Read Online Summer House by Marcia Willett - Free Book Online

been editing his book and, after he’d died, she’d asked if she could bring the children down to the High House to give their mother a break. Matt would have been about five then, and Imogen two. Dear little
things; how they’d loved the freedom of the grounds to play in, and the big attics. Milo smiled, remembering. His mother had adored them – just as she’d adored the small Lottie.
    Poor little Lottie; how loyal she’d been to the young fatherless family. He remembered an occasion when he’d been playing a CD; Chopin nocturnes and sonatas. It was in the middle of the B minor sonata that he’d noticed that Lottie had begun to weep, a terrible, silent weeping, so that after a moment he’d moved to sit beside her and put his arm round her. She’d leaned into him, still sobbing, and they’d sat together like that until she’d recovered.
    â€˜It was the music,’ she’d muttered. ‘It’s crazy, isn’t it? I’m OK now. Sorry.’
    He’d known then that the sonata had reminded her of Tom and he’d wondered briefly if they’d ever been lovers. He’d guessed not. But even at those moments, when a different kind of intimacy might possibly have blossomed between them, the old brother and sister relationship was too firmly entrenched for it to be possible. Gradually, friends and acquaintances accepted it for what it was and, fortunately, Venetia had made it even easier; their love affair was more or less an open secret. Indeed, a great many men envied him.
    â€˜Lucky devil,’ they’d say. ‘Having that pretty girl looking after you, and a gorgeous woman like Venetia crazy about you. What’s the secret, Milo?’
    Only Sara was furious with him for having it all.
    Milo frowned. Along with the thought of Sara came the remembrance that Nick would be arriving later. Sara had telephoned first.
    â€˜Nick wants to come down to see you,’ she’d said
aggressively, almost as if his father would have denied him. ‘And don’t nag him, Milo. The poor boy’s very upset. Just be nice to him.’
    He’d felt a familiar surge of indignation, even anger: why did she always assume that he was going to be difficult or unpleasant? Or did she want to believe that only she understood their son properly? Milo shook his head: it wasn’t true. When Nick had been growing up they’d had some wonderful family times here at the High House, but also, sometimes, just the two of them together; some fantastic sailing holidays. And he’d always made great efforts to be around for important events at school, though the army hadn’t always made that easy. This unfair remark of hers used so often in the past had almost made him want to be difficult with Nick, but his love for his son – and Nick’s own laid-back attitude to his mother’s partisanship – always disarmed him. Nevertheless, he suspected that this visit was going to be tricky.
    Another blackbird had appeared and a battle for territory was now taking place; Lottie had called to Pud and disappeared. Milo turned away from the window and went to take a shower.
    Â 
    Downstairs, in the parlour, Lottie opened the door of the wood-burner and carefully put a small log on top of the still-hot ashes. She, too, was thinking about Nick and wondering what this visit might be about. Sara had been evasive.
    â€˜Nick’s going to be phoning,’ she’d said in the autocratic voice that implied she was still in charge of life at the High House. ‘He wants to come down to see his father. I hope Matt’s not still with you.’
    â€˜Matt’s gone,’ she’d answered calmly, ‘but even if he were
here there would be plenty of room for Nick. We love to see him. You know that.’
    â€˜That’s not the point. Just occasionally, Charlotte, Nick likes to see his father alone. It’s his home, after