‘She’s absolutely insufferable!’ Susannah banged clenched fists.
‘Hey, hang on!’ Harvey leaned across the bath tub. ‘That bit’s not quite straight.’
‘Sorry. There. That better? My mind’s not on the job.’ She sat back to survey her work, reflecting on the past three days. ‘And that’s my problem in a nut-shell. How on earth does the woman expect me to concentrate when she’s always beavering about?’ She leaned out of the bath to pick up the next sheet of mosaics.
‘But –’ Harvey tried to puzzle out the way women’s minds worked – ‘this so-called wicked step-mother of yours sounds more like a fairy godmother to me. I mean, isn’t she just what you need right now? Someone to do all your chores for you?’
Susannah looked at him pityingly from the pile of blankets he’d thoughtfully provided for her to kneel on; he didn’t understand. In a way he was perfectly right, of course: she did need someone to relieve her of domestic chores. The cottage was even more chaotic now that Natalie was with them. Also, Jan and Frank had had to squeeze in too until their bedding – which was also their day-time seating – had dried out. Oh, yes, she certainly needed help. But the last person from whom she wanted help was Jan.
On the second morning of her ‘freedom’ Susannah had shut herself in her studio; she had been side-tracked enough the previous day and she wasn’t going to let it happen again. She would get on with Harvey’s mural, come hell or high water or even both, and everything else could go hang.
But, pondering over a possible colour scheme for what she and Harvey had finally agreed would be two fish swimming towards each other through rocks and reeds, she had become aware of the Hoover groaning into reluctant life.
Now Katy claimed she was incapable of pushing the Hoover, because of the pain in her hands; and Natalie had been ordered to rest. Simon had declared that Justin was phobic and would go bananas if his father so much as got the machine out of the cupboard; and even if Frank had been fit enough he didn’t know one end of a Hoover from the other, nor had he heard of ‘New Man’. So there was only one person who could be responsible for the noise.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ Susannah demanded, much as she had the morning before. She had found Jan poking about under the kitchen table with the nozzle and a circular brush.
‘Just having a little clean around, dear.’ Jan’s good nature never once wavered. ‘That cat’s fur gets everywhere, doesn’t it? As for that horrible litter …’
‘But there’s absolutely no need for you to – I mean, well obviously it’s got a bit messy. But you really don’t have to do it.’
‘I know I don’t have to do it. But I like to feel useful, you know. And you’ve got better things to do with your time, now, haven’t you?’
Susannah flushed and ground her back teeth. Simon, returning with Natalie from Bristol the previous day, had spilled the beans about his mother losing her job, making her look not only a fool for not having owned up to Jan immediately, but a liar for letting her think she had only taken a day off.
Now, looking down at Jan as she bent to unhook more flex, she could detect no malice, criticism or sarcasm in her step-mother’s words, but she was sure it must be there all the same.
‘Where’s Katy?’ Susannah wondered aloud, thinking that even she would find it difficult to sleep through all this activity. Looking round for the familiar pink dressing-gown, her gaze took in the old orderliness that Jan had quickly reinstated. There was a smell of Mr Sheen and disinfectant, and the table was clear of junk. Even the cat was neatly curled up on a chair, the tidiest of black furry balls.
‘Katy’s out,’ Jan said, ‘getting me some things from the village shop. She’s taken young Justin with her.’
Susannah blinked in disbelief. Katy – up early again? Unbelievable.
But that was only the beginning. By the time Paul got home from work a mountain of ironing had disappeared from the bottom of the broom cupboard, the lounge looked like a lounge, and a meal was almost ready for the table.
Paul had looked over to the cooker expecting to see his wife there, but Jan was busy in her place. He had then glanced into the workroom, found Susannah still bent over her heap of tesserae, and deduced that she had not been re-converted in his absence.
‘Still fiddling,’ he’d muttered caustically, ‘while Rome burns, I see.’ And he’d gone off to look for the rest of the family.
‘I don’t want to like Jan,’ Susannah fumed to Harvey. ‘I want to hate her. She’s taking over my role. And she does everything better than me!’
She tapped at the bathroom wall, evening up the mosaics and making more noise than she needed to. ‘The cat flap was taking things just a tad too far.’
‘What’s all this about a cat flap?’ Harvey obligingly enquired. He was sitting on the bathroom stool with his feet propped up on the bidet, looking relaxed and handsome in a black stretch jogging suit. He had watched over all the proceedings in much the same distracting manner, which was why Susannah had done as much of the work as she could at home. Of the two major distractions in her life at the moment, Jan was actually the least disturbing.
Susannah applied adhesive to the next section to be worked. ‘The cat flap. Well. To cut a long story short, she got her handyman to mend her caravan roof, then got him to fit a cat flap in our door – having consulted Paul, of course, who had been dead against it in the beginning even though I said it was a good idea.’
‘Ho-hum,’ Harvey said, trying not to take sides. He wasn’t at all sure whom Susannah was most at odds with: sometimes it seemed to be her step-mother, sometimes he wondered whether it was her husband.
‘It’s the story of my life,’ she went on. ‘Nobody takes any notice of me. But I know I have only myself to blame. If you behave like a doormat you get treated like one, don’t you?’
‘Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he reap …’ Harvey frowned because the words didn’t sound quite apt but he could think of nothing better. Or maybe it was the sentiment that disturbed him: ten seconds earlier he had been thinking about marital infidelity. Julia was never far from his thoughts. He seethed with anger against her; could hardly bear to share the same home. And he couldn’t find words with which to confront her.
He stared hard at his fingernails. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘it’s not a good idea to have cat’s mess around – not with children about. I saw something about it on This Morning. Or was it on Animal Hospital?’ He caught Susannah’s expression and grimaced. ‘OK. I know. So I need to get a life. Just you tell me how.’
‘You’re asking me? I’m only just beginning to learn.’
‘And you’ve got glue coming out of those edges,’ he said, rising to show her where.
She turned her head at his close proximity and held herself very still.
‘Nice perfume,’ he murmured, taking her finger and guiding it up to the glue.
‘I –’ she swallowed as he wiped her finger on a rag – ‘I think I can hear your phone.’
When Julia came home from yoga she asked Harvey how it was going.
‘What?’ he said. He looked up at her but straight through her; he seemed to be miles away.
Julia hesitated before speaking again. There seemed to be no way of getting through to him lately. He was remote, and even cold whenever he so much as looked at her. And his words came out all sarcastic-like. Or perhaps she should say ironical. That might be a better word, she thought, because until recently she hadn’t been sure what it meant, but now she did so she ought to practise using it.
‘I said, how’s the work on the bathroom going?’
‘No you didn’t,’ he told her, his face held aloof, ‘you were your usual vague little self. You never say what you mean.’
‘There’s no need to get hoity-toity!’ She put her hands on her hips. But all he replied was, ‘Isn’t there?’ and she didn’t know what to make of him. Shrugging her shoulders, but with a frown, she ran upstairs to see the mural.
&
nbsp; Golly, she thought, studying it reverently. It was looking really fantastic. She reached out and touched the stones, fascinated by the feel of them under her finger-tips and the way they swirled and fanned to make pictures. Then she clattered back down the stairs and hovered round Harvey again.
Perhaps he really needed some help – from a professional counsellor, or something. All his natural optimism had vanished; he was sinking into a pit of despair. She’d never seen him in need of help before and she felt so horribly helpless.
‘Is she nice, this Mrs Harding of yours?’ She perched on the arm of his chair and began to run fingers through his hair. Normally he wouldn’t have refused a head massage, but now he ducked to one side.
Julia got up again, more alarmed than ever. ‘She’s doing a wonderful job, isn’t she?’ She tried to keep her tone light. ‘I know! Why don’t you ask her and her husband to dinner one evening? You’re always saying we should invite more people round – get ourselves known in this place.’
Harvey gazed at her in silence, his eyes flickering over her face. It was as if he was trying to read something, but could find nothing there to be read.
‘Yes, that’s it,’ Julia struggled on. ‘We should invite more people round; give you someone different to talk to. You’re getting quite good at cooking now, aren’t you? We could have – ooh – how about, say, cannelloni and custard?’ But he didn’t even react to her little joke. ‘Well, anyway,’ she wound up, at a loss to know what more to say, ‘it would give you something to do.’
‘I’m really not in the mood,’ he said. He pulled himself out of the chair and went and sat in the study.
CHAPTER 21
Jan popped her head round the studio door. ‘Can I come in?’ she wanted to know.
Susannah had been staring at the wall.
‘I won’t intrude if you’re working,’ Jan went on.
‘It’s pointless cleaning this place.’
‘I wasn’t going to.’ She spread her hands wide. ‘Look, no duster; I’ve finished for the day. I thought we might have a little chat.’
Susannah summoned her most discouraging expression; it wasn’t very difficult.
‘I know you don’t want to talk to me,’ Jan said, ‘but you haven’t anyone else, have you? The children don’t seem to understand what you’re trying to do, and Paul … well, he seems so terribly preoccupied about something, doesn’t he? Is he worried about his work, d’you think?’
Guilt rose up in Susannah. Was Paul worried about his job?
‘And I couldn’t help noticing …’ Jan went on, ‘I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to see that things aren’t right between you.’ She sat down on the other stool and twiddled one of her bracelets, but having launched herself into the conversation she seemed unsure how to continue it.
‘What are you doing at the moment?’ she asked, glancing about the room. ‘You don’t seem to be working on anything. Is Mr Harvey’s mural finished?’
‘Webb. Harvey Webb.’ Susannah forced the name through tight teeth. The man was becoming quite a problem. ‘I just have to finish it off in situ – grout it and clean it up.’
She had actually been plucking up courage to go over to his cottage and complete the job that morning, but the thought of what her visit might lead to was causing her to think twice. Damn the man! Damn him for making her feel like a teenager with a crush every time she thought about him. He was a good listener as well as a good talker, and she was getting to like him a lot. Too much, really, and she realised that her rift with Paul made her dangerously vulnerable right now. If she was in a position to do so, she’d refuse to finish the mural; but at this stage of her venture she couldn’t afford grand gestures.
‘Has it turned out as well as you’d hoped?’ Jan prompted.
‘Oh, yes. Far better than I’d expected. I wasn’t really sure I could cope, to be honest. And now,’ she picked up a pencil and began to doodle with it, ‘I’ve even been given another commission. A neighbour of Mr Webb’s – a Mrs Titchmarsh – saw what I’d done and decided she must have something made in mosaics, even though her bathroom’s not suitable. She’s settled for a plant stand for her conservatory, and she knows absolutely everyone for miles around so I hope more work will follow’
‘But that’s wonderful news! I’m thrilled for you, Susannah. I am. Thrilled and very proud.’
Susannah looked up in surprise.
‘I can see you don’t believe me.’ Jan gave a helpless shrug. ‘You’ve got cynicism all over your face. You think I’m simply buttering you up because you’re letting us park in your garden. And that isn’t so.’
‘No?’
‘No! Oh, Susannah –’ She put out a friendly hand. ‘I’m completely on your side. Can’t you see that? Haven’t I always been one for equal opportunities? Haven’t I always been in favour of women developing their talents to the full?’ She smiled. ‘I know I’m not a very religious person, but I’ve never been able to forget the parable of the talents …’
‘Spare me,’ Susannah groaned. She covered her face with her hands. It was bad enough having Harvey quoting the Bible at her, without Jan joining in.
Jan shook her head. ‘Oh, I know those talents aren’t the sort of talents I’m talking about – or are they, I was never quite sure? – but I’ve always believed they should be put to good use, not buried out of sight and left to rot.’ She sighed. ‘Your father and I were so disappointed when you refused further education. We wanted more for you. Oh, I know that was partly our fault. Your father and I decided to marry at precisely the wrong moment, didn’t we? And all too soon you were married, and tied up with two little children. But why am I telling you this?’
‘It’s hardly news to me, is it? I’ve heard it all before.’
‘Yes. Yes, I know. But now you’re free of your children –’
‘Wwha-a-t?’ Susannah spluttered.
‘Sorry. Sore point. But you must see this as only a glitch, surely? Simon and Katy will be off again before you know it. They won’t be here for ever.’
‘Oh no? Want to bet on it? Haven’t you heard? There aren’t any jobs out there. Can you see the housing market recovering? And what can Katy do? We don’t even know if she can be cured. One thing’s for sure: she’ll never be able to pound a keyboard again. And look how many jobs need keyboard skills.’
Jan looked worried. Things weren’t like this in her day. ‘Well, anyway,’ she said with sudden briskness, ‘I just wanted you to know that you have my full support. And I’m sure Paul will come round soon. He’s feeling a bit put out, I think, because you haven’t time for him at the moment.’
‘He’s never going to understand.’
‘Well –’ Jan looked doubtful – ‘it’s really not up to me to try to tell him. And I can’t interfere between husband and wife.’
‘Why not?’ Susannah muttered ungraciously ‘You’ve interfered with everything else.’
‘Susannah!’ Jan got up from her stool, her voice trembling.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, really I am. I didn’t mean …’ Susannah buried her head in her hands, disgusted with herself. But when she looked up again, Jan had left the room.
Harvey was looking scrubbed and ultra-clean as he let Susannah into the cottage. He was wearing a green denim shirt tucked into corduroy jeans and had one arm down the sleeve of a suede jacket.
‘I thought you weren’t going to come today.’ His eyes were fixed and staring. She might have dropped in from another planet.
‘I … got held up,’ she told him. He need not know how close she had been to not coming at all. ‘But I said I would finish the job today, so here I am.’
Discouraged by his look she added, ‘It won’t take long; I won’t bother you.’ And she hurried past him to the stairs, acutely aware of his presence. She expected him to follow her as he normally did, but when she got to the top of the stairs and looked down through the stair-well he was still standing where she’d left him. He had put his other arm in the jacket n
ow and was shrugging his shoulders to settle it.
‘I – er – have a dental appointment,’ he said without turning his head, ‘so I’ll have to leave you to it.’ He sent a glance her way. ‘Sorry.’
She nodded slowly in acknowledgement of this obvious untruth.
‘Look,’ he rushed on, ‘I’ll leave you this key by the phone here. Would you lock up when you leave and put it through the letterbox?’
‘I take it Julia’s not here then?’ She thought she must be somewhere; her being in the cottage was the only explanation she could think of to account for his shifty behaviour.
‘No. No, she’s out doing some manicures, or something. Um … how long do you think you’ll be?’
‘About two hours, I think. That should do the trick.’
‘Two hours. Right. Cheerio.’
Susannah heard the front door clang on its latch and the Mercedes start up outside. What on earth was the matter with him? She had thought they were getting on so well. Had she said something to offend him? But, casting her mind back to the last time she’d seen him she could think of nothing at all.
Puzzled, and more than a little bothered, she searched in her hold-all for grout.
Once clear of the village Harvey thumped the steering-wheel. By mistake he caught the horn and made himself jump in alarm. The car swerved and righted itself, leaving him shaky.
‘This is bloody ridiculous!’ he said aloud. He was being an utter fool. If you fancy the woman, he told himself, then do something about it.
And he did fancy her – badly – even though she wasn’t really his type. Susannah wasn’t overtly sexy in the way that Julia was. She was more sophisticated. Understated. And older, it had to be said. But that didn’t seem to matter; she was wearing pretty well. And he had caught enough glimpses of ninety-nine per cent of her neat round breasts as she bent to pick up mosaics, to instil desire in him. He had had ample opportunity to admire the curve of her bottom as she’d worked on the wall as well. And one slanting glance from those soft grey eyes of hers could turn him to quivering jelly.
Puppies Are For Life Page 19