by Bea Green
‘Not too shattered I hope,’ said Tony mischievously, kissing her on the side of her neck.
Elinor smiled and put her brush down.
‘I’d be careful if I were you. I’m known for getting oil paint in the strangest of places.’
Tony looked down hastily at his shirt and tie. Elinor smiled to herself. She’d noticed he was fastidious with his clothing. One of the idiosyncrasies she was learning about him.
‘You’re OK I think,’ she said, reassuring him.
She stood up and pulled off her overalls, arching back to stretch her spine and neck in the process. Tony impatiently pulled her close and started to kiss her mouth with avid attention. Elinor’s overalls dropped unheeded onto the floor with a quiet swish as she reached up a hand to touch his cheek.
As she started to explore Tony’s mouth with her tongue she heard the door click again.
‘Really, you two! Get a room, will you?’ said an amused voice from the doorway.
Elinor and Tony pulled apart guiltily and turned around.
Barbara, dressed in a bright red coat that clashed with her pink-striped hair and wearing knee-high purple boots, was smiling at them both from the doorway. Elinor humorously noted the difference in the raiment Barbara wore when she was not trying to impress well-connected clients. There were two sides to this woman and she knew the one she preferred.
‘Hello, Barbara. How was your day? I hope you don’t mind but Tony dropped in on me.’
‘Of course not. It’s lovely to see you both. How’s your painting going?’
‘Good. I should have it finished in a day or two,’ said Elinor, standing back to let Barbara see.
‘Beautiful. Sublimely gorgeous, Elinor! Leo’s going to love it.’
‘I hope so! I’ve certainly worked hard enough on it.’
‘Yes. Although when you’ve finished it you’ll need to get back into making paintings to sell, Elinor. You must try and get into your vocation again. Did I hear correctly that you received a couple of commissions recently as a result of the art exhibition? Godfrey, the owner of the Kestrel Gallery, informed me yesterday.’
Tony looked surprised and delighted for her in equal measure. Elinor felt a warm feeling envelop her as she observed how pleased both Tony and Barbara were for her.
‘Yes, that’s right. I’ve been asked to do a picture of Tintagel Castle and one of Bodmin Moor. I’ve yet to speak to them so I don’t know if they want a specific angle or view. Or if they’ll give me the artistic licence to do what I want, which would be nice.’
‘Good excuse for a trip to Bodmin Moor for the pair of you,’ observed Barbara, patting Elinor’s arm briefly before going over to her easel and depositing a bag next to it.
‘I’ve been to Tintagel Castle with Leo but I’ve not been to Bodmin Moor. I don’t really know much about it,’ said Elinor.
‘Me neither,’ remarked Tony unabashedly.
‘You’re just like Leo,’ accused Elinor. ‘If it doesn’t have seawater you simply have no interest in it. For goodness’ sake, you live here! You should know a little of the culture.’
‘I’m not sure Bodmin Moor has much culture,’ replied Tony, sitting down on a stool.
‘Tony, that’s shocking! Of course Bodmin has culture. Loads of it, in actual fact. Prehistoric, medieval...’ said Barbara, genuinely horrified at his ignorance. ‘Jamaica Inn ring any bells for you? There are ancient villages and farms. There’s also Dozmary Pool there, which has myths about it related to King Arthur’s sword, Excalibur. Apparently it’s where King Arthur picked up Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake. And there are the rumours about the Beast of Bodmin too, of course.’
‘There are stories about King Arthur everywhere,’ said Tony dismissively. ‘I wonder if the people who commissioned the painting are King Arthur fans? Maybe they’re modern-day witches or wizards. Loads of those hanging around.’
‘That’s true,’ agreed Barbara.
Barbara started emptying oil paints out of her plastic bag and on to her worktop.
‘I often think people must think I’m a New Age witch of some sort,’ Barbara remarked amusedly, sorting out the different coloured oil paints.
‘Nonsense!’ scoffed Elinor.
‘I’m deadly serious,’ insisted Barbara. ‘I’m an eccentric. An eccentric, elderly woman who lives on her own with a cat. In the olden days I definitely would’ve qualified for the stocks or being burnt at the stake.’
Tony and Elinor looked at each other, trying not to laugh.
Barbara was indomitable. It was hard to imagine anyone getting the better of her. If she’d lived in another age, no doubt she would have figured out a way to escape punishment of any sort, especially if it was unjustly due to her unconventionality.
‘Oh, go away, you two lovebirds! Stop making fun of me!’ cried Barbara, trying not to laugh, as she watched the pair of them exchanging glances. She leant back on her workstation, smiling broadly but with her arms crossed protectively in front of her.
Tony stood up and stretched, giving Elinor the sudden and irrational desire to pull his shirt off and explore his torso. A year of abstinence after Mark had died had not gone unnoticed by her libido.
‘Barbara’s right, Elinor. It’s getting late and I’m getting hungry. Shall we head to Trenouth?’ asked Tony wearily.
Elinor nodded, not missing the quick look of forlornness passing over Barbara’s face.
‘Barbara, why don’t you come back to Trenouth and join us for some dinner?’ asked Elinor kindly.
‘I can drop you back off on my way home,’ added Tony encouragingly.
‘But aren’t you staying over at Trenouth?’ Barbara asked him, very surprised.
Tony grinned as Elinor’s face turned crimson. No matter how much she tried, Elinor still couldn’t get used to Barbara’s outspokenness.
‘I would normally, but I’m working at the out-of-hours unit from ten o’clock tonight, so I’ve to get back,’ he explained, as Elinor looked at the floor in acute embarrassment.
Barbara looked at the two of them fondly and smiled.
‘All right, then. If you don’t mind me joining you, that would be lovely. I never could resist a chance to tease Leo about his cooking. I take it he is cooking?’
Elinor chuckled.
‘He is, Barbara. But I’m afraid you’ll not get much of a chance to make fun of his cooking tonight. It’s mussels with garlic and white wine sauce on the menu. In honour of Tony, I can only assume...’
48
Elinor was regretting signing up for the opening night at The Ninth Hole. That was the problem with anxiety. It sometimes slumbered and gave one a false sense of security, only to rear its ugly head at the most inconvenient moments. José and Elena, of course, knew nothing about Elinor’s battles with anxiety and her mental health. And now Elinor was standing in the middle of The Ninth Hole’s kitchen and feeling the panic in her seeping slowly into her frazzled mind.
She was covered from top to bottom in self-raising flour, having split the bag when she was in a fluster earlier. José and Elena had asked Elinor to cook some miniature sticky toffee puddings for the night, a dish she could do with her eyes shut back home in Trenouth but ever since she’d stepped into the kitchen at The Ninth Hole everything had gone strangely wrong.
She’d barely two hours to go before the guests started to arrive and her latest batch of puddings looked like a burnt offering fit for the bin. She rubbed her tired eyes. She didn’t know where she’d gone wrong but before she’d arrived the kitchen had looked like a thing of beauty, with neat canapés laid out on the work surfaces ready for the night ahead.
Now it looked like an excitable team of three year olds had been let loose in the kitchen after stuffing themselves full of Haribos.
And her stress was making it worse. She knew she was going to have to give up on th
e miniature puddings that Elena and José had requested of her and she hated herself for letting them down, but as she became evermore overwrought she knew she could easily end up doing something stupid. Not as stupid as falling asleep with the bacon frying, but near enough...
She sighed.
She reached across to pick up her three baking trays and carried them off towards the sink to scrape the burnt sponge out into the bin.
Elena and José were due to arrive at any moment with the drinks and glasses for the night’s celebration.
The kitchen door swung open and Jennifer walked in, carrying a tray piled high with plastic containers filled with what looked to be various homemade salads.
Elinor put her baking tray down abruptly and looked guiltily at her.
She and Jennifer had made up after Elinor had called her from Tony’s mobile and apologised profusely for ignoring her well-meaning advice. Elinor had been surprised at the calmness with which Jennifer had accepted her apology. Most women she knew would have harboured a long-standing grudge as a result of what had happened. But then again, Jennifer wasn’t ‘most women’.
‘Elinor, are you OK? My God, what’s happened?’ asked Jennifer, glancing around her with a look of wonder on her face.
‘I’ve screwed up again. I’ve made a total mess. José and Elena are going to kill me. I’ve burnt all the sticky toffee puddings. I don’t know what happened...’
Jennifer surveyed Elinor inscrutably for a moment, making Elinor want to squirm under her gaze.
‘OK. I think the best thing is for us to clear up the mess,’ Jennifer said slowly. ‘Then I suggest we do what my mother always told me to do in a situation like this. I suggest we head out to Marks & Spencer and buy the puddings. We can pass them off as homemade. It’s what she always used to pull out of the hat when she couldn’t be bothered to cook for a dinner party.’
‘Yes, but what do we say to Elena and José?’
‘I think they’ll be too busy to notice, to be honest with you. As long as we clear up this bomb site, it’ll be fine. Trust me.’
Elinor smiled ruefully, remembering the momentous events that had occurred not so long ago when she hadn’t trusted her.
‘OK, Jennifer. Let’s do it.’
The pair of them raced into the utility cupboard and started to clean up the mess, pouring buckets of filthy water down the utility sink, wiping grease off the normally shining work surfaces and throwing away all the unwanted ingredients.
Half an hour later Jennifer and Elinor were driving to Marks & Spencer on their last-minute rescue mission.
They came back with the boot filled with mini eclairs and profiteroles from an Iceland store and a number of full-sized cakes from M&S. By the time they arrived at The Ninth Hole Elena and José were in the dining room arranging the drinks and glasses, fussing over the decorations and laying out the tables at one side of the room with the canapés. They barely glanced up when Elinor and Jennifer walked in the door.
‘We’ve had to buy some of the puddings, I’m afraid,’ said Jennifer brazenly, confronting Elena and José with the truth in her forthright way.
‘No, why?’ protested José, looking understandably distressed at the thought of shop-bought food getting served up on their opening night.
‘I’m sorry, José. I totally messed up with the mini desserts,’ said Elinor contritely.
‘Elinor, it’s fine. It’ll all be fine,’ intervened Elena hurriedly before José could protest any more. ‘Everyone will be so drunk by then that nobody will notice what the puddings are like.’
‘I don’t think you need to worry, José. My mother regularly serves up these cakes at her dinner parties and everyone thinks she’s cooked them,’ persisted Jennifer.
José waved his hands in the air agitatedly.
‘Enough, enough. Don’t tell me any more or I’ll have un ataque cardíaco. Take it away to the kitchen.’
Jennifer and Elinor hurried off like two guilty bandits making off with The Ninth Hole’s takings.
Once they were in the kitchen, they quickly plonked the bags on the work surface.
‘You OK?’ Jennifer asked Elinor.
Elinor nodded solemnly and then peeked up at Jennifer. For a moment both of them said nothing and then they burst out laughing. They were shaking with huge gusts of laughter and clinging desperately on to the workstation in the middle of the room when Elena came back into the kitchen.
‘Well, this is a good start to the evening,’ she said complacently, without batting an eyelid at their mirth.
Elinor could only feel admiration for Elena’s intensely laid-back attitude. The roof could’ve fallen in tonight and Elena would still be putting a positive slant on it. When Elena was on good form there was clearly no getting her down.
Elena started taking the cakes out of the bags and went to fetch some platters to display them. Elinor and Jennifer helped her lay everything out and then Elinor helped Jennifer set out the different kinds of salad into serving bowls, carrying them through to the dining area where the other savoury food was neatly laid out.
By the time they’d finished there wasn’t much left to be done. Elena and José were paying three local teenagers to work as waiters for the night, so all Jennifer and Elinor had to do was to go home and get ready for the party.
Elena good-humouredly shooed them out of the door with strict instructions to get dressed up and not to turn up late.
49
It didn’t take long for Elinor to get ready.
She had splashed out some of her new-found cash on a tight-fitting black dress with a large split up one leg. She felt Tony would probably approve of her using the money from her painting in this way.
She smiled to herself as she put her make-up on. So many times she’d shrivelled up with shyness when she’d gone to social events but for once she was looking forward to tonight. Tony was coming to pick them up and would no doubt be by her side for the evening. It was amazing what a difference having a partner made to one’s life.
We weren’t made to be solitary creatures, she mused to herself. Apart from Leo, of course. That man had to be an exception. She’d never met anyone who was more comfortable in his own skin or in his own company.
She heard the doorbell ring and went to answer the door.
‘Hello, gorgeous,’ said Tony, reaching in to kiss her on the lips.
He stood back and she saw the light of his desire in his eyes as he surveyed her.
‘You look beautiful, my love. That’s a very sexy dress.’
‘I thought you’d like it,’ said Elinor, with self-satisfaction.
She moved aside and let Tony in to the house. She shut the door behind him, keeping the cold wind outside.
‘Hello, Tony, how are you?’ asked Leo affably, turning up in his only grey suit (the same one he’d worn for the exhibition) and shaking Tony’s hand amicably.
‘I’m very well, thank you. Doesn’t Elinor look amazing?’
Leo turned to observe her and nodded.
‘Yes, that she does. Of course, an expensive dress bought with your money always helps,’ said Leo cheekily.
‘Leo! I hope you’re going to behave yourself tonight,’ said Elinor, whacking him on the shoulder.
‘That’ll depend on who’s there,’ said Leo cryptically. ‘Right, we’d better get going.’
They left Trenouth and by the time they reached The Ninth Hole they found the car park was already a third full. Elinor was certain most of the cars belonged to Leo’s more punctual friends. The surfing crowd tended to be more lackadaisical and unreliable with their timekeeping.
Tony parked his car on the grass and then went across to help Elinor out of the car, with an old-fashioned courtesy that she knew was sure to win Leo’s approval. The three of them walked up to the doorway but as soon as Tony opened the door they were almo
st blasted off their feet by the volume of the music.
‘What the?’ asked Tony, stunned momentarily by the sheer magnitude of the noise.
A minute later the music was turned off.
José appeared in the doorway looking flustered.
‘Come in! Come in! Good to see you! Sorry we are having a few problems with the music system but it will soon be fixed. I paid for a local DJ but he’s mierda. Sorry, I mean crap... Elena is fixing him.’
Elinor peered into the dining area and saw Elena, dressed up in a dashing red and black Spanish flamenco dress, arguing vociferously with the DJ. She went across straight away to see if she could help her, feeling immediate sympathy for her plight. Elinor was used to things backfiring on her...
‘Elena, are you OK?’
Elena turned fiery eyes her way.
‘No, this man is an imbecile. How’s anyone going to be able to talk when he plays music this loudly? Leo’s friends are in the kitchen while we try and change this. I do not want them going home because it’s too loud.’
Elinor looked at the DJ, who was looking mutinously at Elena.
‘Can’t you play the music quietly?’ Elinor asked the DJ.
Elinor could see the effect her voice had. The DJ’s face visibly cleared at hearing Elinor wasn’t a ‘foreigner’. Elinor felt her temper rising. Where did José and Elena find this dimwit?
‘My loudspeakers aren’t made for this size of room. I can’t play music any quieter. They just don’t get it.’
Elinor looked around at the two enormous speakers that were positioned on each side of the room. Elinor gazed at them for a long moment, her mind trying desperately to find a resolution.
‘Elena, you can’t have music blasting out at top volume during the party. You have a music system here, don’t you? Can’t you use that?’
‘Yes, but what about him?’ asked Elena, gesturing to the DJ dismissively. ‘We paid him to play the music.’
‘I know, Elena, but it’s really not going to work with this guy. The volume that hit us when we came in is going to cause some serious hearing damage. I mean, you want the party to be a success, don’t you?’