Persuade Me

by Juliet Archer

  She had a child in her arms, the same little boy as before. He stared at Rick, eyes round and bright with concern, lower lip trembling. ‘Man hurt?’

  Spot on, Harry, but it wasn’t anything you did. I can tell you about it, if you’re interested. Trouble is, it’s not the sort of hurt you can see or touch. And you probably haven’t covered metaphysics yet on the nursery school curriculum, although I’m sure it’s just a matter of time …

  Aloud he said tersely, ‘No, I’m fine,’ and made for the nearest door.

  Sophie Croft was puzzled.

  She and Rick were very close, even though they’d lived on different continents for most of their adult lives. And her marriage to Ed hadn’t made the slightest difference. If anything, both relationships seemed the better for it, with the men either competing for her approval or ganging up on her. All very good-natured, of course.

  But she’d seen a change in Rick since his unexpected visit the previous weekend. More withdrawn, more edgy. And what puzzled her was that she didn’t believe it had much to do with Shelley, although she knew that they’d quarrelled before he’d left.

  She’d been furious with him earlier in the day. Partly because she’d only found out about Shelley from an obliging journalist; partly because she didn’t know where he’d gone and he wasn’t answering his phone. When he finally condescended to pick up and she heard the peals of girlish laughter in the background, she saw red.

  ‘You really piss me off sometimes! How do you imagine I felt when I opened the front door this morning and found a load of journalists outside? It put the fear of God into me, and Ed too. For one awful moment, we thought–’

  He cut her short with, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not suicidal.’ She could barely make out the words above another burst of laughter at the other end of the phone.

  ‘No, doesn’t sound like it,’ she said, more sharply than she’d intended. ‘Where the hell are you?’

  ‘I’m fishing.’

  ‘What for? Loud women?’

  ‘Definitely.’ She could hear the grin in his voice.

  ‘I must say,’ she went on, ‘it was so kind of you to arrange for the media to enlighten us about your private life. And we’re so pleased that you’re enjoying your fishing, let’s hope you don’t catch something too soon. You might be better analysing what went wrong with your last relationship before rushing on to the next one.’

  A pause; then he said, in a more serious tone, ‘I’m not discussing that now.’

  ‘When are you going to discuss it, then?’

  He muttered something about ringing her back and hung up. But it was Charles who phoned a few minutes later, with some gibberish about Operation Dunkirk and a stream of ridiculous instructions. She’d wanted to tell him where to go, but Ed said they should just do it.

  Bad sign, Rick not talking to her.

  And now she was back at the Great House for the second time in two days. Staying for lunch, when all she wanted to do was go home and chill out after lugging that bloody rucksack half-way across Somerset. She suspected Ed felt the same. To cap it all, she couldn’t find Rick, even though Roger had assured her that he’d just seen him here, in the sitting room. She gave one last look round and let out a great sigh of exasperation.

  ‘If you’re after Rick, he’s outside.’

  She turned and looked down into a pale heart-shaped face with large grey eyes. A tired face, but with a fragile beauty that she imagined most men would find irresistible, once they noticed it.

  The woman spoke again; an attractive voice, low and soothing. ‘Would you like me to show you?’

  ‘That would be great. Thanks.’

  Sophie followed the woman out of the room and along a hallway, where they stopped at a half-glazed door. Beyond it was the walled garden that she’d seen once or twice before; large and square, with a stunning profusion of colours and textures even in early autumn. Mind, she’d have done it a bit differently – made the paths curve a bit more and moved those hostas to the other side for more shade.

  ‘I imagine he’s at the far end by now,’ her guide said, with a shy smile.

  ‘Excuse me, you are–?’

  ‘Anna Elliot, Mona Musgrove’s sister.’

  Sophie waited for the catchphrase ‘and daughter of Sir Walter Elliot, 8th Baronet’, but it didn’t materialise.

  She smiled back. ‘I’m Rick’s sister, Sophie Croft. How did you guess it was him I wanted?’

  Anna blushed. ‘You look very similar.’ She added, rather disjointedly, ‘Based on his newspaper photos, I mean. I’ve only met him briefly today.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘See you,’ and hurried off.

  Sophie found Rick at the far end of the garden, where Anna had predicted, sitting on a bench and staring at the ground in front of him. As she approached, he looked up and frowned.

  ‘Look, Soph, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Shelley this morning. Believe it or not, I wanted to get away and think, rather than talk. And when Charles invited me fishing, I didn’t expect his sisters to turn up.’

  She shrugged. ‘That’s OK. And I’m in a better mood than I was earlier. I’ve just met an Elliot of Kellynch who I feel I could actually like.’

  ‘Really.’ He focused his gaze on something in the distance.

  ‘Her name’s Anna, she reminds me of a violet. Yes, a shrinking violet. You know – a lovely little thing, but easily overlooked.’

  ‘Especially by men who don’t want anything to shrink.’

  She couldn’t help laughing. ‘Trust you. And I forgot, you’re fishing for loud women, aren’t you? Like those big showy dahlias over there.’

  ‘Exactly. Give me a big showy dahlia rather than a shrinking violet, every time. By the way, what plant am I?’

  ‘Giant knotweed, I suspect, after this latest assault on your ego.’ She pulled him to his feet. ‘Ready to run rampant and sow its seed here, there and everywhere.’

  ‘Ouch. You always did know how to cut me down to size.’

  They smiled at each other, linked arms and walked back to the house.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lunch proved to be quite an ordeal for Anna. Not only because she was opposite Rick and hearing his voice at length, its familiar northern lilt intact despite all those years in Australia; but also for other reasons … The boys played up and everyone seemed to expect her to control them. Kyle couldn’t make it, which meant that Henrietta competed with Lou for Rick’s attention. Mona was even more abrasive than usual, mainly because Charles – well, Anna would be having a little chat with Charles. Sophie sat next to her and was so nice that it hurt. And, last but by no means least, Barbara had one of her culinary disasters.

  The prawn cocktail starter looked harmless enough, appetisingly served on a bed of crisp lettuce with lemon wedges and the local bakery’s renowned wholemeal bread. Anna stared at it, fighting off unpleasant memories. The Marie Rose sauce reminded her of that silk emulsion she’d once used on her bedroom walls at Kellynch. Walter hadn’t noticed this little act of defiance until weeks later, when the door was open and he happened to be passing. He’d turned a similar colour to the walls, only much, much deeper–

  ‘What exactly are these, Barb?’

  Anna glanced up. Roger was chewing warily and examining his fork, which had a couple of glistening sauce-smeared lumps on the end. She sneaked a look round the table and found that everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath for Barbara’s reply. Or perhaps they were glad of the excuse to stop eating.

  ‘Prawns, dear.’ Unperturbed, Barbara speared a lump from her own plate and popped it into her mouth.

  Silence. Then Lou said, stifling a giggle, ‘No, Mum, they’re more like lychees.’

  ‘Oh, shit.’ Barbara dropped her fork, jumped up and ran out of the dining room.

  ‘That means it’s prawn trifle for dessert,’ Roger explained, with a sigh. ‘And she’s gone to see if she can rustle up something else. We need to find her specs, and soon.’

  �
��For God’s sake, this is ridiculous.’ Mona yanked Harry’s plate away and he gave a loud wail.

  ‘Let him have it, Mona, it won’t do him any harm,’ Roger said. ‘Everyone else can leave theirs, though. It’s an acquired taste.’

  But Mona ignored him and Harry’s wails continued – until Anna made him a lettuce sandwich from her own starter, which she no longer felt like tackling. Not after Lou whispered something to Rick and, for the first time in ten years, Anna felt the warmth of his smile. No longer directed at her, of course …

  Ed cleared his plate with apparent relish. ‘When Sophie and I did a few trips round Europe in our camper van, we took a supply of tinned food and ate all sorts of weird combinations. Tuna with peaches in syrup was a particular favourite, wasn’t it, Soph?’

  Sophie laughed. ‘I remember. Actually, this is pretty good – although I’m not sure I could cope with prawn trifle. More water, Anna?’

  And Anna smiled and nodded and went through the motions of enjoying herself.

  Until during the main course, when – out of nowhere – Ollie said in his clear piping voice, ‘Daddy, I saw you kiss Aunty Anna in the middle of the night.’

  Rick thought that they covered it up rather well. Anna looked startled, rather than guilty. But then she would, wouldn’t she? Just to brazen it out. Charles, on the other hand, tried to laugh it off.

  ‘I thought you were asleep, Oliver Musgrove! Aunty Anna certainly was, in that chair by your bed. Looked so peaceful, I couldn’t resist. And I kissed you too, didn’t I? Silly old Daddy.’

  Ollie opened his mouth to say more, but his father promptly changed the subject. ‘This beef’s delicious, Mum, more than makes up for the starter. Nothing like a traditional English roast dinner, is there, Rick?’

  For Barbara’s sake, Rick agreed – with an enthusiasm he certainly didn’t feel. What he did feel was his throat constricting each time he forced his food down. How could Anna and Charles do this – to Mona, to the kids, to the whole family? The Musgroves seemed to believe Charles’s pathetic story without any problem, although he detected a faint air of embarrassment. Not so Mona, however. Judging by the way she carved up the meat on Harry’s plate, a radical solution to family planning was in store for Charles.

  Now Henrietta was murmuring in his ear and he had to lean closer to catch her words.

  ‘What do you mean, am I a bit of a barnacle?’ he said, his thoughts elsewhere.

  On his other side, Lou let out a little shriek. ‘Oh Henrietta, how could you? That was my line!’

  Henrietta shrugged. ‘You had your chance to use it and you didn’t.’

  ‘I was going to, you had no right–’

  ‘Calm down, girls!’ Barbara put in, with mock severity. ‘And please explain yourselves. No one knows what you’re talking about, especially Rick.’

  ‘It’s in his book,’ Henrietta began, then giggled. ‘Which I’ve read three times so far.’

  ‘Page fifty-six, to be exact,’ Lou went on. ‘Rick’s comparing different fish in terms of their sex organs–’

  ‘The males, that is.’

  ‘Well, obviously.’

  ‘It’s not obvious at all, is it, Rick? Some of the females–’

  ‘Hey, leave me out of this.’ By now Rick had a fair idea of where the conversation was heading. The barnacle had the longest penis in the world – in relation to its body size. There must be worse things to discuss over a dinner table with the present company, but none came to mind immediately. For one mad moment, he imagined asking Anna – in front of everyone – if she’d like to reply to Henrietta’s question from first-hand experience. He might even suggest that she justified her answer with some intimate details about her current relationship. He was confident that he’d outperform Charles on all counts.

  Huh, that’d wipe the butter-wouldn’t-melt look off her face.

  He turned to Henrietta and said, as patiently as he could, ‘The whole point of my book is that, for sea creatures, sex isn’t driven by the same considerations as modern-day humans. It’s about adapting to a hostile environment and maximising the chances of reproduction. That’s why – with the barnacle, for example – size matters. All very straightforward, none of that love and commitment crap.’

  Across the table, Sophie grinned. ‘Actually, that sounds like one or two men I know.’

  He frowned at her. ‘They probably have their reasons. If women were more like the females of most other species – well, the world would be a happier place.’

  Ed gave a great guffaw. ‘I bet none of you realised that Rick is a leading expert on misogyny, as well as sea dragons.’

  ‘And Mum, before you ask, you won’t find misogyny swimming about off the coast of Australia,’ Charles added.

  Barbara pretended to take offence. ‘I know perfectly well what misogyny is, I’ve been married to your father for thirty odd years.’ She gave Rick a sympathetic look. ‘You just haven’t met the right person yet, it makes all the difference.’

  ‘Or maybe he has and she’s hurt him, very very badly.’ Sophie again, on a little fishing expedition of her own.

  He looked straight at his sister, shutting out the woman next to her, who he sensed was waiting – more than anyone – for his reply, and selected his words with care.

  ‘I’ve been let down, if that’s what you mean. But I wasn’t hurt, except for my pride. And she did me a big favour, actually, because she wasn’t the right person for me. She wasn’t the right person at all.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Anna hoped she left the table without arousing any suspicions. In the downstairs cloakroom she took long gulps of air and willed the tears to stop.

  Everyone would assume that Rick was referring to Shelley, but she suspected that his remarks were meant for her. He was sending a message, loud and clear: in the end, it didn’t matter that she’d let him down because ‘she wasn’t the right person at all’.

  How could he say such a thing? How could he, after all the times he’d told her that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with?

  Of course, maybe he still needed closure – maybe they both did. Because, after that horrible confrontation with Walter and Minty, the lines of communication had been swiftly severed: Natasha stopped sending the children to the sailing club, Anna’s mobile and laptop were removed ‘for repair’, and Anna herself was soon spirited back to England.

  Katya told her later that Rick had called at the house and asked to see her, very politely; but Natasha sent him away, and he never came back …

  A thump on the door.

  Sod it, was there no privacy – not even in the bloody loo?

  ‘Need a wee.’

  Harry. If she didn’t let him in, there’d be an accident – and she’d be the one clearing it up, no doubt. As for privacy, she’d have that soon enough, on the drive back to Bath and during the long days – and nights – ahead.

  By the time she and Harry returned to the dining room, all the plates had been cleared away – even her meal, only half-eaten. She felt a surge of resentment. The Musgroves took it for granted that she wasn’t interested in food, just as they took her for granted as someone who could wave a magic wand and turn Mona into a reasonable human being.

  She took her seat, aware of Rick looking in her direction; but she refused to meet his gaze. Why give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words had hit their target?

  Then Barbara announced that there’d be a ten-minute wait for dessert; the rhubarb crumble she’d unearthed from the freezer needed a little longer in the oven to heat through.

  Henrietta grinned at her mother. ‘Are you sure it’s just rhubarb?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Barbara replied calmly. ‘We’d be able to smell it otherwise, wouldn’t we?’

  Lou nudged Rick and leaned in close. ‘They’re talking about Mum’s legendary rhubarb and garlic crumble. Can you pour me some more wine?’

  Rick was just about to do so when Lou’s hand pounced on his,
almost making him drop the bottle. ‘Let me help,’ she said, looking up at him from under her lashes. ‘You seem a little out of practice.’

  He responded with the ghost of a smile, as if acknowledging the subtext. And that was all the encouragement Lou needed; her strong brown fingers clamped his to the bottle and lingered long after they’d poured the wine together. Anna forced her gaze away from their coupled hands to her own, clenched together on her lap.

  ‘Rhubarb and garlic?’ Sophie put in. ‘How did that come about?’ There was a definite hint of distaste in her voice; hardly surprising, but Anna wondered if it had more to do with Lou and Rick.

  Lou didn’t answer, so Barbara took up the story. ‘Oh, as usual I was trying to do too many things at once – making a stew at the same time as a crumble – and the phone rang, and while I was talking I stirred the chopped garlic into the rhubarb by mistake.’ She added, with a rueful smile, ‘I couldn’t smell anything because I had a cold, so I simply carried on and served up the crumble, beautifully cooked but stinking to high heaven. The family have never let me forget it.’

  Roger chuckled. ‘You see what we have to put up with? Surprised I’m still alive, all things considered.’

  Barbara got to her feet. ‘Let me see if it’s ready.’ As she passed behind Roger, she ruffled his hair affectionately. ‘And don’t worry, dear. If I really wanted to kill you I’d have done it long ago and quite differently. A lot can happen on a farm.’

  The crumble was voted garlic free and utterly delicious. Anna managed a few mouthfuls, while everyone else had seconds and then complained of feeling stuffed.

  ‘Let’s all go for a walk round the estate,’ Charles said. ‘Don’t worry, Rick, I’ll choose a route where there’s no chance of you being seen.’

  Ed glanced at Sophie. ‘We’ll give it a miss, if you don’t mind. We’ve done enough walking for today.’

  ‘I’m not going either,’ Anna said, as she helped Barbara to clear the table. ‘I’ll stay behind with the boys.’

  ‘Nonsense, dear.’ Barbara’s tone was kind but firm. ‘You could do with the fresh air, you’re looking peaky. I can lend you a coat if you like, but you should be fine in that jumper. Roger and I will look after the boys – he can take Harry out with the dogs and I’ll play cards with Ollie.’ And she almost bundled Anna into the hall.