by Katie Fforde
‘I'll give you the day off, if you need it. So when roughly are you going?'
‘We're getting everything ready then Marcus is going to look for a spell of settled weather in the middle of June.'
‘Oh, yes.' Fred's faith in weather forecasts was obviously not huge.
‘Apparently you can get a six-day prediction. Marcus says.’
Fred sighed at the folly of youth and then said, 'Takeyoung Tom with you to meet your parents. He needs some civilised company. He mixes with those dropouts all the time.'
‘Have you got children, Fred?’
He nodded. 'Grandchildren, too.' He smiled nostal gically. 'They really are grand. I miss them. My two eldest boys live abroad and we don't see as much of them as we'd like. You don't like to think your grandchildren are growing up, and you not there to see it.'
‘OK! I'll go! And I'll drag Tom along too, if I can. Now could you be a love and put up this new noticeboard? I want it to be absolutely impossible to forget a single bill while I'm away.’
Fred grumbled off to get his tool kit. 'You'll only be away a few days. They could wait!’
*
Jo wished she'd warned Miranda she was planning to visit her shop just after she'd found somewhere to park her car and was walking down the pretty high street. When she'd set off her plan had been to check out the shop before she went in, to see if what she'd done was of the quality required. Now that felt stupid and she didn't want to fall back on the old, I-was-just-passing-so-I thought-I'd-call-in lie, because where could she possibly be going to? She saw the shop from across the road. It looked, even from a way away and through traffic, decidedly upmarket. Miranda had obviously just been being kind when she suggested she could possibly restore things that were good enough to sell there. Still, she might as well put herself out of her misery. She could go and see Miranda, or Miranda's partner, show her stuff, then take it away again and go shopping instead.
Procrastinating desperately, she took time to cross the road. But at last, in spite of all her efforts, she found herself outside the shop. The windows were screened off from the rest of the shop and while what was displayed was extremely attractive, it meant that Jo could only see the choice pieces on display.
On one side a blue-painted dresser held a collection of creamware. Jo looked for a while and decided that her favourite was like a little openwork basket, only made of china. Someone had filled it with redcurrants and the splash of scarlet, in among the white dishes and jugs with the blue background, looked like a work of art.
In the other window was a complete contrast. Here quantities of old painted sweet tins, tea caddies and biscuit tins, a glorious range of rich colours and intricate patterns, filled a table. Behind these was an old storage jar filled with cow-parsley. Jo gave a little sigh of ecstasy. It was definitely her sort of shop. Some of her anxiety faded. She opened the door and went in.
It took her a moment or two to recognise the elegantly suited woman who was coming towards her with out stretched hands. Miranda looked so different from the woman who drank large quantities of wine and Pimm's and wore linen slacks and faded shirts.
Different or not, she hugged Jo warmly. 'Jo! Why didn't you say you were coming? We could have gone out for lunch. As it is I'm stuck here.’
Jo returned the hug with equal warmth, taking strength and comfort from Miranda's firm embrace. 'I came on the off chance you'd be here. Things are quite busy on the barge and I wasn't sure when I could get away.'
‘Well, it's lovely you're here. So, The Three Sisters is going to Holland?'
‘How on earth do you know that?'
‘Word gets around. Come and have some coffee or something and tell me all.' She noticed the bag Jo was carrying. 'Is that what I think it is?’
Jo nodded. 'I'm really not sure if I've done a good enough job, Miranda. Your shop is so full of lovely things.' She put the bag down by the desk where Miranda had been sitting. 'Can we have the coffee before I show you?'
‘I'll put the kettle on. Have a look round!’
Jo looked, exclaiming, either to herself or out loud, at the plethora of items which ranged from the dainty, the quirky, the sweetly pretty to the kitsch, with all styles in between.
Unsurprisingly to Jo there was a section of model boats of all kinds. There was a paddle steamer, its hull brightly painted in black and red, various yachts, obviously designed to be sailed on village ponds, and a scale model of the Queen Mary. The star of the selection, to Jo's eyes, was a diorama in a glass case depicting some ancient drama involving a two-masted ship, a paddle-steamer and two little dinghies. Quite why all those vessels were in the same place at the same time was not explained.
Around the boats were various related items: carved whales' teeth, a ship in a bottle, a selection of telescopes, sextants, shackles and other mystifying bits of tackle.
Everywhere Jo looked were lovely things. In the corner was a rocking horse, dapple grey with a flowing mane and a real, tiny saddle.
‘I love this shop,' said Jo. 'It's heaven encapsulated in prime real estate.’
Miranda laughed as she edged the tray on to the desk, pushing aside a pile of papers as she did so. 'I'm so glad you like it. I have to confess to being quite fond of it myself. Have a seat.’
Jo pulled out a little chair she faintly recognised as being Art Nouveau.
‘I'm hoping I'll find a couple more of those chairs, to make up a set,' said Miranda, pouring coffee, 'but until I do, it might as well be useful.'
‘What was it William Morris said? "Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful"?'
‘I think that's right. Have a biscuit.'
‘This is so civilised. I've spent too much time worrying about fuel tanks and navigation lights recently.' Jo bit into her shortbread with a hedonistic sigh.
‘You shouldn't be worrying about things like that, surely? I thought Marcus was in charge.'
‘Well yes, he is, and he's obviously very efficient, but it all goes on at my house, so to speak. Although The Three Sisters is not my house, really.’
Miranda sipped her coffee and regarded her friend. 'You went back home?’
Jo nodded. 'How did you guess?'
‘Not hard. How did it go?’
It was lovely to have a woman of her own age to talk to, thought Jo. Dora was a dear and Marcus was a con temporary, but, however hard they tried, they couldn't really relate to Jo's fears and disappointments. Miranda listened attentively, taking occasional bites out of her biscuit. Then she let loose a short, fluent statement full of foul language that Jo found immensely satisfying.
‘Oh Miranda, I love you!' said Jo.
‘Likewise. Now, enough of that,' she said briskly, sensing it was time to change the subject. 'What have you got in that carrier bag?'
‘I may have to take back my last statement about loving you. These little items represent hours of painstaking work, practice, research, and goodness knows what else.'
‘You missed out "blood, sweat and tears".’
‘They're a given.'
‘So, let me look.’
Jo reached into her carrier and took out the first tissue-wrapped parcel and handed it to Miranda. She unwrapped it carefully and took out the little mirror.
‘Oh my God! I can't believe it,' she said. 'You've worked a miracle.’
Relief made Jo laugh. 'It was no miracle, it was all those other things, including the blood and tears.'
‘But it's exquisite! My goodness, you've gilded it properly, with real gold leaf! I can't believe it!' Miranda said again, lowering the mirror. 'You are ambitious.'
‘Foolish, more like. I fell in love with the technique when I was in the shop, buying supplies. I knew I had to try it. It sounded so much like alchemy.'
‘You've done an amazing job, Jo. I'm so impressed. I'm going to send everything that needs repairing to you from now on.’
Jo felt some of her confidence return. 'Do, although I'll need more spac
e if I'm going to do it for a living.'
‘There're a couple of rooms upstairs. They're full of junk now, but we could easily turn one into a little workroom for you.' Miranda paused. 'There's a little bathroom too. If you ever need a place to go, there's one here.’
Jo patted her friend's hand, unable to speak for a moment. 'That's really kind,' she said huskily. 'I might well take you up on that.’
*
Jo got back after her visit to Miranda feeling satisfied and calm. She did have saleable skills, she had taught herself a new and difficult technique so she still had a brain and hand-eye coordination, and, if all else failed, she had a place to live.
All this made her feel a lot less vulnerable and dependent on Philip's generosity. While Marcus may well be right in saying that half the value of the house was hers by right, it could take a long time to organise. And much as she found it hard to think of Philip living there with the Floosie, the thought of her old house being sold to strangers made her very sad.
Dora arrived home late, but relieved that Fred had taken her impending holiday so well.
‘He was very understanding about me not knowing how long the trip would take.'
‘I suppose, being a boatyard, he must know about waiting for weather windows, cleaning out fuel tanks and all that stuff.'
‘Of course he does.' Dora paused. 'He also thought I should go home for a visit before we went. He said I should take Tom with me.'
‘Oh yes, that's a good idea. They won't be able to do anything or say anything that will bring shame on the family if a stranger's there,' she said.
‘Well yes, Mum's not likely to make a scene while he's actually there, but I can't rely on her not to send Dad and Tom out for some reason.'
‘She will want to see you on your own, but so will you, really.' Seeing Dora was ambivalent about this proposed visit she went on, 'You can borrow the car if you like. It would make it easier to get away if it all goes pear-shaped.' Dora laughed, but protested. 'I'm not insured!'
‘I'll ring up so you will be.' Jo was sprinkling cheese and breadcrumbs over a gratin dish full of pasta and vegetables.
‘There's just one thing I'm worried about.'
‘Yes?'
‘I don't want Mum thinking me and Tom are an item. That could be really embarrassing, and hurtful to her, if shefalls in love with him straightaway, like she did with John.’
‘I'm sure she's not so fickle as to fall in love with someone else so soon,' said Jo, thinking in fact that Dora's mother might easily transfer her affections to Tom, so keen was she to see her daughter married.
Dora laughed, possibly thinking the same thing.
‘Just make it clear from the beginning that Tom is only a friend,' Jo went on.
‘I've just thought. I'll have to think of an excuse to bring Tom.'
‘Tell your mother I made you. That I wouldn't let you borrow the car unless you had a responsible adult with you.’
‘Jo! This is Tom we're talking about!'
‘I know, but…' She paused.
‘What?' demanded Dora, instantly aware that Jo was pausing for reasons of tact and diplomacy.
‘I don't want to say anything about your mother that might sound like criticism..
‘But?'
‘While she must know that you're a good driver, she would probably think you were safer if you had a man with you. She can't help it. It's her conditioning.’
Dora chewed her lip. 'And I could say I wanted him to navigate.’
Jo laughed. 'After all, it's well known that women can't read maps.'
‘And that most men can't walk down the street and chew gum at the same time!'
‘Give your mum a ring. It'll give her plenty of time to plan lunch for you.’
Dora paused. 'I wish we could go out. Restaurants are less stressful, don't you think?'
‘Your mother will want to cook for you. The good thing about Tom is that he eats a lot. Mothers like that in a boy.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘OK, you know the way?' asked Jo, a few days later.
‘It's only getting out of London that's the problem,' said Dora, not for the first time. 'I've got my list of road num bers and places to look out for, and Tom's got the map.'
‘Sorry, I'm fussing.' Jo smiled in self-reproach. 'I'm such a mum!'
‘It's perfectly understandable, I'm taking your car.' Dora picked up her bag. She patted Jo's arm and smiled. 'I'd better go – Tom's waiting by the car. What are you going to do while we're away?'
‘Cooking for the trip. I shopped till I dropped yesterday. I'm going to fill the freezer, and then the fridge, with meals that can just be bunged in the oven or microwaved. I'll enjoy myself,' she added.
Reasonably convinced that this was true, Dora kissed Jo's cheek and went out to meet Tom, jingling Jo's car keys in her hand. It was a beautiful summer's day and her spirits lifted. She was nervous and excited at the same time. It was fun to be going off for the day with Tom, but the thought of seeing her parents for the first time since her escape was a bit daunting.
Tom was as relaxed as ever. 'When did you last drive, Dora?' he asked, getting in the passenger door.
‘I didn't have a car of my own but I used to use Mum's quite a lot.' She looked in the rear-view mirror and adjusted it slightly.'And John's?’
She shook her head. 'He always had cars it was too expensive to insure for me to drive. He wasn't a good passenger. But it did annoy me. I'm a far better driver than he is – was.' Her brow wrinkled, remembering how they used to share the driving before he got his own car, but afterwards he was so critical she always let him take the wheel if they were together, whatever car they were in.
‘OK,' said Tom after a moment's pause. 'Turn right out of the car park.'
‘I think I could have managed that bit on my own.'
‘If I'm here as your official navigator, I've got to do my job. Think of me as sat-nay.’
Dora relaxed. Tom wasn't John, he wasn't going to keep his hand on the handbrake and suck his teeth whenever she changed gear. 'Sat-nav gets people into all kinds of trouble, it's well known for it,' she said, beginning to feel confident and in control behind the wheel of Jo's car. She just hoped she went on feeling confident and in control when she got home.
‘The advantage of the human kind is that they can read maps too,' said Tom.
Later, when they were on the last stretch of the journey, Dora said, 'Now Tom, there are a few things I need to tell you about my mother.'
‘I'm sure there aren't.'
‘Yes! For example, you mustn't breathe a word of our bets-'
‘But your dad gave us the tickets to the races.'
‘Yes, but he didn't tell Mum about it first. She'll know by now, obviously, but you must not tell her that you made me get a tip for a race.'
‘Or that you picked up two Irishmen, did an accumulator, and won a hundred quid?'
‘No. And don't mention the karaoke.'
‘I really don't see that there's anything wrong with it,' said Tom, resting his knees on the dashboard.
Dora sighed, wondering if Tom was being deliberately obtuse or just winding her up. 'And if you mention us going to a music festival-'
‘Oh, didn't I tell you? I tried again, but I really couldn't get tickets for the one I wanted to take you to.’
Dora struggled to disguise her relief. 'Oh! Shame! Perhaps you'd better think of some other way of torturing me, then.'
‘Maybe. I'll see what I can think of. A music festival would be so fun.'
‘Yes. I'm really disappointed too. Especially if it involves lovely camping, and pyramids of poo in the loos.’
He nudged her elbow, even though she was turning a corner. 'Liar!’
*
'Darling!' Dora's mother ran out of the front door the moment the car pulled into the drive. 'How lovely to see you! And this must be Tom.’
As she and her mother hugged, Tom, Dora was embarrassed to note, got a head-to-toe inspection.
‘We're just friends, Mum, I told you,' Dora whispered as they released each other. 'Tom helped me map-read,' she added more loudly.
‘Not that she needed help,' said Tom, obligingly. 'She's an excellent driver.'
‘Yes she is,' Dora's mother acknowledged, somewhat surprised.
‘Where's Dad?' asked Dora.
‘In the garden. He's just getting the grass clippings off his feet. Or at least I hope he is. He mowed the lawn in your honour, Dora.'
‘I expect he mowed it because you told him he had to.' Aware that there'd been quite a rift in their relationship, Dora took her mother's arm. 'Let's go in.'
‘You haven't introduced Tom properly.’
Dora suppressed a sigh, determined to make the day a success however much her mother got on her nerves. She said, 'Mum, this is Tom. Tom, this is my mother, Mrs-'
‘Do call me Sukie,' said Dora's mother graciously. 'I'm sure we're going to be friends.'
‘Let's find Dad and a glass of wine,' said Dora, ushering her mother firmly inside.
‘You'd better have a spritzer, darling, if you're driving. So what do you do, Tom?' Sukie carried on as Dora led the way through the house and out of the French windows into the garden.
There was a bottle of wine in a cooler set on the table under an umbrella. Dora's father was waiting by it, his arms open. Dora ran into them, smelling his familiar Dad-scent that made her momentarily tearful. His arms closed tightly about her. 'How's my little Flora-Dora then?’
She couldn't speak for a while, but eventually she managed a squeaky 'Fine.' Then, 'This is Tom, Dad; Tom, this is Cliff.'
‘How do you do?' said Tom, and Dora remembered that, however much he teased her, his parents were probably like hers, and that he knew how to behave.
‘Glass of wine, everyone?' asked Cliff. 'Darling, are we eating inside or out?'
‘I thought out,' said Sukie. 'Dora, you could come in and give me a hand.'
‘Let the girl have a drink first,' said Cliff soothingly. Sukie tutted. 'She's driving, don't forget. I'll get the canapes.' And she hurried off.