“Of course not,” said Matt.

“It’s all ours to share anyway. And-” I laughed lightly, “I’d never divorce you.”

He pulled me close to him again and kissed me, properly this time. His mouth was warm against my frozen face.

“And I’ll never divorce you either, sweetheart,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Let’s never mention that word again.”

Later that afternoon, I went into the room that contained my mother’s clothes. I found myself at the wardrobe, staring inwards at the racks of garments, her dresses and jackets and coats. I ran my hand along the row of hangers, rattling them against one another on the rail. My hand stopped at the last hanger; my mother’s wedding dress, shrouded in rustling plastic. Slowly, I pulled it towards me and tugged at the zip. The long, silky white folds spilled out over my hands, glossy and cool against my skin.

I lifted the dress out and held it against me. I could never wear it – whilst beautiful, it was so obviously a dress of its time. I would look as if I were on my way to a fancy dress party. I hugged the dress tighter, moving so the slippery folds rippled against me. And I felt again the old, old longing, for a mother I couldn’t remember, for a person I’d never known. She should be here with me right now, laughing over her old wedding dress, talking to me about my own wedding plans. I let the dress slither through my fingers and drop to the ground in a cold puddle of silk. There were tears pressing at the back of my eyes.

Chin up, Maudie. Be happy. Matt will be your husband. Be thankful for that. I told myself all these things, as I put the dress back into its bag on the hanger and replaced it in the wardrobe, before I left the room to join my family, the two of them, the old and the new.

Chapter Eight

Matt reminded me about the call to the solicitor’s office as he kissed me goodbye. The sun had barely risen and I moved about the kitchen in a fog. I didn’t think I’d drunk that much last night, but I felt badly hungover, my head aching and my mouth parched. Outside, a drizzling rain made the air look grey and dirty. I pulled my dressing gown more tightly about me as I made coffee, wincing as I raised my head to look for the cafetiere.

“Got a headache?” asked Matt.

“No,” I said. “I just slept badly.”

“Right.” He was pulling on his tweed jacket. “So you won’t forget?”

“Forget what?” I said. I pushed my hair away from my face, yawning.

“The solicitor, darling, you remember? You said you’d ring Mr. Fenwick to see what he wanted? God, Maudie–”

“Alright,” I said, grumpily. “I don’t see what the hurry is.”

Matt gave me a cold look. “It’s not a question of hurry, Maudie, it’s just that it’s something that has to be sorted out. There’s the estate, and the property and all sorts of things.” He pulled on his black leather gloves. “I’ve asked you three times to do it. You don’t know how bloody tired I get of nagging you about it.”

“So don’t, then,” I said. “I said I’d do it.”

“I shouldn’t have to ask you three times,” said Matt. “You’re a grown woman. Christ, if my students were as slow to get things done as you are–”

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll do it today. Satisfied?”

“Yes,” he said stiffly. He picked his briefcase and turned away.

I heard the front door slam and watched for him as he walked out of the front door and came into my line of vision, stationed as I was at the kitchen window. I hoped he would look up so I could wave, perhaps pull a silly face, but he didn’t. The rain was coming down harder now – I could see it darkening the shoulders of his jacket.

I felt a twinge of guilt. How easy it was for me to take things easy, whereas poor Matt had to trudge off to work at that second-rate college every day. But he loved his job. He always said that teaching was one of the most rewarding things one could do. I remembered he was still waiting to find out whether he’d have a permanent place on the faculty. I hadn’t asked him about it; I hadn’t been encouraging or sympathetic. I finished my coffee and marched to the bathroom, determined to call Mr. Fenwick as soon as I was dressed.

As I washed my hair, I thought again about our future. Perhaps if I’d had to earn my own living I would have been an entirely different person. I’d be quicker, tougher, smarter. As it was, I often felt as if I were drifting through life, acknowledging this but not really wanting to change it. I mean, no one really likes work, do they? Unless it’s their vocation – as I’d always seen Matt’s teaching. I blushed to think of that now; it seemed so patronising. Perhaps he would rather live my lifestyle – my easy, comfortable lifestyle – getting up when I wanted, reading books and watching TV, walking, swimming, visiting museums and art galleries, shopping, eating out, going to bars, seeing friends. What sort of person wouldn’t like that? I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped from the shower, resolute. Today I would do something, something concrete, something I could report back to Matt.

I telephoned Mr. Fenwick’s office and spoke to him directly. I was still slightly hazy about what Matt wanted me to ask but, after the preliminaries, I made a tentative enquiry about the transferral of funds.

“We’re still waiting for a few bits and pieces to be tied up,” he said. “But it won’t be a long before we’re able to transfer the money. A matter of weeks, if that. Are you short of funds, Maudie? Because I’m sure the trust can advance you something if it’s needed.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I said, pinching a fold of my jeans between my fingers as I spoke. I’d never really given much thought to how the money in my account ended up there. It was just there, always, endlessly replicating. I pictured a cash point machine, and behind the screen, a treasure-filled cavern, glinting with jewels and glittering golden coins. “I just – it was just I wanted to make sure everything was – was going smoothly.” Now I sounded like I didn’t think Mr. Fenwick knew his job. “I’m sure it is but – it’s just a big responsibility and I just wasn’t sure what I’m supposed to be doing–”

Mr. Fenwick soothed me. “Maudie, my dear, please don’t distress yourself. Dealing with the outcome of a will can be a very upsetting time, despite the obvious financial... advantages, shall we say, that it brings your way. I’m sure Angus knew that you would be sensible in dealing with things. I’m sure he knew you would be reliable and not, well, get carried away.”

I almost laughed. How little he knew me. And it made me realise that Angus must have lied about me or perhaps just evaded the truth. It was grimly funny, in a way. I muttered something appropriate in a response.

“That reminds me,” said Mr. Fenwick. “I know Angus was keen for you to get involved with the board. Had you thought about that at all? I know it’s early days, but–”

“The board?” I said, interrupting him.

“Yes, my dear,” he said. “The board of directors at Katherine College. Surely Angus mentioned it to you?”

“The board of directors?” I said, knowing how stupid I sounded but unable to stop myself.

“He was very keen to have you involved.”

I was silent for a moment, struggling for words. “Mr. – Mr. Fenwick – sorry, but I’m a bit thrown – Angus wanted me to be on the board at Katherine?”

“Yes, my dear,” he said, unfazed. “I know he meant to talk to you about it and I just assumed he’d done so. From your tone, it seems not. I’m sure I didn’t mean to upset you–”

“Oh - oh, you haven’t,” I stuttered, not wanting to upset him. “I was just – it just threw me a little, I had no idea. Angus didn’t mention it to me. Perhaps he was going to before he – before he–” I couldn’t bring myself to say died.