impossible since your mother died and that’s a good ten years ago now! Don’t let it upset you too much, darling. He’ll come round. You’re worth ten of any son he might have had and one day he’ll realise it, I promise you.’
Anna looked away, concentrating as hard as she could on the drift of scarlet creeper on the wall on the edge of the terrace. She was not going to cry. She should have got used by now to her father’s insensitivity and his blatant lack of interest in her, his only child. She sniffed hard and turned her attention to the York stone slabs at her feet. Old lichens, long dried to white crusts had formed circles and whorls in the stone. She realised suddenly that Phyllis had levered herself to her feet. Glancing up, she watched as her great-aunt disappeared back through the open French windows into the house, and groping for her handkerchief she mopped hurriedly at her eyes.
Phyllis was only gone two minutes. ‘I have something here which might interest you.’ She did not look at Anna as she sat down once more. She had dropped a package onto the table in front of her. ‘When I was going through Louisa’s papers and sketchbooks I despaired of ever finding anything personal. If there were letters she must have destroyed them. There was nothing. Then a few months ago I decided to have an old desk restored. The veneers had lifted badly.’ She paused. ‘The restorer found one of the drawers had a false bottom and inside he found this.’ She passed the packet over to Anna.
Anna took it. ‘What is it?’
‘Her journal.’
‘Really?’ Anna glanced down in sudden excitement. ‘But that must be incredibly valuable!’
‘I expect so. And interesting.’
‘You’ve read it?’
Phyllis shrugged. ‘I had a quick look at it, but the writing is very difficult and my eyes aren’t so good these days. I think you should read it, Anna. It’s all about her months in Egypt. And in the meantime I think you should ring your father. Life is too short for huffs and puffs. Tell him he’s being an idiot, and you can say I said so.’
The diary was on the back seat of the car when it was time to leave. The last crimson rays of the sunset were fading as Anna climbed in and reaching for the ignition looked up at her aunt. ‘Thank you for being there. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
Phyllis shook her head in mock anger. ‘You would cope very well indeed as you know. Now, ring Edward tonight. Promise?’
‘I’ll think about it. I’ll promise that much.’
She did think about it. In the queue of heavy traffic making its way slowly back into London after the sun-drenched weekend she had plenty of time to reflect on Phyllis’s advice and review her situation. She was thirty-five years old, had been married for fourteen years, had never had a job of any description whatsoever and was childless. Letting in the clutch she edged the car forward a few yards as the streams of traffic converged from the motorway into the clogged London streets. Her mind glanced sideways away from that last particular memory. She couldn’t cope yet with the idea of Felix as the father of another woman’s child. She had few friends, or so it seemed at the moment, a father who despised her, and a terrifying vista of emptiness before her. On the plus side there was Phyllis, the photography, the garden and whatever Phyllis said, the house.
One of the reasons Felix had left her the house was the garden. It was large for a London property, at first glance narrow and rectangular, but