A Close Connection

by Patricia Fawcett

  ‘Yes, miss.’ The young man – one of the waiting staff – grinned, not taking her remotely seriously.

  ‘It’s Mrs Walker to you and if I catch either of you here again, I shall report you to Mr Gilbert.’ She waited a moment for that to sink in, looking at their name-tags and making sure they noticed that. ‘Now, go somewhere else. And tie up your hair, Tiffany,’ she added to the girl. ‘It’s most unhygienic wearing it loose.’

  The girl held her ground but her cheeks flushed and she was the first to look away. Tugging at the boy’s sleeve she gave the signal for them to disappear and, with a final withering glance from the young man, they scooted off. Nicola caught the word ‘cow’ but it hardly mattered. She was not here to be popular. One day she would be events manager and after that, who knows what she might achieve? She had dreams of starting up on her own, something to do with events planning but she was not ready yet for that. One thing was sure, the job here was just a stepping stone and she did not see herself here in the long term.

  Glancing at her watch, she guessed that the parents would be up in the air by now and she hoped to goodness they had a good holiday together. Nicola knew her mother far too well and she did not trust her motives for inviting the Walkers on this holiday. Whatever her mother got up to, there was always something behind it. Her mother, like it or not, did tend to lord it over everybody and that was fine as long as people respected that. But she knew that Eleanor was not liked in all quarters, that she was considered to be overbearing and too outspoken for some and she just hoped that she was doing this, being charitable, for the right reasons and not because, in some devious way, she was trying to undermine Paula.

  Wearing a bright-blue fascinator atop her blonde hair at the wedding, Paula had looked very nice, her mother said, although she did add that it must be so difficult for somebody as tiny as that to find anything to fit properly. The Walker side of the family, determined not to let the side down, had done Matthew proud, the ladies mostly wearing over-the-top hats and a selection of frilly and floral frocks, seemingly unfazed by the Nightingale contingent whose hats were a little more restrained, their dresses elegant in their simplicity although there was a fair sprinkling of outrageous Jimmy Choos. Her funny cousin Philly was wearing a strapless frock that showed off the tattoo that snaked down her arm. Oddly enough it had been Philly who had happily, glass of champagne in hand, surged towards the Walker side of the room at the reception, her raucous laugh livening up proceedings.

  ‘Really …’ She remembered her mother’s dismay. ‘I can’t think what your aunt Andrea is thinking of. In the old days, Philly would have been tucked away and not allowed within sight of anybody of any significance. As for the tattoo, well, words fail me.’

  Nicola agreed the tattoo was a bit off, but she half regretted the easy way Philly got on with everybody, leaving everybody smiling, Matthew included. Surely every family is allowed one black sheep.

  Matthew won those snooty Nightingale ladies over, his speech both funny and sincere. He was in a profession they thoroughly approved of and had been to Oxford at that, the proper university that is, so his former attendance at a comprehensive, an inner-city one, could be glossed over. Snobbery among the Nightingale clan was still a force to be reckoned with, proud as they were of a thin trace of blue blood in their ancestry, but she and Matthew were able to laugh it off, although she knew that Paula was painfully aware of it too and could not shake it off quite as easily.

  She still recalled that first meeting at home where Paula had seemed overwhelmed by the house and grounds, as well she might be, saying to Matthew later that there was no way she could ever invite them to their home. Her mother had played the part of gracious hostess to a tee, alarmingly regal with the best china on show, the delicate cup looking quite ridiculous in Alan’s hands.

  ‘We normally use mugs,’ her father had said with a grin, trying to put them at ease but rewarded for that remark with a glare from her mother.

  After the wedding, Nicola hoped that the two families would continue to see each other from time to time, but there was no need for intimacy and this holiday together worried her a lot. Being in close proximity for two whole weeks did seem to be a recipe for disaster and she just knew that, sooner or later, somebody would blow a fuse.

  Her father-in-law Alan was a lovely quiet man but he was very protective of his wife. It was nauseatingly sweet in fact that the two of them were obviously so devoted to each other. If Paula was threatened or upset in any way, Alan would speak his mind because his little wife could not possibly defend herself. He could see right through Eleanor, Nicola could see that, and she wondered if her mother was aware of that. She had seen the surprise in her mother’s eyes when she first met Alan. He was so unlike Matthew, whose fetching personality made him both likeable and charming, the rougher edges of his West Country accent worn away by the years at university. Alan was a man of the old school, suspicious of strangers and particularly suspicious of strangers with money, and you could almost see the brain ticking away under the calm exterior. He was every bit as handsome as Matthew, though, with warm brown eyes, a man of few words compared with her mother’s monumental vocabulary. She supposed that his caring manner, akin to a sympathetic bedside one, would be ideal for soothing the nerves of the learner drivers he sat beside day after day.

  As for Paula, predictably she worked as an assistant in a shop in town selling greetings cards and the like; a shop which Eleanor now avoided on her visits to Plymouth because it was just too embarrassing to see Paula in there wearing her uniform. Eleanor was retired from her teaching post having given it up years ago to help her father with the business, her linguistic skills proving very useful in his dealings with his European contacts. Her mother’s flair for languages was to be admired, but Nicola hoped she would not try to converse with the locals as that would look like she was showing off in Matthew’s mother’s eyes. Paula had the biggest inferiority complex she had ever come across.

  Awkward was the only word she could think of to describe the whole set-up.

  The four of them had nothing in common. On the one hand, a driving instructor and a shop assistant; on the other, an entrepreneur specializing in fine arts and his lady wife, a former teacher and linguist, who liked to think she was a touch above.

  It would only end in tears.

  ‘Hello, Barbara. How are you?’ Nicola said, heels clicking as she tapped her way into the hotel and the polished dark oak of the reception desk. It promised to be another fine warm day and already she was feeling over dressed in the suit, tights on at that, but it was important to look the part and Gerry Gilbert, the manager, was very keen that the dress code amongst the staff, senior or otherwise, was observed.

  ‘I’m good, thanks.’ Barbara nodded, giving her a quick once-over, glance hovering a moment at her stomach. Barbara had caught her being sick in the ladies’ loo a week ago and was now convinced she was pregnant, which was not true. Absolutely not true. ‘No major problems to speak of. We’ve got the terrace tables ready for lunch and we are fully booked but you may have noticed that it’s getting a bit breezy so we may have to abandon them.’

  ‘Have you checked the forecast?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Barbara had been here forever and she thought she ran the place but Nicola had already discovered a few loopholes in her efficiency. The woman was stuck in her ways and she needed to up her game.

  ‘Then wouldn’t it be a good idea to do that?’

  ‘I was going to,’ Barbara said, not giving an inch. ‘But you know what it’s like here. In this valley we’re in a kind of climate cocoon. Weather passes us by. I’ve found the best thing is to ignore the forecast and just to look out of the window.’

  Nicola had no time for further discussion about the weather and with a final brief smile breezed on.

  They were full, more or less, which was good news but good weather now and for the next month would mean repeat bookings, so Nicola looked anxiously out of the window as she went thro
ugh the ‘quiet’ adult-only lounge on her way to the meeting with Gerry, passing through the long gallery where a couple of guests were taking morning coffee. She acknowledged them with a breezy smile, pausing to pass the time of day before continuing.

  There was a wedding coming up in a few weeks, preparations in full swing, as well as a small corporate event in a few days’ time in the form of drinks and nibbles, which Emma had handed over to her as her first solo venture. It was something of a coup because Emma was notoriously uneasy about delegating. Emma, who was in overall charge of the events team, was very efficient, calm, confident and controlled and a wonderful mentor and Nicola hoped that, by the time Emma moved on – a move back up to her beloved north with her partner was long threatened – she would be deemed ready to step into the lady’s shoes.

  She made sure she was well thought of by Emma and Gerry, adopting an agreeable stance with them, so that when the time came for Emma to go, her enthusiasm and gathering expertise would not pass unnoticed. If, on the other hand, Emma’s move up north proved to be just wishful thinking on her part, then she would herself move onwards and upwards, where to she had no idea but it certainly would not be the north. Matthew could do his job from anywhere so there wouldn’t be a problem in persuading him to move. She liked this area well enough but there were some equally attractive areas spread around and staying put seemed rather a dull option.

  She thought briefly of her parents, well on the way to Italy by now, and of Matthew’s too. The Walkers had flown before but not very often and she knew that Paula was nervous, but they were on a tour and it was a one-class-only affair on the chartered flight, which would mean her mother having to rough it this time.

  Although her mother normally abhorred these sorts of tours on ‘Riff-Raff Air’, this particular tour was of the top-notch variety as her mother had been at pains to point out, certainly not one of these cheapo affairs based at a budget hotel, and they were staying at a high-class hotel in a prime location on the shores of the Italian lake. Interested in hotels from a professional viewpoint, Nicola had looked it up and it certainly looked most impressive, very nearly as impressive as this one.

  She entered the manager’s office, where Emma was already there beside Gerry Gilbert, smiling broadly at them and offering them a cheerful good morning, before closing the door. She did not give a hoot about offending the junior staff but when it came to the big knobs it made sense to keep on the right side of them.

  The parents, all four of them, would be absolutely fine, she told herself as she eased herself into a chair, and if not, then there was nothing she could do about it.

  *

  Nicola and Matthew shared a smile and a kiss when they got back and it seemed that both of them had decided on their way home to forget the earlier heated exchange, so it was not mentioned other than a muttered ‘Sorry’ as they kissed.

  ‘I hope they got there all right,’ Nicola said as they sat down at the kitchen table to eat. ‘Mum has turned off her mobile and says that I must not, under any circumstances, try to contact her unless it’s an emergency.’

  ‘My mother probably forgot to take hers along,’ Matthew said with a smile. ‘She hates the thing. Dad did say much the same thing, though, about getting in contact. Give us a break, he said, and leave us in peace.’

  ‘So that’s what we will do.’ Nicola spread a chunky roll with the butter substitute. They only had wine at the weekend and, contrary to her expectations about this evening, Matthew had not relaxed the rule so it was just water and she took a sip, relaxing at last after a busy day. They tried not to talk shop if possible but what else was there to talk about? The subject of Paula was to be avoided at all costs. ‘That wedding I was telling you about is cancelled,’ she said. ‘We only heard today and they’ve asked for a refund on their deposit so although we are not strictly obliged, we’ll probably sort something out as a gesture of goodwill.’

  ‘Bit short notice, that. What happened?’

  ‘How should I know? Presumably one or other of them had second thoughts. Can you believe it? How can you let it get as close as that and then abandon it? They seemed such a nice couple too when I showed them round. They held hands the whole time.’ She chewed on her bread thoughtfully. ‘Although now I come to think of it, they were a bit too lovey-dovey if you get my meaning? And I did see him looking at Pamela … you know her, the brunette in reception?’

  ‘Right. She is quite eye-catching,’ he said, smiling hugely. ‘And she flirts.’

  ‘Does she? Oh. Don’t tell me she tried flirting with you?’

  ‘She certainly did. That afternoon when I came to pick you up … you remember when your car was in the garage … she couldn’t have made it clearer that she fancied me if she had been doing a pole dance half-naked.’

  ‘You are joking?’ she said, watching his face, uncertain because sometimes he was hard to read. ‘I think you flatter yourself, Mr Walker, if you think she was interested in you. She has a very hot boyfriend.’

  ‘So?’ He shrugged and they laughed.

  Nicola liked the banter, also quite liked the fact that other women fancied her husband, as well they might. Later, as Matthew went into the little study to finish off some paperwork, she read a few more pages of her paperback although she was finding it hard to concentrate. The cancellation of the wedding had thrown her a little, jolted her, made her realize that sometimes things did go wrong. Poor girl if she had been jilted: the dress bought, the bridesmaids chomping at the bit, all the guests having to be put off at the very last minute, gifts returned. What a nightmare! Poor bloke if he was the one who had been cast aside. What a blow to his pride. She tried to imagine how she would feel if it had happened to her, but of course it had not. Matthew had been there, in that pretty little church, waiting for her as she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm.

  She would never forget the way Matthew turned to look at her, the love in his eyes. It was true. You carried moments like that with you to your grave. Bar the odd argument and surely all couples had them, she reckoned that she was lucky to have him.

  She had no fears about Matthew because he loved her and she knew she could trust him. She knew her own dad had had a few flings over the years, things she was not supposed to know about, and she knew that her mother soldiered on regardless presumably because she loved him but maybe because she could not bear for the world to know.

  It would never happen with Matthew.

  Like his father Alan, Matthew was a one-woman man.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘I DO KNOW THE significance of Juliet’s balcony,’ Paula said, irritated as Eleanor started to explain it to her as if she was a child. Once a teacher always a damned teacher. ‘It’s from Romeo and Juliet and I can even remember what Romeo said.’

  Eleanor was sticking to her like glue and she so wanted to shake her off this morning. A coach had deposited them here and they could have opted, like everybody else, for a proper conducted tour of Verona with a guide, but instead Eleanor had insisted that the four of them go it alone. After all, hadn’t she been before, three times, so she knew all there was to know about the place and she found it all a little frustrating being shepherded around in a gang as if they were tourists.

  Wasn’t that exactly what they were?

  ‘Oh. You’ve heard of Romeo and Juliet?’ Eleanor seemed surprised that she should have any knowledge at all of Shakespeare but Paula remembered doing the play at school. She was a shy student, but good at remembering lines so she had been persuaded into a biggish role which, funnily enough, she rather enjoyed. She remembered still, with a delicious pride, the way the teacher had taken her aside and whispered that she had acted Shirley Walsh who was playing Juliet off the stage and asked if she was considering a career in acting. It was stupid to even think of that, although in fact she recalled how good it felt to be up there on stage pretending to be somebody else.

  Her mother was surprised when her English teacher had repeated the words at the foll
owing open evening but, although she had not said anything to the teacher, she had not offered much in the way of encouragement on the way home. A single mother, she had worked her fingers to the bone to do the best for her daughter – as she was so fond of saying – but she had no ambition other than to keep their heads above water and to be able to afford little treats from time to time. She couldn’t wait for Paula to leave school and get a job.

  ‘That teacher doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Who do we know who’s gone to acting school? She’s no right to be putting daft ideas in your head,’ was the best she could manage when Paula dared to mention the acting. Of course it was just a dream and remained a dream. Once, though, she read an article about a famous actress who revealed that she was pitifully shy in real life but threw off her shyness as soon as she stepped onto the stage into whatever role she might be playing.

  If only she could do that too, because sometimes she was frustrated by the shyness that still overtook her – usually at the wrong moment. For instance, she wanted desperately to say to Eleanor, ‘Shut up, you old bat, and stop patronizing me,’ but of course she never would, not in a million years. As for knowing about Romeo and Juliet, she thought she might still be able to recite the entire part of Juliet’s nurse given the appropriate cue. So, how dare Eleanor make the assumption that she had never heard of the play?

  ‘Sorry.’ Eleanor smiled, blissfully unaware of how much she was offended. ‘I thought you might not know much about Shakespeare.’

  ‘Well, I do.’ Paula sighed, waving her information sheet with the little map of Verona in front of her face like a fan. Having lost the men, the two of them had been wandering around the labyrinth of old streets for ever and it was so hot and she felt a bit sick as the strong scent of the sun cream drifted up to her nose. It was good of course that it was sunny, and she knew she ought not to complain, heaven forbid, but it was too hot in the middle of the day to be traipsing around the streets and what she needed now was a cooling drink. She had discarded her hat because it was making her hair feel too sticky against her neck, but there was no shade just here and she could feel the powerful heat of the sun. She should watch it or her brain might get frazzled and she needed to keep it sharp when she was dealing with Eleanor.