by J J Marsh
Philly clutched Tanya’s arm and peered past her to look at Gabriel. “I adore her already. I may cry before the night is done. Harris, put that down, you filthy beast! Come along, my dears, before that useless man buggers up the fish.”
On the patio stood a portly grey-haired man wearing an apron and brandishing a pair of barbecue tongs at the wolfhounds. “Here you are!” He dropped the tongs onto the table and opened his arms. “Gabriel Shaw, let me look at you. Heavens above, my godson, a married man! I feel ancient. First things first, introduce me to your beautiful bride.” He embraced Gabriel with real affection and Tanya found she was smiling.
“You don’t look ancient,” said Gabriel. “You look better than ever. Hoagy, this is Tanya, my wonderful wife. Tanya, meet my godfather, Alexander Moffatt, known to his friends as Hoagy.”
Tanya held out a hand which he took and lifted to his lips. “Charmed, Tanya, quite charmed to meet you, dear girl. I’m so sorry I couldn’t attend your wedding, but I don’t travel, you see. I’m doing my best to become a hermit. Tonight we’ll celebrate the occasion all over again with cava and plenty of it! Philly, bring these people an aperitif and you may as well top mine up whilst you’re there. Have a seat, Tanya, I need to keep an eye on the fish.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Moffatt. Thank you so much for the use of your cottage.”
“Hoagy, please. It’s only solicitors who call me Mr Moffatt. Gabriel, tell me all about your mother. Is she well? Is she happy you married such a delightful woman?”
As the two men conversed beside the barbeque, Philly placed a tray of glasses on the table and sat opposite Tanya. “Chin, chin, my dear” she said, raising her Long Island Iced Tea. “We’re family now. I hear you have a little boy. How old is he?”
“Seven. His name is Luke. Along with my dad, he was sort of best man at the wedding. He made a speech and everything.” To her astonishment, her eyes prickled with tears. She had seen Luke only yesterday morning and spoken to him that afternoon, but still.
“You miss him,” said Philly, her eyes soft. “I understand. When my husband left me and my daughter, we became each other’s entire worlds. Never spending a day apart until the custody agreement. He took her every other weekend and those forty-eight hours were absolute torture.”
Tanya pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s it. Most of the time I worry about how much he needs me, but sometimes I think it’s the other way around.”
Philly took a long draught of her cocktail. “All the times you pick up their toys, their shoes and dream of having some time to yourself. Then when it happens?”
“I know! Don’t get me wrong, I’m deliriously happy to be alone with Gabe. I love the freedom, the lack of responsibility and I know Luke’s being spoilt rotten by the rest of the family. It’s just, you know, not being able to kiss him good night, smell his hair, I ...”
Philly passed her a tissue and Tanya patted the corner of her eyes, sniffing.
“Hellfire and damnation, woman, you’ve already made her cry?” Hoagy boomed. “What the devil did you put in her drink?”
In a second, Gabriel was by her side. “Tanya? Are you OK?”
“She’s fine! Tanya and I are bonding over shared experiences, that is all. Unlike the testicularly challenged, women find it perfectly acceptable to express emotion. Gabriel, here’s your aperitif. As for you, you interfering old windbag, just concentrate on not burning the bloody fish.”
“The fish is nearing perfection, light of my life, star in my firmament. Fetch the salad and the bread, give Romy a call and let’s eat! Pass my glass before you go, would you?”
Tanya gave Gabriel a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand. “I was telling her about Luke, that’s all,” she murmured. “It just hit me how much I miss him.”
“Me too.” Gabriel bent to kiss her lightly on the lips.
Philly shooed the dogs out of the way and placed a wooden bowl the size of a coracle in the centre of the table. The salad, fresh and colourful, was enough to feed ten people. She pulled a baguette from the crook of her arm and a bottle of salad dressing from her pocket.
“We thought cava to start unless you prefer wine? Harris? Harris! Where’s Romy? Where’s Romy? Go fetch! Fetch Romy!” The wolfhound paced away into the garden. “Good dog! So? Fizz all round? Gabriel, would you open these for me, darling boy?” She produced two bottles of unlabelled wine.
Tanya was watching Gabriel uncork the cava so didn’t see the new arrival until she was halfway across the lawn. Like a dancer, she moved with feather-light grace, brushing past shrubs and beneath overhanging branches, the dog following in her footsteps. Her white dress was as thin and floaty as tissue paper and her feet were bare. Blonde hair fell in waves around her face as she picked her way up the patio steps.
Hoagy stopped in the midst of placing a platter piled high with fish on the table to stare at the girl with open admiration.
Philly tipped her head at the new arrival. “Romy, come say hello to our guests. This is Gabriel, Hoagy’s godson and this is Tanya, his brand new wife. Tanya, Gabriel, this is Romy.”
Her large blue eyes glossed over them both. She waggled a pale hand, like a child being told to wave goodbye. “Hello, Gabriel. Hello, Tanya.”
Tanya waved back. “Hello. Nice to meet you.” She was the most startlingly beautiful girl, with a heart-shaped face and golden skin, and such fabulous hair she could have walked out of a shampoo commercial.
“Hello, Ronnie,” said Gabriel, half out of his chair, hand extended.
The girl didn’t look at him, picking at her fingernails. “Romy. Short for Rosemary.” Her voice lifted at the end of each phrase, as if she was asking a question.
Philly looked up from the glass she was pouring. “Dig in, one and all. Romy, are you going to sit down or stand there making the place look untidy? Out of the way, Balfour.”
Romy slid into a chair, stroking the dog’s head. “He says he’s hungry.”
“He’s always bloody hungry. Tanya, help yourself to salad. Now then, a toast. To Gabriel and Tanya, may their lives together be filled with love and happiness!”
Everyone raised their glasses and repeated Philly’s words, clinking their flutes together in the centre. Hoagy drained his glass in one and smacked his lips together.
“Thirsty work, grilling fish. Philly, I’ll take a refill when you’re ready. Buen provecho!”
“Buen provecho,” they replied and began to eat.
The fish was perfect, charred and crispy on the outside, but flaky and sweet on the inside. The salad was a delicious, crunchy balance with warm bread as a crusty accompaniment. Fresh, simple food, beautifully cooked, Tanya’s favourite kind. She complimented Hoagy on his cookery skills.
“Most kind of you to say so. Yet even as I snatch the compliment with both hands, it’s hard to go wrong with ingredients as divine as sea bass caught this morning. Ha! Gabriel, do you remember that time I took you mackerel fishing off the coast at Dawlish?” He grinned at Tanya. “He was only ten years old or so. Poor lad got sick as a dog, while I was up at the bow, throwing myself into the adventure as if I was Hemingway.” He roared with laughter, one hand on his stomach, the other holding his fork.
Less Hemingway and more Henry VIII, thought Tanya. His face, so familiar from Sunday supplement profiles, had a photogenic quality. The deep-set eyes radiated light, which switched from sparkle to laser as the conversation switched from fishing trips to forestry work, rival artists, politics and the merits of Spanish cava versus French champagne. It wasn’t hard to see why so many women had fallen for his charms. At least a decade younger than her husband, Philly joined in the debate, offering unvarnished opinions and much dry wit. Tanya liked them both enormously.
Reluctant to exclude anyone, Tanya tried to draw Romy into the conversation. The girl ate nothing Philly had put onto her plate, just tearing off bits of bread to feed the dogs.
“Not hungry?” she asked, while Gabriel was trying to get Hoagy to te
ll a particular story from his youth. The girl looked up at her, blinking in surprise.
“I am hungry, actually. I’ve had nothing but two bowls of Coco Pops all day. But I don’t eat fish. It disgusts me.”
It seems bizarre that Philly would serve her daughter fish if she had made the choice not to eat it. “Oh, I see. Are you a vegan? Gabriel and I are trying to eat more plant-based food. It just seems a shame not to eat fish when you’re on Mallorca. It’s so fresh.”
Romy reached out a hand and touched Tanya’s earring. “These are pretty. How much did they cost?”
Tanya was taken aback. “I don’t know. They were a present.”
Something attracted the dog’s attention and he bounded down the drive, barking and cavorting with his canine companion. Romy grabbed hold of the cava bottle and topped up her glass until the bubbles flowed over the rim. She bent her head and sucked up the overspill from the tablecloth.
“Romy! Not in front of our guests, please!” Philly said, handing her a napkin.
“I’m hungry,” whined Romy, dropping the napkin onto her plate of uneaten food. “When are we having dessert?”
Hoagy tore off a lump of baguette and pushed the salad bowl towards the girl. “Eat some greens and have some bread. But don’t feed any more to those damned curs. Why don’t you try a piece of this fish? I promise you it’s a trigeminal delight.” He stabbed a piece of fish with his fork and lifted it towards her plate.
She recoiled and pushed his hand away, her bottom lip sticking out like a sulky child. It was difficult to assess the girl’s age, but she had to be in her mid-twenties. Tanya could not understand why they treated her like a truculent teenager. Romy arched back in her chair, clasping her hands behind her head and tilted her face towards the emerging stars. It was impossible not to notice her breasts, pushing at the flimsy material of her dress, nipples pointing skyward. For a moment, no one spoke until Philly broke the moment.
“That reminds me, for dessert we have Rum Babas. Unless anyone prefers cheese?”
Gabriel and Tanya stifled embarrassed laughter while Hoagy clapped cupped palms together in applause, summoning both dogs. Apparently unaware of Philly’s wisecrack, Romy dropped her elbows on the table and lifted a beseeching face as if she were Oliver Twist.
“Rum baba for me, please. Is there any ice cream?” She gave Philly a winsome smile and then seemed to see Gabriel for the first time. “Did Hoagy say you are his godson? He’s never mentioned you before. Keeping you a secret, I see.”
As Philly gathered plates, Tanya stood up to give her a hand. The gesture was driven mostly by good manners, wishing to be a well-behaved guest and partly to escape from the embarrassingly obvious flirtation aimed at her husband.
In the kitchen, she helped load the dishwasher and put the remaining salad in the fridge. She opted for cheese rather than a Rum Baba. She had never been one for a pudding.
“In that case, you dear sweet thing, I’ll join you and we will have a glass of port. We’ll leave the sticky sweet stuff to the men. I wouldn’t mind betting Romy will eat at least three desserts, so they won’t go to waste.” She rummaged around in the fridge. “I have Reblochon, Danish Blue and unless that greedy swine has filched it, a slab of Manchego somewhere. Grab a couple of figs and a pear from the fruit bowl, and we shall dine like queens.”
Tanya obeyed, placing the fruit on the tray. “You and your daughter don’t look alike. Same with me and my son. It’s as if my genes aren’t represented at all, at least in the physical sense.”
“My daughter? Oh, you mean Romy! Didn’t Gabriel explain? No, probably not, things have changed since he was last here. My daughter lives in Houston these days and I rarely see her. No, don’t sympathise, that’s a good thing. She grew up to be a thoroughly unpleasant human being whose sole motivation is judging other people. As you say, one’s genes aren’t represented at all. Don’t tell me that old sot has drunk all the port!” She swanned through a brickwork arch into another room.
Tanya didn’t press the point, concerned she had touched on a sensitive area, but when Philly breezed back from living room with a bottle of port in each hand, she continued her explanation.
“Moral is, only reproduce with the bland. Seeing as Gabriel is extraordinarily handsome, I’d say my advice won’t wash with you, dearest girl. No, Romy is not related. Either to myself or Hoagy, which is a damn good thing. Her role is rather different. She’s his muse.” She placed five desserts on the tray and crossed her eyes at Tanya. “I know. Could we be any more eighteenth century? But he only paints when he’s inspired by an individual. They tend to be females in their twenties, nubile, acquiescent and easily impressed. Romy is the latest in a long line. Shall we go rescue your husband? It’s far too late for mine.”
On the walk back to the cottage, Gabriel’s arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist, they said little, digesting the evening and enjoying the warm breeze blowing in from the sea. At one corner, the vista opened up towards the valley and they stopped to soak in the landscape.
Gabriel’s voice rumbled into her ear. “There’s something special about this place. I don’t how to describe it but it feels good for the soul. Am I being too esoteric?” His arms wrapped around her waist and his stubbled chin rested on her shoulder.
She inhaled the scent of honeysuckle and bougainvillea and basil, wafting on the night air. “It is special. Nothing like I expected. My image was sun, sea, sand and some other stuff beginning with S. This is different, but in a really good way. Tonight was so much fun.”
“They loved you. Who wouldn’t? You were so natural and friendly and fitted right in. I could see he was impressed with your comments on his work. So much more than a pretty face.”
Tanya’s mind flipped back to the studio visit. While Romy was eating her third dessert and pleading with Philly for a glass of port, Hoagy had taken his guests to the inner sanctum, allowing them a preview of his work in progress. Accompanied by the two hairy hounds, they wandered to the end of the garden to the studio, a two-storey stone outbuilding. Inside, canvases leaned against every wall.
Hoagy shut the dogs outside and dialled up the lights to display his work. The focus on his model’s body was hard to overlook. Hoagy painted Romy as she performed her yoga routines, naked. The poses themselves were elegant, graceful and artistic, but exposed the young woman in a way that made Tanya uncomfortable. Not just the personal areas of her body, but the sense of being a voyeur at a private ritual. She hid her awkwardness by asking questions about sketches and motion, how to transfer the fluidity of movement onto a canvas.
He answered in detail, his voice growing more voluble and passionate as he described his method. Upstairs, he showed them Romy’s room, a futon in the centre and windows on each side where she practised each morning. Hoagy captured the magic and took it downstairs to convey it to canvas.
“Yeah, his paintings are striking. I can see why he’s such a big deal in the art world.” She paused, hesitant to express any criticism. Then she reminded herself this was Gabriel, her husband and there should be no secrets. “The whole muse thing, though. Don’t you find that a bit weird?”
He kissed her neck and they began walking down the hill. “Weird, freaky, and if I can get all millennial for a second, TMI.”
A delighted laugh escaped her. “TMI? Too right. I just met the girl so I’d prefer a longer acquaintance before being exposed to her undercarriage.” She intertwined her fingers in his. “The paintings themselves were pretty kinky, but the set-up is what really messes with my head. She lives above his studio, he paints her naked, she has dinner with them both and he toddles off to bed with his wife? Sorry, but WTF?”
“WTAF.” Gabriel unlocked the door to their tiny cottage and kicked off his shoes.
In the kitchen, Tanya stashed the Tupperware full of leftover fish in the fridge. Philly had insisted they take it as they left. “Do you want a nightcap?” she called.
“Herbal tea for me. My stomach is swilling wit
h alcohol. You know, Hoagy’s always been this way. Philly is his third wife and I reckon she might last the distance. She can handle the whole ‘muse’ narrative. Heather always says Hoagy found a way to make infidelity not only acceptable but lucrative.”
“Was your mum ever one of his lovers?” Tanya asked, filling a pan to boil water. “Oh my God, you’re not his illegitimate son, are you?”
Gabriel stretched out on the sofa, yawning like an overfed lion. “Nope. Heather was going through her lesbian phase when she and Hoagy were at Slade. He and my mother were close but in that you-really-get-on-my-tits-but-I’m-looking-out-for-you kind of way. Hoagy had already hit the big time when Heather got pregnant with me. He sent her a five-figure cheque, with a note saying ‘This is your freedom to decide’. So she decided. She chose to go through with the pregnancy and made him my godfather. That’s it.”
“A very decent man. Even if he does paint his lovers’ bits and sell them for obscene amounts of cash. Here’s your tea. Gabe?”
He opened his eyes. “What?”
“Did you fancy her? I mean, I’d understand if you did. Romy is one of those catwalk creatures you cannot believe exist. Luminous, glowing and all the other words they put on the packaging of face creams. She’s got the body of a teenager and thanks to Hoagy’s pictures, you’ve seen what’s under the hood. If I was a bloke, I think I’d fancy the arse off her. I could tell she wanted to jump your bones.”
He sat up to sip his tea. “I’ve seen what’s ‘under the hood’? ‘Jump my bones’? Where do you come up with these expressions? Tanya, I made myself clear when we tied the knot. In my eyes, there’s only ever been one woman I wanted. Cobweb or Mustardseed or whatever she calls herself holds no interest for me. Does that answer your question? Come here.”
Tanya forgot all about her tea.
Also by JJ Marsh
I have also written The Beatrice Stubbs Series, European crime dramas (tap title to buy):