by Maeve Haran
‘Perhaps she might like to come and see round and meet the other tenants then? All very informal,’ she added hastily, ‘no commitment on either side.’
‘I think she would like that very much. I will ask her this very evening when she comes round.’
Laura said goodbye. The thought occurred to her that if Mrs Lal was so bloody rich, why had she ended up in her spare bedroom?
She was sitting on Claudia’s sofa later that night, a glass of chilled white wine beside her and Noah on her knee laughing up at her, thinking this was pretty close to heaven when her mobile rang. She knew before answering that it would be Mr A.
‘Mrs Minchin, it is I. I wanted to tell you that my mother-in-law is very interested in your proposition and wonders if she could come and look tomorrow?’
‘A woman of decision anyway,’ Claudia commented, refilling Laura’s glass.
Laura nodded, not feeling able to mention quite how much decision.
There was quite a buzz of excitement at Claudia’s house the next day waiting to see the celebrated matchmaking millionairess arrive. They all somehow pictured her as an Indian Cruella de Vil who would turn up in a long limo, possibly accompanied by Dalmatians. So they were disappointed when a quite normal Ford Focus parked outside at the time Mrs Lal was expected.
And even more surprised when the occupant turned out to be Julia, Ella’s daughter, looking extremely angry and demanding to see her mother.
‘Julia!’ Ella exclaimed when she was discovered lying on a chaise longue in the conservatory having a post-prandial nap. ‘What on earth are you doing here, darling?’
‘What do you think I’m doing?’ demanded her irate daughter, anger bringing out unattractive blotches on her face and neck. ‘I’m here because Cory told me you don’t want to live in the granny flat Neil and I have been to considerable trouble, not to mention expense, to have designed for you. That you want to live down here much nearer Cory than me and your grandchildren with your champagne-swilling friends using up our inheritance on some ludicrous post-hippie commune!’
Ella took a deep breath, realizing she had been putting off breaking the news to her demanding daughter. ‘I’m really sorry, darling, but the thing is, I’m absolutely fine. I just had a urinary tract infection which was making me behave rather strangely. Now I’ve had antibiotics I’m completely better and don’t need looking after at all.’
‘Right,’ Julia said, unappeased. ‘So that’s why Cory says you’re selling your cottage so you can come and live here with the dotty brigade in some swish hotel which you’re actually bloody buying! And how much is that going to cost?’
Before Ella had the chance to answer, Julia had turned round. ‘Well, I think it’s really selfish!’ she yelled, almost hysterical.
In all the excitement of the mother–daughter confrontation no one noticed the taxi that had just turned off the main road and was approaching down Claudia’s drive.
It stopped a feet away from Julia.
The door opened and a vision appeared dressed in a sari of orange, magenta and fuchsia silk accompanied by the sound of tinkling bracelets.
‘Mrs Lal!’ Laura exclaimed, stunned that she had abandoned her usual Catherine Walker elegance for a sari that looked as if it came from Shepherd’s Bush market.
‘By God,’ declared Len enthusiastically, pushing to the front of the group. ‘It’s a nautch girl! I wonder if she’s going to dance.’
Claudia had a faint recollection that a nautch girl was one of the famous temple dancers who kept the British sahibs in thrall to their charms. Their new guest would surely be offended at so sexist, not to mention imperialist, an implication.
But Mrs Lal didn’t seem to find the reference insulting at all and had produced a simpering smile.
‘Stop it, Dad,’ Claudia insisted. ‘You’ve been reading too much Flashman.’
‘What is Flashman?’ enquired Hiro, as usual at Len’s heels.
‘Flashman is a fictional bounder in the British army who behaves utterly disgracefully and always gets away with things,’ Claudia began to explain, then stopped abruptly. What the hell was she doing explaining the dastardly hero to a metal manikin? Modern life was seriously strange.
‘As a matter of fact,’ Mrs Lal intervened, ‘I love Colonel Flashman. I like to think he is a true representative of the British army officer.’
Laura decided she’d better change the subject. ‘It’s great of you to come down so quickly. Would you like to come and see round the manor?’
‘Yes, indeed I would. I am very intrigued at the interesting life choice my daughter and son-in-law have outlined to me. But could I first make use of your facilities?’
‘Of course,’ Laura smiled. ‘I’ll show you the way.’
‘I also need to change my clothes,’ she whispered to Laura as they looked for the loo. ‘I can see my colourful choice of outfit has startled the assembled company and perhaps given your aged father the wrong idea. I will change straight away.’
In fact, the assembled company was even more startled when Mrs Lal re-emerged in a black designer dress she must have stowed in her capacious handbag, plus a long Isadora Duncan-style scarf.
‘Where did the dancing girl go?’ Len enquired, looking around in a bewildered fashion.
‘Oh, for God’s sake keep up, Leonard,’ snapped his wife Olivia. ‘And stop waffling on about temple dancers.’
‘Come, Leonard,’ Hiro announced huffily, ‘it is time for your toilet.’ He ushered Len away as Olivia watched them, sparks of fury glinting in her eye.
‘How original,’ commented Mrs Lal. ‘A robot carer. We could do with that in India. One day we will have 150 million over-sixties.’
This thought was so astonishing that no one could think of an answer except Hiro, who stopped and executed a kind of old-fashioned bow. ‘Dearest madam, I would be happy to demonstrate my caring skills,’ he announced proudly.
‘Amazing little fella, isn’t he?’ guffawed Len. ‘He can do the Times crossword and wipe your bum after.’
‘Not with the Times crossword, I hope,’ Mrs Lal commented drily.
‘Really, Leonard,’ Olivia pronounced, ‘that’s hardly a suitable subject.’
‘I think it’s exceptionally suitable,’ her husband replied. ‘And so would you if the alternative was wearing incontinence pads.’
Laura decided it was time she and Ella led Mrs Lal off to Igden Manor. She was certainly getting a baptism of fire.
Mrs Lal seemed entirely enchanted. She took one look at the hollyhocks and delphiniums and the abudance of roses and pronounced it to be just like her family home in India.
‘If you did want to live here,’ Ella asked her cautiously after an extensive tour, ‘which part do you think you’d like?’
‘Oh,’ Mrs Lal replied. ‘Definitely in the hotel.’
‘Of course it won’t be a hotel,’ Ella pointed out. ‘People will have their own apartments.’
‘But you won’t have to clean it yourself?’ she asked, horrified.
‘Of course you will,’ Ella replied briskly, although this had not been discussed. ‘I mean we’re not old.’
‘You know, Ella,’ Laura whispered to her as Mrs Lal stood admiring the delphiniums. ‘I think you’ve still got a lot of working out to do.’
And as it turned out, they’d have to do it pretty quickly. The outline planning permission came through the following week.
Bella called them all together.
‘So, people, what are we going to do? Are you going to offer this Mrs Lal and her Indian millions a place? If you do, then we are ready to approach Lord Binns officially.’
‘I say go for it!’ Lou announced, with his usual undimmed enthusiasm.
‘You always say go for it,’ Sal smiled at him lovingly.
‘Of course I do.’ He ruffled her short grey hair. ‘I’m an American!’
‘But what if you hate her?’ Now that it actually might be happening, Laura was feeling doubly guilty
that she wasn’t joining in and that she had suggested the force of nature that was Mrs Lal.
‘We’re not supposed to be living in each other’s pockets,’ Rose insisted sensibly. ‘It’s a big place.’
‘As long as she doesn’t try and take over running everything,’ Olivia commented acidly. ‘I’ve seen her sort before at the golf club.’
‘Actually,’ Laura threw in, ‘what she really wants to do is more matchmaking. She’s thrilled there’s a big over-fifties singles club in Guildford, and guess what? They do speed dating over the road at the Harvester on Tuesdays. I think that should keep her busy.’
‘What do you think, Don?’ Ella asked.
Don looked up in surprise from his phone. He’d been considering nipping over to the pub. No one usually asked him what he thought. ‘Oh, yes, fine by me.’
Claudia knew from years of familiarity with her husband that he had no idea what he was agreeing to. Perhaps, if they wanted to get the venture off the ground, it was just as well. ‘Looks like we’re agreed then. Mrs Lal’s in.’
‘Isn’t anyone consulting Leonard?’ chipped in Hiro.
‘All right, everyone?’ Bella enquired.
They nodded their assent, this time Len included.
‘We ought to have some champagne,’ Ella exclaimed.
‘Let’s wait till Murdo accepts before we crack open the bubbly,’ Rose pointed out sensibly.
‘Okay, who’s going to make the offer?’ Bella looked round at the assembled faces.
‘I will,’ replied Rose with a small secret smile.
‘Do you want me along for moral support?’ asked Lou.
‘No, I think I’ll do just fine on my own,’ Rose replied.
Claudia had a suspicion they might be seeing quite a lot of Lord Murdo Binns in future.
And then extraordinarily, amazingly, it was done.
Lord Murdo Binns stood in his huge study in his vast Elizabethan pile, laughing uproariously at his own private joke, as he accepted their offer. Rose had dressed up for the occasion in a high-necked purple dress with a three-stranded pearl choker, and rather precarious high heels for someone who had recently been so ill. She looked marvellous. She even got Murdo’s secretary to take a photo on her phone to show the others the historic moment.
To the great relief of all, the miraculous Rose had persuaded Murdo to give them time to sell their own homes before he required payment. Then Lou, despite Sal’s concern, went a step further and offered each of them a no-interest bridging loan so that, if necessary, they could all stay in their homes until the building work was finished which made the whole process much less worrying.
Sal was looking worried at his generosity but Claudia was only grateful, and summoned the estate agent to value her parents’ home as well as their house, plus advise them about when to put it on the market.
He was particularly excited about her parents’. ‘Rectories are always in demand from city types,’ he confided to Claudia. ‘It sounds good when they’re telling all their friends. Plus your parents have hardly touched the house in years. People like that. Especially city types.’ The estimate he then delivered made Claudia have to sit down. He was keen on their house too, just the kind of place people like to retire in, and quoted her a reasonable price which would more than meet their contribution to the manor.
The man announced he could also find Sal and Lou a very nice rental property through his contacts, where they could stay during the building work.
She couldn’t wait to tell her parents. She thought of all the steep stairs, the patches of damp that her mother ignored, the lack of proper central heating and the inconvenient kitchen and could see why her mother might want to move to a warm hotel-like environment where someone else was responsible for calling the plumber.
The thought suddenly struck Claudia that as the instigator of the scheme that might be her. And then she remembered brilliant Bella. They would be all right as long as Bella stayed on to manage the place.
Bella and Nigel had opted to move into their cottage right away, despite all the disruption ahead, and though Claudia worried about Noah, they were young and brave and it did make sense that Bella should be around. The work would be finished sooner with her to charmingly chivvy. At least it was all at the back of the property, with the heavy work out of the way and the finished rooms inhabitable.
One thing Claudia was shocked to discover from Douglas was that old people were encouraged to have showers not baths. It was the getting in and out, he explained. They would have to have hoists, and hoists were very expensive.
Claudia tried not to think of being so old she was hoisted into the bath. And all the power points would have to be moved to wheelchair-access level. It was all rather lowering.
And then she remembered the good things. Her friends around her. Help with her parents. A swimming pool!
The trickiest question was when to put their houses on the market, especially their own home. Her parents’ rectory would be snapped up in a flash.
Claudia sat down and treated herself to a chocolate biscuit with her coffee. Maybe it would be more straightforward than she’d thought.
With all this talk of house moving, Laura realized she really must find a place of her own. The terrifying thought hit her – where was home? A message on her phone from the young woman agent in London, who obviously still felt guilty about accepting a higher offer on the flat Laura had liked so much, informed her of a lovely property quite like the one she’d lost that had suddenly come on the market. Would she be interested?
Yes, she would. A bridge between lives would suit her very well. She doubted if Claudia would mind if she left stuff here. She explained the situation to Claudia, who of course told her she was still very welcome, and caught a train that morning to view the place.
The agent was right. It was nice. Knowing how quickly nice places went, she made an offer on the spot and was instantly accepted.
Now she faced telling all the others and, worst of all, saying goodbye to her grandson.
‘Are you sure, Mum?’ Bella asked her anxiously, putting her arms round her mother. ‘Now that it’s all actually happening here?’
‘It’s really hard,’ Laura admitted. ‘But I just feel too young to bury myself in Surrey. I’ll come and visit. Promise.’
‘You’re still hoping to meet someone, aren’t you?’ She surveyed her mother affectionately. ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t. You’re amazingly young and pretty.’ The words ‘for your age’ hung unspoken in the air between them.
‘I’m going to miss Noah so much.’ Almost the best thing about Laura’s stay with Claudia had been spending so much time with her grandson. She would miss everything about him, the feel of his skin, his milky smell, the mischievous grin that appeared every time he saw her.
‘He’ll miss you too. One of the best ideas about your mad hippie commune is mixing up the generations.’
‘Except that I’m not staying,’ sighed Laura. The pain of the decision was almost as bad as when her marriage collapsed.
‘Come on, Mum, this isn’t like you. You’re a glass half full person. We’ll soon come and stay in your spare bedroom and christen the new flat, won’t we, Noah?’
He held out one of his fat little wrists. He’d already learned that if he did this Laura would kiss it.
Laura felt a tear fall as she did so.
It was only an hour to London but it would feel like a hundred miles. She’d better make the most of her remaining time here.
As soon as the agent left, Don started banging around grumpily in what could only be called male passive resistance. The trouble was, like most men, Don might be the life and soul of the party when he was in the pub, but the idea of living with anyone, even his own friends, filled him with dread. Eventually it was too much for Claudia.
‘Just think about other people for a change. My parents need looking after, my father dreads living in a care home, and if you recall, I gave up the career I loved to mo
ve here partly because you wanted to. You had actually seen round this house behind my back!’
Don had the grace to look shamefaced. ‘Fair enough,’ he sighed with the air of an early Christian martyr.
‘And if you go round looking like that, I may murder you and save you the decision!’
Finally he produced a small smile.
‘That’s better. It’ll be fun.’
‘Of course it will,’ he attempted bravely.
Claudia decided to put their house on the market before he could change his mind. They had an offer in less than a month from a couple not unlike themselves who were moving out of the city. In fact, they loved it so much they were prepared to wait for as long as it took for Claudia and Don to move out. They stood at the back door holding hands and gazing out at the garden. ‘It’s just what we dreamed of,’ the woman whispered to her husband.
‘Oh my God,’ Don poked Claudia. ‘Hand-holders.’
‘Isn’t it better if we’re selling up that it’s to people who’re going to love the place?’ Claudia demanded.
‘Yes, but hand-holders. Whenever I see grey-haired hand-holders I want to shoot them.’
‘When did you turn into such an old cynic? What’s wrong with people with grey hair showing affection?’ But actually Claudia agreed. She and Don didn’t go in for that sort of nonsense.
The buyers became a little less mistily romantic when it came to some rising damp pointed out in the survey, but they finally arrived at an agreeable sum which would easily meet Claudia and Don’s contribution for the coach house.
‘Well, Claudie, looks like we’re joining a commune,’ Don murmured. ‘I’d better look out my loon pants and see if they still fit me.’
‘It’s not a commune,’ Claudia replied waspishly.
‘You prefer retirement community, do you?’ her husband grinned.
Claudia shrugged. They really were going to have to find a better name for the concept behind the manor.
And finally the project was underway.
Mrs Lal had grandly announced she was going back to India for a short while to tie up some affairs there. Sal had moved out of her flat and into the cottage the agent had found until the manor was ready.