Oliver strides across the verandah towards the back door. Invigorated by his workout in the gym, he followed it with fifty lengths of the pool and, for the moment, his demons are stilled. He enters the kitchen and opens the fridge door, selecting a carton of orange juice from the shelf.
In the utility room, Deanna removes dry laundry from the tumble dryer and observes Oliver through the open door. At forty-five, her husband is in fine shape. Folding the clothes neatly on top of the machine, she scoops them into her arms and enters the kitchen.
‘I’m taking Seb and Jamie to school tomorrow and then I’ll be back to finish packing,’ Deanna informs him. ‘I thought we could have lunch together before I head off to London.’
Oliver pours juice into a glass and takes a sip, his eyes fixed on her over the rim.
‘You can move back into the main bedroom, if you want,’ Deanna adds.
‘That’s good of you,’ he says quietly.
‘There’s no need to be sarcastic,’ Deanna says.
‘I’m not being sarcastic, Deanna. Tell me, do you expect me to vacate our bedroom when you come home at weekends?’
‘No. I thought we might feel more civil towards each other by then and you won’t need to.’
‘You’ve got a funny way of doing things, Dee,’ Oliver says. ‘I don’t know how you think this is going to work.’
‘Oh, let’s not go over all that again, Ollie. It’s all sorted. It will work out. Why can’t you just be happy for me?’
Oliver contemplates his attractive wife. ‘Deanna, if this is truly what you want then I wish you only happiness, but I still can’t see how you will successfully juggle motherhood with this career you crave. When we first decided to have children you knew what the commitment would be. I can’t help but think you’ve rushed your agenda without a thought for how it will affect the kids.’
As if for protection, Deanna holds the bundle of clothes tightly to her chest. ‘Oliver, you have been absent so many times during their upbringing, having their mother absent now won’t make any difference.’
What she says is true. Due to filming commitments, he has been absent many times.
‘Jamie’s only eleven,’ says Oliver. ‘He has difficult years ahead of him.’
‘He will be fine. Pins says—’
‘Who cares what Pins says?’ Oliver’s growl cuts his wife short. ‘He’s not the oracle. He doesn’t know our son.’
Deanna shifts uncomfortably. Her youngest son is her only cause for concern. The other children will cope well with this new regime. ‘Let’s not argue, Ollie,’ she says in a soothing tone. ‘We will take things as they come. If there’s a problem then we’ll regroup, but I don’t see there being one.’ She crosses her fingers beneath the bundle of clothes.
Oliver turns away and gazes out over the lawns down to the woods. ‘If there’s a problem I’ll cope with it,’ he says in an even tone.
Deanna stares at her husband’s back. She follows the contours of his body, appreciating the muscular frame hidden beneath the tracksuit. Briefly she falters and wonders if she has made the right decision. Over the years, she’s grown increasingly resentful of Oliver’s glittering career and her lack of one, believing his success has overshadowed her. Oh, yes, she’s comforted herself with the thought that being mother to his children is her compensatory career, but now the family are growing up and, one by one, flying the nest, she fears her importance and control are slipping away. Putting her plan for a new life in the theatre into action is the right thing to do. People’s recognition of her worth is everything to Deanna. In fact, when Oliver first asked her to marry him, apart from loving the attention he bestowed on her, to be known as Oliver Foxley’s wife played a very large part in the decision making process. Everyone wanted him, but it was only she he was offering himself to. What an aphrodisiac that was! But times have changed, and she has made the right decision. Anyway, it’s far too late to backtrack. Now is her time. Her career beckons; one that never had the chance to take off due to her younger self’s choices where Oliver was concerned. She’s waited a lifetime for her turn in the limelight and she’s not going to abandon it now, not when it’s within reach.
‘I’ve got to get on. There’s still so much to do.’ Deanna turns and walks from the room.
Oliver watches as shafts of sunlight burst through the cloud cover and work their way across the forest canopy. The view from the old coastguard cottages is unwooded and he wonders if trees are important to his need for seclusion. Maybe he will plant some. What a profession to have chosen if privacy is so paramount to his psyche! But, then, he didn’t really have a choice. Acting chose him, offering him the only escape from the debilitating depression that has plagued him since childhood. He frowns. He really must be careful about the level of medication he’s taking. It’s been on the increase for a while now, in fact ever since he returned to Surrey. Incredibly, when he and Cara were together he needed very little. Cara… If only they’d met years ago, how different their lives might have been. Not this current messy, dysfunctional existence. What was she doing in the States? Janine’s comment about Greg being really keen on her certainly hit home. From the start he knew Greg had designs on Cara’s artistic talents, and he’d always been suspicious of the man’s bigger agenda. Maybe – since Marietta’s death – Greg has put another plan into action. Oliver’s frown deepens. The quicker he gets to Cornwall, the better.
Turning away from the window, Oliver enters his study just as the phone rings.
‘Mr Fox!’ says a man’s voice.
‘Tas!’ Oliver’s frown eases. He first met Simon Buckley, better known as Tas – because he comes from Tasmania – at drama school, and they have remained good friends ever since. ‘Great to hear from you. I understand you’ve been sailing the high seas.’
‘I gave myself three months off to cruise the Med with Rick and Tan. They didn’t seem to mind me gatecrashing their honeymoon!’
‘I heard they got hitched,’ says Oliver. ‘Good for them.’
‘Yeah, well, it was only a matter of time. We all knew that. They just had to see it for themselves. How are things with you?’
Oliver sits heavily in his captain’s chair. ‘I’m taking time out myself.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Deanna and I have exchanged roles. She’s off to London in pursuit of a career.’
‘Really? Doing what?’ Tas asks.
‘Stage-managing in the West End.’
‘That’s a full-on commitment. How’s that going to work?’
‘You may well ask!’ says Oliver wryly. ‘But she’s adamant it will.’
Tas whistles. ‘I wish you both luck.’
‘Time will tell. But, enough of us, what’s cooking with you?’ Oliver asks.
‘Well,’ Tas says sheepishly, ‘having spent so much time with the newly-weds, it got me thinking. I’ve reconnected with Morwenna and I’m going to Cornwall. Just wondered if you’d like to join me, but I guess not with your new arrangements.’
Oliver says nothing, shocked at the level of jealousy consuming him. That summer, when he first met Cara, he watched Tas and Morwenna’s relationship develop easily, beyond frustration that he couldn’t be as open and carefree with Cara.
‘Are you still there?’ Tas asks.
Regaining a modicum of control over his emotions, Oliver replies, ‘Still here. That’s a turn up for the books.’
‘I’ll be forty-six next birthday. I know I’ve always said I’m happy not to be tied down, but that Morwenna has cast her Cornish magic over me! We’ve spoken a few times and she tells me there’s no one special in her life. I thought I’d visit her and see if she’s prepared to give this old man another chance.’
Oliver clenches his jaw. How he’d love to have the opportunity of another chance with Cara. ‘When are you going?’
‘This weekend. Sure I can’t tempt you?’
‘Oh, you can tempt me all right, but it’s impossible. Deanna moves to London tomorrow and she won’t be back until the following weekend.’
‘Mrs Fox moving to London!’
‘There have been huge changes here since I last saw you,’ Oliver says gruffly. ‘Deanna’s purchasing a London apartment and I’m in the process of buying a house on The Lizard.’
‘The Lizard!’ exclaims Tas.
‘Yes. A holiday home… if it all comes together.’ Oliver feels unspoken questions in the silence that follows.
‘Does Cara know?’ Tas asks eventually.
‘If she does it’s not from me,’ Oliver says. ‘She won’t have anything to do with me, and I understand that.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes, I do,’ says Oliver sadly. ‘I can’t offer her anything.’
‘I suppose not. Blimey, talk about curve balls!’
‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone,’ Oliver says.
‘My lips are sealed, Mr Fox. Tell you what, let’s catch up when I get back,’ says Tas.
‘Yes, let’s do that. Good luck with Morwenna.’