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Charles guffawed, Diana rolled her eyes and Fen thought if he’d have dared make that joke, it would have been treated with deathly silence.
“Well, it will be lovely to have a family wedding,” Diana said. “I mean you’re not likely to have one for Fen.”
Fen felt his mum bristle and put his hand on her knee and squeezed.
“I’m holding out for a billionaire,” Fen said.
“Very sensible.” Alistair chuckled.
Scott snorted.
7
Ripley sat at one end of the large mahogany dining table with his mother sitting at the other end, an ocean of polished wood between them. He had a feeling she was driving home the conversation they’d had earlier. The house was too big for her. The contents were no longer suitable. She wanted to move. Ripley was shocked she’d wanted to stay here this long, so really—it was about time.Morethan time. What he didn’t understand was why she hadn’t told him this before instead of trying to sell some of the house contents. He knew she didn’t need the money.
Petra was due back in an hour, and had left lasagne for them. All Ripley had needed to do was take it out of the Aga. He couldn’t drink because he was driving, and he’d have really liked a drink. His mother had that effect on him.
“Really, it’s too bad, Ripley. Why shouldn’t I sell my things? They’re mine. Do you want them? Of course, you don’t. You don’t live in a mausoleum.”
“They weren’t all your things. They…” He changed tack. “So…you want to go and live somewhere else.”Definitely? Not going to change your mind after I’ve sorted everything?Her usual MO.
“It’s time,” his mother said. “This place is too big, too old and too tired. I want a little flat.”
How little?He doubted she’d put up with something he’d consider to be little. “Where are you thinking of?”
“Eastbourne.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Have you ever been to Eastbourne?”
“No, but it’s by the sea. Lots of people retire there. Petra will come with me.”
“It’s quite a way from London.”
“Well, you don’t visit very often.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
“And it isn’t as if you’ve given me any grandchildren. Nor are you likely to.”
He couldn’t argue with that either. Maybe his mother would have been a different person if his father had lived.Maybe I would have been too.But their pasts were blighted by what had happened and there was nothing he could do to change that. She had never forgiven him or his father. There was no logic in it and Ripley had long since given up trying to understand her mentality.
“I want to sell everything in the house that’s no longer wanted. Including most of the furniture. Decide if there is anything you’d like, and this time when I send things to auction, I do not want them to come back again. Is that clear, Ripley?”
“Perfectly.” He bit his lip before he addedsell the fucking lot. I don’t give a shit.There was nothing in the house he wanted and that included his mother. Except…maybe there were a few things. His father’s desk, his chair… Though, did he really want them?
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. He couldn’t remember ever having had a happy moment with his mother. She’d never told him she was proud of him, or that she loved him. She always found something to criticise. His hair, his clothes, his manner, the fact that he liked men… That was somewhere close to the top of the list. She was diamond-hard, encrusted in ice and she’d made him the same way.
They finished eating and she went off to have her afternoon nap on the chaise longue in the drawing room, leaving Ripley alone.
If she was serious, and she sounded it, he’d need the contents valued by at least two companies. And estate agents to look at the house. The property and contents had been left jointly to him and his mother, and Ripley had thought—once upon a time—when she’d moved out or died, he’d gut the place and make it a home he could live in, be happy in. The house deserved that. He’d even thought about having a family. Except it wasonce upon a timethat would never come.
Ripley managed to look around two rooms and take pictures before he’d had enough. Forget the desk and chair. Nothing here fit in with his tastes. Everything held difficult memories. It seemed hard to believe there had ever been a time when he’d enjoyed living here, but he had when his father was alive. Now when he came back, all he felt was pain.
Even so, he was torn about the house belonging to someone else, purely because he could still picture his father playing hide and seek with him over all three floors, ordinary hide and seek and then again in the dark with torches when Ripley had squealed when he’d been caught. His father had patiently taught him to catch a ball, helped him make a den in the garden, played ping pong on the dining table, worked with him on some project or another in the breakfast room. A kind parent who’d been considerate and endlessly cheerful, and Ripley wanted to be like him and not like his mother. Except that involved changing so much of him, and he wasn’t sure he could.
Then Alejandro had damaged him too.
His mother was still sleeping when Petra returned. Ripley went to the kitchen to talk to her.
