by Minna Howard
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ he said.
‘You know,’ she said firmly, ‘we should stick together, enjoy ourselves before real old age takes over. Leave the young ones to pair up among themselves. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to sleep with a middle-aged man when I was younger.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’ he asked with disappointment.
‘No. Nor would my daughter.’ She thought of Polly’s disgust at Dan fathering another child.
‘I’ve had quite a few successes with younger women,’ Julian said, with a hint of bravado.
She did not say that it was probably his money and his position that was the aphrodisiac here. She spread some apricot jam on a roll and bit into it. If only someone else would come and join them; seeing them breakfasting together might fuel the others’ imaginations further.
They sat in silence for a while. She became aware that he was studying her; this made her feel awkward, aware that she had tiny flakes of the crusty roll on her chin. She was about to ask him what he was staring at when he said in an oily voice,
‘You may be right.’ He put his hand on hers. ‘You are frightfully attractive, Sarah. Right under my nose, and I didn’t notice until now.’
She whipped her hand away. ‘Julian, I didn’t mean me. What’s the matter with you? I’d have thought that after last night…’
‘I’m fine now.’ To her horror, she saw a glint of lust in his eyes.
‘I don’t want a relationship with anyone at the moment.’ She moved away from him, fighting not to laugh as she thought of his hydraulics. ‘Please let me finish my breakfast in peace.’
He smirked. ‘We needn’t have a relationship. Here we are, the two of us on our own. I call it a perfect arrangement. Here, in the sun, we could—’
‘No!’ she said sternly. ‘You must look elsewhere, or just remain celibate for the rest of the week, enjoying this lovely place.’
‘You see,’ his face drooped with sulkiness, his voice was bitter, ‘you middle-aged women are all the same. I’d have thought you’d be happy to have some interest taken in you. But no, I suppose you don’t like sex any more, if you ever did.’
His remark infuriated her. He was insufferable. ‘I do like sex, but not with you, and not just as a pastime. I want it to mean something, a show of affection, is that so difficult?’ She sprang up from the table and hurried inside, her face hot with anger. She bumped into Celine and Flora, who were just coming out.
Celine, seeing her face and seeing Julian sitting at the table, took her arm and went back into the house with her. ‘Everything is all right. I had to tell Flora the truth, but she won’t tell anyone – well, except for Patrick. But it’s fine, Yvette has left and everyone’s pleased about that.’
‘I don’t care who knows about it.’ Sarah was trembling with anger. She told Celine what Julian had said. ‘I can’t stand the arrogance of these men who seem to think one should be grateful to put up with their lovemaking. I’d far rather be celibate and go to bed with a good book than a creep like that.’
‘Especially one with elephantiasis!’ Celine giggled. ‘Look, let’s go out for the day. There are so many lovely places to see.’
‘Do lets. I’d love to do that.’ Sarah said and after making a plan to leave after breakfast she made for her room.
As she reached her room she heard her mobile agitating , and saw from the screen it was Polly.
‘Hi, Mum, hope you’re having a great time,’ Polly greeted her.
‘Yes, I am, darling,’ Sarah assured her. ‘Is there anything wrong?’
‘No, why should there be? But I’m just ringing to ask if it’s all right for Robert next door to come into our garden to do something to his creeper. It seems to prefer our side to his and he wants to train it back. He’s been quite friendly, I think he’s all right.’
‘No, absolutely not until I get back. Push his wretched creeper back to his side, but don’t let him in.’
Her dream had been right; Robert was chasing her in a garden, spoiling her time out here. By being nice to Polly, he was trying to get into her house. She did not trust his motives at all.
Ten
London seemed drab and airless after the glowing brilliance of Tuscany. Sarah let herself in to her house – which to her relief seemed the same, though more untidy than she had left it – and felt the mantle of depression settling round her shoulders.
Although the Julian incident and his on-going behaviour had been difficult, they were nothing compared to her problems back home, namely Dan’s forthcoming baby and Robert.
Julian’s attempts to persuade her into bed with him only made her laugh, her mind filled with grotesque images of Viagra-driven lusts. But at least while she was in Italy she had been able to keep her problems back home at arm’s length. Now, though, they crowded back round her like noisy, demanding children.
The lights were on, so Polly and Joe must be there, unless they had gone out and left the lights blazing – which would not be unusual. The thought that they were at home cheered her at once. She’d got used to the constant companionship at the Fieldings’, and realised that she dreaded the endless quiet and empty rooms when she got back home.
She had bought a pretty bag for Polly and some wine for Joe; she foresaw a good evening ahead.
Polly was slumped on the sofa, her eyes red with weeping, a balled-up handkerchief in her hand. At the sight of her, Sarah’s heart fell, the mantle of depression almost choking her. ‘What is it, darling?’ Images first of Tim dead, then Dan, then various other dramas flashed like quicksilver through her mind.
‘Joe’s gone. We had a row,’ Polly wailed, tears pouring down her face.
‘What happened?’ Sarah swallowed down her irritation and relief that it was only that. She was tired after travelling, and was looking forward to a bath, a drink and a cheerful gossip to catch up on the news, not another emotional drama to add to her own.
‘He said I was too intense,’ Polly sniffed. ‘He doesn’t want to be tied down, he wants more freedom.’
What’s new in that? Sarah said to herself. Some men do it now; others, like Dan, do it later. She sat down beside Polly and took her in her arms.
‘Welcome to the real world.’ She muffled her words in Polly’s abundance of golden hair.
After what seemed like hours of tearful explanations – Joe had apparently come to this decision only a few hours ago – Polly said, ‘Oh, and Robert next door kept asking when you were back.’
‘What business is it of his?’ Sarah felt as if she hadn’t been away at all, hadn’t spent time lying in the sun with her book and a glass of wine, with no decisions to make but which novel to read next.
‘He wouldn’t say what he wanted. He just said he had to speak to you and would you ring him or bang on his door when you got back. I wrote his mobile number down somewhere.’ She looked frantically round the untidy room in the hopes of locating it.
‘Don’t worry about it tonight. I’m exhausted. The plane was delayed, we hung about the airport for ages. I’m going to have a bath and get into bed, and I suggest you do, too.’ Sarah hugged her again. ‘Things might seem better in the morning,’ she said, with a cheerfulness she didn’t feel.
‘They never will be better again,’ Polly moaned. ‘Do you think not being able to keep a man is hereditary, in our genes?’
‘Whatever do you mean?’ Polly’s remark hurt. ‘I kept your father for twenty-four years.’
‘But they go off us.’ Polly humped up on the sofa with her chin on her knees, looking balefully ahead.
‘Joe is far too young for the male menopause,’ Sarah said gently. ‘Your father is suffering from severe delusions, imagining he is a young stud, which is pathetic when you see his ageing body.’ She remembered painfully that he had managed to father a child – if it was his. But she’d had enough of the subject, enough of wondering on the vagaries of men. She kissed Polly, and suggested again she had a relaxing bath as she was going to do.
‘Hello, Polly, is your mother in?’ Sarah heard Robert’s voice. She was stuck on the stairs and he could not help but see her legs from where he stood. She could hear Polly sniffing, obviously with disappointment that it was not Joe.
‘I think… she’s in the bath,’ Polly managed.
‘Perhaps I could see her before she gets in the bath?’
Sarah heard him come into the hall and, afraid that he would join her on the stairs before she could lock herself in the bathroom, she reluctantly and with bad grace came down again. ‘I’ve just got back from holiday and I’m very tired. I don’t want to speak to you right now,’ she said, barely looking at him.
‘I won’t keep you a moment, but I do want to know if you have received my letter. I put it through your letterbox myself.’ His voice was reasonable, but it did not stop the flutter of fear in her heart. Polly had slunk off back to her position of misery on the sofa. Robert did not look threatening as he stood there in her hall. In other circumstances he would have looked very nice indeed. He was dressed in well-cut jeans that somehow suited him, unlike Dan, who sort of bulged out of his in an ungainly way, and a cobalt-blue shirt. His skin was touched with a slight tan. It was a nuisance that he was an attractive man, as it made it harder for her to hate him.
‘I have got it, but I put it away.’ She stared at him defiantly.
‘I meant you to read it, respond to it.’ His mouth tightened with annoyance.
‘I’ve already asked my solicitor about my rights, and she said that unless there was some legal document saying the Blakes gave you this house, it is mine. So,’ anxiety made her voice hard, ‘please can you leave me alone? Take it up with the Blakes, not me, or I’ll have to have you up for…’ she searched her mind for something she could have him up for, ‘trespass or harassment.’ She grabbed at the words. She wanted to get to the front door to usher him out, but it meant pushing past him in the tiny hall and she did not want to touch him.
‘I have found you another house,’ he said, with a little pride. ‘It’s only in the next street. It’s really pretty. Beautifully done up, you can move straight in, and I’ll pay your removal charges.’
She gasped at his audacity. ‘I think that my house is already really pretty and beautifully done up, by me to my taste. I do not want to move, and I will not. Now, go away and leave me in peace.’
‘Sarah,’ his voice was like honey; honey and chocolate and double Jersey cream all rolled into one, ‘you know I want this house.’
So, he was now trying to use seduction and charm to get his way.
‘You’re not going to get it, so save your charms for your orchids.’ She pushed past him, yanking open the front door. ‘It’s late and I want you gone. Leave me alone… please.’ She appealed to his better nature if he had one.
‘I’m sorry to upset you, but if you’d read the letter… it states that if you should change your plans— want to move to the country perhaps.’ He took a step back as if to get out of her firing line.
She was tired after her journey and missing the sun and the freedom of the holiday with no worries but Julian’s sudden interest in her. ‘I have absolutely no idea of my plans, and if I did I wouldn’t discuss them with you.’ She threw the words at him, pushing him quite hard to get him out of the door.
‘I wish we could be friends,’ he said with an attempt of a smile as he went through the door. ‘After all, we do share a wall.’
‘But nothing else.’ She shut the door in his face.
She leant against the door, exhausted. Robert might not have any legal rights over her, but his bullying could make her life hell. Every time she came home she would feel threatened by his presence next door, thinking him spying on her. He could smoke her out just by intimidation. A wave of self-pity engulfed her. Had she and perhaps Polly really got some defect that urged men to be unkind to them?
She went into the living room. Polly had heard every word of their exchange, but her misery at losing Joe had made her apathetic.
She said wearily, ‘You’re not going to move, are you, Mum? Just when I’ve got my room all together as I want it?’
How selfish the young are, Sarah thought, but perhaps it is their only means of getting on in this world.
‘No, I’m not planning to, but if he makes things too difficult...’ Her words trailed off; she must not even think that he could make her change her mind. ‘I just want a quiet life. When I was away I had time to think about things. I decided that I want to use my mind more, study something, not just wait around for some new man. It’s such a waste of life. I’ve been married, I’ve got you and Tim, and any man I get now will only be dysfunctional in some way. I want to be more like Celine, be happy and independent, comfy in my own skin.’
‘I always thought you were Mum.’ Polly said. ‘So what do you want to do?
‘Study something, have a new group of interesting friends.’ She didn’t say ‘have perhaps the occasional affair’. Celine had had various long-term romances over the years, but now she was content to live alone the way she wanted to. Of course, Celine had had lots of practice of being independent, but there was no reason why she herself could not achieve it in time.
‘Not uni?’ Polly became alert.
Sarah laughed, knowing that Polly was thinking she might enrol in her or Tim’s university; turn up on the campus in some shaming student mode, as she had become really interested in his studies in Ancient History.
Extraordinary, they were just like us in lots of ways, she’d said listening to him talking about the Romans.
‘How would it be if I went in for body-piercing and tattoos and grungy clothes? Became a “mature” student?’ She couldn’t resist teasing her.
‘But, Mum, you couldn’t!’ The shock of such a possibility jerked Polly out of her misery. ‘I mean, mature is pushing thirty, not forty-something.’
‘So? I don’t think there is an age limit. Some people take degrees in their eighties.’
‘But you wouldn’t cope. I mean, there are so many things you disapprove of: drugs, sex, binge drinking,’ Polly went on desperately.
‘There’s plenty of that outside university,’ Sarah said, thinking of her holiday.
‘Yes, but you are protected here,’ Polly replied.
‘Look, love,’ Sarah put her arm round her, ‘don’t worry, I’m not going to turn into the trendy-mummy trying to muscle in on your life. I’ve had my youth, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I know I can’t go back. I don’t think I’d want to, even if I could. But I do want to have something more to occupy my mind than worrying about your father’s new baby and the man next door.’
‘That’s all right, then.’ A small smile of relief like a thin ray of sun on a rainy day crept over Polly’s face. ‘But, Mum, you must fight back, not let Robert next door bully you. He was nice whenever he saw me, but he is determined to get what he wants.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Oh, that the Blakes had promised him the house and he can’t think why they didn’t offer it to him first so it is hard for him not to feel aggrieved that you had bought it, and he was sure that you would understand in the end.’
‘I certainly won’t understand. I’m sorry, but it’s not my problem, it’s between him and Annie and Paul, they never mentioned it to me. Robert was away, and I assume uncontactable, and they needed to sell it quickly. He’ll have to accept it.’
‘I don’t think he will, without a fight. What if...’ Polly thought for a moment. ‘What if you grew some plant – you know, those huge fir trees or some vine that took over his entire garden? Or made something leak dreadfully in his house, did something to make him want to leave?’ she said eagerly.
Sarah smiled; it was impossible, but at least the idea had cheered Poll
y up.
‘Why don’t you put mice through his letterbox, or even mink? They cause terrible damage. Or mustard and cress seeds? They’d grow like mad all over his carpets,’ Polly went on, getting quite excited by her ideas.
Sarah laughed with her as they vied with each other over more and more outrageous plans to force Robert to leave.
The next morning, she opened her post as she ate breakfast before going to work. Polly was still sleeping off her heartbreak. There was a letter from Dan; his square, sturdy writing on the envelope made her heart ache. She wondered why he had written to her instead of sending an email or a text but perhaps he thought it more concrete and seeing it she might open it instead of perhaps deleting a text or an email before she’d read it.
He was reminding her that she owed him a chunk of money from the sale of the house. Surely it was only fair to give him just under half of the money she’d got from selling their house as he had bought the house in the first place and prices had gone up enormously.
She threw the letter into the bin, trying to squash the panic it induced. She had sent him quite a good sum of money already and she couldn’t afford to send him any more just now. It wasn’t as if he was homeless and he had a good job. She admitted she’d probably spent too much on doing up her new house, but that was his fault for leaving her like that and making her move.
The following morning being Saturday she got on the bus to go up the Kings Road to the exotic food market. Robert flung himself through the doors just before the bus set off. Sarah was sitting on one of the side seats, and before she could move he sat down beside her.
‘I’m sorry we didn’t finish our conversation last night,’ he said.
‘We had nothing more to say.’
‘Oh, but we did. You’ll never guess,’ he eyed her warily, as if he was sitting next to an unexploded, ticking bomb, ‘but your husband rang me. Somehow, he knew I wanted the house and he asked what I would be prepared to pay for it.’
‘I… I don’t believe you,’ she stuttered. How could Dan know? Then she thought of Polly and Tim – they must have told him. She had enemies in the camp without knowing it, and Dan would side with Robert to get her out, even insist she live somewhere far cheaper, so he could have even more cash from her. She thought of his letter that he’d obviously hoped she’d take more notice of than an email and the hideous sum that he was demanding.