died in an accident, the estate was broken up. My mother inherited part of the land and the twins got the other two-thirds.’
‘Twins?’
‘Yes. Didn’t you know Jack was a twin?’
‘I’d no idea. Is his twin still alive?’
‘Sadly, no. Laurence died last year.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
They turned back when the terrain became too dense to penetrate. The girls had changed back into their clothes and were playing tennis on the court.
‘It’s a long time since I’ve seen them so happy,’ Sophy said. ‘Thank you for today, Victor.’
‘It’s my pleasure. Come on back to the house and I’ll show you around.’
The rooms were filled with light and the slant of sunshine spilling through the conservatory reminded her of Park View Villas. No ancient wood creaking, or shadows falling before her in unnatural shapes that stirred long-forgotten superstitions.
‘Have you enjoyed yourselves?’ Victor asked the girls when it was time to leave.
‘I loved it,’ Julie replied. ‘I wish Cordelia could have seen your beautiful house.’ She cast a reproachful glance at Sophy. ‘Mammy said I had to leave her in the den.’
‘Miss Cordelia is more than welcome to visit anytime,’ he said. ‘In fact, she can move here, if she likes.’
‘Move here?’ Julie glanced from him to Sophy. ‘Do you mean just Cordelia?’
‘Of course not. All of you, including my uncle. What do you think, Sophia?’
Sophy was shocked by the unexpectedness of his suggestion. Angry, too, that he made it in front of the girls when she was still trying to settle them into Hyland Hall.
‘Oh, Mum, can we?’ asked Isobel.
‘I think Mr Hyland should be the one to ask,’ Sophy replied. ‘I don’t have the right to discuss it without his permission.’
‘Why not?’ Isobel’s eyes were fixed on the swimming pool. ‘Just think what it would be like.’
‘She’ll unpack her case if we move here, won’t you, Issy?’ Julie’s eyes shone with anticipation. ‘Would we have our own rooms, Victor?’
‘Even Miss Cordelia can have her own room if she wants one,’ he replied and laughed as Julie spun in a circle, her arms outstretched.
‘Victor, that’s enough.’ Sophy cast a warning glance at him.
‘Okay… okay.’ He smacked his hands together. ‘Give us a minute, girls. You’ll find some board games in the conservatory. Take what you want back to Hyland Hall. There’re also some books you might like to read, Isobel.’
‘Cool.’ Julie was already moving towards the conservatory, closely followed by Isobel.
‘You shouldn’t have suggested something that I’ll be unable to deliver.’ When the girls were out of earshot, Sophy spoke more abruptly than she intended. ‘I don’t know what’s going on between you and Jack, and why he refuses to visit you. It’s none of my business but it becomes so when you involve my daughters.’
‘I didn’t mean to put you in a difficult position,’ he said apologetically. ‘But do think about what I’ve suggested. Jack has improved enormously under your care but he won’t survive the winter in that house. The heating stopped working years ago and the dampness is an ongoing problem. You’ve seen the rooms, the mould on the walls, not to mention the loose plaster. This house is big enough for everyone. The downstairs rooms are wheelchair accessible if his mobility becomes a problem. But, apart from his physical health, I’m more concerned about his mental state. Have you noticed any deterioration?’
‘No, I haven’t. He’s stubborn at times and testy, but his mind is still sharp. I can’t see him moving from Hyland Hall.’
‘He’s on borrowed time, Sophia. I want to make the last few months of his life as comfortable as possible. I’m also thinking of you and the girls, and what you’ve been through—’
‘We don’t need your pity, Victor.’ She was sick of pity; it stuck to her, suffocated her.
‘Believe me, Sophia, this is not about pity or charity. It’s a practical solution to a problem that affects us all. Talk to Jack. You’ve earned his respect. That’s not an easy thing to do.’
‘You overestimate my powers of persuasion.’
‘On the contrary, you’re a very determined woman. You have the right conditions to continue looking after him here. He can’t go on living in that mausoleum.’
‘What’s a mus-lemon?’ Julie, returning, overheard their conversation.
‘A tomb,’ he replied.
‘We don’t live in a tomb.’
‘It’s a metaphor, Julie. That means comparing two things that aren’t the same but have something in common,’ he explained. ‘It’s symbolic.’
‘Oh.’ Her forehead wrinkled. ‘Cordelia always says what’s real and doesn’t pretend it’s something else so she’s not a metaphor, is she?’