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He seemed irritated by his son, just as he had been when River was growing up. He hadn’t made a great deal of effort to stay in touch over the years, but then neither had River, whose own lack of contact had played its part in their estrangement. It had been hard for both of them, being a world apart.
River took a deep breath. ‘The house must get lonely sometimes.’
He was venturing into emotional territory again but he wanted to know more about his father. The two of them had almost nothing in common but, much to his surprise, he still cared about the old man. That was why he’d travelled across the globe after finding out that he was in trouble.
Geoffrey gave him a sideways glance. ‘There are often people around – Mrs Netherway, Clara, various people working on the house and gardens – and I keep myself busy. One of the benefits of living in a falling-down house is that there’s always a lot to keep one engaged. Though it appears that won’t be the case for much longer.’
‘Unless we can think of a way for you to keep the house, rather than sell it.’
‘Even if we could, what’s the use, really?’ Geoffrey stared at River, his eyes pale in his lined face. ‘You don’t want this house. You don’t care about it. So what would happen to it once I’ve died?’
River sat silently for a moment. Coming back here had shown him that he did care about this house, which was the biggest surprise of all. He’d thought the manor cold and forbidding as a child, with echoing spaces and rooms never entered. Yet now, seeing it through adult eyes, he could appreciate the grandeur of the place, and his family history that was imprinted on every brick.
It was far too large for one man, whether that be him or his father. But he would be sad to see it converted into flats and Geoffrey turned out.
‘It’s not that I don’t want it,’ he tried to explain. ‘It’s simply not been a part of my life for a long time.’ River swallowed, feeling that he was floundering. ‘But I know how important the house is to you. It must be full of memories.’
‘I’ve lived in this house my whole life so, yes, it holds a plethora of memories. Some happy, some not so.’ Geoffrey paused. ‘I remember the day that you and your mother left.’
‘Me too,’ said River quietly, imagining the silence that must have descended as the sound of their car tyres on gravel had faded into the distance.
He had been heartbroken to drive away from this house back then. Scared to abandon his father, sad to leave behind Clara, who hadn’t bothered to turn up and wish him well.
Then, a new life on the other side of the world had unfolded, one that was busy, chaotic, terrifying, exciting. And his life before that, his years in England, had, with encouragement from his mother, faded away until it all seemed like a dream.
‘I haven’t been the best of fathers,’ said Geoffrey suddenly, staring straight ahead at the plants moving in the cool breeze coming off the sea.
River opened his mouth and closed it again, not sure what to say. He suddenly longed for Clara to be sitting here with him, saying the right things.
‘I’m well aware of it,’ Geoffrey continued, still not meeting River’s eye.
River swallowed. ‘I haven’t always been the best son, and Mum can be a little…’ He hesitated, searching for the right word. He felt great loyalty to his mother but recognised that she, too, had her faults. ‘She can be a little unforgiving,’ he said at last.
Geoffrey gave a snort of laughter. ‘You’re not wrong there. Your mother has many admirable qualities, as I remember, but forgiveness is not one of them.’
River felt his mouth twitch. ‘That’s fair enough,’ he said, feeling his muscles relax. He hadn’t realised how tightly he was holding himself. ‘What were your parents like?’ he asked tentatively. He was treading in uncharted waters here because his father rarely spoke about his past.
‘My parents? I hardly remember my mother, who was dead before my fourth birthday. Then, my father married Audrey when I was seven and she was gone before I was ten.’
River felt his cheeks burn as he remembered snooping around Audrey’s bedroom earlier that day.
‘That must have been difficult for you and your father. What was he like?’
‘He fed and clothed me and he sent me to the best schools. He did his best for me.’
‘But what was he like as a man?’
‘Why are you so interested in a man you never knew?’ snapped Geoffrey, his brow creasing.
‘I’m interested to know what kind of man my grandfather was.’
Geoffrey paused for so long, River began to think he wasn’t going to continue the conversation. But then he said in a rush: ‘Edwin Brellasham was an accomplished man. A scholar who excelled at business and had little time for those who didn’t match his talents or intellect. I believe he cared about me, but he wasn’t an easy man to live with.’
‘Was he ever unkind to you or to his wives?’
Geoffrey swung around on the bench until he was facing his son. ‘What exactly are you getting at?’
River almost ended the conversation right there. But he summoned up his courage and said: ‘I suppose I’m wondering what prompted your stepmother to walk into the sea.’
