Mating the Llama

by Oliver, Marina

  On the other hand, if she tired of independence, wanted someone to look after her, to provide her with security, he'd seemed the ideal candidate. Until, that is, she began to wonder why he was so eager for Kate to earn good money.

  Feebly, she began to plan how she could justifiably get out of seeing Edward. So far she had no appointments fixed with clients, though two of the women she'd met at the Manor had told her they would certainly book with her. She could lie, but he'd only suggest another time, and she couldn't pretend to have a full diary yet.

  She'd better see him. Having made the decision she felt a slight flutter behind her breastbone. Surely she couldn't still have any romantic feelings towards him? No, it must be apprehension. Suddenly aware of biscuit crumbs crunching on the kitchen floor, a pile of dirty crocks in the sink, and a load of dirty washing waiting to be fed into the machine, she realised just how little housework she'd done in the past few days. She tossed up what to tackle first, stuffed the laundry into the machine, then found she had no powder. She'd have to go shopping tomorrow, and the laundry would have to wait. But she could tackle the washing up and sweep the floor. And vacuum the rest of the house, dust, clean the windows, remake Kate's bed – but first she'd have to wash the duvet that had been taken to the hospital with Miss Brown, and they took ages to dry. She'd better go to the twenty-four hour supermarket and get some soap powder tonight.

  *

  On Tuesday it rained. The wet duvet was draped over the kitchen table, and the rest of the laundry was on an expandable clothes airer in front of the sitting room fire. It made the windows steamy, but as her housework blitz had not yet reached them, Lucy decided it didn't matter.

  She was struggling to fold up a wet sheet small enough to fit on one of the airer's silly little rungs when the doorbell chimed. This time it was 'The Old Folks at Home', and it made her feel old. She dumped the sheet on top of the laundry basket and hoped it was some door to door salesman she could justify being irritable with. Please don't let it be someone she'd have to let in, she prayed to whoever the Goddess of housework was as she went to the front door, falling over the vacuum cleaner which was on its way upstairs.

  Scrambling up just as 'Home Tonight' began serenading her, she flung the door open, and her mouth gaped. It was a vision outside. Even wearing a tightly-belted raincoat and a wide-brimmed rainhat it was a vision. She must have been one of the most beautiful girls Lucy had ever seen. Long blonde hair was curled into a neat chignon, protected by the hat brim. Eyes of a startling blue, almost violet, smiled at her, as did perfectly shaped lips parted over small, pearl-white teeth.

  Her face was a true heart shape. The faces of heroines in certain types of books were always being described as heart shaped, but Lucy had never been able to visualise it. Now she knew what they meant. A wide brow, high cheekbones, and a pointed little chin gave her a cat-like appearance. But her smile had nothing feline about it.

  She was tall, a few inches more than Lucy's five foot six, and her short skirt showed off long, slender legs ending in cute little high-heeled boots that she coveted straight away. And so slender Lucy suspected an eating disorder. But that could not be, for she seemed to be bursting with health.

  'Hello,' she said. 'I'm Alice Delaney, and I believe you helped my Aunt Flora when she was knocked down on Sunday. I came to say thank you, and see if you can tell me how it happened. Ooh!'

  A cascade of rainwater had descended from the porch roof, and as Lucy looked up she saw part of the guttering had given way. Belatedly she regained her senses.

  'I'm so sorry! Do come in, please, and forgive the mess. I haven't been here long, and I'm not very organised.'

  'Let's go straight through to the kitchen where I can drip,' Alice suggested, and led the way, leaving Lucy to shut the door and trot after her.

  'I'm sorry,' she said again, trying to roll up the duvet and provide a bit of table space. 'Would you like some coffee?'

  'Love some. Black with no sugar, please.' She discarded her raincoat and hat, shook her hair free, and sat down at the table. She had an enviable figure, going in and out in all the right places. She stared round while Lucy filled the kettle. She hadn't replenished her stock of chocolate digestives on her hurried shopping trip last night, but she suspected such a girl would care too much for her figure to indulge.

  'It's not the best day to be washing duvets, is it?' Alice said, laughing slightly as she rolled a bit more of it out of the way.

  'No, but it got dirty on Sunday. We used it to cover your aunt while we waited for the ambulance. I need it this weekend if my sister comes.'

  'Oh, I didn't mean to sound critical! It was so good of you to help her. Cas told me all about it.'

  'Cas? Oh, yes. He found her. Luckily for her, or she could have been lying there all night. Have you been to see her today? How is she ?'

  'Still confused, and she can't remember why she was in the lane in the first place. But I think I may know. And can't help thinking it may have been my fault.'

  A single tear oozed slowly from one eye, and rolled across the thick eyelashes to drop onto the perfect rose and white complexion, finally making it to the corner of her mouth, upon which a pointed pink tongue snaked out and caught it.

  Lucy dragged her attention back to what Alice had been saying. She hated women who could cry without looking bloated and red-eyed, but she couldn't hate Alice. She was so pretty, and friendly. She spooned coffee into mugs. At least she'd done the washing up and there were some clean ones.

  'What do you mean? How could it be your fault?'

  'On Sunday evening I was having dinner at the King's Head. That's one of the restaurants in the High Street. While we were waiting in the bar beforehand I overheard some boys, talking rather loudly, boasting, as they do. They were wondering what would happen if they opened the gate of Rosa's paddock and let her out again. I didn't know she'd been let out before.'

  Lucy grinned. 'No. She ended up almost in this kitchen, but luckily Flick came and rescued me. I'd never seen one before and I was terrified.'

  'I don't blame you! They are not my favourite animals. But how odd Cas didn't tell me.'

  Was it, Lucy wondered. But Alice was speaking again.

  'These wretched boys were wondering whether she'd run away, or just graze on the verge. Of course they didn't know her name, they just called her the funny animal at Finlay's farm. Then Caroline's boyfriend – they were the people we were with – told them it would be a very stupid thing to do, she was a very valuable animal, and if anything happened to Rosa he'd tell the police. He knew some of their names, so we thought, when they said they'd just been joking, that nothing would happen.'

  Lucy put the mugs on the table. 'But how does this concern your aunt?'

  'After dinner, when my friends had gone, I called in to see her. I do, every few days, to make sure she's all right. I told her what we'd heard, laughing about it, but she must have taken it seriously. I think, after I went home, she decided she would go to warn Cas. I'm afraid Aunt Flora tends to interfere, she thinks she still has the right to run the village as parsons used to do years ago.'

  'Why couldn't she phone?'

  'Her phone was out of order. I checked it today. There's some kind of fault on the line.'

  Lucy was remembering the slurred words of Miss Brown. 'Ashes!' she exclaimed. 'That could have been Alice. And the off with his head was the pub.'

  'And possibly Alice in Wonderland,' Alice said. 'She's always teasing me about my name.'

  Lucy found the notion of Miss Brown teasing anyone, even a niece, difficult to believe. She told Alice what her aunt had said, and it all seemed to fit, apart from the kishgate. The gate was explained, but what did kish mean?

  'But Rosa did get out that night,' she remembered. 'And her gate had been closed behind her. Could those boys have been the ones who knocked your aunt down? Might they have been so drunk they'd forgotten your friend's warning? Will he go to the police?'

  *

  Alice l
eft soon afterwards, and Lucy telephoned Flick to tell her what they'd discovered. She promised to come over later in the day if the weather improved and she could take one of the horses out for some exercise.

  Lucy got on with housework. Reluctantly. The mystery of Miss Brown's accident had been solved, and all she had to think about was Edward and his visit. Would she forgive him? Could they take up where they'd left off, or would it be better to finish with him, as she'd planned? Would Kate's being in the cottage make a difference? Somehow, even if it got to the stage where Edward stayed the night, she could not imagine herself entertaining a lover while Kate was sleeping in the next bedroom. For one thing, apart from embarrassment, the walls of the cottage were very thin upstairs, no more than lath and plaster. Every heave and pant and grunt would be heard next door. Karl's other women, especially his final exploit, had made her squeamish about sex which was too public. Also, there would be none of the laughter, the teasing, the squeals of excitement such as she'd shared with Karl in the first months. She had a suspicion Edward would not be that sort of lover. He was too serious.

  Then it occurred to her that Kate might have a lover too. She felt big-sisterish, as if she should be telling her the facts of life, which Kate had learned years ago, but with their parents happily on the far side of the world she also felt maternal towards her. Well, that had made one decision for her. No overnight stays for Edward even if they did get together again.

  It stopped raining soon after lunch and Flick appeared, wearing disreputable old jeans and a sweater with more holes than a fishing net. The horse was tethered to one of Lucy's trees.

  'I mustn't stay long, or the mare will get cold,' Flick said, 'but I forgot to tell you, tonight's the WI meeting and I promised to take you. I'll collect you at seven, so we'll be in good time.'

  'But – I have a lot to do, Edward's coming tomorrow.'

  'Edward? I thought he was in the past.'

  'Well, I thought I ought to let him explain, and he must be taking a day off work.'

  'You're not cooking for him again, I hope?'

  Lucy shook her head. 'If he wants a meal he can take me to one of the pubs.'

  'Good girl, you're learning. Seven, mind, and you must bring your cards. Several people have asked me about you, so I think you'll have some clients.'

  She was gone, and while Lucy was rearranging the laundry, trying to dry it all, she worried about what to wear. Casual, but businesslike, she decided, and then reflected her wardrobe contained nothing fitting that description. She abandoned the vacuuming downstairs, as she couldn't do it while the laundry airer was occupying a good portion of the sitting room, and went upstairs to survey her clothes. By the time most of them were thrown down on her bed in disgust she settled, in despair, on an ancient linen skirt and a high-necked blouse, and found an old lightweight jacket that would go with them.

  They could have done with being freshened by washing, but there was no time. She didn't run to a dryer. She had to iron them, though.

  She just had time to grab a sandwich before Flick's car was in the lane and she was tooting the horn. As Lucy dashed out she wondered whether she ought to be wearing a hat. She'd recalled seeing her grandmother departing for one of her ladies' meetings resplendent in a black felt hat. But she didn't own one, and surely women didn't wear hats to such occasions these days?

  *

  Mrs Thomas was in the car with Flick, and explained she was the branch Treasurer.

  'We want Flick to come on the committee,' she said, 'but the girl refuses. Never mind, we'll wear her down.'

  This was the sort of thing Lucy had feared about country life. But Mrs Thomas was a dear. When they reached the hall behind the church where, Flick told her, most of the local organisations had their meetings, she heaved a large basket out of the car boot.

  'Refreshments,' she said briefly. 'We take it in turn to provide them.'

  Recalling her chocolate cake Lucy heard her stomach rumbling. It hadn't been a very satisfactory sandwich, and she hoped the refreshments wouldn't be too long delayed.

  To her relief she recognised several women she'd met at the manor party. Melanie Hoskiss-Shorter smiled at her in a rather vague way, her brow creased as though she was wondering where she'd seen her before. A rather small woman rushed up to Lucy, breathlessly welcomed her, said she was Thelma Rogers, the President, and could she possibly fit in an appointment to cut her hair tomorrow as she had to attend some county function in the evening. Lucy didn't catch what it was, but was happy to oblige. Her first proper client!

  The meeting was called to order and she sat through a rather bewildering session discussing future events and whether to support another branch, electing representatives to go to various county meetings, and announcing dates for a variety of craft classes and a reading group. Somehow she managed to avoid saying she'd go to anything, though Flick kept nudging her and whispering she'd enjoy them.

  Half way through the meeting there was a slight disturbance as more women entered the hall and crept towards the back row of seats. When the business part of the meeting finished and the officers vacated the table to make way for the speaker of the evening, who spent several minutes fussing about setting up a slide projector and screen, Lucy was able to look round. To her surprise two of the latecomers were Alice Delaney and Caroline, the receptionist from Cuticurls. Somehow she hadn't associated women like them with the WI.

  Caroline. The name was familiar, she'd heard it recently. Half way through the talk about the speaker's life as the Captain of a cruise ship, which was remarkably funny as he had a dry sense of humour and some hilarious, and slightly wicked stories about his passengers, she gasped out loud.

  A few women close to her looked round, but she bent her head and pretended it wasn't her. Caroline was the name of the woman Alice had been dining with the evening her aunt was run over. And when she'd visited Cuticurls, Caroline the receptionist had mentioned someone called Alice as a potential personal trainer. She could visualise Alice in a leotard, demonstrating yoga, or something fairly elegant, but didn't personal trainers send you out jogging, forcing you to more efforts than your body wanted to make? Alice jogging along shouting encouragement to fat, out-of-condition businessmen, was something else. Though, come to think of it, if she was jogging in front they might make more effort to catch her.

  At last it was time to sample more of Mrs Thomas's cakes, this evening a delicious coffee and walnut, and the lightest sponge she'd ever tasted, and she'd always thought her mother's sponges were unbeatable.

  As she was eating them, watching the women chatting, Alice came up to her, smiling broadly. Caroline followed.

  'You're a dark horse,' Alice said, but it was a friendly comment. 'Caroline recognised you. Sounding out the opposition, were you? I'll have to get you to do her hair and see whether you can beat Evelyn.'

  'There's room for us both,' Lucy said, rather feebly.

  'The women who can't afford our prices will welcome you,' Caroline added. 'They have to go to Oxford now.'

  'How is your aunt?' Lucy asked Alice, changing the subject.

  'Coming home in a couple of days, if she continues to improve,' Alice said. 'We were right about what she was trying to do, and Caroline's boyfriend has been to the police. The lads we think were responsible are apparently a couple of tearaways who've been in trouble before. She'll want you to call and see her, so that she can thank you.'

  'Oh, er, yes, of course.'

  She didn't in the least want to, but knew it would be useless to refuse. She'd make sure Flick went with her.

  *

  'Flick? Don't take your coat off,' Cas said, coming into the kitchen as she and Mrs Thomas were transferring the surplus cakes to tins or the freezer.

  Flick turned to look at him. 'Not another llama on the loose,' she sighed. 'Haven't you fixed those padlocks yet? When the ones I did fell off you said you'd do it and show me what a big strong competent man you were.'

  'I have fixed them, properly th
is time, and put on stronger chains. No, the animals are safe. Mum rang. I'm afraid your father is in hospital, and she's in her usual tizzy when she has to make her own decisions. She needs you to go and hold her hand.'

  'What is it? His heart?' Flick asked, suddenly pale. 'He isn't sixty yet!'

  'No, it's for some sort of check, they think he may have developed diabetes, and need to get it stable. But she wants you. I told her you were out and suggested you could drive up in the morning, but you know what she's like.'

  'Yes,' Flick said. 'I'll go straight away. At least I'll miss the rush hour traffic I'd meet if I went tomorrow.'

  'You go and pack a case, love,' Mrs Thomas said. 'I'll finish putting this stuff away.'

  Flick nodded, then turned to her brother.

  'I'll be there till he's out of hospital, Cas. That could be several days, and I promised to come with you when you take Rosa to be mated.'

  'Don't worry about that, I can easily find someone else to help. Now go and pack. It will take you more than an hour to drive to London.'

  She nodded. 'Where is he? Which hospital? Is Mum there?'

  'No, she's furious they wouldn't let her stay. Apparently they said the patient had to be kept quiet.'

  Flick chucked. 'And I imagine Mum was making her usual fuss.'

  'She's at home, said she would wait up for you, whatever time you arrived.'

  'Then I'd better get moving.'

  She went upstairs, and Mrs Thomas glanced at Cas, her eyebrows raised.

  'So you're taking Rosa to meet her new husband, are you?' she said, a twinkle in her eye. 'Who will you ask to go with you? That Alice? She's frightened of the poor beast.'