‘Oh, that’s nice. Congratulations, darling. When do you start? Not till June – I see. Look, I’m sorry, Andrew, but I’m afraid I’ll have to go now. I’ve got this urgent …’
She rang off, exploding with a howl of relief. Quickly he steered her to the end of the bed and, still behind, thrust in again as she sprawled forward on her stomach. At last they could give vent to their thwarted tiger noises, out-roar the traffic and the sirens.
No, they weren’t sirens. She was no longer in Kentish Town, but lying on the starlit sand with her rugged Mongolian tribesman. And it was the camels she could hear bellowing and applauding as her breathless nomad lashed her towards an unstoppable climax and their final cries echoed across the steppes.
‘So how was Andrew?’ Will asked, scraping the last remnants of yogurt from the carton.
‘Oh, he’s all right. Maureen’s not so good, though. Her arthritis is getting worse and she’s finding it difficult to get about. I feel dreadfully guilty – I hardly ever see them now. But when I do, it’s so dreary, and they want me to stay for hours. I know it sounds awful, but I sometimes wish I lived hundreds of miles away.’
Will sat staring into the empty yogurt pot. ‘Catherine,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’ve just had an idea – one that might solve several problems at once.’
‘Well?’
‘I’m not sure if I can tell you. I’m frightened you’ll say no.’
‘Suppose I say yes?’
‘I doubt if you will.’
‘Well, give me the chance, at least.’
‘No.’ He took a gulp of tea. ‘It would never work. Forget it.’
‘Oh Will, you can’t leave me in suspense like this.’
‘Well, if I do tell you, will you promise not to shout me down till I’ve had a chance to explain?’
‘When have I ever shouted you down?’
‘I’m sorry, darling, that was unfair. It was how Vanessa would have reacted. Years of conditioning, I’m afraid.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll sit here quiet as a lamb.’
He ran a teasing hand across her thigh. ‘You weren’t very quiet just now. God, I love the way you let rip like that.’
‘Don’t change the subject. I want to hear your idea.’
He got up from the makeshift table and stood nervously by the window. ‘Well’ – he cleared his throat – ‘you need a place to live, and actually I’d love you to move in here. But I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it. This place is a dump. Oh, I know we’ve tarted it up, and I’m grateful for your help, but it’s out of the question for two people. There’s no kitchen, for one thing, and the other room’s full of junk, and it’s so noisy all the time.’ He returned abruptly to his chair, gazing at her with mingled hope and wariness. ‘But I thought if we moved to the country …’
‘The country?’
‘Ssh, wait. It just struck me that we could go up north, where you come from. Property’s still a fair bit cheaper than in London. When I lived in Sacriston, you could rent a place for a song.’
She stared at him, astonished. She had only just established herself in London. Did she really want the upheaval of moving again, especially such a distance? Lord! She wasn’t even sure if she was ready for such a commitment – to him or anyone. Besides, how could they afford to move? Will talked airily about renting places for a song, but she knew for a fact that property around Manchester was anything but cheap. Sacriston might be different, although she had her doubts. ‘But, Will, what would we live on?’
‘Well, if we weren’t too far from a market town, we could run another stall. And you could sell your patchwork and maybe jams and stuff as well. And if I had more space, I could go in for furniture restoration on a bigger scale. There’s money in that, I know. And I might even run writing workshops from home – make a feature of the country setting. And, given time, I’m sure we could come up with other things to do. The idea only came to me just now, when you said you wished you were hundreds of miles away. I suddenly thought, we don’t need to be in London – we’re just paying through the nose here, when we could be living somewhere cheaper … an old miner’s cottage, maybe, or a converted barn or something.’
She avoided his eye. Converted barns were pricy – she had seen the Sunday supplements. What money they might earn from teaching poetry or selling jam would barely pay for an unconverted pigsty. Anyway, if they were near a market town, property wouldn’t be so cheap.
Will licked a swirl of yogurt from the lid. ‘We could work on the place together and make it really nice. And maybe Sam could spend his school holidays with us, or part of them, at least. He’d love the country.’
She could hardly take it in. Not just Will, but now his son. ‘What would Vanessa say, though? She wouldn’t let him, would she?’
‘Well, strangely enough, I think she might. You see, even with all her money, the one thing she can’t give him is the experience of living in the country. Oh, she’s doing her best with riding lessons on Hampstead Heath, but that’s a pretty poor substitute. Even Hampstead’s full of traffic fumes and terribly congested, and she’s out so much they can’t have any pets. And she is aware of what he’s missing because she grew up in the country herself. She used to have her own pony, and cats and dogs and hens and stuff. And when I think of the fantastic times I had at Auntie Mags’s – bird-watching, fishing, collecting eggs warm from the hens …’
‘So you are a romantic, Will!’
‘You know I am. And I want life with you to be romantic. If you moved in here, how d’you think I’d feel, watching you struggle with those pathetic gas-rings and having to dish things up in the bathroom because we haven’t got a sink. I love you, Catherine, and I can see you really blossoming in the country – growing vegetables, serving cream teas, lazing in a hammock watching the clouds …’
She bit back a retort. There’d be precious little time for lazing in hammocks after tending a vegetable garden, making patchwork to sell, and baking scones for the cream teas, to say nothing of renovating the house. And how would Andrew greet the news that she was setting up home with a penniless poet, hundreds of miles away?
‘I knew you wouldn’t want to go,’ Will muttered dejectedly.
‘Will, I haven’t said that.’
‘You haven’t said anything, so you can’t be exactly overjoyed.’
She took his hand. ‘But I am. I’m very pleased that you want me with you at all.’
‘Of course I do. Did you doubt it?’
She poured more tea, trying to choose her words with care. You’re going a bit fast, darling. I need time to take it in. And as far as Sam’s concerned, isn’t it rather a big step to have him come and stay with us in Durham, or wherever, when I haven’t even met him?’
‘Yeah, you’re right. You two ought to meet. But suppose you loathe him on sight?’
‘Oh, Will, how could I loathe a seven-year-old?’
‘Easily.’
‘Is he that bad?’
‘No. If anything, he’s the other way. A bit too shy and quiet.
Vanessa blames me for that as well. She says he’s inherited my genes.’
‘But you’re not shy and quiet.’
‘Underneath, I am.’
‘Shy, maybe, but not quiet.’ She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. ‘Well, certainly not in bed.’
‘Actually, it does worry me a bit,’ Will said, kissing her fingers. ‘Sam is too sensitive, and sometimes I find myself getting annoyed with him, just like my father did with me. It’s awful, isn’t it? – you vow you’ll never make the same mistakes your parents made. But it’s not that easy. Especially if the kid takes after you and you see your own faults coming out.’
‘Oh, I know. That’s how I felt with Kate. I was always rubbing her up the wrong way. And it’s only recently I realized that I had a rebellious streak as well. But she was free to express it and I suppose I sort of resented that, subconsciously. I didn’t have her opportunities …’ She stopped short, startled by he
r own words. She did have opportunities now, yet she was reacting as she had to Kate: playing safe, being tediously practical, thinking of all the drawbacks instead of the advantages.
She stood by the window, staring out unseeingly. Compared with Nicky’s venture, a move to the north was nothing. And maybe Will’s idea could work. Even if it didn’t, it wasn’t the end of the world. She had little to lose these days – no bricks and mortar, no settled way of life. And there was no need for long-term commitment. It needn’t be ‘settling down’ – more experimenting, playing almost. She could set her own conditions: six months’ trial maybe and no hard feelings if either of them changed their mind. And not too much of the baking and suchlike, whatever Will’s fantasies about unlimited cream teas. Of course, allocating the chores was an important aspect of living together, but the first requirement was a readiness to open her mind, to regard Will’s plan as something positive – and possible. Given his normal wariness, it was surprising he’d even hatched such a plan, and indeed rather gratifying. And, ironically, she knew Kate would approve. Although still living on different continents, they had drawn closer in the last couple of months, as if Kate felt more of a bond with a rootless mother working on a market stall than one shoe-horned into affluent suburbia.
‘Catherine, I haven’t upset you, have I? I mean, just by suggesting it?’
‘No. To tell the truth, I’m tempted.’
‘Honestly?’ He jumped up from his chair. ‘Look, I could get in touch with Anthony tomorrow. He still lives in Durham and he’d know if there’s anything going. Or if you’d rather go back to your roots, we could phone a few Manchester estate agents.’
‘Hold on, my love! Don’t you think we should work out some of the finances? We could make a list of the outgoings, to balance against any source of income we can think of.’
He laughed. ‘You’re so frighteningly efficient, darling. Let’s leave that till the morning. I’d far rather curl up in bed with you and dream about country mansions.’
‘Will, you’re incorrigible! It’s more likely to be a garden shed.’
‘Okay, garden sheds.’ He took her hand and pulled her up. ‘Bedtime.’
‘No, wait. There’s one thing we ought to settle first. Sam. If you want us to make a home for him, then I must meet him, Will. Would Vanessa absolutely hate it if I came along next time you’re due to see him?’
‘She wouldn’t need to know. In fact, she’s going away in a fortnight to see an author in Geneva, and she wants me to have Sam on the Sunday. The nanny’s off that day and Julian’s got some golf thing. So we could take him out for lunch or something.’
‘But he’d tell Vanessa, wouldn’t he?’
‘Who cares? You’d have met him by then. And for God’s sake, Catherine, I don’t need her permission to have another woman in my life. She’s remarried, and poor Sam has to live with the insufferable Julian, whether he likes it or not.’
‘Ssh, don’t get all upset again. Okay, let’s take him out, and I’ll just play it cool and be a casual friend of yours, until he gets more used to me. Where shall we go? The zoo? Oh yes, of course,’ she smiled, ‘to see the camels.’
‘You and your blessed camels! Mind you, he’d adore it. He did a school project on zoos once, and hasn’t been back since then. In fact, if I tell him it was your suggestion, he’ll be your slave for life!’
Chapter Twenty Five
‘He’s got an awful itch.’ Sam watched the camel bobbing rhythmically up and down as it scratched its flank against the fence-post. Its back legs were splayed inelegantly, its raggedy tail swished.
‘Perhaps he’s been stung,’ Will said, attempting to peer into the creature’s eyes. ‘He does look a bit uncomfortable.’
Catherine moved closer to the fence. ‘No, I think he’s trying to rub lumps of his coat off. It looks as if he’s moulting.’
Sam turned to her, grave-faced. ‘What’s moulting?’
‘Well, their shaggy coats are too hot for the summer, so they just sort of fall off, bit by bit. He’s about halfway through the process now, which is why he looks so funny – bald on his back and neck, and still furry on his humps.’
‘I wouldn’t like my hair to fall off.’
‘Oh, I think you’d look quite good bald!’ Will spread his hands speculatively on top of Sam’s fair head.
Sam wriggled away and stared unsmiling at his father. All Will’s jokes had fallen flat so far. He’s trying too hard, she thought. It was understandable, though. For her and Will, today was more than just a casual outing. There was such a lot at stake. Could she relate to Sam? Would she like him? More important, would he like her?
A second, paler camel emerged slowly from its sleeping quarters. ‘Look, Sam,’ she said, ‘another one.’
‘He’s dirty.’
‘Yes, he must have been rolling in the straw.’ Catherine smiled at the animal’s comical appearance, festooned with bits of grass and straw. His moult was slightly more advanced, and grey hairless patches alternated with a few shaggy tufts of off-white fur.
‘He’s a mess!’ Sam sounded almost admiring. Presumably he was never allowed to be messy. His clothes seemed more appropriate for Sunday school than for a visit to the zoo. Unlike the other kids, casual in jeans and baseball caps, he was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and neatly pressed blue chinos. Will, in contrast, looked frankly dishevelled, more the scruffy little boy than the sprucely conventional father. But Sam was causing heads to turn, in admiration of his striking good looks: eyes Bournville-dark beneath the thick blond hair; skin fragile-pale, translucent. She was proud to be taken for his mother, though nervous, too, at the responsibility. She kept thinking back to when Andrew was that age – the alarming sense of a child’s absolute dependence on you. In some ways, Sam reminded her of Andrew: a naturally serious child, rather wary of the world. Sam, of course, had reason to be wary. His father had been supplanted by a stepfather (who had no experience of children) and was still bitter towards his mother. In any case, Sam probably saw more of his nanny than either of his parents.
‘Hey, look!’ Will pointed to a third camel, lumbering out to join the other two. With its unsteady gait and half-closed eyes it seemed unwell, or drugged. The back hump was completely bald, the front one thick and shaggy. Its flanks were patchy and unkempt, as if someone had thrown a moth-eaten fur coat over the poor creature. Yet it gazed haughtily down at the onlookers, oblivious of their comments.
‘I think he’s suffering from a hangover,’ Will said, mimicking its expression.
‘What’s a hangover, Daddy?’
‘I hope you’ll never need to know, Sam.’
‘It’s when you drink too much,’ Catherine explained. ‘And the next morning you don’t feel very well.’
‘But why would camels drink too much? Miss Collins told us they hardly ever drink.’
‘Yes, she’s right. Daddy was only joking.’ It seemed odd to refer to Will as Daddy, but ‘your father’ sounded pompous. Anyway, she liked the illusion of them being a normal family, and she knew it pleased Will too. In their stroll round the zoo they had seen a number of lone fathers, some looking glumly self-conscious as they tried to cope with fractious children. Will had eyed them with sympathy, then given her a quick smile. In the ordinary way he would have kissed her or squeezed her hand, but such tokens of affection were impossible with Sam there.
‘Gosh, how odd,’ said Will, squatting on his haunches and peering through the fence. ‘They have bigger front feet than back.’
‘Why do they?’ asked Sam.
‘I don’t know. Perhaps it’s for walking on the sand. See, Catherine?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She gazed at their broad two-toed feet. She had never been this close to a camel, and was fascinated by the details: the bulging eyelids and long-lashed amber eyes; the coarse cream whiskers protruding from velvet lips; the slit-like nostrils fringed with hairs. And their legs were surprisingly short, with bare bony knees and powerful thighs, still furry.
<
br /> ‘That must be their keeper,’ she told Sam, as a man in a green tee-shirt and dung-encrusted boots let himself into the pen. He was carrying a large bundle of twigs which he spread out on the ground in three roughly equal piles.
‘What’s he doing?’
‘I think he’s giving them their lunch,’ said Catherine. ‘Shall we ask him?’
Sam shrank back, clearly too shy to address a stranger. However, the question answered itself since all three camels began to munch enthusiastically, chomping through the dry brown twigs as if they were succulent bananas.
‘What’s that they’re eating?’ she called out to the keeper.
‘Hawthorn twigs. They eat hay and vegetables, too, but hawthorn’s their favourite.’
‘You’d think it would scratch their mouths,’ said Will. ‘Look, Sam, see the way their jaws move from side to side.’ Again he imitated the camels, making exaggerated chewing movements.
Sam blushed and looked at his feet, evidently not amused.
‘They’re also very partial to chocolate,’ the keeper added.
‘Chocolate?’ Sam glanced up, intrigued.
‘Like me,’ said Will, jotting something on the back of his zoo-guide. ‘In fact I can feel a camel poem coming on. I might even do a series: scratching camels, moulting camels, chewing camels, chocolate camels …’
‘Oh, I see. I’m being ousted, am I, as the source of your inspiration?’ Catherine forgot for a moment that she was meant to be a casual acquaintance, though luckily Sam hadn’t heard.
‘Oh no,’ Will murmured, and their eyes met for a fraction of a second as they recalled this morning’s lie-in. It was a rare treat on a Sunday, and as for taking the whole day off – the most lucrative day at the market – normally they wouldn’t dream of doing so. But this Sunday was special, and if they were out of pocket, too bad.
‘Is that one older than the others?’ Will asked the keeper, pointing to the cream camel. ‘He looks a bit doddery.’
Second Skin Page 36