About Last Night . . .

by Catherine Alliott

  ‘You did, but then that happens to the best of us,’ I assured him, my mind whirring. ‘I retired there with a hangover only this morning.’

  He sat down opposite me and we sipped our coffee together. I could tell he was wondering why I’d come but was too polite to ask. I pondered how to broach this: wished I’d thought through all the possible ramifications more thoroughly in the café. Above all, I thought, looking at his fine, gentle face, I didn’t want to hurt him. I put my cup down in its saucer.

  ‘Robert, forgive my nosiness, but you and Cuthbert were terribly happy, weren’t you?’

  He looked surprised. ‘Extremely, my dear. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I flushed. ‘I suppose I just wondered …’

  He set his cup down. ‘Why he didn’t leave the house to me?’

  ‘Well, I know you said before he didn’t want the responsibility of sorting it all out, wanted to leave it to fate and let others handle it, but – I can’t help feeling … he was a highly intelligent man.’

  Robert sat quietly a moment. ‘He was,’ he agreed eventually. ‘Extremely. And in my heart I believe he might have done, had things been slightly different. But I’m not saying that to put any pressure—’

  ‘No, no,’ I interrupted hurriedly. ‘I know.’

  We were quiet a moment. I sipped my coffee, waiting.

  ‘Had things been different … in what way, Robert?’ I asked, eventually.

  His eyes came up from his cup to meet mine. ‘Have you made a will, my dear?’

  ‘Me? No, I haven’t. Keep meaning to.’

  He shrugged. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But I’m a bit – you know. Younger.’

  ‘And yet your husband died tragically young, so one might imagine it concentrates the mind.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘And Cuthbert didn’t think he was old. Thought he had years ahead of him. I suppose he was rather …’ he hesitated, ‘not arrogant, but in denial about it. Which happens.’

  ‘Sure. I can see that.’ I wasn’t fooled, though. I waited some more.

  ‘You’re not going to give up, are you?’ he smiled.

  ‘Not really,’ I agreed, smiling back.

  He nodded. ‘OK, you’re right, there was another reason.’

  I sat very still.

  ‘Felix and Cuthbert didn’t always see eye to eye. So perhaps Cuthbert felt if he left the house to me …’

  ‘It would go to him.’

  ‘Well, of course it would.’

  ‘Right. Why didn’t they get on?’

  He sighed, sat back in his chair. ‘Just different personalities, I suppose.’ He shrugged. ‘Cuthbert and I led a very laid-back existence. We ambled on through life in a slightly shambolic, or as we liked to think, bohemian manner.’ He smiled reflectively. ‘Back in the day we were both hippies of a sort, you know. Glastonbury, that type of thing.’ He straightened up. ‘Whereas Felix is more, well, determined, I think. Like his mother.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Lovely boy, don’t get me wrong.’

  ‘No, no, I won’t.’ For determined read ruthless. And I’d slept with the man. My heart began to bang and my tummy churned. But he’d been so sweet, so charming. And of course he was so bloody handsome. But perhaps I was jumping to conclusions? Determined didn’t mean complete shit. Or even ruthless, actually.

  ‘And of course, you’re a blood relative – well, your children are – and Felix isn’t. So naturally in that respect, it makes sense, the inheritance. Not so peculiar.’

  ‘No. But Robert, as I’m sure Felix has told you, I want you to live in it for your lifetime,’ I said firmly.

  ‘Yes, which is more than kind, and no rent either, although I insist on paying something.’

  No rent. I held my tongue. And my breath, for a moment. And he was only seventy-eight. Not that I wanted him dead.

  ‘Robert, how long is Felix in Vienna for?’

  ‘Vienna? He’s not in Vienna.’

  ‘He’s going today.’

  ‘No, no, you’re mistaken, my dear. I’m having lunch with him the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And Camilla’s going to the theatre with him tomorrow tonight.’

  ‘Camilla …’

  ‘His girlfriend. You’ve met her. Helps me here. Runs a cleaning company. Doing brilliantly. Got six girls working for her now. Sweet girl. Hope they get married.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

  ‘Molly, are you all right? Only you look a bit pale and you’ve hardly touched your coffee.’

  ‘Yes. No, I’m – fine. It’s just … well, it is a bit warm, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is indeed. Stuffy, too. Just a tick.’ He got up and went to open the back door. He struggled a bit with the mortise locks at top and bottom and whereas normally I’d leap up to help, I didn’t, because it gave me a much needed moment. Eventually he flung the door wide and resumed his seat.

  ‘Robert, do you know anything about a document Felix has had drawn up to make things a bit more – you know – official?’

  He frowned. ‘I don’t, I’m afraid. But I can see that might be necessary. From your point of view, actually. Not a bad idea.’

  ‘No, quite. But you haven’t signed anything?’

  ‘Lord, no.’ He looked perplexed. ‘Molly, why don’t you ask Felix? I’m sure if he’s drawn something up he’d be happy to go through it with you.’

  ‘Yes. I might. Thank you.’ I drained my coffee and stood up. Robert looked worried.

  ‘My dear, if you’ve had a change of heart I would completely understand. My sister lives in Broadstairs and would be only too happy to accommodate me, I know. We get on famously and I love the sea.’

  No relatives, he’d said. Felix. His whole house to be reorganized and turned upside down so his father could live with him. But hadn’t Robert said that too? I turned. ‘I thought you were originally moving in with Felix? Thought that was the plan?’

  ‘Yes.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘At one stage. But he changed his mind. And I can quite see why,’ he added quickly. ‘It wouldn’t really work, an old boy like me in that trendy Docklands environment, not my patch at all. And having to move his studio up to a bedroom.’

  Which was why Robert had jumped at my supposed offer. He looked awkward. ‘But Broadstairs would suit me tremendously well, so really, my dear, have another think. You know, we don’t even know each other, and—’

  ‘No. No, Robert, it’s fine. I just have to sort a few things out, that’s all, but I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Right you are.’

  I made for the door, my heart pounding, and he followed me down the hallway. He reached past me for the doorknob to let me out and I turned back on the step to say goodbye.

  ‘Molly …’ he hesitated. ‘Don’t sign anything, will you? Without a solicitor being present. Or reading it properly first.’ He was looking beyond me into the street as he said this, not at me.

  ‘No,’ I gulped. ‘No, I won’t do that, Robert.’

  He nodded and we pecked each other on both cheeks as befitted the friends we had become and then I was gone. Down the cobbled mews in my thin-soled shoes, feeling every bump, every jar, with ever more heightened sensitivity.

  I’d fully intended to get a train home but waiting for Camilla had made me late and the next one wouldn’t deliver me until the small hours, so instead I went back to the flat, my mind still racing. Happily it was empty, a key thoughtfully left, and cravenly, I didn’t ring Nico, just sent a text, to which he didn’t reply. The cogs of my brain were whirring furiously as I lay down on the sofa with just a lamp on: no television, no radio, too many speeding thoughts to accommodate any other distraction. So. Felix and Camilla were a couple. Cuthbert disliked Felix enough to cut his partner out of his will. Felix had told many, many lies. Round and round they raced, these revelations, like cats chasing each other’s tails, and my shock, of course, was great. But also, strangely, not tremendous.
Indeed, when I analysed it properly, I was shocked, but not surprised, if that’s possible. I also felt incredibly enlightened. Energized. When I did get into bed an hour or so later, I fell asleep quite quickly. In fact, as I turned my face to the wall, I dropped off almost immediately.

  Two pairs of abandoned high heels in the sitting room the following morning were testament to the fact that the girls had arrived home as I slept, but I was up very early, before they stirred, and away across London. I got the tube to Paddington and hurried through the crowded concourse. Luckily a train was waiting on my platform so that in no time at all, I was clutching my handbag on my knees and rattling back on the long journey to Herefordshire.

  The cogs of my brain seamlessly resumed the furious activity of the night before but with more drawing together of strands now: more conclusions. So. Felix was indeed a complete shit. So complete that even his own father had warned me against him despite the fact that Robert clearly adored him. And would you effing believe it, after five years of abstinence, this was the man I’d chosen to go to bed with. Splendid. I swallowed as I gazed out of the window at the hurrying countryside. But I couldn’t help but be sad, too. I’d liked him so much, you see. I recalled our day together by the river, barely drawing breath as we talked our way along it, so much in common it seemed, and then in the art gallery, too. I’d thought he’d liked me. Had been so flattered. And foolish, I realized with a jolt. A foolish, naive old woman. Why on earth would someone as attractive as that be drawn to a hick from the sticks like me? I’d thought a few years on my side might be enough, but Camilla was much, much younger. Early thirties at most. He’d reeled me in like a huge, wriggling fish. I squirmed when I thought how apposite that analogy might be in Felix’s bed but shut my mind to it. That wasn’t important. What was important was whether I’d signed the bloody document. I actually, as I strained to remember, didn’t think I had. I had a vague recollection of resting my head on the glass table, pen in hand, pre-signature, but as I say, it was vague. I really couldn’t swear to anything. Instead, I leaned my head on the window of the train as we flashed through open countryside, and as acre after acre of rolling green meadow sped past, I subconsciously indulged in the game I’d played since childhood, jumping every hedge on an imaginary horse, until my eyes closed and I fell into an uneasy sleep.

  When I awoke, fortunately within twenty minutes of my stop, I felt loads better, but surprised. How extraordinary. More sleep. So early in the morning too. I was clearly sleep deprived, I decided, as I got off the train with my bags. I made my way to the car park. That’s what I’d been lacking all these years: not men, not hot sex, just a bit of shut-eye. It was something of a eureka moment, if I’m honest. What a blessed relief. All that man stuff was so messy. So complicated. And look at the trouble it had got me into! For the love of God, be gone. All of you. Just leave me to my bed. Alone.

  Coincidentally, Tia was leaving her car not far from mine in the car park to get the train to Ludlow. We exchanged a hug and a cheery word.

  ‘We’re all going to miss you so much!’ she wailed. ‘Peter says you’re definitely selling – I can’t bear it!’

  ‘Come and see me, Tia, come and stay.’

  ‘In London?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘D’you know, I might just do that. Tell Mike to get his own bloody supper, rustle up his own toad-in-the-hole. But it won’t be the same without you, Molly – our lovely cosy lunches! Quiz nights at the Firkin!’

  I thought of some of the hilarious, raucous nights we’d had in the village pub and realized I’d miss her too. But I’d be having civilized bridge evenings with my new friends, if I could remember how to play the wretched game, not celebrating being on the winning team in the saloon bar, punching the air and yelling ‘Yes!’ after too many ciders, roaring with laughter.

  ‘And what about the fête? Who am I supposed to do the White Elephant with? Not bloody Wendy Armitage, she morphs into Oberführer given a stand and a clipboard. I swear she was goose-stepping last year.’

  ‘Well, you never know, Tia, they might promote you to second-hand books – without me as a disruptive influence, of course.’

  ‘Always the dream. Except they know I’ll just sit there reading. Speaking of which – the book club, Moll! We were going to do the steamy ones next!’

  ‘I know.’ I felt a pang at this. ‘You’ll have to do them without me. Ask Biddy, she loves a good bodice-ripper.’

  ‘God, far too much. She’ll probably bring sex toys or something hideous.’ We giggled at the alarming prospect of Biddy, possibly still in her jodhpurs, bustling in with armfuls of well-thumbed paperbacks and who-knows-what-else in a plastic bag, getting thoroughly overexcited.

  I’d be joining a different book club, of course, I thought, getting into my car as we said goodbye: where they read improving books like A. S. Byatt and Fay Weldon, not the commercial fiction Tia, Anna and I gulped down. Yes, just the three of us. Plus Lauren sometimes, when she could. But no one else. We certainly didn’t want anyone like Wendy pushing their choices on us for next month, and we liked lots of food and wine. And gossip. Not much chat about books at all, if I’m honest; we just agreed we’d loved the last one – Marian Keyes, Sophie Kinsella, whatever – and moved on to who’d been doing what to whom at the Terriermen’s ball.

  I pulled out of the car park with a bit of a lump in my throat. Tia wouldn’t come and stay, I knew that. She didn’t get much further than Cheltenham these days. Too busy. And Mike wouldn’t like it. He couldn’t cook toad-in-the-hole to save his life. But I’d come back. Of course I would.

  I drove down my lane, the verges billowing with buttercups and cow parsley, and was about to pull into the yard, only the gate appeared to be shut. I got out and opened it at which point a film set straight from The Darling Buds of May met my eyes, lacking only Pop chewing a straw. All the ducks and chickens we possessed seemed to have chosen that moment to congregate in the yard, together with both dogs who were chasing their tails, the geese, who were forbidden due to their propensity to emit revolting green excrement but who were honking and strutting merrily, and even Buddy the ram was there. And there were too many cars, too many people, I thought nervously, leaping out to shut the gate firmly behind me as Buddy eyed the lane. He gave me a truculent I’ve-been-here-for-ages look as he plucked the only remaining pansy from my terracotta pot. Nico and his two mates, Jake and Derek, were up by the house in the front garden, fast asleep and stripped to the waist in their jeans, surrounded by tins of tobacco, beer cans and flies. In the far corner of the yard Nutty was tied up outside his stable. Paddy Campbell, with his back to me, was bent over his front hoof, peering at it in a nosy manner. Bloody man – what was he doing here? Who did he think he was, the RSPCA? I ignored him as he did me and hurried through the bestial melee and up the slope to the garden. I stood over my sleeping son and his snoring buddies.

  ‘Nico. Wake up.’

  He roused, but only briefly. Dozed off again. I nudged him gently with my foot. He blinked. Peered up. ‘Huh? Wah? Wha’s up?’ He shaded his eyes with his hand. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ I hissed, jerking my head eloquently. He followed my gaze.

  ‘Buddy or Paddy?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Buddy kept escaping and shafting the ewes, so I thought he was safer in here, and Paddy’s come to vet Nutty.’

  ‘Really? How come?’

  ‘I told you, they’re buying him, that Pritchard lot, subject to Paddy passing him.’

  ‘Oh! So soon. Gosh, that’s good.’ I crouched down to duck out of sight, realizing suddenly that Pritchard was over there too and that must be his rather sleek silver convertible beside Paddy’s truck. ‘I thought he wanted to see him ridden?’

  Nico shrugged. ‘Changed his mind. Thinks he’s a bargain and needs snapping up. And by the way they’ve done the fetlock test. He passed this time.’

  ‘Oh! Excellent.’

  ‘Exactly. Excellent. A
nd all down to me. How about ten percent commission if you’re trousering four grand?’

  ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Talked to that bald bastard endlessly on the phone, made up stories about competitions Nutty’s won, gave him some happy powder this morning, got Paddy round to vet him – what more d’you want? I’m not bloody riding him for the fitness test, though. You can do that, now you’re here.’

  ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ I muttered, pretending I hadn’t heard that Nico had slipped Nutty a little something in his morning feed. ‘Perhaps Paddy will do it.’

  ‘Oh, like that’s going to happen.’

  ‘Good morning, Molly.’

  Jake raised his handsome dark head from the daisies, always charming, always on the ball, despite the alarming tattoos, whiffs of illicit substances and liberal piercings.

  ‘Good afternoon, Jake. Do you have all that you require?’ I asked pointedly, regarding the litter of burger boxes, crisp packets and beer cans that surrounded him. ‘Working hard, I see?’

  ‘Oh, it never stops. And Nico here has been a more than generous host. Must be his upbringing.’ He grinned cheekily and I grinned back and mock-clipped him round the ear, always our routine, before heading inside. Derek snored on moronically, mouth open, catching flies. Suddenly I stopped in my tracks. ‘What the …’

  Nico followed my gaze. ‘Oh, yeah. Like I told you. The soap.’

  Masses of large cardboard boxes had been piled on top of one another in the back porch, precluding entry. ‘But that’s far too much. I ordered two boxes, not—’

  ‘Twenty, I’ve counted. But it would be a pleasure to shift them on for you, Molly.’ This from Jake, who was something of a budding entrepreneur. ‘There’s a bloke down the pub—’

  ‘Thank you, Jake, I’ll shift them.’

  ‘Oh, and Twinkly Andy’s been round,’ said Nico. ‘He’s a bit stressed. Apparently some woman was wearing those pants you sell, you know, with the metal balls in the crotch for extra stimula—’