‘Well, when I asked Sumitha about the film - you know, the plot, what happened and so forth - she was very vague and changed the subject as fast as she could. And she looked very guilty.’
‘Well, I think you should make your feelings known, Chitrita,’ said Ginny. ‘Tell Bilu and Sumitha what you will and won’t allow and make sure they stick to it. Before it’s too late.’
It was a remark Mrs Banerji was going to wish she had heeded sooner.
‘Claire,’ she said turning to Mrs Farrant, ‘I have a favour to ask you. Ellie has to go into hospital for an operation - it wasn’t a bug, apparently, but gallstones or some such thing. Anyway, would you take over the running of the crèche? Just for a few months? Please.’
Everyone waited for the excuses about not being able to leave the house, or the little ones.
‘I’d love to,’ she said. ‘To be honest, it’ll be great to get out of the house and Andrew will be delighted. He believes in women having outside interests.’
‘I wish Henry did,’ said Mrs Joseph, nibbling on a stick of celery. ‘Ever since I started my course, he’s been like a bear with a sore head. Doesn’t like his routine upset or his meals five minutes later than usual. And now that he’s talking about taking up jogging …’
‘Henry - jogging?’ said Ginny, trying not to laugh at the thought of the florid features and ample abdomen of Henry Joseph bouncing around the pavements of Billing Hill.
Anona nodded. ‘I was saying to Vernon only the other day …’
‘Who’s Vernon?’ they all asked, interest immediately awakened.
‘Oh, just a guy on my course,’ said Anona dismissively.
Oh yes, thought the others.
‘Anyway, I was telling him about Henry’s mood swings and new obsession with fitness and he reckons it’s a midlife crisis. I mean. Henry’s had high blood pressure for ages; he takes pills for it and everything. But he’s never been one to worry about keeping fit and trim. But now, I find him reading Jon’s rugby training manual and trying out some of the exercises. He was purple from the effort.’
‘Men do funny things at this age,’ said Ginny dryly.
‘Talking of work, has Barry had any luck yet?’ asked Mrs Farrant.
Ginny shrugged. ‘Haven’t you heard? He has bought a van which he drives round town selling soup in polystyrene cartons. And don’t you dare laugh!’
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ said Mrs Banerji. ‘Those industrial estates are miles from the shops and who wants to live on sandwiches all day?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Ginny. She took another sip of wine. ‘Chelsea doesn’t think much of it.’
‘When did kids ever think much of what their parents try to do?’ said Mrs Banerji. ‘At least this Oliver! thing seems to be occupying them pretty well.’
Ruth nodded. ‘We haven’t had a crisis or a tantrum for four whole days. This half-term could turn out to be the most peaceful yet.’
Which when you consider it, was a rather reckless thing to say.
Chapter Forty-Two
Half-term High
It had been Sandeep’s birthday on Saturday and the Banerjis had taken him out for a pizza with some of his schoolmates in the evening.
Driving home from the restaurant, Sandeep poked Sumitha in the ribs.
‘Look,’ he said.
‘Oh, what is it, pain?’ muttered Sumitha, who after three hours in the company of seven juveniles had had enough.
Sandeep pointed.
On the pavement, outside the Contrary Cockerel, was Bilu.With his arms round a girl. Sumitha gasped.
There had to be an explanation. She was Bilu’s girlfriend. He’d said so.
Mrs Banerji had seen Bilu too. She was about to make a comment but thought better of it. She would just have to keep an even more careful eye on things than before. Bilu, it seemed, was not quite as pure as everyone seemed to believe.
Chapter Forty-Three
Jemma Gets a Date
On Monday, Jemma received the long awaited call from Rupert, who it seemed, had been ill after all - with glandular fever.
‘I’ve still got a few days before I’m allowed back to school,’ he said, ‘and I thought, well, I mean, would you like to go and see the new Spielberg film?’
‘Yes, that would be great,’ said Jemma, tucking the telephone under her chin and hugging her knees with excitement. ‘When?’
‘Tonight?’ said Rupert. ‘Father’s got to go to some Masonic do in Leehampton so he’ll pick you up and drop us off at the cinema.’
‘Great,’ said Jemma. It had happened. She’d been invited out by a boy.
Jemma spent three hours emptying the contents of her wardrobe on to the floor and bemoaning the fact that she had nothing to wear. In the end she settled for a pair of black trousers and a pink T-shirt. It was the first time she had dared to go out without a baggy sweater down to her knees but she had lost nearly a stone in weight and thought she might just risk it.
‘Only another stone to go,’ she told herself, ‘and I’ll be bearable.’
Her mother, meanwhile, was intent on giving Jemma a little pep talk.
‘Now Jemma, you haven’t been out with a boy before,’ she began. ‘Not that Rupert of course would ever put a foot wrong - such a nice family - but even so, you must remember that you are a girl and he is a boy.’
‘You don’t say, Mum,’ said Jemma. ‘You amaze me.’
‘Don’t be rude, dear,’ said her mother. ‘Just treat him like a friend - after all, you are too young for boyfriends. And with Sir William picking you up and bringing you back, I suppose everything will be all right.’
‘Mum, we are going to see a film, not take part in an orgy,’ said Jemma. Her mother glared at her and went off to vacuum the entire house, repot the hanging basket in the front porch and mow the lawn.
‘Mum, Rupert’s dad is only picking me up, not bringing a guided tour through the place,’ said Jemma, as the doorbell rung later.
Mrs Farrant eyed Jemma up and down. ‘You’re getting thin, darling - I must get you a bottle of tonic.’
People were noticing. She was in heaven. ‘I’m fine, Mum,’ said Jemma. ‘Just losing all that puppy fat.’
Mrs Farrant nodded in acceptance, and opened the front door.
Rupert stood on the doorstep, grinning broadly.
‘Now isn’t this nice?’ gushed Jemma’s mum. ‘I was just saying to Jemma, it’s so nice to feel that she is going out with such a suitable sort of lad, although of course she’s much too young to have a boyf-’
‘MUM!’ hissed Jemma. When would she ever learn?
When they reached the Point Eight cinema, Rupert bought a huge bag of caramel popcorn which he insisted on sharing with Jemma. Of course, the diet was very firm about popcorn, but Jemma simply took handfuls and gradually let the kernels fall to the floor. Halfway through the film, Rupert took Jemma’s hand. It was cold and clammy but after all, thought Jemma, at least a boy was holding her hand and that had to be a step in the right direction.
As they piled out of the cinema, Rupert said, ‘Let’s get a coffee while we wait for my father.’
They collected their cappuccinos and sat by the window.
Rupert’s eyes seemed fixed on a point midway between Jemma’s chin and her waistline. She felt somewhat uncomfortable.
‘So where do you go to school, then?’ she asked, in an effort to shift his attention.
‘Framchester College,’ said Rupert. ‘I’m a weekly boarder. Four generations of Kentigan-Frys have been educated there, you know. My great-grandfather was the first and he went on to be captain of cricket - and then …’
‘That’s nice,’ said Jemma, who hadn’t counted on a potted history of his family tree.
‘Where do you go - Hendon Hall? Quinton Gate?’ Rupert named a couple of what Jemma’s father termed rearing grounds for the mindless aristocracy.
‘No, Lee Hill,’ said Jemma. ‘I started there when we moved up from Brighton last summer
.’
‘Lee Hill?’ said Rupert in amazement. ‘The grotty comprehensive?’
‘It’s not grotty,’ she said crossly. ‘It’s great.’
‘But a comprehensive? Don’t you get some awfully dire types there?’
‘Not all comprehensives are peopled with druggies scrawling graffiti on the walls, you know,’ she said. ‘I’ve got some really good friends there.’
‘All the same, gorgeous girl like you …’
Jemma was slightly mollified. No one had called her gorgeous before. And the diet wasn’t even over yet.
Rupert stretched his hand across the table and took hers.
‘Look, my parents are giving a bit of a do for my sister Sophie - her eighteenth birthday. Course, the proper bash isn’t till Christmas when Victoria - that’s my other sister - gets back from her year in Switzerland, and there’ll be a dance - you know the sort of thing.’
He spoke as if people went hurtling off to balls every few days.
‘Anyway, Sophie wanted something on the day, so there’s going to be a family supper party at the house in a couple of weeks time. Pa said it might be fun for you to come along as my partner. You could meet my mother as well.’
He looked at her earnestly through his specs.
I’ve been asked out twice in one week, thought Jemma. I must lose another half stone by then.
Chapter Forty-Four
Jemma Gets Roped In
Jemma couldn’t wait to tell someone all the details of her date with Rupert and the upcoming ball. First thing the following morning she was on the phone to Laura.
‘But Laura, what shall I wear?’ she pleaded, after giving a run down of what he said and what he wore and how he seemed to really fancy her - and leaving out the bit about the clammy hands. ‘I really need your advice - I told Mum about the invitation and she actually suggested cutting down one of her old cocktail frocks for me. Can you imagine?’
Laura giggled.
‘Yes, but I don’t like what I see! Anyway I was about to phone you,’ she continued, ‘I want to ask you a favour. Are you free this evening?’
‘Yes, I guess so,’ said Jemma, ‘Why?’
Laura told her.
‘Do you really think that’s wise?’ asked Jemma.
‘Yes, of course it is - I’ve checked it out,’ said Laura. ‘Pleeeease, Jemma - Mum and Melvyn are going to some stupid film about childbirth and I need to do it while they are out. Pleeeeeease. Tell you what - you say yes and this afternoon, before we start, we could cycle over to Boughton and suss out the place.’
‘OK,’ said Jemma, ‘if you’re sure. I mean, I don’t think it’s really necessary. And what if it doesn’t work?’
‘It will, it has to,’ said Laura. ‘See you about three o’clock - but not a word to Mum.’
Chapter Forty-Five
Bilu Makes Plans
Bilu only had three days for half-term, and he was spending them with the Banerjis. Truth to tell, he was a bit miffed that none of the guys at school had asked him to their homes. Sumitha’s family were very charming and all that, but so provincial and he was bored rigid.
Chitrita was out teaching English to a load of idiot women, Rajiv was at the hospital and Sumitha had gone to sort out her costume for that dumb school play. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on Sandeep till Chitrita got back. Who did they think he was? Some sort of unpaid babysitter? He wanted something exciting to happen, but that was unlikely round here. Even though Mr Banerji agreed to him taking Sumitha out, they had to say it was to a film or the skating rink. If only he could take her somewhere really exciting, show her that there was more to life than Daddy’s rules. He needed to get her to unwind and she wouldn’t do that surrounded by her friends at some stupid juvenile club. He would just have to make it happen. And Sam Bonner’s party next Friday might just be the chance. Now there was a thought. If only he could swing it. He could get out of this boring hole - and get Sumitha just where he wanted her.
He started some careful planning.
Chapter Forty-Six
Talking Man to Man
While Bilu was working out a plan of action, Jon was wondering how to broach the all-important subject with his father. They were at the driving range attached to the golf club and Henry had been going on about grips and swings and keeping shoulders still for what seemed like ages.
‘This is thirsty work, Dad - can we go for a drink?’ asked Jon.
‘Good idea,’ said Henry, and they headed for the club house.
While they were waiting for their drinks, Henry spotted a friend.
‘Archie, old chap, let me introduce you to my son, Jon.’
Archie was a corpulent man with a fascinating collection of chins and eyebrows like scrubbing brushes.
‘Oh, this is the famous Jon - we’ve heard all about you. You’re going to take the art world by storm, I gather,’ he boomed.
Jon blushed. ‘Well, I don’t know about that …’
‘Oh, yes, very talented, my boy,’ said his father, picking up his bitter and Jon’s Coke and manoeuvring them on to a table. ‘Gets it from the wife, you know - she’s shortly to open her own design consultancy.’
‘Really?’ said Archie.
That’s news to me, thought Jon.
‘Oh yes. Of course, she’ll need a lot of backing from me and I shall handle all the business side for her - she may be artistic, but lousy with figures. But then, women are, aren’t they?’
Archie and Henry had a mutual titter over the shortcomings of the female sex and then Archie waddled off to regale some other poor unfortunate with his eagle at the 11th.
When they had settled at a table, Jon said, ‘Dad, what’s all this about you helping Mum? I mean, I know she’s had the odd idea about running a business one day, but I didn’t think you were that keen on her doing this course, never mind making a career of it.’
Henry took a swig of his beer.
‘Well, I can’t say I was over the moon at the idea at first, but she has a talent. Of course, I spotted it ages ago, you know, but you can’t force these things. No, I’ve not said much yet, but with someone like me behind her, she could do very well, advising home owners on style, doing up country homes, that sort of thing.’
‘But this course, Dad,’ said Jon, ‘Doesn’t it bother you? Her spending time with all these guys from college?’ Jon was careful to emphasise the word guys.
‘Oh, well, your mum has always been the gregarious type,’ said Henry, apparently missing the point. ‘Gets on with everyone. I was like that once,’ he added wistfully, ‘till my life became nothing but work, work and more work. But that’s got to change. And your mother’s little enterprise could be just the thing to pay for all those little extras.’
Jon sipped his Coke thoughtfully.
‘Jon,’ said his dad suddenly, ‘do you think I look - well, do I look old for my age?’
Jon looked up in surprise.
‘I’ve never thought about it,’ said Jon. ‘No, I don’t think so. You look about fifty and that’s what you are.’
Henry sighed. ‘But I’m overweight,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ agreed Jon.
‘Oh,’ said his father who had been hoping for a staunch denial.
‘You could always get fit, though,’ said Jon. ‘Join a gym, get a tailor-made fitness programme.’
It was then he had his flash of inspiration. ‘Tell you what, Dad, why don’t we both go? We could do it at the weekends and one night a week. Come on.’
This could be just what they needed, him and Jon, thought Henry.
‘You don’t mind?’ said Henry. ‘Being seen there with your old dad?’
‘No, it’d be cool,’ said Jon. And if we get you in trim, Mum might stop lusting after college students so much, he thought to himself.
Chapter Forty-Seven
How the Other Half Live
‘It’s massive!’ gasped Jemma, as she and Laura jumped off their bikes a few yards short of the entranc
e to Boughton Hall. ‘I can’t go to a do there - they probably all wear tiaras and have servants and …’
‘Get real - of course you can go!’ said Laura. ‘And tell me every detail. It can go in the novel. My heroine, Lady Lavinia, has just fallen in love with Jonquil Descartes - I could have them living somewhere like this after the wedding, and they can discover it’s haunted, and then Lady Lavinia can have a horrific accident …’
‘Laura!’ Jemma laughed. ‘We are supposed to be sorting my social life, not writing your blockbuster. What shall I wear?’
‘Oh, it won’t be that grand,’ said Laura airily, as though she attended formal dinners every day of her life. ‘I reckon a silvery satin slip dress with strappy sandals and a choker - yes, that’d be good.’ She eyed Jemma up and down. ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight, haven’t you?’
Jemma couldn’t have been happier if David Beckham had kissed her. Someone else had noticed.
‘Come on, let’s get back and do my hair,’ said Laura, jumping on her bike and pedalling like fury off up the hill.
Jemma followed, panting hard. She was sure this hill was steeper than it used to be. There was a nasty buzzing in her ears and her legs felt like jelly. Luckily, at the top of the hill, Laura stopped for a swig of orange juice from the bottle in her saddlebag.
‘Just think what it must be like to live in a place like that,’ panted Jemma as she took a swig offered by Laura.
Which was just what Laura was thinking. There was Rupert Kenty-whatever swanning about in that mansion, while she, Laura Turnbull, was stuck in some miserable semi in a godforsaken close in town with a pregnant mother and her moronic lover. Fate could be very cruel.
Chapter Forty-Eight
In Pursuit of Beauty
That evening, after Laura’s mum and Melvyn had left for the film, Laura and Jemma grabbed a handful of towels from the airing cupboard and ensconced themselves in the bathroom.
I Think I'll Just Curl Up and Die Page 9