grandchildren who were old enough, worked within the Harte companies and had proved herself to be tireless and assiduous in her work. She would consider it later. Now she turned her mind to more immediate problems. ‘I have made the seating plan for dinner,’ Emma began, and poured herself another cup of tea.
Paula looked at her with interest. ‘Yes, you told me you were going to, Grandy.’ Paula waited expectantly.
Emma cleared her throat. ‘I think I have seated everyone appropriately. I’ve tried to separate the ones who don’t get along too well, although, as I said, I am sure everyone will be on their best behaviour.’ She put her hand in her pocket and her fingers curled around the paper. She was still reluctant to bring it out and show it to Paula.
‘I hope so, Grandy! It’s such a crowd and you know how difficult some of them can be.’ She laughed sardonically. ‘Impossible, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Oh yes, indeed,’ Emma replied. She leaned back against the sofa and stared at Paula intently, questioningly. ‘I suppose they all thought I was drawing my last breath these last few weeks, didn’t they?’
The unexpected question surprised Paula. ‘I don’t know,’ she began thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps …’ She hesitated and then her exasperation with her aunts and uncles got the better of her. ‘Oh, they’re such leeches, Grandy!’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘I don’t know why you bother with them! I’m sorry. I know they’re your children, but I just get furious every time I think of them.’
‘You don’t have to apologize to me, dear. I know only too well what they are.’ Emma smiled thinly. ‘I don’t delude myself that they are coming to see me out of concern. They accepted my invitation out of curiosity. Vultures come to regard the carcass. But I’m not dead yet and I have made no immediate plans for dying,’ she finished, a note of triumph in her voice.
Paula leaned forward quickly, staring at Emma fixedly. ‘Then why did you invite them, Grandy, if you know what they are?’ she asked in a deliberate voice.
Emma smiled enigmatically and her eyes turned cold. ‘I wanted to see them all together for one last time.’
‘Don’t say that, Grandy! You’re better and we are going to take care of you properly this time. To hell with the stores and business,’ Paula cried passionately.
‘By the “last time”, I meant the last time I will invite them here for this kind of weekend,’ Emma declared. ‘I have a little family business to attend to, and as they are involved, they should be here. All of them. Together.’ Her mouth tightened into the familiar resolute line and her eyes gleamed darkly.
Concern clouded Paula’s eyes. ‘You must promise me you won’t let them upset you,’ she said, noting the expression on Emma’s face. ‘And you shouldn’t be worrying about family business this weekend. Is it so important it can’t wait?’ she demanded fiercely.
‘Oh, it’s nothing all that vital,’ Emma said dismissively with a shrug. ‘Just a few details regarding the trust funds. It won’t take long, and of course I won’t let them disturb me.’ A half smile flickered across her face. ‘Actually, I’m rather looking forward to it.’
‘I’m not sure that I am,’ Paula said carefully. ‘May I see the seating plan?’
‘Of course, darling.’ Emma moved her position slightly and put her hand in her pocket. She felt the paper and hesitated, and then, taking a deep breath, she pulled it out. ‘Here you are.’ She handed the paper to Paula, waiting expectantly, holding herself perfectly still, hardly daring now to breathe at all.
Paula’s eyes travelled quickly over the paper. Emma was watching her intently. Paula’s eyes stopped. Opened wide. Moved on. Returned again to the previous spot. A look of total disbelief spread itself across her face. ‘Why, Grandy? Why?’ Her voice rose sharply in anger and the paper fluttered to the floor. Emma was silent, waiting for the initial surprise to disappear, for Paula to calm down.
‘Why?’ Paula demanded, jumping up, her face white, her mouth trembling. ‘You have no right to invite Jim Fairley tomorrow night. He’s not family. I don’t want him here! I won’t have him here! I won’t! I won’t! How could you, Grandmother!’
She ran to the window and Emma could see she was fighting to control herself. Her thin shoulders hunched over as she pressed her forehead against the pane of glass, her narrow shoulder blades sharp and protruding under the silk dress. Emma’s heart ached with love for her and she felt her pain as deeply as if it were her own. ‘Come here and sit down. I want to talk to you, darling,’ Emma said softly.
Paula swung around quickly, her eyes now so dark they looked navy blue. ‘I don’t want to talk to you, Grandmother. At least not about Jim Fairley!’ She stood poised by the window, defiant, reproachful, filled with rage. She trembled and clasped and unclasped her hands in agitation. How could her grandmother have been so thoughtless. To ask Jim Fairley to the dinner was cruel and unfair, and she had never known her grandmother to be either of these things. She turned her back on Emma and laid her head against the window again, looking out at the green treetops yet seeing nothing, pushing back the tears that rushed into her eyes.
To Emma she looked suddenly pathetically young and vulnerable and hurt. She is the one thing of value I cherish, Emma thought, her heart contracting with love. Of all my grandchildren, she is the one I love the most. My hard and terrible life has been worth it just for the joy of her. This girl. This strong, dauntless, courageous, loyal girl who would put my desires before her own happiness.
‘Come here, darling. I have something I must tell you.’
Paula stared at Emma abstractedly as if she were in shock. With reluctance she came back to the fireplace, moving like a sleepwalker, her face blank. She was still fuming, but the shaking had ceased. Her eyes were flat and dull, like hard stones of lapis lazuli in her ashen face. She sat down erect and rigid on the sofa. There was something contained, unyielding about her that was frightening to Emma, who knew she must quickly explain, so that look would leave her granddaughter for ever. Emma had chosen an oblique way of informing Paula that she had invited Jim Fairley to the dinner, because she did not trust herself to do it verbally. But now she must speak. Explain. Put the girl out of her terrible torment.
‘I have invited Jim Fairley tomorrow, Paula, because he is indirectly involved in the family business matters I mentioned to you earlier.’ She paused and sucked in her breath and then continued more firmly, looking at Paula closely. ‘But that is not the only reason. I also invited him for you. And I might add he was delighted to accept.’
Paula was transfixed, incredulous. A deep flush rose up from her neck, filling her face with dark colour and her mouth shook again. ‘I don’t understand … invited him for me …’ She was flustered and confused. Her hair had somehow worked loose from the hair slide in her agitation and she moved it away from her face impatiently. She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘What are you saying, Grandmother? You have always hated the Fairleys. I don’t understand.’
Emma pushed herself on to her feet and went and sat on the sofa. She took one of Paula’s beautiful tapered hands in her own small sturdy ones. She gazed at Paula and her heart tightened when she looked into her eyes, vast caverns in the paleness of her face and full of pain. Emma touched that wan face, smiling gently, and then she said in a hoarse whisper, ‘I am an old woman, Paula. A tough old woman who has fought every inch of the way for everything I have. Strong, yes, but also tired. Bitter? Perhaps I was. But I have acquired some wisdom in my struggle with life, my struggle to survive, and I wondered to myself the other day why the silly pride of a
