A Whiff of Scandal

by Carole Matthews

  The night was crisp and chill, and brown hessian, she discovered, was no barrier against the cold. A strong wind was still gusting and a full moon shone over the churchyard, casting a phosphorescent glow over the broken teeth of the tombstones. It also illuminated the clock tower which, to Rose’s dismay, informed her that it was not yet ten o’clock.

  She leaned against one of the tombstones and considered her predicament. She could go back in and feign some dreaded illness that required her to beat a hasty retreat to her bed or she could hang around playing the village wallflower for another hour until it could be considered a more suitable time to depart without giving them something to talk about. Or she could go back in, get steaming drunk, stay until midnight and even indulge in a little dancing on the tables.

  Rose decided to pay a visit to the outside loo while she contemplated her options further. There normally wasn’t light inside but, considerately, someone had rigged up some redundant Christmas fairy lights to a battery especially for the occasion. It gave a certain surreal quality to sitting on the toilet. With time on her hands, she took the opportunity to examine her fingernails carefully, which hadn’t really changed much since last time she’d examined them. She also pulled aimlessly at a few split ends in her fringe and reminded herself that she needed to book a trim in the next week or two.

  ‘Are you ever going to come out of there?’ said a voice close to the slatted wooden door. It was a voice she recognised.

  ‘Grief, Dan, you made me jump out of my skin.’ Rose sprang up and started rearranging the brown hessian. ‘Wait a minute.’

  He was laughing when she came out. ‘I thought you’d died in there.’

  She was glad that it was dark, because he couldn’t see her blush. ‘I wasn’t going to the loo,’ she protested. ‘I was just sitting in there out of the wind.’

  Dan stopped laughing abruptly. ‘Is it really that bad in there?’ He flicked his head towards the village hall.

  ‘Yes.’ Rose flopped down on the ancient crooked stones of the church wall. ‘I’m such an outsider.’

  ‘That bad?’

  She nodded forlornly. ‘They make me feel like something out of The X Files. Or like something they’ve stepped in.’

  ‘Over,’ he corrected. ‘People in the village aren’t crass enough to step in things.’

  She smiled reluctantly.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said, then he sighed heavily. ‘You realise that we’re both village outcasts, you and I? They think you’re a hooker and I’m Ghengis Khan’s brother-in-law.’

  ‘They’re not all against you.’

  ‘No,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Just the influential ones. The Anise Westons of this world.’ He gave her a wry smile.

  ‘Yes, but you’re only unpopular because of the village hall thing. Generally, you’re very well liked. Respected.’ She smoothed her hair back from her face as the wind insisted on whipping it forward. People speak very highly of you. All they do is snigger and sneer when I’m around.’

  ‘You shouldn’t let it worry you.’

  ‘I can’t help it. It’s making me feel so isolated.’

  ‘I do know how you feel.’

  ‘Do you?’ She turned to him. ‘Do you really?’ Their faces were close together. If it hadn’t been so windy, she would have felt his hot breath on her cheek.

  ‘You do have friends here, Rose. Don’t ever think otherwise.’ He had been drinking. His breath held the sweet tangy aroma of hops. Reg’s Carlsberg was obviously going down well. ‘There are people in the village that like you a lot.’

  ‘Who?’ She sounded like a petulant child and she hated herself for it.

  Dan thought for a moment. ‘Angelica Weston.’

  ‘Angelica!’ Rose tutted. ‘Angelica doesn’t have a malicious bone in her body. Anise took them all.’

  ‘Melissa’s always singing your praises,’ he continued. ‘So is Mr Patel. Mrs Reg says you’re the best aromatherapist in the village.’

  Rose narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m the only aromatherapist in the village.’

  Dan ignored her. ‘And you’ve certainly won Basil over.’

  ‘Basil’s more than likely insane!’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to be mad to be your friend—’

  ‘But it probably helps,’ she finished for him with a wry smile.

  ‘You’ll have also won some fans for the way you looked after poor Mrs Took.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she admitted reluctantly.

  He was silent for a moment. The only sound was the wind gusting through the trees and the ominous creaking of the pines that towered on the fringe of the churchyard. He took a deep, shuddering breath and said, ‘I like you.’ Dan took a strand of her hair and twined it round his finger.

  She shivered and it was nothing to do with the chill factor.

  ‘You look very beautiful tonight.’ His eyes twinkled mischievously in the moonlight. ‘I must say the brown hessian is particularly fetching.’

  ‘Oh, it’s just something I threw on.’ It would be stupid to admit that it had taken her hours to look this ridiculous. Her voice was so breathless, she sounded as if she had just run the London marathon. ‘I like your cape.’

  He fingered the fur round his shoulders tentatively. ‘It’s a rug. Yak,’ he explained. ‘I brought it back from the Himalayas – years ago.’ His eyes never left her face. ‘I went trekking there when I was young and stupid and didn’t know about the Maldives. Fluffy peed on it once and now Gardi won’t allow it in the house.’

  She shuddered at the mention of Gardenia’s name. How could he say she was beautiful when Gardenia was in there looking as if she’d missed her way from some Paris catwalk and ended up at the village hop by mistake. She searched for something witty to say to impress him. ‘It looks nice,’ was the best offering her brain could produce.

  ‘You have impeccable taste,’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t, somehow, imagine you as a leather trousers man, I have to say.’

  ‘I borrowed them from a mate on the building site. He’s a Gary Glitter fan who won’t grow up.’

  ‘They look nice,’ she repeated. It was about time she threw those aluminium pans away, they were starting to deplete her brain cells.

  ‘I don’t really know much about Vikings,’ Dan admitted. ‘Except that they raped and pillaged.’

  ‘I was never quite sure what pillaging was,’ she confessed.

  ‘Well, whatever it is, it doesn’t sound as much fun as . . . you know.’

  ‘I know.’ The words lodged in her throat. He leaned towards her, his arms either side of her. The wind was tugging at his hair and his yak rug and, in the moonlight, he could quite easily have been taken for a Norse warrior. Or even, if she was feeling really complimentary, a Norse god. It was warm in the circle of his arms and, suddenly, the brown hessian felt like a fur coat. He lowered his head towards her.

  ‘Dan,’ she croaked. ‘We can’t . . . What about Gardenia?’ Her lips were parting and she instructed her brain to snap them shut. The old grey matter didn’t comply. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone,’ she pleaded. ‘I’ve been here before and I can’t do it again.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said softly. His hand twisted in her hair and he tilted her face towards him. ‘Say it like you mean it.’ He pressed against her, the smooth leather of his trousers pushing the brown hessian creation up her thighs in a manner that didn’t entirely befit a church social. ‘I want to kiss you,’ he breathed.

  He was coming very close to squashing her.

  ‘I’ve wanted to since the first time I saw you.’ Towering over her, his eyes glittered darkly. He crushed her to him and his hand moved to cup her face, lifting her mouth to his. Their lips met and Dan’s were warm, inviting, seductive, sweet and very insistent. Her head swam and it wasn’t just because she was balanced precariously on the wall.

  ‘That flaming DJ is stuck in the seventies,’ Basil complained loudly to Anise as they came round the corner from
the hall into the churchyard. ‘Why can’t we have a bit of Oasis? I’d hang the bastard, if I had any say.’

  ‘Damn,’ whispered Dan. He released her so quickly that Rose nearly fell backwards off the church wall.

  ‘I think he’s doing quite a nice job, Basil. It’s much better than I expected,’ Anise replied. ‘I didn’t know I liked modern music. But then I didn’t know you could cha-cha-cha to Take That.’ Anise sounded as if she’d been at the Pillager’s Punch.

  ‘Hello, young lovers,’ Basil crooned as he spotted Dan and Rose on the wall.

  ‘Evening, Basil,’ Dan said casually. Rose scrambled to rearrange her hessian and her hair.

  ‘Isn’t it a bit cold out here for you, Gardenia?’ Anise asked.

  Dan tried to stand in front of Rose to shield her and failed miserably.

  ‘That isn’t Gardenia, is it?’ Anise said suspiciously. ‘She’s much too fat.’

  Rose cringed miserably.

  ‘No,’ Dan said emphatically. ‘I, er we . . . we were just having a chat. It’s . . .’

  Anise’s face turned as stony as the church wall. ‘Oh,’ she said tartly. ‘It’s you!’

  ‘My word!’ Basil said.

  ‘You certainly get about, young lady, don’t you?’ Anise said.

  ‘Now then, Anise, don’t go jumping to conclusions.’ Dan’s tone was placating. He put his hand over Rose’s mouth as she tried to speak.

  ‘We’ll pretend that we haven’t seen you,’ Anise said magnanimously. ‘Far be it from me to spread gossip.’

  ‘That’s very kind, Anise,’ Dan said levelly. ‘There seems to be enough malicious tittle-tattle flying about the village with the sole aim of tarnishing Rose’s reputation. We don’t need any more being added to it.’

  ‘I hope you’re not insinuating that it has anything to do with me.’

  ‘Like you, Anise,’ he said calmly, ‘I’m not one to jump to conclusions.’

  ‘I came out here with the sole purpose of using the facilities.’ She turned to her companion, who seemed to have lost interest in the proceedings and appeared to be practising his dance steps instead. ‘Didn’t we, Basil?’

  He stopped abruptly. ‘I should say so.’

  ‘Then don’t let us stop you,’ Dan stood aside. ‘Mind you, wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t have to go outside on a cold March night, simply to go to the loo? That’s just one of the many benefits of having a new church hall, Anise.’ He gave her a wry look that may, or may not, have been lost on her in the darkness.

  ‘Despite my appearance, I am not the frail, genteel old lady that people take me for,’ she replied coldly.

  Even Basil’s eyes widened in disbelief at that one.

  ‘I am made of much sterner stuff than you think.’ Anise sniffed majestically and threw her head back, regarding them coolly through narrowed eyes. ‘In fact, if one were being cruel, one could say that I’m as tough as an old boot.’

  One didn’t appear to dispute it.

  ‘A modicum of nastiness on the sanitary front is of little concern to me,’ she said. Her voice had taken on a distinctly regal note. ‘Come, Basil,’ she ordered.

  Basil obediently fell into step after her, but it didn’t stop him pulling a disgruntled face at Dan and Rose behind her back.

  Dropping his hand from Rose’s mouth, Dan gave a heartfelt sigh. He stared after Anise with unconcealed hostility. ‘I really, really hope that a bloody great tarantula, the size of my fist, comes out of the bog and bites her bloody bum.’

  Rose thought she couldn’t have said it better herself.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Why did you put your hand over my mouth? Rose asked, jumping down from the wall. ‘You were lucky I didn’t bite it!’

  A grin spread across Dan’s face. ‘I bet you a pound you weren’t going to say anything nice.’

  Rose looked at him under her lashes with a reluctant half smile. ‘I might have done.’

  ‘I know Anise,’ he continued. ‘It was better to try and calm her down rather than rile her. You would have called her a nosey old cow, and it wouldn’t have helped matters.’

  ‘But you did call her a nosey old cow,’ Rose pointed out.

  Dan looked hurt. ‘Not in so many words.’

  ‘How many words does it take?’ she laughed. ‘It was as clear as crystal. I’ve never seen anyone, or anything, look so riled.’

  He was close to her again and she could feel the heat from his yak rug. ‘So you don’t think I should quit building and become a diplomat?’

  Laughter bubbled in Rose’s throat. ‘I don’t even think you should quit building and become a beer mat.’

  ‘Thank you for your faith in me,’ he said morosely.

  ‘And speaking of building,’ Rose raised her eyebrows, ‘I have only one word to say to you, Dan Spikenard.’

  Dan looked puzzled. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Fireplace!’

  ‘Oh, hell!’ His hands raked his hair. ‘I know. I know. I didn’t think you’d want to see me after our little discussion last month.’

  ‘I would sacrifice anything for some plaster.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘Besides, I overreacted and I’m sorry.’ She gave him a neat little bow.

  ‘No, it was entirely my fault.’ He held up his hands in apology. ‘It’s none of my business what goes on between you and Hugh.’

  ‘I told you there is no me and Hugh,’ she said quietly. Her eyes met his squarely. ‘It’s over.’ She lowered her eyes and her voice. ‘You didn’t seem to be too worried about Hugh a few minutes ago.’

  ‘Blame it on the moonlight, the music and the Carlsberg.’ Dan’s mouth twisted into a smile. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Rose forced down a gulp. ‘There’s no need to be.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded.

  ‘It won’t happen again,’ he assured her.

  Rose wasn’t entirely sure that was what she wanted to hear, but it didn’t seem the right time to mention it.

  ‘Come on, let’s get you back inside before you freeze,’ he said. ‘And before our friends come back.’ He stole a furtive glance at the loo, where Basil waited patiently outside.

  Rose shook her head forcefully. ‘I’m not going back in there.’

  Dan looked concerned. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I can’t face any more Abba or the Bee Gees,’ she said with an overwhelming weariness. ‘There’s only so much “Come on, Eileen” a person can take in one lifetime and I have reached that limit. I’m going home.’

  ‘I’ll escort you,’ he said quickly.

  ‘No you won’t. People will notice we’re missing.’

  ‘No they won’t.’

  ‘Yes they will.’

  ‘They won’t,’ he insisted. ‘Trust me, I’m a builder.’

  ‘Gardi will notice you’re missing,’ she said firmly, desperately longing for him to come with her.

  ‘Don’t ever call her Gardi to her face,’ Dan warned.

  ‘Thanks for that advice,’ she said wryly. ‘But I don’t need walking home.’

  ‘It’s dangerous to wander around on your own at night.’

  ‘In Great Brayford?’ She looked at him incredulously. ‘It’s not exactly the crime centre of the world.’

  ‘You could get mugged.’

  ‘I’m hardly a promising target,’ she observed. ‘If I wasn’t wearing brown hessian and was dripping in gold, I might be more concerned. I only came out with a tenner and I’ve spent most of that on Reg’s plonk. It is possible to get mugged for less than a pound, but not very likely in Great Brayford.’

  For a moment he looked deflated. ‘What about your pervert?’ he piped up cheerfully. ‘He could be waiting for you in a bush.’

  ‘Thanks for those reassuring words, Dan.’

  ‘Well, you never know,’ he said sheepishly. ‘It could be someone from round here.’

  ‘It could be you,’ she pointed out.

  ‘That’s charming! Is that
really what you think of me?’

  ‘No.’ Her face was full of longing. ‘No, it’s not.’

  He placed his hands gently on her waist. ‘Then I insist you let me walk you home, to prove that you do indeed trust me and aren’t just saying that to make me feel better.’

  Rose sighed. ‘And Gardenia?’

  ‘We’re not on speaking terms at the moment. That little demonstration was for everyone else’s benefit, not mine. Besides, I’ve had enough of “Come on, Eileen” too.’

  ‘Okay,’ Rose relented, unable to resist him a moment longer.

  ‘I knew you’d see sense in the end,’ Dan grinned. He laid his arm casually across her shoulders and guided her carefully through the higgledy-piggledy tombstones.

  Gardenia pressed her back against a patched-up section of breeze block on the church hall. The wind was billowing the diaphanous dress and whipping her long hair across her face. Gripping the flimsy material in tight, clenched fists, she tried to hold it flat to her legs so that it wouldn’t balloon out and give her away. She watched with tearful eyes as Dan and Rose meandered out of the churchyard and up towards Lavender Hill.

  ‘What about a quick nightcap?’ Dan turned Rose to face him.

  ‘Dan!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re incorrigible!’ He was also irresistibly close and getting closer. His yak rug smelled of dog pee but, unlike Gardenia, Rose didn’t care.

  ‘Just one little drink,’ he pleaded, pouting his lip as his mouth turned down at the corners.

  Rose sighed and fished for her doorkey in her pocket. ‘Why are all men so pathetic!’ She turned and unlocked the door.

  ‘Why do women always fall for it?’ Dan grinned mischievously as he followed her inside.

  She wagged a finger at him. ‘One drink. That’s all.’

  He took his yak rug off and threw it on the floor in the lounge, before he collapsed on to the sofa.

  ‘I think you’ve had more of Reg’s Carlsberg than you’re letting on.’ Rose gave him a rueful glance.

  Closing his eyes, Dan rubbed his temples. ‘I think you might be right.’

  ‘Do you still want a drink?’

  He opened one eye. ‘Just a small one.’