by Fanny Blake
Just at that moment, the french windows opened and the three women turned as Jed came into the kitchen. His hair unbrushed, paint stains on his cheek and fingers, dressed in a faded paint-daubed blue boiler-suit with a couple of brushes in the breast pocket, he nodded at them. ‘Good afternoon, ladies.’ Realising that he was interrupting something private, he put his mug into the dishwasher and disappeared upstairs. They heard the front door open and shut.
Bea looked after him, open-mouthed. ‘Well, Ellen Neill! I’ll be damned. Who the hell was that?’
Chapter 35
A vast grassy meadow sloped away to the valley floor where a white chalk track led through a five-bar gate towards a distant farmhouse. On the south side of the track, woodland rose away into the distance, circling round to encompass the meadow to its east and north sides. Above, just a few wisps of cloud drifted across the clear blue sky.
Over the brow of the meadow, smoke spiralled upwards from two small bonfires a hundred yards apart where two families had set up camp, one with a red motorhome and a canvas tent, the other with a gleaming 4x4 and two bright state-of-the-art dome tents. The barbecue eaten, the adults lay back in their deckchairs. The faint shouts of children playing hide-and-seek emerged from the trees. In the distance, the roar of a dirt bike broke the peace as a boy racer, oblivious to the disturbance he was creating, tore round and round a nearby field before disappearing into the woods. As he reappeared with a roar, just minutes later, the grazing sheep looked up with momentary curiosity, then lowered their heads again, ignoring the lambs frisking by their side or nuzzling for milk.
Into this landscape stepped two walkers. They emerged from a gap in the trees at the height of the meadow before climbing over a stile into the open. They turned round for a moment, as if waiting for someone, then carried on towards the shade offered by a lone oak tree. The one who took the lead was the slighter and fitter-looking of the two. Wearing black trousers, a green T-shirt and sturdy Mendl walking boots, carrying a badly folded Ordnance Survey map in one hand, she covered the distance with a brisk stride, then unknotted a light rain mac from her waist to spread it on the ground. Sitting down, she removed her backpack, unzipped it and pulled out a couple of big bottles of water, two battered bananas and four apples. She unscrewed the blue plastic top from one of the bottles, tipped her head back so her dark bob fell away from her face as she drank, revealing a neat profile. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before balancing the bottle upright on the grass.
Her friend was dressed almost identically except that a red and orange checked shirt replaced the T-shirt. She caught up, sinking onto the grass with no mac to untie and sit on. Her short grey hair gave the immediate impression of a rather older woman when, in fact, she was three years younger. They looked as though this was something they did often, comfortable in each other’s company. She took a swig from the bottle, then started to pull out food from her own backpack: oatcakes, hummus, nuts and raisins, a packet of biscuits.
Finally out of the woods and over the stile came the third member of the party. Every step she took towards her friends spelled EXHAUSTED. Navy-blue shorts that had seen better, looser days and a mint green shirt flapping half open over a maroon T-shirt were further put to shame by the deep green suede walking boots, complete with tan leather trim. Strands of streaked blonde hair stuck to the sweat on her forehead. Her face, pink with exertion, had a determined set as she trudged across the grass to join the others.
‘My feet are killing me,’ Bea groaned, as she plumped herself down beside them. ‘How much further have we got to go?’ She took the map and turned it round, trying to work out where they were on their intended route. ‘Oh, God. I can’t see a bloody thing. I’ve left my reading glasses in the car. I give up.’ She lay back with a great sigh.
‘Mind the hummus, Bea!’ Kate snatched the pot away. ‘If you hadn’t insisted on getting such fancy boots, instead of that pair I suggested, you’d probably be fine. Comfort over colour, every time. Would a Compeed help?’ She rustled in one of the outside pockets of her backpack to produce a bright green packet of blister plasters.
‘I know. I know. But I couldn’t resist these. The colour’s brilliant, you’ve got to admit.’ Bea sat up, tugged off her right boot and started peeling off her sock. Then she took out a plaster to stick on her heel. ‘Thanks. You’re always so organised, Kate. Why can’t I be like you?’
‘Have an oatcake. Water?’ offered Ellen.
‘Is that what you call lunch? Oh, God.’ Bea groaned again. ‘I’d imagined some picturesque country pub with a Michelin-starred chef in the kitchen. It’s the only thing that’s kept me going. Haven’t we even got a bottle of chilled white wine?’
‘If we started drinking now,’ Ellen reproved her, ‘we’d never finish the walk. We’ve got another four or five miles to go and that’s if we take the short-cut through the woods.’
‘Can’t we go back the way we came, then? I’m not sure my legs will hold up.’
‘We’re more than halfway now so we might just as well carry on,’ said Kate. ‘We’ll find a pub next time. Promise. So, have an apple and some water and shut up!’
Knowing she was beaten, Bea did as she was told. The three ate their rations and lay back under the tree, watching the sunlight through the leaves, resting until they felt sufficiently recovered to continue. Ellen and Kate had walked together before and had established their own routine. Out of town, away from their families, they’d always enjoyed the countryside, rain or shine, relishing the physical exertion and the confirmation of their friendship that they found in walking and talking together for uninterrupted hours, going on until they were almost dropping. Bea, confirmed townie and fair-weather walker, only joined them when the weather forecast left her in no doubt.
‘So when are you going back to Africa?’ Ellen broke the silence.
‘Going back? What’s this?’ Bea sat up. ‘The two of you have only just come home.’
‘I know,’ said Kate. ‘But I haven’t had a chance to tell you. I’ve decided to take a sabbatical from the partnership so that Paul and I can join VSO as volunteers.’ She laughed at Bea’s incredulous expression and began to explain. ‘You know how much we got out of our incredible trip to see Sam?’
‘Judging from the number of photos – a lot.’ Bea and Ellen had spent a late March evening poring over them and listening to travellers’ tales straight after Kate and Paul had got home.
‘You only got the edited highlights, pal. Anyway, that’s not the point. We were so inspired by what Sam and his team are doing, we’ve decided that instead of stagnating in our child-free zone, we should do something and see the world at the same time. Not in the same place, of course, but wherever we can be sent in Africa. We’re going to let the house for a year and see where we end up.’
‘What about Jack?’
‘He’s moved out. Got himself a job with a TV production company and a flat in Brockwell Park. He comes home every now and then but he doesn’t really need us any more. So we’re off to see the world.’
‘Good for you.’ Bea clapped. ‘Ellen and I will keep the home fires burning, won’t we? In fact, she’ll probably be masterminding a major gallery by the time you get back.’
‘Steady on,’ Ellen cautioned her. ‘We’ve only just opened up into the top floor. There’s a way to go yet.’
‘From the woman who was never going to work with anyone else,’ teased Bea. ‘And within six months of meeting the guy . . .’
‘I know.’ Ellen sounded almost apologetic. ‘But Jed has been fantastic. Having him on board as a partner in the gallery has meant that I’ve been able to expand. He doesn’t get involved in the day-to-day running of the place but he’s helped me out of a potentially nasty financial spot.’
‘Is that all he’s helping with?’ Bea rolled onto her stomach so she could see Ellen’s face.
‘What are you implying?’ She was definitely blushing.
‘I just thought you might be
dipping your toe in the old romance stakes again,’ Bea teased.
‘Oh, Bea, leave her alone.’ But Kate was smiling.
‘Well, he is a dear man and the children adore him.’ Ellen was thoughtful as she pulled at a blade of grass.
‘Well, that’s half the battle won. What’s stopping you?’
‘I learned my lesson. And I’m still thanking God no lasting harm was done to any of us. We’re taking things very slowly indeed. There’s too much at stake. I’m happy with the way we are – good friends. He’s been such a support since Oliver left.’
‘You haven’t heard from him, have you?’
‘Not a word. And I haven’t tried to find him. Why would I? No, I’m enjoying spending time with someone who likes me for who I am and who isn’t in a hurry.’ Ellen began to repack her backpack. ‘Hadn’t we better get going?’
‘That’s so like you to change the subject.’ Bea laughed. ‘But I’ll be emailing you, Kate, with all the latest developments.’
‘The poor woman won’t dare make a move if you’re keeping an eye on her. Come on, get your boots back on, Bea.’ Kate was already on her feet, squinting into the sun as she looked about for a footpath sign.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Ellen. ‘I’ll be careful, I promise. There’s no way I’ll make the same mistake again.’ She looked pensive as she hoisted her pack onto her back. ‘But I would like to find someone to share things with. I know that now. And perhaps Jed is him. Although I made a terrible mistake, Oliver did show me that I could let someone else into my life. I can’t be the grieving widow for ever. I’ve got a few good years left and I want to make the most of them.’
‘Well said!’ Bea grimaced with pain as she pushed her feet into her boots, tied the laces and, wincing, put her weight on them. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that.’
‘Nor me.’ Kate had turned to face down the hill, route sorted. ‘But I think it’s bloody fantastic. And if Jed’s the one, then good luck to you.’
Ellen walked on to catch up with her, Bea going slower, gingerly testing out the blister plaster behind her.
‘Now all we need to do is find someone for Bea.’
‘No, thanks. I’m very happy with my arrangement with Mark, odd as it may seem to you. We’re keeping our separate places. That works for us. Anyway, I need the other half of my bed for all the manuscripts – I’m never going to get to grips with my e-reader. It’s just not the same.’
‘Haven’t you sorted out an office yet?’ Ellen was only asking about what Bea had promised herself immediately she had negotiated her terms of leaving with Coldharbour. Knowing she was fighting a losing battle with Amanda, she had decided to take Adele’s advice and forge a new path for herself.
‘I haven’t got round to that. Since I took myself out of office life, I’ve been inundated with freelance work – editing, rewriting, even a bit of journalism – so I’ve decided I’m going to set up my own editorial consultancy called Write On, and see how it goes. Thanks to Mum giving me that money when the house was finally sold, I can afford to do it properly and employ someone to help me.’
‘How’s she getting on anyway?’ Kate asked, striding ahead.
‘Happy as Larry. She loves the flat, being there with Janey and her new neighbours. It’s worked out brilliantly.’ Bea stopped, hands on hips, pink-faced. ‘Do you have to walk so fast?’
‘Come on. It’s good for you.’ Ellen and Kate turned and grinned at their friend.
‘So you say,’ she protested, before putting one foot in front of the other to match their pace. ‘And there’s one other thing. You know I went to that chocolate-tasting event I told you about the other night – which incidentally was amazing? Well, I’m going to take a chocolate-making course!’
‘You’re not!’
‘I am. So who knows? Maybe one day I’ll become one of the world’s master chocolatières. Only joking,’ she added, as she saw the surprise on Ellen and Kate’s faces. ‘But I am going to do the course. I’m pursuing my passion, that’s what. How many more miles do we have to go? I honestly don’t think I’ll make it.’
‘Of course you will. But if you’re really worried we could take the short-cut through the woods . . . here.’ Kate ran her finger over the map to show the new route. ‘It seems quite easy.’
‘Looks good to me. Let’s do it.’
An hour later, they stood in a clearing where two paths crossed the one they were on. Beside them, a rack for fire beaters stood empty. Around them ranks of pine trees stretched away in every direction as far as the eye could see. Dried grass, fallen branches and pine cones littered the ground. The daylight couldn’t penetrate the thick interlocking needles so, within a few feet of the trail, there was an eerie near-darkness. The only birdsong they could hear was the guttural squawk and clatter of an occasional pheasant. High above them, the earlier wisps of cloud had built up into greying cumuli that intermittently blew across the sun, stealing the warmth of the day. Bea was holding the map at arm’s length, her left eye shut tight as she attempted to make sense of what she could read with the other.
‘Kate. Where do you think we are?’ She was doing her best not to let her impatience show.
‘Look, we walked into the wood here, took this path straight up the hill, then the third main pathway to the left, so we should be here.’ She pointed at a spot that even Bea could see was on the edge of a field.
‘Well, we’re not, are we? We’re still in the middle of the trees. In fact there are so many paths running through this wretched wood that we could be on any of the crossways. God knows which dotted line we took off the main track.’ She took a few steps up the path to the right of them. ‘This looks more major than the rest. What if we take this?’
The other two agreed, Kate having abandoned the role of leader for the moment and Ellen knowing full well that, once Bea had the bit between her teeth, there was no stopping her. Nonetheless, Bea was surprised, not to say slightly alarmed, that she had so readily assumed responsibility for getting them home. For a moment, her aching thighs and burning heel were forgotten.
Half an hour later, they were still walking, apparently no nearer the road than before. ‘I can’t understand it.’ Bea stopped yet again to squint at the map. ‘I could have sworn the last crossing must be this one, which means that if we followed that dotted line, we should be at the edge of the wood by now.’
‘Let me have a look. You can’t even see properly.’ Ellen had had enough, aware they should never have entrusted Bea with navigating. ‘For God’s sake, Bea, that’s not a track, it’s a county boundary. Heaven knows where we are.’ Hesitating on the edge of panic, she began attempting to retrace their steps from the point they’d entered the wood, knowing that it was impossible to remember every turn they’d taken. ‘This is hopeless, we’ll be wandering around for ever unless we take one direction and keep straight. We’d have to come to the edge of the wood then.’
‘And what if we end up on the wrong bloody side of it? We’ll be miles from the car park.’ Bea’s legs were protesting.
‘We’ll get a taxi or a bus or something back. I don’t know.’
‘Brilliant idea,’ muttered Bea. ‘Those lanes were humming with black cabs – not.’
‘Well, you suggest something, then.’
‘Stop it, you two.’ Kate stepped in. ‘Show me the map again. I’m going to work this out.’ Ellen gladly handed it over. ‘Right. We know the car park’s to the east of the wood so if we walk keeping the sun behind us, we have to hit this road at some point and then it’s only a short road walk to the car.’
‘Why is it that this always happens?’ Bea sat down by the path and rubbed her aching calves.
‘What? Getting lost? It doesn’t always happen, just sometimes.’ Kate smiled down at her. ‘We’re not the best map-readers, that’s all.’ She stuffed the map into Ellen’s backpack.
‘Not the best? We’re hopeless. Are you really abandoning the map altogether to follow the sun?’ By this t
ime, Bea was lying back and laughing. ‘It’s just like life, if you think about it.’
‘Why not?’ Kate began to laugh with her. ‘We’ll find our own way out. It’s got to work. It’s just a matter of common sense.’
Ellen sat down, laughing too. ‘She’s right. Takes longer but who cares? We’ve had a great day out.’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Bea, recovering herself, wincing again at the pain from her blister, then forcing herself to be first up. ‘We’ll get out of here somehow and get home safe in the end. We always do.’
Turn over for an exclusive preview of
Fanny Blake’s new novel
Women of a Dangerous Age
Ebook: 29th March 2012
978-0-00-735940-0
Paperback: 26th April 2012
978-0-00-735913-4
Chapter 1
‘You’re going to India?’ Fiona had sounded as if Lou was about to enter a dark labyrinth: fraught with danger and quite unsuitable.
‘Yes, I am.’ As she spoke, Lou realised that was exactly what she was going to do. Going away would absolve her from all the problems of Christmas at home. She would escape from Hooker, their three children and her match-making friends who seemed to pursue their goal with an untimely and unwelcome fervour. Instead, she would separate the last thirty years of her life from the next thirty by getting out of the country – on her own.
Lou was enjoying for as long as possible the anticipation of the moment when she’d enter the Taj Mahal. Joining the scrum of tourists, she put the cloth overshoes provided for visitors over her functional but deeply unflattering walking sandals and climbed the steps towards the main entrance. Despite people crowding by her as she photographed the intricate inlaid marble-work, the interior was every bit as impressive as she had hoped. She skirted the tourists throwing coins down the steps to the tombs and followed the perimeter of the wall, admiring the detailed workmanship up close, looking up towards the solar motif in the dome. The noise made by schoolchildren experimenting with the echo was deafening. Twenty minutes later she emerged, squinting against the brightness and wishing for the umpteenth time that she hadn’t left her wide-brimmed sun hat and sunglasses in their last hotel, in Jaipur.