Realising Rosemary was putting two and two together to make five, Felicity breathed more easily. Two more bangs rang out. This time it was Simon who was doing the shooting.
“It wasn’t the first time though. I had one of my moments a few weeks ago. You know how anal I can be. I could not for the life of me remember if I had locked my car. I know it was hardly likely to get stolen from the stables car park, but nonetheless, I couldn’t relax. And there is no point riding if you are not enjoying it.”
Felicity started to anticipate what was coming. “Get to the point.”
Rosemary giggled. “I could see Phillip doing the business in the back of his Range Rover. It was not until I rode closer that I saw Sarah looking up at me. And she had a bit in her mouth. Talk about a picture painting a thousand words. Her face said it all.”
With her head spinning, Felicity tried to think of how she would be expected to respond. “What did you do?”
“I dismounted and checked my car. If I had not done what I went there to do, I might have been regarded as some sort of perverted voyeur. I could not have that. I get enough jibes about my sexuality as it is.”
“And was it already locked?”
“What?”
“Your car, Rosemary, had you locked it?”
“Oh yes. Of course I had. Though, I must say, I am glad I went back to check.” Rosemary let out another of her giggles.
“Are you sure it was Phillip. Plenty of people who ride, also drive Range Rovers.”
“It was his Range Rover, and it was his face that smiled at me.”
“The bastard smiled at you?”
“Yes. I have read about such things on the internet. Sometimes they enjoy the thrill of being caught.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
She knew what she wanted to do though. She wanted to stomp down the lawn and grab the nearest loaded shotgun. In her mind, the pellets were peppering Phillip Hetherington-bastard-Jones between the legs from extremely close range.
“Would you tolerate something like that if you were Katherine?” asked Rosemary.
“Maybe Katherine does not know.”
“My sources suggest she does.”
“Rosemary, you are sounding like a tabloid journalist.”
“Sorry, a confidence is a confidence. I won’t tell you who told me.”
“Well, let us hear no more of it.”
“I have nothing more to say on the subject anyway. I don’t know why you are so annoyed about it.”
“I am not annoyed. Just surprised, that is all.”
“Not as surprised as Sarah when she saw me.”
“Do you want to finish this roll?” Felicity looked down her nose at her plate and then took a gulp of tea.
“Are you forgetting my heritage?”
“Oh yes, it’s not real pork though, is it?”
“Try telling the pig that.”
“How is your love life?” Felicity continued to manoeuvre the topic of conversation away from Phillip Hetherington-Jones.
“Not good, though I have discovered a dating site worthy of investigation. It is especially for lesbians.”
“Careful Rosemary, men go on those sites masquerading as women.”
“I don’t think so. This one is far too expensive for someone who is not serious player.”
“There are plenty of men with money who enjoy playing expensive games, but I wish you well with it.”
“I do find it hard, Felicity. Where can I socialise, where do other like-minded women socialise? I once thought Sarah had leanings my way, but only ended up making a fool of myself.”
“London, can you not spend more time socialising in London?”
“And who would I go to London with.”
“I would go with you, so long as I was not expected to drink from the furry cup.”
“That’s terrible, Felicity.”
“I know. Please forgive me. I was just trying to raise both our spirits.”
“Would you really come with me?”
“You formulate the plan and then run it pass me. As long as there is something in it for both of us, I just might.”
“Daniel and yourself are okay, aren’t you?”
“Oh, very much so, it is just that he spends a lot of time away. A fun weekend in London might be just the tonic I need.” All the time she was speaking, Felicity was mentally sending hate messages Phillip’s way.
“I will do that,” said Rosemary excitedly. “I need something to cheer me up.”
Her comment jolted Felicity: she had forgotten that Rosemary’s father was in hospital. “How is your father?” she asked.
“Not good. Whenever we talk to the doctors, they never say anything to give us hope of him coming home some day. My mother does not seem to be coping with it well either. Not only is she thinking about father, she is starting to plan her own funeral. As part of that, she has started to research environmentally friendly ways of disposing of bodies.”
“I would have thought burial has the edge over cremation. Though, I must say, I have never thought about the environmental angle before. Does a body give off a lot of methane gas when it rots?”
“Mother is looking into alternatives. She seems to be coming down in favour of burial at sea. ‘Let the fish enjoy my flesh,’ is what she said. She has also printed out a load of stuff from the Internet about cryogenics.”
“What? Does she want to freeze herself until the secret of eternal life is stumbled upon? She will be frozen until the Sun no longer shines. Come to think of it, that means she will be frozen forever,” Felicity reflected.
“No, it is a new method being developed. They freeze your body to an extremely low temperature; and you end up as what looks like a pile of ash. I guess it must be like the thing Miss Baguley did at school in our science lesson. Do you remember when she dipped a length of rubber tubing in liquid nitrogen?”
“Oh yes, she hit it with a hammer to make it shatter into tiny pieces. Are you suggesting a body would end up like that awful powdered milk some people use?”
Rosemary chuckled. “It does not bear thinking about what would happen if you sprinkled the remains into a bath of water.”
“I have to say, I am surprised you can talk about such things at a time like this.”
“To be honest, I think I have accepted the inevitable and would like it to be over and done with. Does that sound callous?”
“No not at all. In fact, I would like you to reassure me that if I were lying in a hospital bed, then I could rely on you to come and put me down. We don’t let our horses suffer, why do we not pay our loved ones the same courtesy?” Another image of blasting Phillip with a rifle shot into her mind.
“I am glad you feel that way. It helps. It helps a lot.”
Felicity could control her urges no longer. “Sorry Rosemary, there is something I have to do.”
She strode towards the bottom of the lawn. When she reached the safety fence, she did not pause before stepping through the narrow gap in it.
“Give me a loaded shotgun.”
The game keeper passed her a Browning 425.
“Phillip Hetherington-Jones, you have some explaining to do.”
He looked distraught as the sharp end of the gun stared him in the face.
“Pull,” shouted Felicity.
Two clays were propelled into the air.
Raising the barrel thirty degrees she squeezed the trigger. The first clay shattered. Another squeeze was followed by the shattering of the second clay.
“You are fucking lucky to still be alive.”
Phillip stayed rooted to the spot without uttering a word. Felicity marched back up to the terrace.
Apart from those close to the action, most guests failed to witness the incident at the bottom of the lawn.
“I have someone I would like you to meet,” said Katherine calmly as Felicity reached the top step.
Not now, she thought, still breathing heavily from the adrenalin surge.
“Pleased to meet you, Lady Wilkinson.” He gently took hold of her raised hand and bowed slightly.
“Felicity, please call me Felicity.”
“My pleasure, Felicity it is.”
“Is this your first time here?”
Despite her fermenting anger, Felicity realised the game Katherine was playing. In anyone’s book, Andrew was an attractive man. It was logical to assume Felicity was not completely satisfied with her sex life; otherwise she would not have gone with Phillip. By presenting this man to her, Katherine was offering Felicity an alternative to Phillip. On another occasion, it might just have worked, but not that morning.
“First time at the manor, yes,” replied Andrew. “I understand you live locally and share my passion for riding.”
“I do ride yes. Sorry, I must go.”
“Now that is a shame. I was hoping we could arrange a ride together. This countryside must look even more splendid from the saddle.”
“It does, some other time maybe.”
“I look forward to it.”
I do not, thought Felicity. Katherine’s gall in thinking she would bounce onto the next good looking man dangled in front of her piled anger on top of anger. “As I say, I must go.”
Andrew’s mouth opened, but Felicity was gone before another word had the opportunity to come out of it.
“Rosemary, I need to go. But do look into that London thing.”
“Can you not stay a tad longer?”
“No, I am afraid I can’t.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Nothing I cannot handle. Give my regards to your mother.”
“I will. Are you riding tomorrow morning?”
“Possibly.”
“I plan to set off about ten, if you are interested?”
“As I say; possibly. Bye Rosemary.”
“Bye Felicity.”
Felicity’s mind was not as focused on her driving as she pulled out of the tight space as it had been when she manoeuvred into it. As she swung the front nearside-wing out, she thought it would squeeze past the Audi with a couple of inches to spare. She was wrong. The sound of the two bumpers scraping against each other made Felicity screw up her face.
“Damage done,” she said aloud, and continued on round the horseshoe-shaped drive to the exit.
Anna’s Saturday afternoon was spent reading a Harry Potter book she had picked up from a charity shop on the high street during her walk back from Finsbury Park that morning. Not only did it help improve her English, it made the long hours waiting for Anton to return home pass more quickly. It also meant she could happily stay in the bed-sit for the rest of the day. Every time Anna stepped foot on the pavement, any option she considered for something to do involved spending at least a small amount of money, money she did not have.
At eight-thirty in the evening she started to get ready for her first social engagement since arriving in England. She was going to a party in St John’s Wood. The plan was to leave at ten o’clock and enjoy the walk. She would still arrive long before Anton did, but leaving any later would expose her to the unpleasantness that drunken men liked to throw her way when she walked the streets alone after eleven.
She was washed and ready twenty minutes before the planned departure time. A ‘don’t ask where I got it from’ bottle of vodka was waiting by the door. There was only one thing to do; read another two chapters of her book. Having got ready in virtual darkness, Anna turned the light on and laid the wrong way round on the bed, with her chin hanging over the end of the mattress.
It was five minutes past ten when Anna closed her book.
“I will buy more books like this, Harry. Thank you for cheering me up.” She swung her legs round, stood up and stepped into her shoes.
“Don’t forget the entrance fee,” she said to herself as she picked up the bottle of vodka.
Suddenly Anna realised her own foolishness. A young woman dressed for a party and walking the streets of London carrying a bottle of vodka; she was asking for trouble. She reached under the bed and retrieved the plastic bag the woman at the charity shop had put her book in. At the time, she had thought it was far too big for the book, but she was glad of it now.
The last thing she did before opening the door was to pluck out a piece of paper from inside her bra. It had the directions to the party written on it.
“Yes Harry, you are right. I should put the paper in the bag. A young lady does not want to be seen pulling paper from her boobies.” She smiled with excitement as she pulled the door open.
Ten minutes later, Anna was walking down Seven Sisters road. Two lads in their late teens were approaching in the opposite direction. They were a good thirty yards away, but Anna already knew they were angling to give her some grief.
“’ello darling, d’yer fancy a fuck.” One of two lads walking towards her took his hands out of the pockets of his low slung jeans and grabbed his genitals with his right hand. “You could have us both if you want.”
Anna diverted her path towards the kerb and dropped her head.
“Where are you going love?” By now the two youths were standing only a few feet in front of her, blocking her path.
She stepped into the road. “I am meeting my boyfriend.”
“I am meeting my boyfriend,” the lad attempted to mock her accent. “Stay in the fucking gutter, this is our fucking pavement, not yours.” He spat in her hair as she passed.
“Fuck off, wankers,” bellowed a woman’s voice from over Anna’s shoulder.
Anna turned to see a woman in her early thirties, holding the hand of a large overweight man with a shaved head.
It was the man’s pit-ball face and tattooed arms, rather than the woman’s swearing, that made the youths continue on their way.
“Sorry about them darling,” said the woman as she drew closer. “Here, let me get you a tissue.”
Anna stepped back up onto the pavement, just in time to avoid a close encounter with a van that was not giving any quarter.
“Here, use that darling. The bastard’s gobbed in your hair.” She held out a tissue. “As I say, pay no attention to him. We don’t mind you coming over here, just so long as you pull your weight. You don’t look like a scrounger to me.”
“No, I work. I work in a hotel.”
“Which one?”
“Thank you for your kindness.” Anna started to walk away. There was not a bin in sight, so she pushed the tissue into the carrier bag.
“Why didn’t she say where she worked?” said the woman as the couple followed on behind Anna.
“Maybe she’s a whore,” said the man in a gravelly voice.
“I am not a whore,” whispered Anna, as she quickened her pace.
By the time she reached the large house in St John’s Wood, Anna was in no mood for a party, but the desire not to let Anton down and the urge to get off the streets, drove her into ringing the bell.
A man in his late forties opened the door. The balloon above his head said: “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Hello. I am Anna. I am meeting Anton for the party.” Nerves made her simplify her English. She held open the carrier bag.
“Can’t say I know who the fuck Anton is, but you have a bottle of knicker-dropper with you, so come on in. You’re a bit early mind.” He pulled back the door. “Take a seat in the sitting-room on the left, or go and say hello to Angie, she’s in the kitchen out the back.”
Anna paused at the doorway to the empty sitting-room.
“As I say, you’re a bit early. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself.” He held out his hand. “Kevin.”
Anna shook his hand. “Anna.”
“Don’t look so nervous, we don’t bite.” Kevin laughed and moved his hand to direct her towards the kitchen. “Come and have a chat with Angie, she’ll make you smile.”
“I am sorry; my walk was not a good one.”
“You live local then?”
“No, we live in Crouch Hill.”
“And you walked here? What’s wrong with the bus?”
“I cannot …” Anna swallowed her words. “I like to walk.”
“That explains the shoes then.”
“What is wrong with my shoes?” Anna slowly made her way down the hallway.
“Well babe, they look like shoes to walk in rather than shoes to party in. Still, it sounds like you have your claws into a man already. Angie, meet Anna. Anna, this is Angie.”
From behind, Angie looked young enough to be Kevin’s daughter. She was standing at the sink, rinsing some small plates. A short red skirt clung to her small backside. Medium-length blonde hair hung down the back of a black linen-blouse that failed to meet the skirt’s waistband by about three inches. Anna’s eyes ran down the seam of a pair of black fishnets to the back of Angie’s red four-inch stilettos. She suddenly felt totally under-dressed for the party. Anna was expecting the hosts to be in a similar financial situation to Anton and her.
Angie wiped her hands on a tea-towel and turned to greet Anna. Her face fitted Anna’s first assessment of her age.
“Hello, Anton said you might arrive early.”
“Well, you could have told me,” chipped in Kevin. “I wasn’t expecting anyone until after midnight. I have half a mind to slap your arse.”
“Later, darling,” reposted Angie as she flung her arms round Anna’s neck. Anna was not expecting to be kissed on the lips, but instinct made her respond appropriately. The kiss left the taste of strawberry behind.
“Oh yeah,” said Kevin. “I forgot the formal greeting.” He too leant forward for a kiss.
“Anna looks like a girl that could do with a Harvey Wallbanger.”
“One Harvey Wallbanger on the way,” said Kevin.
“Two, Kevin. Two.”
“If you’re starting on the Harveys this early, this should be a good night.” Kevin was already lifting a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.
“No more than a double measure of vodka, Kevin.” Angie’s eyes shot him a warning.
“Well, of course not my lovely. I don’t want any drunken women around until at least two in the morning.” Laughing quite loudly, he plonked some ice into two tall glasses and then added the vodka, orange juice and Galliano.
Down in the Woods Page 11