She followed me as I went into the kitchen and started rummaging through the drawers to find some aspirin.
‘What? Houston? I thought it was the only place to live.’
‘You can be very annoying, Lottie. He can’t bear being without me! He’s come to try and win me back. Come home, Jenny, I can’t live without you. Marvellous! I’m going up to London on the train this evening. I’ll be there by seven thirty. He’s staying at Claridges. He’s going to take me out to dinner and I’m going to have the most outrageous things on the menu. And a bottle of the most expensive champagne. Even if I don’t want it. See how he likes that! And if he complains I’ll insist on separate rooms.’
‘God, you’re childish,’ I said, marvelling at my sister’s unsinkable optimism.
She hunched her shoulders with delight and wrinkled her nose. ‘I know, isn’t it super? Anyway I must go and pack.’
‘Do you need a lift to the station?’
She thought about it for a moment then snapped her fingers. ‘No, I’ll leave the car in the car park. If I get a ticket, Trent can pay. He’s going to pay in so many ways too. He’s going to organise golf lessons for me.’
‘And they say romance is dead.’
She looked chastened. ‘Sorry, Lottie, I don’t mean to leave you on your own but I have to do this for Trent. He did sound so desperate.’
‘I don’t mind. I have exciting and glamorous things of my own to do. I’ve got to let someone in next door so he can service Bryn’s hot tub.’
Normally this would have provoked a suggestive comment but her mind was obviously elsewhere. Probably prowling the streets of Knightsbridge with only Trent’s Black American Express card for company. By this time tomorrow her kitten heels would be striking sparks off the pavement.
Within half an hour she had gone, waving through the sunroof as her little yellow car sped down the hill. I was glad for her, she wasn’t a woman who liked being alone, she certainly didn’t enjoy the countryside, and male company was almost as essential to her as oxygen.
I did a bit of tidying up and switched on the washing machine. Then I walked to the end of the road and phoned the doctor’s surgery.
‘Lottie!’ Daphne recognised my voice almost immediately. ‘How are you?’
‘Good, absolutely great,’ I lied. ‘How are you? Managing OK without me?’
Daphne hesitated and then drew a deep breath. ‘Well once we undid your reorganising of the blood test results, we’ve been fine.’
‘Great…’
‘And there were a few appointments missing from the computer. That caused some trouble with Doctor Faraday. You know what she’s like. One patient in the wrong place and there’s hell to pay.’
I wished I hadn’t asked now. ‘Yes, well, sorry about…’
‘And then there was the baby clinic you booked on the wrong day. That was a pig of a day. Twenty screaming babies and no district nurses. Still what doesn’t kill us gives us indigestion, so they say.’
‘No, absolutely, I mean, yes, sorry. Look, could I book an appointment? Susan Geraldine Lovell. She’s registered with Doctor Faraday but…’
‘Doctor Faraday is on holiday,’ Daphne said with a hollow laugh, ‘no appointments with her until – well goodness me, I mean weeks really.’
I took an executive decision. ‘Then can you book her in with Doctor Hawkins? She really isn’t well. She’s looking awful. Lost a lot of weight, I don’t think she’s looking after herself at all. Since Ian died, you know.’
At the mention of Ian, Daphne drew in a hissing breath.
‘Oh yes, of course, I’d forgotten. I’m terribly sorry. Hang on, I’ll see what I can do.’
There was a pause and I could hear the computer keys clicking in the background accompanied by some um-oh noises from Daphne.
‘As it’s you, I’ll squeeze her in tomorrow afternoon at three. There’s just a short appointment spare. Ten minutes. Would that be long enough?’
‘That would be fantastic. I’ll make sure she’s there. I’ll have to bring her.’
Daphne started talking to someone else, her voice muffled as though she had put her hand over the mouthpiece. Then she came back to me.
‘Fine, I’ll have to go now, Lottie; we’re very busy, even if you’re a lady of leisure! We’ll see you tomorrow at three.’
Lady of leisure indeed.
I phoned Susan and had the briefest of conversations. I barely had time to tell her I would be picking her up just after two o’clock before she hung up.
Almost immediately my phone rang. It was Jess.
‘Hi, I’ve caught you at last!’ she said.
‘Sorry, the reception is hopeless. I’ve just been to the end of the road.’
‘I know, sorry. Look, I thought I should tell you myself, I think I might go ahead with getting someone round to value the cottage and I didn’t want someone to turn up out of the blue.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate that.’
‘I feel bad about it, honestly I do, Lottie. But…well…I need—’
‘Please don’t apologise, Jess. I’m getting on well with the decorating, it was only ever going to be a temporary thing, I knew that. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.’
We chatted some more and then I walked back up the hill and trudged out into the garden.
It was a glorious afternoon, probably the warmest since I had moved here. I suppose I should have been doing the decorating, but instead went to carry on with a bit of weeding and dead-heading in the front garden. After about an hour I was getting very hot and sweaty and I was just going to go in when a small blue van pulled up and tooted its horn at me; Tom the Tub Man, short, stout and energetic, right on schedule.
I let him into Bryn’s garden and went to put the afternoon’s debris into my green waste bin. How did it fill up so fast? Even a small patch of weeds seemed to produce an incredible volume of stuff, but there was something wonderful about seeing the crumbling red soil in a clean, orderly state again.
I had some orange squash and carried on with my task, working steadily along the flowerbeds. I thought about Jenny and wondered how things would turn out for her. Then I thought about Susan and marvelled how two women could be so different.
Susan was embedded in elderly disapproval of everything pre-1959, where my sister embraced everything with equal enthusiasm. Even the Kardashians. Which did I want to be when I was Susan’s age? Old before my time or young for my age?
My reverie was interrupted by the tub man’s return to my side of the fence.
He stood in the faintly scented cloud of chemicals that seemed to follow him around; his plastic box tucked under one arm.
‘OK, all done. I’ve changed all the filters, done the pumps and tested the water. Tell him I’ve adjusted his levels, put in some pH stuff and some bromide crystals.’
‘That didn’t take long.’
‘Ah well, Bryn’s very good with his water, see. He might need to do a drain down in a month or so. All depends on his usage, that’s what makes the difference. Not like some I could tell you about. You’d think they’d emptied a bottle of Fairy Liquid in. And scum! Don’t talk to me about scum!’
‘I promise not to.’
‘Well if you’re going in, leave it for another ten minutes, it’s the bromide, see. Makes your eyes sting. I’ve left the pumps on to give it a good circulate. If you could close the lid up in about half an hour?’
‘Of course.’
He scribbled on his paperwork and signed it with a flourish.
‘Sign here, will you? Just so he knows I turned up.’
He held out a clipboard and a pen and I signed. Then I saw him out and locked the side gate. I looked at the bubbling waters of the hot tub. I thought how hot and sweaty I was. Then I remembered Bryn was going to be away for a few days.
Now what would my sister do in this situation?
And what would Susan do?
After that it was a no brainer. I went back into the house, found a clean towel, tried and fa
iled to locate a swimming costume, stripped off and lowered myself with many oohs and aahs into the tub.
It was one of those light bulb moments when you realise what everyone else has been saying about hot tubs is true. I could imagine Bryn enjoying an hour or so in here after a day’s digging. That was a really nice thought too and I considered it for a while.
Bonnie made a fleeting appearance and I shoved her out of my daydream with a few impeccably witty words. Then I pressed a few buttons and extra bubbles shot out all around me. I switched the lights on and watched delighted as the water changed from purple to blue and all other colours of the rainbow. I tried out all the different seats to see which one I liked the best. I rested back onto the padded headrest and closed my eyes. Total bliss. Everyone should have one.
CHAPTER 12
Honeysuckle – devotion, fidelity
I lay in the water enjoying the feel of the roiling bubbles, and occasionally scooping up insects that had fallen in. The honeysuckle was out sending a wonderful fragrance across the garden and after a while I got out, wrapped myself in my towel and scooted back across the garden to my house to fetch a bottle of Ian’s bubbly and a glass. I got back in, toasted Tom the Tub Man, the garden and the golden evening.
I was halfway down my second glass when I heard something.
I wasn’t sure what it was because of the noise of the bubbles, but I sat up, on point like a gundog. Nothing. Perhaps it was just farm workers going home down the lane.
I sank back into the water and turned on all the water jets to maximum. Wow they were powerful. My kidneys had never been so surprised. I haven’t done three rounds with Wladimir Klitschko, but I expect that’s a bit like how it felt. In a good way, of course.
I sipped my champagne and watched the birds flying overhead and then perching like commas on the telephone line at the end of the garden. Swallows or swifts? Or house martins? Was there a bird called a house martin, or was that a pop group? Whatever they were, they were having a lovely time, swooping and diving, catching insects.
I thought about the day I had spent, mainly with the two women I disliked most in the world. And yet somehow I had managed to feel something for both of them other than hatred. I had felt sorry for them. A thing that was very unexpected.
‘Enjoying yourself?’
Bryn was standing beside the tub.
I gave a strangled bleat of shock that turned into something resembling a full-blown ‘baa’ noise. I was momentarily distracted by the choice of remaining hidden under the water or getting out. I decided on the former. I had braced one foot against some part of the tub’s moulded interior and of course in my panic it slipped and I sank inelegantly under the water, just managing by some inherent reflex to hold my champagne glass up above the water level. I surfaced a moment later spluttering, my hair over my face.
‘OK?’ he said. ‘Not trying to drown yourself?’
‘Yes, I mean no, I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t resist it. I got so hot doing the weeding. I didn’t think you were coming back tonight. Sorry, that makes it sound worse. What I mean is—’
He held his hands out in a reassuring movement. ‘It doesn’t matter, Lottie, really. Calm down. I’m glad you did.’
Having established I was not in trouble, I then began to worry about how I was going to get out. Perhaps he would go indoors soon and I could make a run for it. He stood looking at the garden, his hands in his pockets. The lights under the water turned a dazzling blue. The colour of Bryn’s eyes. Really rather gorgeous.
Focus, woman, focus.
‘It’s a lovely evening. Mind if I join you?’
I covered myself as best I could with my hands, forgetting I was still holding a nearly full glass. The champagne sprayed out across my face, stinging my eyes and causing me further spluttering distress. Bryn kindly took the glass away, refilled it and handed it back me.
‘Really you should stick to plastic,’ he said.
‘Plastic?’
‘Plastic glasses. Tell you what, I’ll go and get a couple. Don’t move.’
He went off into the house and just as I was wondering if I could reach the towel and wrap it round me under the water he was back.
‘Here we are.’
He put them onto the handy table next to the tub and then, to my shock, horror and – let’s be honest – delight, tugged his T-shirt off, pulling it over his head from behind the way men always seem to.
I felt quite faint. He had changed into a cute pair of swimming trunks covered in pictures of camper vans. The golden hairs on his arms glinted in the late afternoon sunshine. The muscles of his chest transfixed me. Evidently gardening did more than just make you hot and sweaty. If I hadn’t been in the tub, I would have been a bit hot and sweaty myself.
He stepped into the water, brushing a few grass clippings off his (large) feet and I shrank away from him. The lights turned green.
‘God, that’s better.’ He ducked his head back and water streamed over his shoulders. ‘I’ve had a long, hard week; London and Lady Trehorlicks. Remember I mentioned her?’
I nodded, mute with embarrassment.
‘She’s very old school. Likes things formal. Calls me Mr Palmer. Wants to know the proper Latin names of all the plants so she can write them on copper labels. She likes her borders regimented, whereas I like things to flow, just hang out.’
I wondered if I was about to hang out too. I had been in this tub long enough to know the jets were on a timer and when they stopped I would be revealed in all my glory.
‘I don’t know why she was so insistent I should do the job except she was at school with my mother.’
Ah, his mother. The rift between him and Greg. I wondered if I could prise some details out of him and then stopped myself. Never mind his mother, I needed to prise myself out of this tub soon and hopefully with my dignity intact.
‘You don’t look very relaxed,’ he said. ‘You can always move to another seat if you like?’
‘No, no, I’m fine, honestly,’ I said, sipping my champagne and trying to look casual. The lights turned to gold. I wondered what colour would make my thighs look smaller.
He leaned towards me. ‘Can I adjust those water jets behind you? They look as though they’re on full, and they’re a bit powerful.’
‘No, no, honestly they’re fine! I like it really hard.’
I closed my eyes in horror at what I had just said.
Perhaps Bryn didn’t have such a filthy mind as I did, as he didn’t so much as flicker. The jets continued to pummel my kidneys – they were certainly getting a work out they hadn’t anticipated.
Bryn leaned back and sipped his champagne. The sun had set now and the evening was glowing with a glorious sunset. The air seemed to thrum with warmth and light. Above us a single little bat swooped in elegant parabolas. I wondered what time it would get dark. Perhaps I would stay in the water until then, only to emerge as a shrivelled, prune-like figure, my toenails dropping off as I did so.
‘So how are you?’ he said.
‘Fine, I mean, well not fine…’
He clicked his tongue. ‘The same old Lottie, never a straight answer.’
‘Life’s a bit odd at the moment. Half the time I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I had a bit of unpleasantness to sort out, as a result I had to see someone who I would much rather ignore. And then of course Jess is selling up.’
Bryn sipped his champagne and frowned. ‘Definitely? You said she was only thinking about it.’
‘I think she wants to buy somewhere else a bit nearer to home, rather than have a rental property out here. She’s planning on getting someone round to value it some time soon.’
‘So where does that leave you?’
I shrugged. Then I realised that showed my naked shoulders above the bubble level, something I really didn’t want to do. I shrank down a bit further.
‘Finding somewhere else to live?’ I said.
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know.�
�� I was horrified to hear a tragic little crack in my voice. I cleared my throat and carried on, trying to sound bold and confident. ‘Oh somewhere else, perhaps I’ll visit my aunt in Croydon? My sister seems to be reconciling with her fiancé in Texas so I could go and stay with her for a bit. Maybe.’
Neither of these prospects sounded the slightest bit attractive to me, and by the look on Bryn’s face, he didn’t think much of them either.
‘Croydon,’ he said. ‘Hmm, I’ve never been there.’
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘But it’s not like here.’
‘Texas; I visited some years ago. Nice for a holiday, but I don’t know if I could live there.’
‘Nor me. That’s not like here either, I’m guessing.’
Bryn pulled himself up out of the water and over the edge of the hot tub onto the grass in one athletic and impressive movement.
‘I’m going in for five minutes,’ he said, ‘to give you time to get out. I promise not to look.’
‘What?’
He slung his towel around his neck and grinned. Oh great, so he had been sitting there chatting away as though nothing was wrong when all the time he knew I didn’t have a stitch on!
He winked at me. ‘That’s the second time I’ve had to look away to preserve your modesty.’
‘I promise it won’t happen again,’ I said, putting my arms across my body.
Bryn towelled his hair until it stuck up in spikes. He fired me a grin.
‘That’s a shame,’ he said, before he went indoors.
The following day I drove to Susan’s house and delivered her, still maintaining her glacial silence, to the doctor’s surgery.
I went to announce her arrival at the reception desk while she took a seat in the corner furthest away from the entrance.
There was a miserable-looking blonde behind the desk, presumably my replacement, and my name meant nothing to her. She checked Susan off on the computer and jerked her chin at the woman behind me in the queue. Doctor’s receptionist customer service at its best.
I went to sit down by Susan but she pointedly put her handbag on the empty chair next to her and ignored me.
I picked up a copy of Country Life and flicked through the property pages. They were doing a special on Somerset and there were some glorious properties for sale. It was obvious that what the home-buying experts on daytime TV had said was true. Life was much cheaper in Somerset. If I had 450k for example, I could buy a small manor house with seventeeth-century origins and ten acres of woodland near Curry Rival. If I had 550k there was a six-bedroom house near Milverton with— Ah, of course. Silly me. The magazine was dated February 2003; surely some sort of doctor’s waiting room record? I put it back in the wire stand and flicked through a copy of Hello celebrating the recent wedding of William and Catherine. If I delved a bit deeper I wouldn’t have been surprised to find Mafeking had been relieved.
The Summer of Second Chances Page 15