Happiness for Beginners

by Carole Matthews

  ‘Sorry, to drop in on you unannounced,’ he says. ‘I was passing. Thought I’d see if you were here. On the off-chance.’

  ‘I’m never anywhere else,’ I tell him.

  ‘Except at the vets’.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I can only apologise again. I was going to ring but I’m really, really bad at making phone calls.’

  He fixes me with a gaze that’s quite perturbing. ‘It wasn’t just an excuse?’

  ‘No. Of course not. I was all dolled up and everything.’

  ‘That I would have liked to see.’

  ‘Well, I think you missed your one chance,’ I confess.

  ‘You would have enjoyed it,’ he says.

  Would I though? I would more likely have found the whole thing a terrible ordeal. ‘I’m afraid my life is governed by my animals. It was awful timing. But then these things usually are.’

  ‘Lucas said it was a sick chicken that took you away from me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The offending chicken is OK now?’

  I shrug. ‘Maybe. She’s still at the vets’. I’m trying not to think of the cost.’

  ‘Will you let me pay the bill?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say instantly. ‘I have no shame when it comes to accepting handouts for the animals.’

  ‘Consider it done.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s very generous.’ I let out a breath that I didn’t realise I was holding. ‘I’m sorry Lucas missed it too.’

  ‘He hates my supper parties – as well as everything else. He only comes under extreme duress.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, I think most kids of his age would feel the same. There aren’t many who think that hanging out with their parents is cool.’

  ‘No. I suppose not. Yet he enjoys being with you.’

  ‘He seems to. That’s one of life’s mysteries as well.’ Shelby laughs at that and it emboldens me to say, ‘Can I offer you some tea?’

  ‘That would be nice.’ We walk back towards the van, animals padding behind us. ‘Lucas has gone up to London today. There’s some gaming convention he likes to go to. I did think about insisting he stay home so that we try to spend some “quality” time together.’ He shakes his head. ‘He was so ill-tempered that I realised it was pointless.’

  ‘You couldn’t have gone with him?’

  ‘I’d have been stopped every five minutes and he hates that. It was better he went off and enjoyed himself. He said he wanted to be with his friends and he doesn’t say that very often. My driver, Ken, took him up to town first thing this morning and I was kicking around the house by myself.’ He looks up and, for a fleeting moment, all I see in his eyes is loneliness. ‘I thought I’d come up and find out how he’s doing. You don’t mind?’

  ‘Not at all. I was planning on a quiet day too.’

  ‘And now I’m intruding.’

  ‘A welcome distraction,’ I say and then realise that sounds like I’m flirting when I don’t mean to.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  So we have a cup of tea and sit on the deckchairs together in the sunshine enjoying the view over the fields. At least, I’m enjoying it. Shelby Dacre seems lost in thought.

  I’m rubbish at making small talk and Shelby doesn’t seem in the mood for idle chatter, so we sit in silence, just sipping our drinks, the dogs and Fifty curled up at our feet. I don’t even like to break the mood to ask if he’s taken his antihistamine.

  After some time, he says, ‘We got on well before his mother died, you know. All of us did.’ He doesn’t look at me but, instead, keeps staring straight ahead. ‘We were a tight family unit. We did everything together.’

  ‘The loss of a loved one is a terrible thing. It must have hit you both hard.’

  ‘You think you can prepare for it. But you can’t. Susie was wonderful. We’d met when I was a struggling actor and she was a dancer. I wish you’d seen her, Molly. She was such a beauty.’ He flicks at his phone and then holds up a photograph of a delicate, dark-haired woman beaming at the camera. She’s wearing a floral shirt and jeans and has a warm, open expression. I can see where Lucas gets his looks from.

  ‘Gorgeous,’ I agree.

  ‘I think you’d have liked her,’ he says softly. ‘And she would have loved you and what you’re doing with this place. Have you talked to Lucas about her?’

  ‘Not really,’ I admit.

  ‘He adored her. As I did. You never know in this business whether someone wants to be with you for who you are or what you can do for them, rather than the person underneath that.’

  I say nothing, just letting him talk as he seems in the mood to share with me. Sometimes the hardest thing is to find someone to listen when you need them to. Shelby has such a busy life that it must be difficult to make the space for simply being.

  ‘When Susie and I got together we had nothing. We saved hard out of what we did earn and bought a little terraced house in Leighton Buzzard.’ He allows himself a fond laugh. ‘We were so proud of ourselves. In reality, the place was falling down round our ears. We had just two deckchairs in the living room for the first year we were there – just like these.’ He pats the wooden frame. ‘We had one of those Crockpot things in lieu of a cooker. But it served us well. It was our first proper home and we worked on it together. We turned an outhouse into a utility room, painted the cellars, covered all the ancient wood chip with magnolia. All the things that don’t seem like chores when you do them with love.’ He pauses, gathering his thoughts before continuing. ‘When Lucas came along we couldn’t have been more thrilled. I was doing OK by then and so we moved to a bigger place. One with a garden for the baby.’

  ‘I bet he was a lovely boy.’

  ‘Oh, he was. We adored him and he could twist us both round his little finger. Neither of us minded. He had great big eyes that would break your heart. Our only sadness was that we didn’t have more children. Susie would have liked a huge family. She always wanted a house filled with love and laughter. Loads of animals too. We tried everything to have another baby – went to the best clinics, all of that – but it wasn’t to be. Perhaps we doted on Lucas too much as he’s our only one. We certainly indulged him.’ Shelby sighs and, when I risk a look across at him, his eyes have filled with tears. ‘Who’d have thought it would turn out like this?’

  ‘I guess none of us know what the future has in store for us.’

  ‘I don’t want to burden you. Or bore you. You don’t mind me talking like this?’

  ‘Of course not.’ It’s nice that he feels able to confide in me.

  ‘We were more privileged than most families. I know that. But all the money in the world can’t buy you health or time. It was such a blow when Susie was diagnosed with cancer. We’d had a pretty gilded existence in the years prior to that. Everything was going well with work, we’d moved into the manor and Susie loved it there. Her particular joy was the garden. She was the one who thought it would be a good idea to open the house for charity events.’ He halts again, clearly finding it difficult to continue. ‘She had so little time when we found out. We thought we’d grow old together and we had such plans. What we weren’t going to do! We thought Lucas would be heading off to university, doing his own thing. I was intending to step away from the limelight and we were looking forward to travelling the world together – maybe get a little place in Italy or France, wherever took our fancy.’

  ‘They sound like very good plans.’

  ‘Yes, but look at us now. I have a son who can’t stand the sight of me. And I’m floundering around not knowing who I am any more. I stay away from home doing things I don’t want to be doing with people I don’t want to be with just so I don’t have to face him. Lucas doesn’t even live in the house now. I came home one night shortly after Susie had died and he’d moved into a tiny cottage in the grounds that was standing empty. Lock, stock and barrel. I think the gardener used to live in it before we moved there. Did he tell you that?’

  ‘No. He didn’t mention it at all.’<
br />
  ‘It doesn’t matter how much I try to reason with him, he won’t come back into the house. He refuses point blank. What can I do? I can’t force him back into his old room. It’s his choice. He comes into the house to get some food and disappears again straight away. And then all this business with school. Setting fire to stuff? Why does he do that? He used to be the model student.’ He shakes his head. ‘I feel as if I don’t know my own son any more. He’s become a stranger to me. I want to breach the gap, but I’ve no idea how to reach out to him.’

  ‘Perhaps you need to work on spending some time together.’

  ‘How? When I walk into a room, he walks out. I go to the cottage, he keeps me at the door. What am I supposed to do? Barge my way in? In the show I deal every day with human relationships and dilemmas – some of them pretty unbelievable – but I can’t do it in real life without a script in my hand. You have no idea how frustrating that is.’

  How can I tell him that you don’t need to be a genius to work out that he needs to be at home and available for Lucas? He could start by ditching the unsuitable girlfriend who his son obviously resents with every fibre of his being, but I’m not really in the position to say that, am I? Instead, I venture, ‘I know it’s difficult, but are there things that you could let go of that would allow you to concentrate on Lucas? All of his behaviour might indicate the exact opposite, but I’m sure that he needs you now more than ever.’

  Shelby lets out a wavering breath and wipes a finger beneath his eyes. ‘I’m getting maudlin now. I should go.’

  ‘Take a walk round the farm with me,’ I say. ‘You can see a little bit of what Lucas gets up to here and why I’m so keen to save it.’

  ‘You know I’m allergic to all animals?’

  I laugh. ‘Yes. Difficult for someone who plays a farmer as his job.’

  ‘My best friend is antihistamine,’ he admits. ‘I have some in the car.’

  ‘Wellies too?’

  ‘No. Farmer Gordon is such a fake.’

  ‘I’ll find you some while you get your tablets. Lucas brought some from your stash and they’re in the barn.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ He stands up and stretches. Before he goes, he turns to me. ‘Thanks, Molly.’

  ‘No problem. That’s what friends are for.’

  Then he looks at me and I don’t know what passes between us as I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I suddenly notice the searing intensity of his blue eyes the colour of an English summer sky, the smoothness of his skin, the texture of his straw-coloured hair. I drink in his size, his strength, his maleness that’s so alien to me. I feel him doing the same to me and for once in my life, I don’t think that I’m found wanting. Is this what they write about in romance novels, this frisson, this electricity that seems to be tingling in my veins? I don’t know.

  But before I can dwell on it any further, Shelby breaks the moment and says, ‘I’ll get that antihistamine.’

  I watch him go, the unfamiliar trembly feeling inside still not leaving me and wonder what it was that I was supposed to go and do.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  When he comes back, I’m still standing there like a lemon.

  ‘Wellies,’ he says. ‘You were supposed to be finding me wellies.’

  ‘Ah, yes. In the barn. I’ll just slip mine on.’ So I rouse myself and go to put my boots on. Then we walk up to the barn and Shelby kicks off his fancy designer shoes and puts on some of the brand new wellies that he unwittingly donated to us which may or may not be his size.

  ‘Do they fit?’ I ask.

  ‘Maybe.’ He stamps his feet as if to test them out.

  ‘We won’t go too far. I’d like to do my evening round now, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Lead on,’ he says. ‘I’m in no rush. Lucas will be late back and I have nothing but an empty house waiting for me.’

  So with Little Dog and Big Dog at our heels, we wander away from the yard and head up the hill. We stop first at the alpacas who come up to the fence in search of dinner and trouble. I scoop some food pellets from the bins and give them each a handful. Shelby stands back. I can’t blame him for not wanting to get too close after what happened.

  ‘Tina Turner is the brown one.’

  ‘That’s the one you brought to the house?’

  I nod. ‘And to the show. She’s our most sociable one. Johnny Rotten, with the orange hair, isn’t to be trusted. He doesn’t really like people or other alpacas. He’s the one who caused so much trouble with Scarlett Vincent.’

  ‘Ah,’ he says and I feel a bit weird for mentioning her name.

  ‘I was so traumatised by that, it gives me nightmares even now.’

  ‘It’s still much talked about on the show,’ Shelby tells me.

  ‘Oh, God. We’d have to keep him on a very tight leash if we ever took him out again. Rod Stewart is the one with skinny legs. He’s not as spiteful as Johnny, but he’ll still give you a nip if you’re not paying attention.’

  ‘I always thought alpacas were cute, cuddly things.’

  I laugh. ‘I guess you won’t be getting them now at Flinton’s Farm?’

  ‘No. You’ve seen the set. It looks real enough, but our animals are often trained performers.’

  ‘I didn’t even know there was such a thing.’

  ‘It’s all done with smoke and mirrors,’ he confesses. ‘I think everyone expected the alpacas to stand in the corner and behave nicely. Me included.’

  ‘Hmm. I’m not sure that was ever going to happen. Alpacas are, shall we say, independent-spirited.’

  ‘Uncontrollable?’

  I laugh. ‘More unpredictable. They have their uses, though. We sell their fleeces for yarn – for pence, usually. But their poo is more valuable. It makes very good manure, so the gardeners tell me. We have a handful of regulars who pop up for it. Though it’s very hard to get the students to do the job of collecting and bagging it. I usually end up doing it myself.’

  ‘I can’t imagine Lucas doing this kind of thing. He likes it, though?’

  ‘He does. He’s fitted in really well and has a great affinity for the animals. We often find that with even the most troubled of our children.’

  ‘He has friends? That’s something I know he’s struggling with.’

  ‘There’s no particular friend as the other students here at the moment tend to be younger than him. It’s just how it’s worked out. But they adore him and seem to look up to him. They think he’s very cool.’ We walk on a little way before I risk adding, ‘I heard him performing some of his poetry for them the other day.’

  ‘His poetry? My son? I didn’t even know he wrote poetry.’

  ‘He’s very good. There’s some of it up on YouTube. You should take a look. It might surprise you.’

  ‘I will.’ He looks deep in thought as we wander up to the ponies who come trotting across the field to see us. ‘This is Ringo and Buzz, our little Shetland boys. You’ve seen them before too.’ I give them both a pat and then check Ringo’s skin. Seems to be doing all right. We both must be due a haircut from Christian Lee soon. ‘Lucas has been very adept at giving them both a bath.’

  ‘He must really like you,’ Shelby says. ‘I can’t get him to do a bloody thing.’

  ‘It’s a very different relationship,’ I say, stating the obvious. ‘But I admit to having a soft spot for him. We’ve spent a lot of time together since he’s been here.’

  ‘He sounds like a different boy, yet I’ve seen no change in him at all at home.’

  ‘It’ll take time,’ I say. ‘Though, sadly, that’s one thing we may no longer have.’

  ‘What will happen to the people who come here if you have to close?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. They’ve mostly ended up at the farm because they’ve tried everywhere else and haven’t been happy. We’re the last chance saloon.’

  We walk on up to the Shire horses. ‘These are our big boys, Sweeney and Carter. Ex-police horses. They’re our gentle giants.
Speak too loudly and Sweeney jumps out of his skin.’

  ‘I’m terrified of horses,’ Shelby admits, staying well behind me. ‘They have to get in a stunt double when there’s any riding to be done.’

  ‘I can’t believe that you’ve been surrounded by animals for all these years and haven’t got used to them. You should come and spend some time up here, I’ll break you in. Gently, of course.’

  He laughs. ‘I might take you up on that.’

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  The evening is still warm, but a gentle breeze stirs the air as we move on, heading towards the goats and sheep, in step together. The dogs wander ahead, finding interesting things to sniff at.

  ‘Between you and me, I’m pretty sick of playing Farmer Gordon Flinton. I’ve been there too long. We’ve exhausted pretty much every storyline you can think of. Sometimes the plots are beyond ridiculous. I feel foolish even saying the words. The whole thing seems stale now.’ He turns to me and smiles. ‘But then you’ve never watched it.’

  ‘No.’ He seems to find that very amusing. ‘But I know that a lot of people do. Bev loves it. I never watch anything. It’s not that I’ve singled out your show to avoid.’

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ he teases.

  ‘So, if you’re fed up with Gordon Flinton, what would be your ideal role?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ His heart sounds heavy when he says it. ‘I came out of drama school wanting to be the next Ian McKellen. It didn’t quite pan out like that. I’ve had very few periods where I haven’t worked, which I know most actors would give their eyeteeth for. It’s given me a great living and I’m grateful for that. But it’s all been television, adverts. Selling my soul for some trinkets.’ He shows me his big, fancy watch which is very big and very fancy. ‘I’m the face of Abel Range designer watches.’