She supposed she was really one of the lucky ones. After all, she had Mrs Bishop; she had John and Karen; she had a couple of hours of freedom every morning and a night off every week. There were a lot of people in her situation who had no support at all. She knew of one woman in Port Mahon who had had to care for her husband for ten years. She had done it all by herself as she had no family to rely on and her husband had been terribly abusive to her. The poor woman had died of a heart attack, and the husband was still alive in a home. He was well into his eighties but he had the constitution of an ox. Imagine if her mother lived into her eighties! She could have years like this ahead of her. Cassie shuddered to think about it.
Stop it, she ordered herself, as she stood under a hot shower, washing off the sweat of her exertions. But the blues would not lift and she dreaded the thought of going home. She dressed and collected her belongings, smiling goodbye at a girl she had spoken to in the gym earlier on.
‘Hello!’ said a vaguely familiar voice at her side. She turned to see her Welsh neighbour walking down the corridor beside her.
David Williams had gone to the gym feeling very pleased with himself. The chapter that had caused him so much trouble had been completed at three o’clock that morning and the end of the book was in sight. Another six weeks’ hard work should do it. Of course the manuscript would have to be edited, typeset and proofread, but the worst would be over. Then he’d be off on the publicity trail. The celebrity launch, TV talk-shows, newspaper and magazine interviews, signing sessions, the whole palaver. Criss-crossing the UK, and then a repeat of the whole thing in the USA and Canada. It was hard work, no doubt about it, and once he had completed the Thatcher biography he was going to review his options. Still, today he felt good and he had enjoyed his workout.
After his divorce, he had let himself go. With lots of booze and living on take-aways he’d put on two stone in no time. After buying the cottage in Port Mahon, he had turned his back on his old life. Now he took plenty of exercise, ate properly and didn’t bother much with booze. A couple of pints now and again, but no hard stuff. He hadn’t felt so well in years!
He had been on the rowing-machine when he noticed the Jordan girl arriving. He could see the strain etched on her face. She was in terrific shape, though, he observed, admiring her long tanned legs and her shapely figure in a pink leotard. She had been lost in a world of her own for her entire workout and had not noticed him at all. He felt a little put out, for some reason. What did he care whether she noticed him or not? He wasn’t interested in women any longer, he told himself sternly.
He had a relationship of sorts with a woman from the PR firm who handled his books. Carla was a lovely, go-getting woman who was advancing up the ladder of success at a great rate. A husband and children did not figure in her dreams and in that respect she and David were perfectly matched. She always accompanied him on his publicity tours. They had been attracted to each other and had started an affair on a publicity trip to Edinburgh. It was very pleasant and suited their needs perfectly. When David was in London they got together, and occasionally she flew over to Ireland for a weekend. It was undemanding for both of them and that was what they wanted – so why was he feeling miffed because he hadn’t been noticed by a complete stranger, albeit a very attractive stranger? ‘Keep rowing, Williams!’ he muttered, taking his eyes off the woman in the pink leotard and putting his all into his rowing exercises.
It was just by chance that they both came out of the shower-rooms together. Again, she didn’t appear to notice him. She strode down the corridor and before he knew it, he had lengthened his stride to catch up with her and found himself saying hello.
‘Oh! Oh hello!’ Cassie came out of her reverie.
‘How’s your mother?’ her neighbour was asking her.
Cassie grimaced. ‘Not the best,’ she admitted.
‘She didn’t catch cold, did she?’ he asked in concern.
‘Oh no, nothing like that. It’s just . . . it’s just that she’s a bit restless . . .’ She couldn’t really say that her mother was driving her round the twist at the moment.
‘I see,’ the Welshman murmured. Cassie looked at him, really looked at him and noticed him. She had been too occupied with her mother to do so the day he had brought her home from her escapade on the beach.
He was in his forties, she guessed, of medium height, a head taller than she was. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans and she could see the well-developed muscles of his chest and arms. His face was tanned. He had a good strong jawbone, a nice straight nose, a firm well-shaped mouth and the clearest, bluest eyes she had ever seen. He wore his greying hair cut short and it suited him.
‘I’m David Williams, by the way. We’ve never been formally introduced.’
Cassie smiled as she felt her hand taken in a firm grip. ‘And I’m Cassie Jordan. Thank you for looking after Mam the other day.’
‘It was nothing at all. I’m sorry to hear she’s not too well. You must find the going very tough sometimes.’
The genuine sympathy in his voice was Cassie’s undoing. To her absolute horror, a lump as big as a melon rose to her throat and tears welled up in her eyes. Bowing her head, she managed to mutter, ‘Yes, yes . . . I must go now.’ She turned away, mortified at her behaviour. Imagine bursting into tears in front of a perfect stranger. She knew her hormones were awry but this was a bit much. She was going to live on vitamin B6 and evening primrose oil from now on.
‘I’m terribly sorry. Please don’t rush away like that. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ David hurried along beside her, his face creased with concern.
‘Oh, no, I’m sorry. It’s not you. Please don’t think that,’ Cassie sniffed, desperately trying to regain her composure.
‘Maybe you’d like to have a cup of tea and talk about it. It helps just to talk sometimes,’ she heard him say sympathetically. Cassie stopped short, and blinked the tears away from her eyes.
‘Not at all, David, I’m fine. Things just got a bit on top of me today for some reason. I don’t usually carry on like this.’
‘Of course you don’t,’ he smiled, and Cassie noticed that the smile made his eyes crinkle up and his face seem very kind.
‘I’ll tell you, there were a few days last week that I felt exactly like you do,’ David joked, ‘and if someone had asked me to go for a cup of tea and offered to listen to my woes, I’d have gone like a shot! Come on,’ he said persuasively. ‘I’d only be worrying about you if you went home like this and it would interfere with my creative processes. So, really, I’m being quite selfish.’
Cassie laughed. She liked his sense of humour, and, despite the fact that they were virtual strangers and she had just disgraced herself by bawling in front of him, she felt very comfortable in his company.
‘Well, I suppose I couldn’t have that on my conscience,’ she agreed. ‘But I look a sight, I’m not really dressed up for going for tea.’ She was wearing jeans, worn sneakers and a lemon T-shirt.
‘You look fine,’ he said, as they continued down along the corridor.
They emerged on to Main Street, and he quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘The Port Mahon Arms, The Sea View, Tum Tum’s, Mrs Hardy’s teashop? Where would you like to go?’ Before Cassie could reply she heard a plummy voice and her heart sank. Mrs Carter, the gossip to beat all gossips, was bearing down on her.
‘Good morning, Cassie, and how are you? I haven’t seen you since you came home. And how is poor Nora keeping? It’s a very sad thing.’
‘Hello, Mrs Carter. Mam’s fine, thank you,’ Cassie said crisply.
‘Aren’t you lucky all the same that you have Mrs Bishop to help out, so you can get to your keep-fit with Mr Williams here?’ Mrs Carter smiled coquettishly.
Cassie was speechless. David, standing slightly behind Mrs Carter, tried to keep the amusement off his face. She turned her attention to David. ‘I suppose you feel the need some days to get out from behind your typewriter.’
‘Oh indeed,’ he
agreed. ‘I like coming into town; you meet some real characters.’ Mrs Carter looked slightly affronted at this. She wasn’t quite sure but she felt she had just been insulted.
‘Yes, well, good morning to you both!’ she sniffed a touch frostily, and carried on down Main Street with her nose in the air. Bloody foreigners buying into Port Mahon. Why couldn’t they stay wherever they belonged? Characters indeed. And that Jordan one was no better than him, with her high-and-mighty airs. Sure, the whole town knew Nora Jordan was gone senile. I was only enquiring after her health, she thought self-righteously, as she spotted the bank manager’s wife and waved at her. Just wait until Lizzie heard about Cassie Jordan and the Welsh writer! She’d be amazed. Thrilled with her scoop, Mrs Carter crossed the street to impart the exciting details to the town’s second biggest gossip!
‘It’s a pity,’ said David, as he watched Mrs Carter march down the street, ‘that I’m not writing fiction, I’d get plenty of material from the likes of her.’
Cassie laughed. ‘That’s funny – I had exactly the same thought about you the other day. You do realize it will be all over Port Mahon that we were seen coming out of the “keep fit” club together!’
‘And if we have tea in any of the hostelries, our reputations will be ruined. You’ll just have to come back to my place, and when news of that gets out there’ll be wigs on the green!’
‘I’ve got my bike with me,’ Cassie said.
‘No problem. I’ll dump it in the back of the station-wagon.’ He indicated a somewhat battered red Peugeot that was parked just down the road. ‘That’s if you want to come, of course,’ David added.
‘That would be very nice, David, thanks,’ Cassie smiled. ‘Whenever I go anywhere in town, everybody wants to know about Mam. I know they mean well but it gets a bit wearing.’
‘Well, that’s settled then. How would you fancy a few potato-cakes, I’ll get some from the bakery; they’re second to none.’
‘Mmm,’ grinned Cassie, who was beginning to feel more cheerful. After being stuck at home for the past few months, seeing just the same old faces, it was nice to meet someone new and interesting.
‘Don’t expect too much of the cottage,’ David warned as they drove along the sea road with her bike in the back and a bag of fresh potato-cakes on her lap. ‘I’ve done very little with it since I moved in, I’ve been too busy writing. One of these days I must get down to it.’
‘You could do so much with it,’ Cassie enthused as she looked around the small cottage. ‘I love Agas!’ she exclaimed, when she saw the gleaming stove in the kitchen. Already she was working out designs and décor in her head. ‘This kitchen would be lovely done in pine and if you had terracotta tiles on the floor, it would look very rustic, very Mediterranean.’
‘That sounds nice,’ David agreed as he cut some brown bread, heated up the potato-cakes and placed pickles, beetroot and a variety of cheeses on the table outside the back door.
‘Don’t go to any trouble!’ Cassie protested.
‘It’s no trouble. I always eat a bit of lunch at this hour of the day and the brown bread is fresh.’
‘It’s gorgeous!’ Cassie declared five minutes later, as she tucked in. David had poured her a glass of wine and, feeling utterly decadent and to hell with the worldish, she was enjoying it. He was very easy to talk to and she could listen to his beautiful accent forever. As they ate the simple but delicious repast, they chatted freely, and Cassie found herself telling him about her mother and how she had yelled at her, about Barbara and how angry she was with her. It was a relief to talk and he was a very good listener.
‘Lordy, I’m telling you all my secrets. It’s a good job you’re not writing fiction,’ Cassie said, a little embarrassed. Then she laughed when she realized that she had repeated David’s own remark almost exactly.
David’s eyes crinkled up in a smile. ‘I might write your biography one day though, and your sister might not like it!’
‘Oh she doesn’t mean it. Barbara never stops to think!’ Cassie said hastily, afraid she had been too disloyal about her sister.
‘I don’t know how you keep sane at all,’ David remarked as he poured Cassie another glass of red wine. ‘If my father had gone like your mother I’m not sure that I would have coped. Danielle, my ex-wife, took her father into our home a few weeks before he died and I spent a lot of time with him, but it was only for three weeks or so and I was quite wrecked after it. I couldn’t write at all. You must make sure that the rest of your family take on their responsibilities too,’ he said gently. ‘You don’t want to get burnt out.’
‘I know,’ she agreed, thinking to herself that it was easier said than done.
They sat under the shade of a glorious honeysuckle, eating their meal, sipping their wine and watching the sun sparkling on the sea. ‘I was going to go swimming!’ Cassie said, patting her full stomach. ‘I feel like such a glutton. That bread was lovely and I’ve eaten half the loaf.’ She glanced at her watch and shot out of the chair. ‘Cripes, it’s nearly three o’clock,’ she exclaimed. ‘Mrs Bishop will think I’m lost and you’ve missed a morning’s writing.’
‘Oh, but I’ve enjoyed myself.’ David stretched as he stood up. ‘I’ll spend the rest of the day writing.’
‘I think I’ll do a design for your kitchen. That would give me something to do. I love planning new rooms.’ She had told him about her experience in interior design.
‘Do that! I’ll frame it. It will be a Cassie original,’ David smiled as he got her bike out of the back of the car. ‘Are you capable of cycling, seeing as you’re under the influence, or will I drive you home?’ he teased.
‘Not at all, I’ll freewheel down the hill. It’s only a pity Mrs Carter won’t be here to see it,’ Cassie laughed, getting on her bike. She held out her hand. ‘David, thank you for lunch, I enjoyed it. I hope I didn’t moan too much.’
‘You didn’t moan at all and I enjoyed it too. I’ll tell you what. If I set myself a goal of a chapter completed by this day next week and achieve it, would you come for lunch again after the gym?’ he asked, as he shook her hand. ‘It would be a great help to me because I’d have something to look forward to, so I’d make myself work?’
Cassie’s eyes twinkled. ‘Only if you get your chapter finished by then!’
‘Right, and you’ve got to have your design done.’
‘OK,’ Cassie smiled as she got up on her bike and cycled towards the gate, with David’s cocker spaniel running beside her just like Spock in the old days.
‘You don’t look too unsteady from here. I’ll see you this week in the gym.’ David stood watching her as she cycled on to the road and took off down the hill.
She turned for a second and waved and he waved back and then she set her face against the breeze and cycled down towards the bungalow, feeling extraordinarily refreshed and energized. It had been such an unexpected encounter. She was dying to get to work on the design of David’s kitchen, and she was looking forward to this day next week. Whatever happened at home, she’d have that to look forward to. And Laura was coming over to spend a day with her next week as well, as she had some leave to take and wanted to visit her own mother in Port Mahon.
She must telephone Martin about getting the central heating installed before the winter, she decided, as she walked to the shed and put her bike in. She was afraid of Nora with the fire. God knows what she might do with herself. It shouldn’t be too much of a job to convert from back-boiler to oil and Nora had more than enough money in the bank to cover the expense. As her guardian, Cassie would have access to the money to pay for the conversion. It would be nice getting up to a warm house in the mornings and not having to light the fire to get the heat going. She’d phone Martin this minute!
Nora was sitting under the oak tree watching the seagulls circle a trawler. She looked old and tired and Cassie felt a terrible guilt rise up in her for the way she had yelled at her that morning.
‘I’m sorry, Mam, I really am. I love
you very much!’ Cassie sat down beside her mother and hugged her tightly. Nora, content to be held within the circle of her daughter’s arms, sat quietly gazing into the distance.
David cleared up the dishes after lunch and shook his head. He had really surprised himself today. Several times! Being miffed because Cassie had not noticed him, deliberately catching up with her so he could say hello and then asking her up to the cottage for tea, a tea that had turned into a long, lazy lunch.
He wasn’t used to strange females bursting into tears in front of him and he thought he had handled the matter very well. Asking Cassie to have a cup of tea was the least he could do. It was quite obvious that the poor girl was under enormous stress. And no wonder! Some of the things her mother got up to were incredible. The sister, Barbara, sounded like something else. He had read a few of her columns in The Irish Mail, courtesy of Mrs Kelly, and thought they were hilarious. Mrs Kelly told him that Barbara was a celebrity now and wouldn’t give Port Mahon the time of day. She didn’t have much time for her mother either, it seemed. And as for the one in America, although Cassie hadn’t said much about her, David sensed that she was even less helpful than the so-called celebrity.
He liked Cassie, he had to admit. She was good company and he enjoyed her sense of humour. She’d got really animated about the cottage and it would be interesting to see what designs she came up with. David didn’t invite many people to his home and he hadn’t enjoyed a meal so much in ages. Next week he’d cook one of his specialities, a pasta dish. He enjoyed cooking for company and it would certainly give him the incentive to complete his chapter on time. Whistling to himself, he dried the last dish and strode into his study, sat down at his word processor and began to write.
Finishing Touches Page 43