by Karen Botha
Aswell as the wine, I’ve also sought out my old voice recorder from back in the day. Complete with new batteries, we’re ready to go - always a fail-safe when you’re drinking and run the risk of forgetting. That being the whole purpose of my visit, memory loss would be a bit slack on my part.
‘Love your front door,’ I say as we walk across the hall’s natural timber floor and into Penelope and Wyndham's open plan kitchen diner. When I ran Ann Summers’ parties to supplement my student loan, they taught me to find a genuine compliment to pay the host as soon as possible upon arrival. It helps her to warm to you more quickly, apparently, and it’s a habit I’ve carried through my career.
She’s laid nibbles out on the cool granite breakfast bar. So, I perch on the high stool and am immediately comfortable enough to graze on a stuffed piquant chilli. She’s dumped the fairly decent wine I brought in the fridge in favour of drizzling strawberries, nestled at the base of crystal flutes with the champagne she’s popped.
‘I’m sorry about the nibbles, I don’t have a lot of time to prepare with work,’ she apologises.
‘Hey, they’re lovely. When you come to mine, you’re lucky to get hold of a chilli Dorito, let alone a real one stuffed with cream cheese!’ She's under the mistaken impression I’m joking, but I’m a rubbish host, when you visit me, you help yourself.
‘Ah, well I did cheat, there’s an amazing deli a few doors down from work, so I called ahead and picked this up on my way home,’ she admits.
I pick up on the lead to find out more about this woman of many layers.
‘Where do you work?’
‘Oh at that big TV studio on Grays Inn Road?’
I know where she means. ‘Impressive, and Lucy said you’re the Marketing Director, right?’
‘Yeah, been there for what seems like my entire career and got promoted up. Lucky enough to make it through all the management upheaval over the last few years.’ I’m not sure if she’s tired of the changes or happy that they have provided her with an opportunity for promotion. It’s inconsequential to my visit, so I leave it.
‘So why do you travel so much, your company is UK based isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but a lot of marketing is technology-centric now, particularly in our line, so I need to meet our agencies,’ she tilts her chin, ‘in the cheaper employment markets.’
‘Ah I see.’ I spy a coffee table out of the corner of my eye in the adjoining lavish lounge. She has copies of interior and fashion magazines neatly arranged on it making me wonder whether she was the creator of the decorating style. She will be creative by nature if she’s in Marketing, so it could be possible.
‘Yeah, I spend a lot of time in Prague, but the world is technologically small, so I’m often off to wherever geographically, to see what's new on the horizon.’ She’s staring out of the window, I follow her gaze taking in the extensive garden filled with fauna I would only ever kill. She must have a gardener. It occurs to me that appearances are important to her.
‘Sounds exciting?’ I don’t comment on the shrubs.
‘Yeah, but trust me, it can be very drab. I’ve never seen Prague properly despite going there at least once a month.’
‘I’ve heard the only sightseeing is the inside of hotel rooms when on business trips?’
‘Yeah and if you go out, it’s always with work colleagues, rather than the friends or family you would choose to enjoy these spectacular places with,’ she pouts. ‘The amount of calories I consume when I would prefer to be eating a salad in my room…’
I chuckle, it’s not a topic I’ve considered before.
‘What do you do?’ she asks me, quickly flipping the topic and taking me by surprise. I miss out the police, I’ll slip that in later after she’s had a few more glasses of alcohol. Hopefully at that point, she’ll talk a bit more openly. Consequently, running through my CV doesn’t last that long. Fly tipping certainly engenders less interest than either murder or being Marketing Director for one of the most high profile companies in the UK.
She tops up my drink without asking and I’m pleased I went with the taxi option. The place was actually easier to find than I’d expected, being on a main road, albeit that road is in the middle of the countryside. It’s a beautiful modern barn conversion - any surface that doesn’t glitter hasn’t made the grade.
‘Your house is exquisite,’ I compliment as I take in my surroundings properly. The kitchen is cream, so it’s clean, but not clinical. Teamed with practical black, it works perfectly. High ceilings interspersed with windows and bi-folding doors allow light to flood the welcoming space. Expensive knives hang in military order from a magnetised, wall mounted rack by a nest of indexed chopping boards.
‘Did you do the conversion yourself?’
‘Well, it was kind of converted when we took it on, but it wasn’t to our standards so we gutted it back to the frame. I love it here, it’s my prize for working so hard.’ I spot a power blender and push aside an image of Penelope rushing out to the office with her kale smoothie in her right hand, struggling with any number of bags and work related paraphernalia in the other. All in the name of perfection.
‘You should be very proud, it really is idyllic.’
She grins girlishly, an honest moment shared, so I risk a slight change of subject hoping to get around to family matters.
‘Do you entertain often?’
‘Not as much as I’d like, we’re not in the same place for long enough… then we have to meet our son, Freddie, when we can aswell. Poor lamb is at boarding school, don’t want him to forget who we are.’ She’s joking but something tells me she misses her child and it wasn’t her choice to have him study away from this beautiful home.
‘How old is he?’
‘He’s fourteen now, growing up fast,’ she drifts off with a half smile on her face, ‘he’s at the same school Wyndham went to, he was deeply honoured.’
‘Oh wow, he should be, following in his father’s footsteps,’ and I catch a resonance of her love for her son and match her smile. She’s quiet, lost in her thoughts about a life she had planned which didn’t work out. I make a note on my mental chalk board, Mr Parson never mentioned this.
‘Did Giles go to the same school?’
‘Yes, he did, and his father, they’ve all got that ability to think logically and break specifics down into manageable components.’
‘That’s quite a skill.’
‘Yeah, they’re bright, and they have the charisma to entertain with their knowledge. Not many people can talk detail like they can whilst being engaging at the same time.’ She fiddles with the handle on a drawer, picking at the chrome to remove a lone smudge. ‘Giles has sold himself short if I’m honest - don’t mention anything of course,’ she pauses, eyeballing me to make this perfectly clear. I nod allegiance allowing her to continue, safe; ‘he really could be so much more.’
‘What happened?’
‘He met Steph.’ She spits out the name.
‘Ah, young love and all?’
‘Yeah, you could say that.’ I let the pause stand, waiting for her to fill the silence. ‘She didn’t have any aspiration beyond being in the Fire Brigade. Steph wasn't one to push herself. That's fine, but she encouraged Giles to use his skills in what he wanted to do, rather than what would pay their bills.’
‘Oh, I thought Giles did OK for himself?’
‘Oh, yes, don’t get me wrong, he does OK, but that’s about the level of it. She brought him down.’
‘I’m sensing there wasn’t much love lost between you and Steph,’ I concentrate on keeping my eyes warm.
She shakes her head realising how obvious her distaste is, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’m being rude.’
Bummer, pushed too far. ‘Haha, don’t worry about being rude with me. You can choose your friends, but not your family,’ I smile as I hold my glass up for a toast, emphasising our burgeoning friendship.
I take a sip of my champagne which is starting to meet room temperature. ‘So go on, why so little
love between you two?’
‘You really want to know?’
‘If I didn’t before, I certainly do now.’
She grins; beaten. Dimples have formed in her cheeks, softening her face, despite her tone.
‘OK, then. Well for a start, apart from the stuff I’ve already mentioned, she was a bit upfront. She spent a lot of time with guys in the brigade. So if I’m being fair, maybe she didn’t realise she was flirting. But she still had this effect on the men around her and she lapped it up. I’m not sure if she ever took it any further, but she was definitely, outgoing shall we say.’
I’m hooked, leaning forward on the cold work surface I study how she changes as she confides in me. The muscles surrounding her oval eyes harden, transforming them to narrow slits, her green iris’ glint in the evening sun. Her lips, only a few seconds before soft and playful, now reflect the same process, tightening into two thin blades cutting through her features.
‘It’s awful saying all this about her when she’s dead.’
I jump in, making it clear I'm not judging her. ‘Ah in my opinion, dead or alive, your feelings are real. I really don’t get the speaking ill of the dead thing,’ and maybe I’m harsh too, but I don’t.
‘You’re right,’ she criss-crosses her arms over her chest. Not an, it’s-cold-in-here cross, but more, I’m-willing-to-bet-Wyndham-was-one-of-the-guys-she-had-on-a-string, kind of way.
There’s another pause and I wait it out. I glance out of the bi-folding doors through to the pretty terrace sprinkled with life. I notice an almost invisible fence at the bottom that divides the space from rolling fields.
‘Would you like to go outside, it is a lovely evening, and the garden smells divine at this time of year?’ She’s flipped again, her face warm, the perfect hostess. She fills our glasses and we head outside, becoming characters in the picture of nature in full bloom.
Time passes as we meander through the ankle high privet that divides one colourful plot from another. I sense each has a specific reason for it being in its exact location. The gravel crunches as we step under an arch of scented pink roses and then stops. We cross a miniature decked bridge, arcing over a fluid stream that hops over skillfully placed rocks. Hidden in a secluded horseshoe of calming lilac is a stone bench. As we take a seat on the cold form, lavender wafts up and I’m transported back to the garden centre. Neither Lucy nor myself could create anything as beautiful as this. I sip my drink and prompt Penelope to continue.
‘This is where I come for peace amongst the bedlam of everyday life.’ She’s trusting me with her private place, her bubble bath of escapism.
‘So when Steph got sick, what happened? If she was so sporty and outgoing, did she change?’ My voice is soft, affected by the tranquility of this space.
‘Yes it was actually quite sad.’ She picks a stem and smells it, brushing the buds to encourage more depth. ‘Towards the end, if she wasn’t in bed she was on the sofa. Giles was so worried about her but he had to go to work. They were struggling for money a bit because she was only on sick pay but they had come to rely on her overtime, so it hit them.’
‘Ah, so this is probably why you’re mad that Giles wasn’t earning to his potential?’
‘Kind of, we had to lend them cash, but it just got eaten away. Eventually they had to get Julie in to lodge with them.’
‘Oh, I wasn’t aware they had a lodger?’
‘Yes, she lived there a while. It was company for Steph whilst Giles was shift working and also I reckon, although he never said, some peace of mind that someone was keeping an eye on her when he couldn’t.’
‘How did Giles respond to Steph's illness in general?’ I swat a pesky fly.
‘He’s a bit of a closed book. Happy on the outside, but you're never sure what is happening behind his facade.’
‘Mmm, a lot of men are like that.’
‘Yeah, I guess so…’ she tugs at her left ear. ‘But Giles always has a front on, he’s the one with a lot going on in his head, but doesn’t speak much. Wyndham says he gets it from his Dad,’ another sip of wine, ‘apparently he was a considered man, almost remote. A big reader, and Giles is the same. He loves outdoor stuff, but also, he’s very happy to bury his head in a good detective novel. Loves figuring out the twists and turns, you can always rely on him to be the one to spoil a film.’ She rolls her eyes, ‘he puts two and two together so easily.’
‘Aha, really? I should have met him in my previous life. I used to be on the murder squad before I turned to council detective.’
‘Really!’ She freezes for a second. ‘Bet that was interesting,’ then stands suddenly. The gravel complains underfoot. I sense our conversation ending, but continue anyway as I follow her towards the house, trying to further extend our bonding.
‘Yeah, it was, but also very time consuming, not great for my social life. If I’m honest, it was further complicated by my boss.’ It doesn’t work. She’s ahead of me and hasn’t turned to listen.
‘I can imagine, it wouldn’t do wonders for your social life.’ And that is it. She’s finished. I see her glance at her Cartier watch.
‘Have you seen the time?’
‘Oh yes, time waits for no man,’ there’s no pulling this back, the moment has passed.
‘Yes, it got late so quickly.’ It’s only 9.30pm, but I guess she has long days.
‘I’ll order my cab, shall I?’
Within ten minutes, my taxi has arrived and I’m belted into the back seat summarising the evenings revelations. So, broadly speaking, Steph flirted outrageously with Wyndham, which Wyndham liked but Penelope certainly did not. Steph got sick and totally changed personality from the outgoing, fun loving person she’d previously been; probably a little depressed by the sound of it. Julie came in to live with Steph as company and additional income. Giles gives nothing away and loves a good murder and Penelope loves an early night by all account which was swiftly precluded by my mention of my penchant for solving murders. This is turning into a tangle.
I’m going to call Mo first thing in the morning on my way into work, see if he can’t help me figure this out.
LUCY
We still haven’t had sex. I do appreciate Giles being a gentleman and all, but enough now. I’m a girl, and he is hot, and a girl has needs!
Imagine my delight when he asks me to go away with him. He told me we’re going to Wales, but the rest is a surprise. He asked a few weeks ago, in that innocuous way that blokes do, about whether I would fancy a health and wellness break. Of course I said yes, show me a female who wouldn’t enjoy a spa weekend.
I’ve researched well. There are some fabulous, independent hotels in Wales. Gorgeous stone buildings; set against a backdrop of rolling mountains, double height bedrooms with picture windows and a personal service like no other. The highlight for me though, is the spas in these places. I’m picky about treatments and these big chains pass nothing more than a back tickle off as a massage whilst being over-zealous with their charging structure. The independents have fewer clients so don’t run their therapists ragged. Consequently, I’ve been dreaming about being the one on the couch for a change.
I’ve packed all my best lingerie just in-case and bought two new bikinis online. They cost a small fortune, but I see it as an investment. I imagine Giles, unable to hold himself back any longer. I lower myself seductively into the swimming pool. He caresses my slippery body as I lose myself in his delicious solidity; we glide around, giggling intimately. My imagination has us alone, silky limbs entwined, wet lips joined in tortuous, restrained passion.
I remember when he came back after the fateful pub quiz. The searing through my nerves as he leaned in, his face close, his breath on mine for the first time. And yet, not touching. When he gently caressed around the neck line of my top, my insides turned liquid. I re-run the sensation, his imaginary nails alerting the surface of my skin again, wet with untold desire for this man to whom I want to give myself fully.
I rouse myself, this is not
helping the packing situation. He’ll be here shortly, I have no time for diversions and if all goes to plan, I’ll be experiencing the real thing soon enough.
My suitcase is massive. I’m not a girl who generally over packs, but in these instances you can never be too sure. I select two dresses for the dinners and choose shoes to match. A gold pair of strappy sandals with a needle like heel and a second pair in exactly the same shade of scarlet as the matching dress I am carefully folding. I’ve added smart jeans should we decide to do afternoon tea or early evening cocktails.
I’ve topped up my makeup bag too. Waterproof options are a must for the spa. Having practised in front of online video’s, I am now adept at applying a ton of cosmetics and yet appearing as if I’m nothing but natural beauty. I slam down the lid to my case and sit on it as I squeeze the zip round. I’m ready. And just in time.
Giles pulls his 4x4 on to my drive.
‘Jeez Lucy, couldn’t you find a bigger case?’ He throws my over sized luggage in the boot with his rucksack.
‘I’m sorry, but if you keep the details a secret, then a girl has to pack for every eventuality, without exception.’
I grip the side handle that hangs from the roof and hop up into the passenger seat. We’re off.
A few hours later, we’re in the Brecon Beacons making our way over potholes in the dirt track. I’m understanding why the 4x4 was necessary. As we turn the corner, I’m keen to see the hotel standing stately in-front of us, so I crane my neck to the left. No hotel though... just ramshackle building.
‘Here we are,’ he grins - widely.
‘Huh? What do you mean?’ There’s no name on the exterior, no placard alerting us to our location.
‘We’re here!’ he almost screams in his excitement.
I do a double take at him, and then again at the building, ‘this is the hotel?’
‘This is the reception; you you can’t see our accommodation yet.’
‘OK...’ I’m fearing I did not need to pack spa gear. I wait in the car while he checks in. Probably best. My heart is thumping in my ears as I try to make sense of where he’s brought us for our romantic weekend in the country. I anticipate it may well be more in the country than I had expected. He bounds back into the car and we take off around the rear of the building that has caused him so much excitement. He pulls up in a makeshift parking area and presses the button to open the boot. As we stand waiting whilst it slowly opens, I absorb my surroundings.