by Maeve Haran
Perhaps that had been part of their problem. She liked going to bed early and waking with the light. Simon stayed up half the night on his computer and only stumbled into bed at two or three, wondering why he was bad-tempered in the mornings. Anyway, she thought comfortingly, he wasn’t her problem any more.
Another text arrived an hour later.
Are you dressing now? I would love to watch you slipping into your lacy underwear. And even more, watching you take it off. Till Saturday. Gavin
Thank heavens she’d bought some new stuff; her usual was beige M&S. She could have worn a leather thong and tassels on her boobs and Simon wouldn’t have noticed.
As she walked to the bus, the feeling of shyness came over her again. What if her body was a disappointment? She knew she’d aged well but that couldn’t undo the fact she was over sixty. Sixty might be the new forty with your clothes on, but when you took them off it was a different story. He might make his excuses and get on the first flight back to Beirut. The cruel truth in the dating game was that men could choose women twenty years younger and women her age were lucky to even get answers to their ads.
No, she told herself firmly, she wasn’t going to think like that. She and Gavin had so much rapport, had become so intimate so quickly that it was bound to be all right. Wasn’t it?
Mr A was his usual cheery self. ‘Mrs Minchin,’ he greeted her warmly, ‘always a pleasure to see you. And how is my mother-in-law getting on in the ashram?’
‘It’s not really an ashram . . .’ Laura began.
‘I know, I know, dear lady, only teasing,’ he twinkled. ‘Has she offended all the other ladies again?’
Laura had to admit that, according to Ella, this was always on the cards. On the other hand, she hadn’t had any crisis calls lately asking how she could have foisted such a monster on them, so that had to be good.
‘I think they’re all getting to know each other slowly but surely.’
Mr A smiled. ‘You are a very diplomatic lady. Anyway, thank you from the bottom of our hearts for finding her somewhere congenial. We are now having a normal life again. My wife in charge and me doing what she says. When her mother was here my wife became very docile and even did cooking and washing-up.’ He paused to convey the full drama of this revelation. ‘Once she even sewed a button on my shirt.’
‘I can see that would be a change for you.’
‘Now we are okay again,’ he concluded merrily. ‘Whenever she treats me very badly there is always a reward in the bedroom.’
Laura nodded attentively. It was fascinating to see how other people’s marriages worked, though she was pretty sure this wasn’t a pattern she wanted to emulate. ‘I’ll go into the stockroom, shall I, and unpack today’s deliveries?’
‘That would be most kind. So you mustn’t worry when Mrs A is exceptionally rude to me, you see.’
‘Absolutely,’ Laura agreed and disappeared through the plasterboard door behind the cigarette and lottery ticket sales area. That was as much revelation as she could deal with today.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She carried it round with her at all the time since Gavin had appeared in her life. Even into the bath and loo.
Only a few days now. Maybe she should make a calendar like she had at school and tick off the days till he arrived.
She looked at the message that had just appeared.
Darling Laura, it read, I have a big problem. I have lost my job. You are not allowed to use your phone for private calls in my company and this arsehole made records of how many times I messaged you. So now I am fired. I have no money in the bank so I’m afraid unless I can get hold of 5,000 US dollars, I will not be able to come. Gavin
The double shock felt to Laura almost as though she had been kicked. The fear he would not come, followed quickly by a streak of anger that he was asking her for money, and then the comforting if contradictory realization that she still had most of the money from her house sale so she could help him out of this hole.
This was Gavin, she told herself, and he had lost his job, partly because of her. Five thousand US dollars was a large sum, but if it meant she would still meet him after all this time, surely she had no choice but to give it to him? And, after all, if he’d lost his job maybe he would think about making a new life here.
Twenty-Two
‘Mrs Lal . . . Lalita . . . why don’t you give us a proper tour of the charity shop? We only had a moment before and I’d really like to see it again,’ Claudia suggested, partly as a distraction for her mother who had been sitting staring into space lately, and only the plans for Good Age seemed capable of cheering her up. To be truthful, Claudia knew how she felt. She was missing her dad dreadfully too. How much worse it would have been for Olivia if she’d been on her own in an empty house after sixty years of marriage instead of having people all around her. Their mad commune had unexpected benefits.
They both graciously agreed and they all trouped down to Little Minsley together.
The village was much fuller than usual. Claudia noted not one but two grey-haired couples holding hands. Good God, it seemed to be catching! One couple particularly caught her eye: an elegant pair, probably nearer seventy than sixty, she with sleek silver hair, wearing black trousers and a beige jacket, he, patrician and slightly stooping, in beige trousers and a black jacket. They looked like a chess board designed by Calvin Klein. And to top it all there they were, bloody holding hands! The next were a much sloppier pair, smaller, squatter, cheerier, and they were at it too. Claudia shook her head in disbelief.
After a while they noticed the small crowd that seemed to have gathered outside Good Age. There seemed to be some kind of scene going on inside which was clearly entertaining enough to stop and watch.
Inside the manageress was shouting at her two cowering assistants.
‘What I can’t understand is how you let this happen!’ she screeched at Flo, who had her hands deeper in her cardigan at every accusation. ‘I mean, you let some complete stranger come in here, take the place over, actually daring to throw away some perfectly usable clothes donated – donated, mind, by people who are trying to help the cause of the elderly in this country – and you let this woman chuck them out.’
‘She was with Mrs Warren,’ Flo defended herself. ‘And we know her, don’t we, Min?’ Flo was finding it hard to account for how the tsunami that was Mrs Lal had swept into the shop.
Minnie was getting a bit of her nerve back. She’d never liked Vera anyway. A little Hitler in a flowery dress, who didn’t think twice about creaming off the best stock for herself. Probably even that dress she was wearing now. She was no better than they were. ‘As a matter of fact,’ Minnie said, stopping slouching and drawing herself up to her full five foot three. ‘We think she’s got a gift for it, don’t we, Flo?’
‘What has she got a gift for?’ The manageress screeched. ‘What are you going on about?’
‘Style, that’s what she’s got! You’d never even know this place since she put her stamp on it! All the customers have said so, and we’ve had double the numbers popping in.’
‘Thank you, dear lady.’ Mrs Lal imposed herself on the scene with all the authority of Catherine the Great. ‘I greatly appreciate your kind words. And what exactly is the problem?’
‘You!’ responded an incandescent Vera, her voice rising several octaves. ‘You aren’t even connected to the organization and you sweep in here . . .’
‘Ah, but as a matter of fact, I am,’ Mrs Lal replied patiently as if addressing a particularly thick teenager. ‘I have actually become a Good Age gold-star donor, so I think I have a perfect right to lend you any practical improvement I can.’
Vera was temporarily silenced. A gold-star donor was someone who had given the organization a very large sum of money.
‘In that case, I resign! Perhaps you might like to take over managing the place yourself since you seem suddenly to be so devoted to our cause!’
Mrs Lal rose to the occasion. ‘If I m
ight count on your good offices, Olivia, to help me out with your advice and wisdom.’
‘And experience of being old,’ added Olivia, smiling.
‘And the assistance of these two good ladies,’ she gestured to Minnie and Flo rather like the Duke of Wellington reviewing his troops before the Battle of Waterloo. ‘I think we might make something of this shop.’ She delved in her voluminous bag and pulled out two pieces of paper. ‘And even win Charity Shop of the Year! It was not too late to enter so I have done so.’
‘What Head Office is going to make of this . . .’ Vera spluttered.
‘I talked to them yesterday,’ Mrs Lal replied sweetly. ‘I am surprised they haven’t been in touch. I suppose they must have had more important things to do.’
At the suggestion she wasn’t important enough to bother with, Vera picked up her handbag and made for the door.
Flo, emboldened by Minnie’s defiant stance, put her oar in too. ‘Goodbye, Vera. Sorry you won’t get the chance to buy your wardrobe here on the cheap.’
‘Did you really talk to Head Office yesterday?’ Olivia asked Mrs Lal in a low voice.
‘Of course not,’ Lalita smiled mischievously; even Claudia had to admit this new Mrs Lal was delightfully disarming. ‘Silly woman. Yesterday was Sunday anyway. Of course I will do in due course. I will explain that I was carried away by the shop’s possibilities. They will smooth things down, explain I am a very rich and eccentric donor who doesn’t understand how things are done here, find her another shop. Do you know, ladies’ – she turned to include all of them – ‘I think we’re going to have a whole lot of fun!’
That night in bed, Claudia put out a hand and stroked her husband’s back. He looked at her in surprise.
‘Thank you for the lovely lasagne.’
‘Tortellini,’ he corrected. ‘But thanks accepted.’
‘What are you making this week at the shed?’
‘Ah, you’ve decided to take an interest, have you?’ Don commented wryly. ‘Bread and butter pudding using Panettone instead of bread.’
‘Mmm. Count me in. And thanks for all you’re doing round the manor. You’re becoming rather indispensable.’
He turned back to her and took off his pyjama top. ‘That’s a relief,’ he replied with a smile that made him look engagingly boyish. ‘I suspect you’ve been wondering what I’m for.’
She returned his smile and lay back invitingly on the pillows. ‘I haven’t quite forgotten as a matter of fact.’
As he leaned towards her, Claudia thought how much better life had become since they’d moved to the manor and how – thanks to her mother’s ingenuity – Mrs Lal had stopped being a nuisance and was becoming really rather fun. Even Don was surprisingly happy now that he’d found a role as the man to call in a crisis. Maybe – and she hardly dared think it – she’d done something rather clever in getting them all to come and live here.
Sal stood in front of the bathroom mirror trying not to break down. Despite the check-up a few months ago, there was a distinct area of redness on her remaining breast and the nipple was inverted. She wondered whether to call Lara, the natural daughter she’d given away as a baby and only been reunited with for such a short time. Lara had been so brilliant when Sal had had cancer before and hidden it from everyone, even her best friends. How angry they’d been with her, especially Ella, for not sharing her worries with them. But Lara was in Norway with her husband and three children. Sal didn’t want to worry her for what might prove to be nothing. But Lou was a different matter. He already suspected something was up. She could feel him hovering about her like an anxious budgie, which was very different to his usual style. She knew she had to tell him, but it was so much the news she’d been dreading that she was putting it off. If she didn’t admit it, it wasn’t real. Stupid when that was at best perverse and at worst dangerous.
She must go and see the specialist who treated her last time. And she must let Lou go with her. After all, sharing was the American way. All your dramas became Oprah-ified in the US. And Lou was also capable of being a huge comfort.
She was furious and terrified at the same time. Things had been going so well for her. For the first time in her life she felt loved, happy and secure. And now this.
You’d almost feel the Almighty had it in for her. Maybe for being a rank unbeliever. And yet if she was such an unbeliever, how come she thought things like that in the first place?
She pulled up the bra she’d had since her mastectomy. It covered the scar across the left side of her chest, which had faded from livid red to faded raspberry. She had decided not to have a breast replacement and yet still – miraculously – Lou had fancied her and called her his Amazon.
What if she had to lose her other breast as well? How would he feel about making love to a woman with no breasts at all?
Ella was almost as keenly aware as Laura of the mysterious Gavin’s imminent arrival. She bumped into Bella, pushing Noah round the grounds in his buggy, and decided to broach the subject discreetly with her.
‘Hello, Bella, what a lovely morning!’
The air had a clarity you could almost taste and the sky was a bright happiness-inducing blue.
‘I know, it’s on days like this I’m so glad we left London!’
‘Speaking of which, how’s your mum?’
Bella’s pretty face clouded a little. ‘I don’t know. I do worry about her there without all of you lot. She’s gone rather quiet lately. Maybe I’d better give her a ring. She certainly jumps on her phone and answers at once these days, almost as if she’s waiting for your call.’
Ella suspected it wasn’t her daughter’s call Laura was waiting for so eagerly. Should she mention Gavin?
‘How’s her love life? Any handsome swains on the horizon? Or even bald and paunchy ones?’
Bella laughed. ‘She wouldn’t tell me if there were! Daughterly disapproval is one thing she can do without.’
‘Would you disapprove?’
‘Depends on the man. Last time I talked to her she seemed a bit obsessed with internet apps. Funny it should be her rather than me, when I’m part of the digital generation. Yet since I moved here I hardly ever even go online.’
‘And has she met anyone?’ Ella asked tentatively.
‘Not that she’s told me about.’ Noah intervened lustily, clearly deciding there had been enough chit-chat between the grown-ups.
‘Better get him his breakfast. See you, Ella.’
So Bella didn’t know any more than she did; less actually. Ella sighed, not wanting another rift to open up between her and Laura. Maybe she’d just give her a ring later.
She walked on into the village, past Mrs Lal’s amazing shop window, to the bakery and cafe. She quite often went there for breakfast. With its vintage furniture and French signs it had the air of a cafe in the south of France in the fifties. Extravagantly she ordered a hot chocolate with a croissant to dunk in it.
She had only been sitting down a minute, staring absently into space, dipping the flaky pastry into the steaming chocolate, when a voice interrupted her reverie.
‘Very French. I’ve only ever seen chic Parisians dunking with quite such confidence and flair.’
Naturally it was Daniel Forrest.
‘You get around. The Laden Ox and now here.’
‘I’m not much of a homebody. Self-catering isn’t exactly my thing.’ Again the charming, slightly untrustworthy smile.
Out of the blue she suddenly asked, ‘Have you ever tried online dating, Daniel?’
‘Never needed to, darling,’ was his instant reply. ‘Actually, that’s not quite true. I had a rather disastrous encounter with a beautiful young Russian. I thought she was after my body but it turned out it was my bank account. When she discovered how empty that was, she dumped me.’ Underneath his usual debonair smile there was, a touch of unexpected vulnerability. It made him seem much nicer.
‘How did you find out?’
‘A friend of mine checked her out
on social media. Apparently my sweet Maria had quite a lot of names. Svetlana. Ekaterina. Katya. I never found out which was real. After that I avoided the temptations of click bait.’
‘And stuck to the ladies in your choir.’ The words had slipped out before she thought about them.
‘Indeed,’ replied Daniel crisply, before picking up his paper and walking out.
Ella hadn’t really meant to offend him, but maybe it was for the best.
All the same he’d given her an idea. But first she’d just ring Laura and see how she was. If she’d got it right, Gavin was due in tomorrow.
‘You’re never going to believe it!’ Bella could hardly contain her amazement as she broke the news to Claudia and Don. ‘But Spike was telling the truth. His uncle is a chef at the Ritz. He’s quite a charmer actually, considering what despots chefs are supposed to be, and he’s prepared to come and see the manor and talk to us about what the job would actually involve.’
‘So you won’t be needing my newly acquired culinary skills after all?’ Don made a clown face of mock disappointment.
‘You can save them for me.’ Bella noticed Claudia’s smile and thought Hmmm . . . things are going better at the coach house.
‘So when can he come?’
‘Next Monday so we’d better start thinking what we could offer him. Get Rose involved, she’s the foodie queen.’
‘Good idea. She’ll be thrilled. All that pâté de foie gras.’
‘Not on our budget,’ Bella grinned. ‘It’s generous but not that generous.’
Rose was indeed thrilled. The possibility that they might have a chef who made life delicious almost got her over her irritation at the sudden rise of her rival, Mrs Lal, as heroine of the hour.
‘Have you heard?’ Rose asked Ella when she bumped into her on her way from the bakery. ‘We might be getting the chef from the Ritz. He wants to semi-retire and a free cottage plus cooking for a bunch of oldies who go to bed early might just appeal.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Ella replied. ‘I stay up till at least ten o’clock.’