‘Leave it for a bit and then I’ll blend it.’
‘I don’t think I have a blender.’
‘Yes you have, look. Sally – why have you got a kitchen full of equipment if you never use it?’
‘I don’t cook, I just heat things up but I can’t resist buying kitchen gadgets. I’ve spent hundreds in a fantastic cook shop I know.’
*
After lunch I went to catch up with some plot ideas while Sally tried to persuade her daughter to go for a walk to the end of the lane.
‘But there’s nothing there,’ Enid said as her mother wrestled her into her coat, ‘just nothing.’
‘There are fields, and sheep and birds and nice clean air,’ Sally said with a touch too much enthusiasm.
‘Can’t we stay in and watch Frozen?’
‘Absolutely not.’
There was then a spirited discussion about what it would take to allow the Frozen DVD out of Sally’s case. They eventually agreed on homework done and an hour’s nature ramble.
They set off with a great deal of noise and fuss from Enid about wellingtons being lame. I escaped into the sitting room with my laptop and listened to the fading sound of mother and daughter arguing as they went up the lane.
With a sigh of relief I addressed the problem of keeping my nubile heroine out of the sweaty clutches of her deputy headmaster. In my imagination he was slowly changing from being a tall, balding redhead, into Benedict’s friend Percy. I thought for a few moments about the many times Percy had been sexist, humourless and creepy and wondered how Benedict was getting on in his search for a new flat. Or perhaps he had settled for sleeping under the swivelling eyes of Percy’s axolotls.
There was a brisk knock at the front door. Followed by a long ring on the doorbell. With a sigh I got up. Surely Sally had thought to take a key? And that definitely wasn’t an hour.
I opened the door.
‘Hello, sweetheart, you won. I couldn’t stay away any longer.’
I watched, mouth gaping with shock as Benedict walked past me lugging a leather holdall that suggested he anticipated a longer visit than just an hour or two.
He turned, dropped his bag and came to give me a hug.
‘There she is! My little Lulabelle, I realised you wouldn’t be the one to bend so I’ve admitted defeat.’ He dropped to one knee in front of me. ‘I’m here to beg your forgiveness. Let’s give it another go. We’ll put all the unpleasantness and the silly squabbles behind us and make some plans for a holiday. Put the kettle on, what do you say?’
Chapter Twenty-One
I was speechless. I stood with my mouth open as Benedict wandered around the sitting room, unwinding his plaid scarf from its complicated metrosexual knot and rolling it around his wrist.
‘This is a nice place, if you like that sort of thing, I suppose,’ he said. He poked about in the bookcases, which of course were full of immaculate hardback books of every genre. He pulled out one on Rameses the Third, flicked a few pages and put it back the wrong way round.
‘So are you having a nice rest? Away from all the hustle of Town?’
I turned the book round the right way and found my voice at last. ‘I’m not resting, I’m working actually.’
He laughed and stood, hands in pockets, looking out of the window; master of all he surveyed. It was very irritating.
‘Nice view,’ he said, ‘lots of grass. I suppose it’s peaceful isn’t it? Nothing too taxing. I suppose that’s what the problem was: you were overtired, you needed a rest.’ He turned round and looked me up and down. ‘You’re looking well anyway, sort of different. Have you done something to your hair? It makes your face look fuller.’
‘This is you trying to butter me up is it? Telling me I’ve put on weight.’
He looked shocked. ‘I didn’t say that. Don’t be so touchy, Lulabelle.’ He came over and stood in front of me. ‘It suits you. The country lady look. All you need is a string of pearls and a hacking jacket; very hip.’ He reached into his bag and pulled out a tissue-wrapped parcel. ‘I’ve bought you that cashmere cardigan you wanted, remember? I knew you wanted it and I just didn’t get around to buying it. Right size, right colour.’
‘That’s very kind—’
‘You see I do listen sometimes.’
‘Benedict, the cardigan is lovely, but the last time I saw you I was changing the locks. What part of that didn’t you understand? And how the hell did you know where I was?’
He laughed. ‘I followed the app on my phone. Find My Friends. Remember? You didn’t really mean it, I know you. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Lulu, since our little falling out and I’ve realised you were right.’
This stopped me in my tracks. You were right was not a phrase I had ever expected to hear from Benedict, even if I’d just won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry.
He accepted my silence and carried on. ‘I took you for granted, I was silly old Benedict and I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a bit preoccupied with work and this blasted Fennimore versus Blacklow case. If you knew what a load of shit I’ve been putting up with from Julian in the last few days, you’d – well, look, that doesn’t matter. What matters is I’ve been a mean old thing to my little Lulu and I’m sorry if I made you cross.’
At least he didn’t say ‘sowwy’ this time.
‘If,’ I said, ‘If? I’ve chucked you out and changed the locks. I’ve put the flat up for sale and come down here with the sole intention of getting away from you!’
He enfolded me in a bear hug. ‘Now then, darling girl, that’s nonsense. Things just got a bit out of hand didn’t they? I know it was my fault. I’ve thought a lot about it and I can see I was untidy, didn’t help you enough. I should have done more and appreciated you more too. I’m willing to put everything behind us. Clean slate. I’ll never be so thoughtless again, I promise. I’ll do more to help, and I’ll get Eddie to work out a proper spreadsheet for us.’
‘Who the hell is Eddie?’ I said, trying to disentangle myself.
‘Eddie. Eddie with the limp. Eddie Cavendish; he works in the finance department and he owes me a favour. He could work out a spreadsheet for us to use to allocate monthly outgoings and then we could share the load. I know it might seem as though I’ve been taking advantage even though I have been paying the electricity bill for the last six months. And that’s not to be sniffed at, I can tell you. All those showers, and the washing machine—’
‘You have showers and dirty washing too you know!’
‘—and lights left on all the time.’
‘I was always turning lights off as a matter of fact, Benedict! And to be honest I’m not sure I want Eddie with the limp to be party to our monthly expenditure. Next thing you know he’ll be querying some receipts and asking if I really need to go to Whole Foods quite so often and couldn’t I go to Tesco instead.’
‘No, all right then, scrub that out, you might have a point.’ He took my hand and kissed it, looking at me with sad eyes. ‘But I mean it, Lu, I’ve been thinking about all the happy times we’ve had together. Remember when we went to Venice for the weekend, and we just wandered round the little streets hand in hand? And when we went to Edinburgh for Hogmanay? We tried all those different whiskies and I bought a kilt. And that fabulous bedroom with all the tartan overload; remember that? We had such fun. And that trip to the Lake District when it rained all the time and we just stayed in bed and had room service. We’ve got a lot of lovely memories, Lu. It could be like that again, I know it could.’
‘Well yes—’ I said feeling rather sad.
Benedict seized his moment. ‘I had a brilliant idea while I was driving all these thousands of miles to find you.’
‘A brilliant idea?’
‘Absolutely brilliant.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘It’s such a brilliant idea that I can’t wait to tell you what it is. I was going to wait until later but—’
He stood looking at me for a second, his eyes alight with excitement. He grinn
ed and held his arms out towards me.
‘Let’s get married.’
‘What?’
‘Let’s get married. I know that’s what you always wanted. I know it would make you happy.’
‘Getting married? Getting married to you would make me happy?’ I parroted foolishly.
‘Yes I know it would. And that’s why I’m asking,’ he said, pleased with himself. ‘I know it’s a bit out of the blue but it’s the obvious answer isn’t it?’
I was dumbfounded. I think he took my silence for girlish delight.
‘Milo and Ruth got married at Two Temple Place, do you remember? It was beyond fantastic. We could do the same. Don’t you think? It would be such fun.’
I looked at him open-mouthed; he chuckled.
‘I mean it Lu, I love you. Let’s get married.’
I was stunned. I really hadn’t expected this. I tried to think calmly and not say, If you were the last man on earth …
‘I can see it’s a bit of a shock. I’ll give you time to think about it, sweetheart. Now, where are we sleeping?’
He disappeared upstairs and a fair amount of grumbling and arguing heralded Sally’s and Enid’s return from their country ramble. Enid stood on the middle of the kitchen doormat, struggling to kick off her wellingtons while pulling off her pink gloves and dropping them on the floor.
‘I’m never going there again,’ Enid said in a loud whine. ‘You said it would be fun and it wasn’t.’
‘There’s always lots of mud and poo in the country,’ Sally said. ‘It’s no one’s fault, it’s because lots of animals live here.’
‘Well someone should clear up after them and then people wouldn’t stand in it would they?’ Enid said. ‘It’s disgusting.’
Sally gave me a resigned look. ‘Sheep poo one, Enid nil. Good God, Benedict, what the hell are you doing here?’
‘Hello, Sally my love,’ Benedict said, coming down the stairs to double air kiss her cold face. ‘You don’t mind do you? I just wanted the chance to make up with my girl.’
I held up a protesting hand. ‘I’m not your girl, Benedict, remember? I am your ex-girl. I am your ex-woman actually, cardigan or no cardigan. You are the one with trousers that are up and down like a dog at a window.’
Benedict laughed and came to put his arm around my shoulders but I moved smartly away from him and he tripped a bit and with a muffled oath stood in the glob of sheep poo that Enid had left on the doormat.
*
‘Why is he here? What are you doing FFS?’ Sally hissed at me when Benedict had gone grumbling into the utility room with an old newspaper and some disinfectant to sort his soiled brogues out.
‘Me? It’s not me,’ I said, outraged. ‘I didn’t invite him here. I don’t want him here.’
‘Well you didn’t expect to hide from him for the rest of your life did you?’
‘Chance would be a fine thing, with my frigging phone telling him my every movement. Right, I’m blocking him.’ I fumbled for my mobile.
‘I didn’t think he would make a beeline for you quite that quickly. Perhaps he really does want to make up?’
‘So he says. He was remembering all the happy times, all the trips we’d taken.’
‘And are you reconsidering?’ Sally said, eyebrows raised.
I thought about it. It was true we did have some happy memories but I knew they weren’t enough.
‘Look I want him to leave me alone to get this book finished and I’m sure you want that too, bearing in mind all the complaining you’ve been doing about Enid’s school expenses.’
‘Sorry, sorry I can see you’re upset. Look let’s have a glass of wine or a gin or something – settle the nerves? I’ve got some lovely Cabernet Sauvignon you’d like. Unless you’ve found it? I hid four bottles in the broom cupboard behind the red bucket.’
‘Sally, it’s half past four!’
‘This is a fucking emergency.’
Enid appeared in the kitchen doorway, her mouth turned down in a classic arc of disapproval.
‘You swear too much, Mummy, and you smoke too much and you drink too much.’
‘Be grateful I don’t like locking small girls in the coal cellar as well,’ Sally muttered.
‘We don’t have a coal cellar,’ Enid responded in a sing-song voice, reaching up towards the biscuit tin.
Sally moved it further away. ‘Well be grateful for that too.’
Enid waved a DVD at her. ‘Can I watch Frozen now?’
‘Oh for …’ Sally went into the sitting room with Enid at her heels and returned alone a moment later.
She glared at me. ‘Bloody Frozen. You cow.’
She went out into the scullery and returned with a bottle of wine, which she sloshed into two glasses, handing one to me with an apologetic smile.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘by the way, where is he?’
‘He went upstairs,’ I said, taking a slurp of my wine.
‘Perhaps he’s lying on the bed now wearing only his socks and an impish smirk, hoping you’ll get your kit off for a joyful reunion?’
I pulled a face. ‘He must have the hide of a rhinoceros if he thinks that.’
Sally lit up another cigarette and went to stand in the open doorway. ‘So how is the book coming along?’
‘Well I’m doing my best but it would be better without imagining Benedict upstairs posing like an Italian gigolo and expecting a quick shag.’
Sally pursed her lips and thought about it. ‘Maybe a slow shag?’
‘I don’t want any sort of shag remember?’ I said exasperated.
‘Oh yes.’
Well perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. It was a question of with whom.
Chapter Twenty-Two
We spent a tense hour in the kitchen with Benedict pretending that nothing was wrong, me suggesting he should go back to London, Sally getting pissed and Enid coming in asking why we were being so weird. By six o’clock I couldn’t stand it any longer and went out to the car. I didn’t know where I thought I was going but I ended up sitting in the car park of the Cat and Convict watching a young couple dressed in regulation white shirt, black trouser/skirt combo snogging behind the dustbins and smoking until someone wearing chef’s whites came out from the kitchen and shouted at them.
It was a lovely early summer evening. The sun was going down behind the distant hills, which sent out rays of pale golden light, and a flock of birds flew overhead in a neat V formation, making for the coast or possibly a landfill site.
A muddy car pulled in beside mine and I was aware of the driver looking over at me. I flicked a glance. It was a little blonde, vaguely familiar, and beside her was a chap with a baseball cap and a vacant expression. They got out and the blonde tapped on my window.
‘Hello,’ she said.
I struggled to remember her.
‘Ellie,’ she said, ‘we met here a few weeks ago. You were having a meal with Joe.’
Ah yes, his childhood friend, the Young Farmers Club, the one who tried to muscle in on our conversation. Something about a pony for Ivy.
‘Hello,’ I said with what I hoped was a friendly smile, ‘how are you?’
‘Great.’ She looked over at her companion who was now standing in the doorway to the pub rolling up a cigarette. ‘I didn’t think you’d still be here.’
‘Oh, why not?’
‘Well, you know.’ She smirked.
No.
I suddenly wanted to really annoy her; yes I know it was unbelievably childish.
‘Oh I’ve been back loads of times. I’m here for a long stay at the moment, finishing my next book.’
‘Oh, yes the soppy chick lit stuff.’ Ellie pulled a face.
I ignored her. ‘And Joe has been so welcoming. And Isobel and Will. They’ve been really friendly. I went over there for dinner the other night.’
‘Really? Well I suppose they are nice people.’
She stood looking steadily at me, obviously weighing up what to say, probably
debating with herself whether I was worth her time or not.
‘Joe’s okay then?’ she said.
‘Yes he’s great, fine.’
There was another pregnant pause. Over in the doorway her companion cleared his throat, reminding her that he was still there. Ellie ignored him.
‘Joe’s always polite to people. It doesn’t mean anything,’ she said.
I put on an innocent expression and shrugged my shoulders. This annoyed her more than anything, as I had guessed it would.
‘You’re wasting your time,’ she blurted out.
‘Sorry?’
‘Joe. You’re wasting your time with him. He’s never got over Clare – Ivy’s mother. I don’t think he ever will. But if he does, you won’t be the one to do it.’
We locked eyes for a long thoughtful moment. Clare. So at last I had a name.
‘Clare? I said, trying to sound careless.
‘Ivy’s mother,’ Ellie repeated.
This was my opportunity. ‘What happened?’
Ellie gave a slight sneer at my ignorance. ‘Joe hasn’t told you? Clare died three days after Ivy was born. He never got over it. She had a heart attack.’
I gasped in horror at this disastrous news.
Not once had I imagined such a tragedy. I felt awful. I’d been assuming Ivy’s mother had run off with someone like Alan the Australian sheep shearer. I’d imagined her a heartless flirt, twirling her hair between her fingers. Someone needy and insecure who had been left alone once too often while Joe went off onto the moors mending dry stone walls. Or perhaps he had been looking for a lamb under a snow-heavy hedge, his dogs at his heels, and got home to find her gone. Now I had the image of a beautiful young woman pale and still, a new baby in a cot at the foot of the bed, Joe bewildered, heartbroken, mourning his lost love.
Ellie straightened up. ‘He’ll never get over it,’ she repeated. ‘Never. A lot of people have tried with him.’
It’s a long time since I’ve done this.
‘You’re wasting your time.’ She turned and strode off across the car park to where her companion was puffing at his roll-up, watching her with weasel eyes.
Ellie swept past him into the pub and he ground his cigarette out under his heel before he followed her.
The Mini-Break Page 20