by Jo Verity
‘Well you were prancing around in your—’
‘It was the middle of the night, Elizabeth, and I was in my own living room. Okay?’
She nodded.
‘I like you very much. No doubt you think I say that to every woman I meet – I promise you I don’t – and, in any case, you’re different.’
‘How?’
‘For one thing, I feel as if I’ve known you for a lot longer than three days.’
‘Actually it’s nearer—’
‘Let me finish, please. I won’t insult you by pretending that I’m a monk. I don’t mean to sound big-headed but I get plenty of offers. It goes with the telly territory. Since Gwenno and I parted, I’ve slept with three women. Three in three years. Does that seem excessive? I thought that you and I both deserved – I don’t know what to call it – consolation, I suppose.’
‘What makes you think I need consoling? If you say it’s because I look sad I’ll scream.’
‘Maybe I’ve got it wrong. Last night I was sure that you felt as I did. I never intended it to turn into a philosophical debate. I thought that sleeping together could be a sort of gift to each other. A sort of spontaneous conjunction. But I see now that it can’t be like that for you.’ His voice was gentle and without acrimony. ‘Elizabeth, I couldn’t bear to think that I’d bullied or dared you to have sex with me. If I did, I’d be no better than those yobbos at Hills End. I’m not trying to be melodramatic, but perhaps we should let it go.’
She felt sick. ‘You’re not bullying me. And I don’t want to let it go.’
‘Then at least take a little more time to think it through.’ He paused. ‘And I’d rather you made your own mind up – not discuss it with Diane.’
She frowned. ‘You and Diane haven’t—?’
‘You don’t have a very high opinion of me, do you?
All I’m saying is that, if you have changed your mind, you need to be absolutely clear why you’ve changed it.’
Diane was outside the café, sitting on the wall, small rucksack at her feet.
Elizabeth parked the car and joined her. ‘How’s your day going?’
‘Good. I’m pleased with what I did. And yours?’
She told Diane about the mysterious intruder who had turned out to be Lenny Butler.
‘I’m jealous. I saw him at Glastonbury, twenty years ago. Dead sexy. Wasted on you, of course.’
‘I have to admit, he’s quite charismatic.’
Diane rolled her eyes. ‘Blimey. He must be if he can impress you. D’you think we could wangle an invitation to his place?’
‘Let’s eat before we plan your next seduction.’
The café was busy and while they waited for their food, Diane showed her the pastel sketches of the dunes she had completed that morning, talking enthusiastically about using them as a starting point for a sequence of paintings.
Elizabeth had forgotten how seriously Diane took her work, and what an accomplished artist she was. Whenever they were together, they ended up discussing her personal life, rarely her work.
‘I’ll buy a couple,’ Elizabeth said, ‘on condition they match the décor in our sitting room.’
The waitress brought their food and, as they ate, she told Diane how she and Jordan had joined forces in the garden. ‘I was amazed that he stuck at it.’
‘He’s a normal lad, not a monster.’
‘I suppose so. But I can’t seem to warm to him.’
‘Have you tried? It’s obvious that you don’t like his mother.’
‘Well, I don’t like her so why should I pretend I do? I’m still pissed off with her and Alex.’
‘You should be grateful.’
‘Grateful?’
‘Yes. We wouldn’t be down here if Jordan hadn’t been on the scene.’
The hum of conversation increased and heads turned towards the door. Elizabeth glanced across to see what was causing the stir. Lenny Butler, still ‘incognito’ but, nevertheless, plainly recognisable to many of the customers, entered with a man who was wearing knee-length shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. Grasping the opportunity to meet Butler again (now that she knew who he was) and also to introduce Diane to her idol, Elizabeth raised her hand. He immediately made for their table.
‘Don’t look ’round. It’s Lenny Butler. And he’s coming over. Let’s pretend we have no idea who he is.’
Diane clamped her hand to her chest. ‘I’m hyperventilating.’
When the men reached their table, Butler greeted Elizabeth with his odd little bow. ‘We meet again. May we join you?’
Elizabeth gestured towards the empty chairs. She smiled at the stranger – a short, good looking man with tousled grey hair – and nodded towards Butler. ‘My newfound but anonymous acquaintance here is adamant that names are confusing so…’
Butler laughed. ‘Did I say that? I talk a lot of bollocks, don’t I?’
‘Indeed you do.’ The man held out his hand. ‘I’m Joe. Not to be confused with,’ he nodded towards Butler, ‘Len.’ His voice was husky and he had a slight but definite cockney twang.
She introduced herself and Diane, explaining how they came to be staying in Llangennith.
‘How about you two?’
Butler muttered that he had a place nearby, and that Joe and he were ‘old mates from way back’.
Joe smiled at Diane. ‘We meet again, too.’
‘Hi, there.’
‘Our paths crossed earlier,’ Joe explained, ‘on the beach.’
They kept up the charade of celebrity ignorance, commenting on the array of camper vans assembled in the car park and the ghastly pattern on Joe’s shirt. (He confessed that it he’d bought it not in Honolulu but in Brighton.) But the game was soon up when the waiter asked for autographs.
‘Are you famous then?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘Take no notice of my friend,’ Diane said. ‘She thinks she’s being amusing.’
‘I honestly didn’t know who you were until Dafydd told me,’ Elizabeth said.
‘And why on earth should you?’ he said. ‘What else did Dafydd tell you?’
‘That you met when his father-in-law was working on your house.’
‘Yes. Trevor’s a great guy. He and Margery made me really welcome.’ He frowned. ‘It’s a real bummer.’
There was a moment’s silence whilst they reflected on life’s unfairness.
‘What are you doing in Wales?’ Diane asked. ‘Surely London’s where it’s all at.’
‘Allegedly. Like a lot of my contemporaries, I got this hankering to find a bolt-hole. Set up a little recording studio. Enjoy a bit of normality.’
‘Midlife crisis?’ Diane asked.
‘Maybe.’
‘But why Gower?’ Elizabeth said. ‘It’s lovely and everything but it’s a long way from London.’
‘When I was a kid, I used to come down here on holiday with my grandparents. Five or six years ago, when I was looking for a property, this felt like a good place to start. I was lucky enough to have the money. And I’ve still got my flat in London. So – best of both worlds as they say.’
It was evident from the way Joe laughed at everything Diane said, that she had made another conquest. And when the two of them went outside for a cigarette, Joe threw an arm around her shoulder, guiding her towards the door as if she needed protecting from the locals.
Elizabeth watched them through the window, sitting close together on the wall, comparing mobile phones. ‘I feel awful asking but is Joe in Wolfman? I don’t even know his second name.’
‘Carman. Joe Carman. Yes. He’s our keyboard player. And he’s a bit of a wiz on the production side.’
‘I see.’ She didn’t but it sounded exciting.
As they watched, a lad, mobile held at arm’s length, walked past the couple on the wall. Joe, his attention apparently focused on Diane, extended his arm towards the boy and raised his middle finger.
‘That’ll be on YouTube within the hour,’ Lenny murmured.
&nb
sp; ‘He’s filming them? Isn’t there a law against that?’
‘Yes. But it still happens. There was a time when I might have thumped him but it’s not worth the hassle and the sore hand.’ Lenny pulled his chair nearer to hers. ‘Let’s forget about him. Let’s talk about you.’
‘Nothing to tell.’
‘I can’t believe that, my sad-eyed Elizabeth.’ He gave a theatrical sigh. ‘Why didn’t we meet when we were both young, free and single?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you saying I’m old?’
‘No. But I am.’
A few perfect white clouds decorated the perfect blue sky. A red-sailed yacht scudded across the indigo sea. Lenny Butler – the Lenny Butler – seemed to like her, and Dafydd Jones – the Dafydd Jones – was waiting for her to make up her mind. She felt intoxicated with the unaccustomed attention.
‘We should be getting back,’ Elizabeth said when Diane returned. ‘I promised Dafydd we wouldn’t be long.’
‘Perhaps we can get together again before you leave,’ Lenny said.
‘You can think up some more ways to insult my shirt,’ Joe added.
Diane smiled. ‘That’d be fun.’
The car had been shut up for an hour with the sun pouring through the windscreen. When they got in, the leather upholstery burned the backs of their legs.
‘This feels unreal,’ Elizabeth said as she drove cautiously up the hill.
‘What does?’
‘Hanging out with people who get asked for autographs. That’s makes three of them now. How did you meet Joe, by the way?’
‘I was sketching at the end of the beach. He stopped to watch. Offered me a fag. We chatted for a bit then he went on his way.’
‘You didn’t recognise him?’
‘No. But I thought he looked kind of … cute.’
22
THURSDAY: 4.25PM
They got back to find Dafydd strimming the rectangle of lawn near the front door.
‘Nice lunch?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thanks,’ Elizabeth said. ‘We bumped into Lenny. He was with a friend.’ She suspected that talking about Lenny Butler might not be such a good idea and she asked quickly ‘Where are the kids? What are they doing?’
‘Redeeming themselves. Cleaning windows.’
A volley of laughter sounded from the back garden.
‘Allegedly.’
She had been on edge as they drove up from the beach, wondering what she would feel when she saw him, and fearing that, by her earlier unsubtle advance, she had forfeited his good opinion. But, as they sat on the grass, watching swallows wheeling and swooping, he showed no sign of disapproval.
‘We’ll eat around seven. Is that okay with you two?’ he said.
Diane rubbed her hands together. ‘Sounds wonderful.’
‘She’d eat on the hour, every hour, if she could,’ Elizabeth said, ‘and look at her. She’s a rake.’
‘It’s genetic, Lizzie, not from choice. Besides, men prefer curvy women, don’t they?’ Diane turned to Dafydd for confirmation.
‘Maybe I’m out of tune with my gender, but I’ve got a thing about ears myself.’
Diane fingered her ears which were peppered with rings and studs. ‘Sounds kinky. Pierced or unpierced?’
‘On the whole, I prefer my women unmutilated,’ Dafydd said.
Elizabeth moved her head discreetly from side to side, trying to recall which earrings she was wearing, hoping that she’d chosen something inconspicuous.
The discussion moved on to tattoos. Diane approved of them – Elizabeth didn’t.
‘D’you have a tattoo, Dafydd,’ Diane asked. ‘Something meteorological, perhaps?’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry to disappoint. Apart from anything else, I’m useless with needles. Whenever one of our crowd was getting “done” we’d all tag along for a laugh. I’m talking a while ago, mind you. There was this dodgy dive in Tudor Street. God knows why it wasn’t closed down. They must have been giving the Environmental Health inspectors top-of-the-range freebies. The Last Supper – something along those lines. Anyway, the guy only had to start up the needle thingy and I’d pass out.’
Diane extended her arm, the palm of her hand upwards, revealing a smudge the size of a ten-pence piece on the pale skin halfway between wrist and elbow. ‘It’s supposed to be a star. Lizzie’s handiwork. Quink and a compass point. We were thirteen. It bloody hurt, and then it went septic. My mother nearly killed me.’
Dafydd inspected her skin, running his thumb across the blue-black mark. ‘Impressive.’ He turned to Elizabeth. ‘Repeatedly jabbing a compass into your best friend must have taken guts.’
‘I’ll say. Especially as she was screaming the place down.’
Dafydd returned to his task while Elizabeth and Diane went to see how the window cleaners were progressing.
A ladder reached from the yard to the dormer window and Jordan was at the top of it, sponge in hand, bucket balanced in the guttering. There was no sign of Angel or Mimi.
‘Oh, God,’ Elizabeth whispered.
Jordan glanced down, grinned, then slopped more suds on the glass.
‘Someone should be holding the ladder.’ Elizabeth placed her foot on the bottom rung and gripped the sides, feeling the metal flex with his movement. ‘In fact you shouldn’t be up there at all. Where are the girls?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘That’s not the point.’
He frowned. ‘You say that all the time.’
‘What? What do I say?’
‘“That’s not the point.”’
Elizabeth stood silently, steadying the ladder whilst he finished cleaning the window, suspecting that were she to indulge in a tit-for-tat exchange she might lose.
‘What is his problem?’ Elizabeth complained later when she and Diane were in the kitchen preparing salads for the barbecue supper. ‘He communicates in monosyllables. And on the odd occasions when he cobbles together a few sentences he does that Australian thing? Turns every sentence into a question?’ Her rising voice reinforced the criticism. ‘Then he has the nerve to criticise my phraseology.’
‘Teenagers are supposed to be stroppy and uncommunicative. It’s their job. We’ve already discussed this. Cheer up. A few more days and you can hand him back.’
Elizabeth was at the sink, swishing lettuce leaves around in cold water, watching particles of soil swirling and drifting, forming sediment in the bottom of the washing-up bowl. She couldn’t identify the moment during the week when she’d stopped wishing the days away and started regretting how quickly they were passing. Three more nights and then she would be sleeping in her own bed with Laurence. And she would sleep with Laurence – and only Laurence – until one of them died.
‘How many lovers have you had, Di?’
‘Jeez, you are in weird mood.’ Diane stopped slicing tomatoes. ‘Funny you should ask. I did a head count – not exactly the appropriate part of the anatomy I know – a couple of weeks ago. The day after Carl proposed in fact. It seemed only fair to give him the gory details of my past.’
‘And you didn’t tell him about Vexler? Doesn’t marriage to a dissident Romanian count as a gory detail?’
‘Watch you don’t fall off your high horse. You were the one who started this, don’t forget.’
‘Sorry. You’re right.’ She left it a moment before prompting ‘So how many?’
‘Forty. Give or take.’
‘Forty. Good grief. I’m amazed that can you remember them all.’
‘Easy. I keep a list.’
‘You—’
‘Kidding. And don’t look so horrified. That only averages one a year. Well, near enough.’
‘You make it sound like a … a flu jab.’
‘And you make it sound like a hanging offence.’
‘How did Carl react to that?’
‘He kissed me and said that all my practising had paid off. And, if we’re confessing gory details, how about you? Let me guess.’ She cocked he
r head to one side and raised her eyebrows. ‘Two?’
‘Three if you count Laurence.’ Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s pathetic isn’t it?’
‘It is a bit.’ Diane patted her arm. ‘But our needs are obviously very different.’
Was that what it boiled down to? Needs? Diane needed an unlimited supply of partners whilst she needed – what? Monogamy? Monotony?
‘So it seems,’ Elizabeth said primly. ‘And have you decided what you’re going to do about Marin? And the money?’
‘The money’s easy. Whoever sent it intended me to spend it, so I’m inclined to do just that. Marin?’ She chewed her lip. ‘It would be kind of fascinating to see him again. Find out if he still presses all the right buttons.’
‘You’re incorrigible.’
‘No, I’m honest.’
It must be easy always to tell the truth, Elizabeth thought, regardless of how it affected others. But didn’t truth become an indulgence when it hurt the people that you loved and who loved you? ‘Where does Carl fit in with all this honesty?’
‘Poor Carl. He’s a lovely man but …’ Diane shrugged as though nothing more needed to be said.
Elizabeth wasn’t prepared to let it go. ‘Have you noticed that “Carl” always comes with a “but” or a “poor”?’
‘Yes. Well.’ Diane held up the bowl of sliced tomatoes. ‘That’s enough, don’t you think?’
Despite the talk of lovers and needs, Diane hadn’t bothered to ask what the situation was with Dafydd. That was because Diane didn’t really believe that he fancied her. Diane pitied her. All the nudging and winking had been something to cheer her up on her holiday. She could hear it now – Poor Elizabeth, she’s a lovely woman but…
Elizabeth was removing the pearl studs from her barely mutilated earlobes when Angel knocked on the bedroom door.
‘You don’t want to mess up your nice clothes.’ She went to the tallboy and pulled open the bottom drawer. ‘Are these any good?’ She held up a couple of T-shirts and a pair of striped cotton trousers. ‘They’re Mum’s. She leaves a few odds and ends here, for emergencies.’