by Maeve Haran
‘Yes, but they don’t usually order a minicab to pick them up in half an hour and take them to the station.’
‘Oh goodness, I’d better go and see if I can pacify him.’
Ella stood at her window watching with grim satisfaction as another crime was laid at the door of Mrs Lal.
It was Friday and she’d just decided to pack a bag and head for London too. She could probably stay in Laura’s spare room; failing that, with her daughter Cory, though Cory always seemed to be working. Ella thought she’d worked hard as a lawyer but young people these days seemed to have to give up their entire lives to work and be available twenty-four hours a day. It made her worry about Cory but of course if she ever said anything, she was told gently but firmly to mind her own business.
If she stayed with Laura they could go and have a drink in a wine bar like the old days. Maybe even the good old Grecian Grove. And at least Laura would be pleased to see her.
Twenty
‘Have you seen the injection of youth you asked for?’ Sal teased Lou as they wandered through the grounds from their cottage. ‘His name’s Spike and he’s actually quite attractive. If I wasn’t the age I am and already in love with you, I might be tempted.’
They both studied Spike who was wearing a singlet and tracky bottoms as he limbered up outside the main building, despite the cold weather.
‘Hi there,’ he saluted them. ‘I was just wondering if anyone might be interested in a fitness session for older people? Only I did a course on it and it seems a pity not to use it.’
‘Sounds great. I’ll ask around,’ Lou said, ‘and let you know.’ He dipped down and murmured in Sal’s ear, ‘I’ve survived thus far without being described as an “older person” and I don’t intend to start now.’
He saw Don walking past holding a Stanley knife and looking very intense. ‘Don, my friend, don’t go near any blondes in the shower with that thing.’
‘Blondes in rather short supply round here,’ Don replied, ‘in the shower or otherwise.’
‘Don,’ tutted Sal, ‘that is definitely an ageist observation.’
Don just laughed.
‘You’re American, aren’t you?’ Spike asked Lou, when they passed him trying unsuccessfully to persuade Claudia to sign up.
‘Smart boy. New Yorker in fact. Most people don’t count that as America.’
‘I’ve never been to the US,’ Spike confessed wistfully.
‘Really? Why is that?’
‘It’s not because I don’t want to,’ he grinned. ‘Just never had the dough-ray-me, if you get me.’
‘You’d better tell us more about these sessions you’re offering.’ Lou decided he liked Spike. He was so very unsophisticated.
‘It’s called Fitness for Old Farts.’
Lou, who was fitter than any man had a right to be at his age, cracked up with laughter.
‘It’ll be like that Yoga for Oldies thing I went on,’ Sal remarked. ‘The moment we all lay down it was Who Can Fart First?’
‘All right, I’ll sign up,’ Lou offered. ‘And so will the little lady here,’ he added, winking outrageously.
‘Hey,’ Sal protested, ‘less of the little lady, please.’
‘Okay, two old farts to go on your list.’
Spike went off whistling to try and enlist a few others.
‘I wouldn’t try the Indian lady,’ Sal called after him. ‘I don’t think it’s really her scene. On the other hand, I don’t know what is – apart from sabotaging fences, offending chefs and some rather unreliable fortune telling.’
‘What the hell am I going to do about Mrs Lal?’ Claudia slumped into a chair in their bedroom as Don stood in front of her, naked as Adam before The Fall. ‘I can’t believe that Laura could have dumped her on us and then decided to stay in London. Maybe dumping Mrs Lal was her way of getting out of the guilt of not joining us.’
‘To be fair,’ Don reasoned, apparently unaware of his complete state of undress, ‘Laura never showed any interest in coming here. She offered us Bella, who has been a total wonder, and as far as I know never even entertained the idea of living here herself.’ He delved into his knicker drawer for clean boxers.
‘Watch out!’ Claudia responded crossly. ‘Those have all been ironed!’
‘I really don’t need ironed underpants,’ Don responded, further irritating Claudia who, weird or not, found ironing underpants soothing.
‘Besides,’ Don continued blithely, ‘I thought you needed Mrs Lal’s money. You hardly invited her out of the kindness of your heart.’
‘Yes,’ Claudia conceded, ‘but Laura said she was okay, and she’s clearly a complete nightmare. No wonder her daughter and son-in-law were so thrilled to see the back of her. And you still haven’t answered my question.’
Don looked thoughtful as he pulled on the old blue jeans he wore for chopping wood, his favourite task at the manor house.
‘I see you’re wearing your lumberjack outfit. Mind you check with Ella before you chop anything down. She’s turning into Gertrude Jekyll.’
Don whistled cheerfully.
‘So you haven’t got anything useful to contribute?’ Claudia knew she was sounding horrible but Don could at least have understood how stressed she was.
‘If I were you, I’d consult your mother.’
‘My mother?’ Claudia looked at him as if he’d metamorphosed into a dangerous lunatic.
‘Yes, your mother. Have you forgotten it was your mother who saved our daughter’s wedding?’
On the other hand, tact and people skills weren’t exactly up Olivia’s street. Claudia decided she’d have a go at talking to Mrs Lal first.
Rose McGill looked out of her window at the early morning unfolding beneath her. Mist still hung on the trees like a white chiffon wrap on the shoulders of a yawning debutante. A pheasant, the finest but stupidest of birds, strutted across the lawn displaying his finery and croaking away to his mouse-brown mate.
If she were younger, she might even think of having a swim, but her rheumatism pained her. It always seemed to take longer and longer for her joints to ease up in the mornings these days.
She was just about to go for a bath when she spotted Murdo Binns, looking as guilty as a condemned man, slip out of Mrs Lal’s cottage, glance both ways and head for the back route to the car park. It really was too much when he’d made such a song and dance about being in love with her. But then Murdo had always been weak and easily led. She put it down to his Gorgon of a mother. That had been why, all those years ago, she’d refused to marry him.
She wished she were more mobile and could dash down the stairs and pursue him but by the time she got down he’d be in Godalming.
So much for only selling this place to them if she were part of the package. Stupid sod. But then, in Rose’s experience, men were stupid where sex was concerned. They ran after it like some shiny toy and couldn’t see that the toy they already had might actually be more precious.
Since Murdo was eighty, Mrs Lal probably seemed like a younger woman even though she had to be seventy at least. Maybe Indian women kept at it longer. All that Kama Sutra stuff.
She saw Claudia, looking distinctly nervous, heading towards Mrs Lal’s door. Knowing she’d never get down in time to head her off, she opened her window and called down instead.
‘Morning, Claudia. Beautiful day. You couldn’t pop up for a coffee and a chat?’
Claudia’s heart sank. Rose McGill wasn’t the type to waste time on chats unless she had something important to say.
Rose, still in her dressing gown, was filling a cafetière. ‘Can’t be arsed with those little machines that need pods like we had in the office. You always seem to run out of the ones you like and be left with the Fortissimo when you want the Arpeggio.’
‘Sorry, Rose,’ Claudia replied, ‘I don’t speak Nespresso.’
Rose was so irritated she didn’t even laugh. ‘You know the chef’s actually gone. Not just threatened, gone.’
; ‘Oh dear.’
‘And I’ve just seen Murdo Binns creeping out of Mrs Lal’s cottage. Don’t you think there ought to be rules about overnight guests?’
‘Rose, for goodness’ sake. We’re all grown-ups.’
‘He might have a heart attack on the job.’
Claudia had to stop herself from laughing, though a relationship between Murdo and Mrs Lal was very annoying, she could see that.
‘So what are you going to do about the chef? Order meals on wheels? We’re certainly old enough.’
Claudia had absolutely no bloody idea. Maybe she would talk to her mother after all.
Ella walked through the barrier at Waterloo station and felt a kick of disappointment. Laura had said she’d meet her if she possibly could. Of course, it was easy enough on the tube but there was something special about being met. It was human instinct to hope someone was there waving to you even though logically you knew there couldn’t be. She headed for the giant tube map on the wall just as a figure leapt out from behind a large white noticeboard announcing delays on the line.
It was Laura, looking incredibly pretty in a pale yellow cardigan with a silk scarf tied round the neck and blue jeans, clutching a bunch of pink asters which she thrust into Ella’s arms.
‘Surprise!’ She hugged her friend. ‘I am SO glad to see you. I can’t tell you how weird London is without you all. I mean, I know I’m supposed to be an old lady sitting by the fire in her slippers with no expectations but in my head I’m still nineteen and wanting to go out on the razzle!’
‘The razzle it shall be. Well, a nice pub or wine bar anyway.’
‘We could go to The Grecian Grove, for old times’ sake.’
Ella put her arm round Laura, her pull-along suitcase in the other. ‘Brilliant! That’s just what I was hoping! Now, or shall we go to your place first?’
‘It’s six p.m. Already wine o’clock. Let’s go now.’
Ella studied Laura for a moment. There seemed to be something different about her. There was no longer any hint of the abandoned wife or the guilty granny; she seemed to have an inner glow, just like the beauty companies offered you but never actually provided. If she could bottle it, she’d make a fortune.
‘So,’ Ella enquired as they sat down together in front of the familiar fading nymphs painted on the walls of the wine bar that had been their headquarters for so long, ‘how come you look so amazing?’
‘Do I?’ Laura asked innocently.
‘You must know you do. Have you won the lottery? Got an ace new job? Fallen in love?’
Laura just laughed. ‘I’ll tell you about it later. For now let’s take a selfie of us with these boozy Bacchae and send it to Claudia and Sal. They’ll be so jealous!’
Laura held up her phone and snapped as they toasted each other with Pinot Grigio.
After the next glass with just a few meze of deep-fried calamari and a dish of black olives, Laura was feeling a bit light-headed and daring. She got out her phone and showed Ella the photograph of a very handsome man with luxuriant wavy hair and melting brown eyes that somehow managed to look friendly and sexy at the same time. ‘Wow! Who’s that?’
‘His name’s Gavin.’
‘Where did you meet him?’
Laura laughed again, with a slight hint of self-consciousness. ‘On a dating site called Out There. I joined up so I could get to know him better.’
‘Right. So tell me about him. Where does he live? Was he married? Does he have children?’ Ella studied his face again. ‘And is he really as knockout as he looks in the picture.’
Laura’s back stiffened almost imperceptibly as she poured the last of the wine from the bottle into their glasses.
‘The thing is, I know this probably sounds weird, but I haven’t actually met him. He’s an engineer and he lives in Beirut working on this big solar power project. But I’m just about to. He’s coming to London in a couple of weeks.’
‘How exciting! So you’ve just been chatting on the phone so far?’
‘Well, actually, we’ve just been emailing and messaging all the time. We started out on the app and then, maybe I shouldn’t have but I just knew he was trustworthy, so I gave him my mobile number.’ Laura stared into the last of her wine and smiled. ‘By now I really feel I know him. You can’t believe how romantic it is. He sends me a good-morning message every single day, as well as messaging me to say sleep well, and some of his messages are just a little bit sexy . . .’ She found an example and showed it to Ella.
I long to spend the night with you and watch the sun come up lying in your arms. Laura, you are the woman of my dreams. Gavin
‘Good heavens.’ Ella tried not to sound too dampening. ‘How can you be the woman of his dreams when you haven’t even met him yet? He could be a sex maniac or a serial killer!’
‘I knew you wouldn’t understand.’ Laura looked so wounded that Ella wished she’d spoken more gently. Laura had had such a bad time with horrible Simon.
‘All the same, do be careful,’ Ella added. ‘Where are you meeting this chap? Somewhere very public, I hope, and you really mustn’t take him back to your flat.’
Laura just laughed. Ella could see that somehow Laura really did feel she knew this man quite intimately already. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t do anything silly. I’m just so excited to meet him at last.’
‘Yes,’ Ella replied, torn between worry and pleasure that her friend seemed so happy. ‘I can see you are.’
She just hoped that this man was all right. She knew that lots of people met online these days and the whole business of apps and websites was another world to her. Maybe she was just old-fashioned and out of touch.
Claudia decided she’d better get Bella to see if the situation with the chef really was beyond rescue, and if so, find a temp to fill the post. What the hell had the bloody woman actually said to him? One thing she’d learned since they’d all set up home here was that the plumbing could be problematic, the cleaning patchy – but you couldn’t mess with the food.
She was nearly at Bella’s door when her father and Hiro overtook her on their way for their lunchtime visit to the pub, where Hiro beat Len at Scrabble and her father drank a half pint of Theakston’s Old Peculier every day at 12.30. This meant her mother would be on her own. The ghastly carer, Mrs O’Brien, had been given her marching orders when they moved, thank God.
Claudia found her mother making a cup of tea and staring disconsolately out of the window. ‘All right, Ma?’
‘It’s your father,’ Olivia replied irrationally, ‘he’s so bloody happy these days. With that mindless lump of metal tagging along he doesn’t need human company.’
Claudia didn’t like to point out that Hiro was hardly mindless and that when Len had been available to chat with his wife, she had totally ignored him and preferred the company of the carer.
‘I suppose it was him you were looking for anyway,’ Olivia commented. ‘You and your father always were thick as thieves.’
‘As a matter of fact, it was you. I need a bit of advice.’
‘From me?’ Olivia demanded incredulously. ‘You need advice and you came to me?’ Her mother looked like a hare with a broken paw who found it was suddenly being splinted. ‘I thought you and your friends all saw me as an interfering busybody.’
‘No, Ma, not at all. Don was just reminding me how you rescued Gaby’s wedding.’
Olivia sat down at the big dining table, hardly ever used now, but which had featured so often in Claudia’s childhood. She had lost a lot of weight, Claudia noticed, and her clothes seemed suddenly baggy. Her terrifying mother, who could put you down with a lift of the eyebrow, looked suddenly pathetic.
‘It’s Mrs Lal who’s the interfering busybody.’ Claudia sat down next to her mother. ‘The chef’s left because of her and now Rose thinks she’s trying to snatch her beau and become the next Lady Binns.’ She sighed gustily. ‘But Laura insists it’s all a front and she’s quite nice underneath it all.’ Claudia laid her head
on her mother’s shoulder. ‘Oh God, Ma, the whole thing’s falling apart and it’s all my fault. I was the one who got everyone to move here.’
‘Come on, dear, pull yourself together. Why don’t you throw a little drinks party?’
Claudia almost laughed. ‘Because at the moment no one would come and if they did, they wouldn’t speak to each other.’
‘Even with some nice canapés?’
Claudia felt hysteria rising. It would probably end up as blinis at dawn between Rose and Mrs Lal.
‘All right,’ Olivia reasoned, ‘now what do you think she’s actually good at?’
‘Apart from putting people’s backs up on an Olympic scale? She claims she’s a brilliant fortune teller and you’ve heard her boasting she’s a famous matchmaker as well.’
‘We’ve had quite enough of that,’ Olivia huffed, ‘what with that Daniel chap turning up the other night and flirting with Ella.’
‘Why do you ask anyway?’
‘When Dad and I were living in Dubai there was this lady who couldn’t keep her silly nose out of anyone’s business. I thought she might end up murdered and her body washed up in the Persian Gulf.’
Claudia listened, fascinated. Her mother so rarely talked about the days when Dad was successful and she was a company wife.
‘Then I found out she was a whiz at bridge. We got her to start a bridge club and she taught all the veiled ladies who lived in the royal palace how to play and got really quite important. We never heard a peep out of her again.’ Her mother looked thoughtful. ‘I see there’s a vacancy in one of the charity shops in the village. Do you think your Mrs Lal would consider it?’
‘Goodness, she’s frightfully well dressed, though Laura did mention she picks up all her jewellery in Oxfam.’
‘Caramba! Do you want me to have a chat with her? She’ll never be nervous about a poor old dear like me bending her ear. She can patronize me all she likes.’
Claudia grinned. Anyone patronizing her mother would certainly be underestimating their opponent.
‘Would you, Ma? She can only bite your head off!’
‘Not if I tell her about the cache of costume jewellery hidden behind the counter.’