Kate nodded as if this made perfect sense to her, told Steph briefly what she was doing on Exmoor, and heard in return how Steph had two children and bred Manchester terriers. ‘I used to have a high-powered job too,’ she explained. ‘In fact, that’s how I met Gil – we worked for the same company. So if I didn’t have something to do I’d go nuts. Hence the doggies. They use up my slack. What did you do in London?’
‘PR,’ Kate said, and since Steph seemed interested, she told her best stories and made PR sound like the most interesting job in the world – which she had sometimes found it to be. Gradually the table filled up, and the noise level rose. The other couples were reruns of Gil and Steph, though unlike them they weren’t married and didn’t have children; but they were extremely smart, obviously well-heeled, and all knew each other and everyone else. It was the County Set at play.
Kate had the same conversation over and over, answering the same questions about who she was, where she came from, and how she knew Jack. Jack had disappeared, was still working the room: she caught sight of him from time to time, always the centre of a loud, laughing group. He came back to refill her glass with a seemingly unlimited stream of champagne, pressed a hand on her shoulder or patted her cheek, and was gone again. The younger set had turned up and filled this end of the room, and wherever the noise was greatest and the fun liveliest, there would be a glimpse of Jack’s unruly, toffee-coloured hair and his laughing face.
Only when the waiting staff started to appear with food did he come back to the table, slid into the seat beside Kate, and simultaneously slid a hand over her leg just above the knee. ‘God, I love the feeling of sheer stockings!’ he said into her ear. ‘Having a nice time, my darling?’
Kate smiled. ‘Yes, except that the person I came with seems to have disappeared, which makes it a bit awkward.’
‘Ungrateful bastard!’ Jack exclaimed. ‘How could he be such a mug as to abandon the loveliest girl in the room? Never mind, I’ll grab my chance and his seat and entertain you instead.’
‘Oh, yes, and who are you again?’ Kate said. She wasn’t quite ready to forgive him.
‘I am Jack and I am contrite,’ he said, laying his hand over hers and squeezing it. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown you in the deep end like that, and I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t known you were more than capable of swimming, and if I hadn’t really had to talk to all those people. It was work, you understand.’
‘It didn’t look like work,’ Kate observed.
‘That’s what I do – you should understand, having been in PR. I have to make everyone like me, for the sake of the family business. But it’s all done now. I promise I shan’t leave you again.’ He leaned closer and murmured in her ear. ‘I must say I’m looking forward to the dancing. I’m longing to put my arms round you, you gorgeous creature.’
The man on her other side addressed her at that moment and she turned to him to answer his question. He was a nice, polite, but rather bland man who was an analyst in the bond market. She asked him what exactly that entailed and he explained it to her in some detail. Afterwards she still hadn’t any idea what he did. By the time she turned back to Jack, he was deep in conversation with his other neighbour, a sparky and rather plump young woman in a dress so décolleté, it left little to the imagination. Kate wondered what it must be like to have the sort of bosoms that men looked down on, and addressed herself to her starter of pâté and toasted brioche.
Between courses there were lengthy hiatuses, during which the band played and people got up to dance. It also gave the opportunity for people to change seats so as to be able to talk to someone different, which Kate thought a good idea, making for variety. When the band struck up after the starter, Jack leaned over and said, ‘Inter-course break. Shall we dance, oh blessed houri?’
He half rose and began to pull back her chair for her; but before the action was complete, Gil was at her side, had taken her hand and was bowing over it, lifting her to her feet and smiling in a way that quite transformed his dark, rather grim face. ‘May I?’ he said. ‘You don’t want to dance with Jack – he has two left feet.’
She let him lead her away, giving a smiling backward glance at her thwarted escort and thinking serves you jolly well right. He gave her an agreeably miffed look, and hurried to claim Steph’s hand before anyone else did.
‘If you’re serious about that,’ she said to Gil, ‘it’s rather ungallant of you to abandon your wife to him.’
‘Just this once,’ Gil assured her. ‘Steph will be all right. She breeds terriers. She’s used to handling unruly animals.’
Kate laughed, and said, ‘You two insult each other so much, you must be really good friends.’
‘Oh, Jack and I go way back. He’s a really good sort. Heart of solid gold. Unfortunately he hasn’t got the head to match.’
‘Really?’
‘Brain like honeycomb. Or, wait, what’s that stuff – polystyrene packing? You know how when you try to grab hold of it, it breaks up and crumbles into little beads?’
‘Not a good businessman?’ Kate hazarded.
‘The very worst. He hasn’t his equal. Luckily, it doesn’t really matter. He has an office and a secretary at the factory where he can go and play at being the big executive, but it’s Phil Kingdon who does the work, and Phil’s got a mind like a steel trap. What Jack does best is talking to people – as you’ve probably noticed.’
‘I have,’ Kate said drily.
‘Don’t underestimate it,’ Gil said seriously. ‘It’s an important part of the business. He gets the brand known, builds up affection and loyalty for it, schmoozes the customers, brings light and warmth to the darkness.’
‘Smooths down ruffled feathers when there are complaints?’ Kate hazarded.
‘There aren’t too many of those,’ said Gil. ‘It’s a pretty tight operation. But, yes, he does that. And I’ll tell you another thing – part of the reason they can charge such a high price is down to Jack making people want to buy from Blackmore’s, simply because they like him.’
‘Well, thank you for the commercial,’ Kate said, with a smile to show it was pleasantly meant.
Gil smiled too. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing, wasting my time with you talking about another man. Let’s talk about us.’
‘Is there an us?’
‘I wish! Tell me how you get into that dress. Do you actually have to melt yourself down and pour yourself in, or is there some kind of devilish machine? I’m imagining something like a giant power-driven shoehorn.’
Kate began to enjoy herself.
It was pleasant to discover that she was very much in demand, both to dance with, and to be sat next too. Every time she was taken back to the table, someone else was waiting to whisk her away. Sometimes she didn’t get as far as the table. As a result, she didn’t see much of Jack. They saluted each other in passing when they happened to dance near each other, but it was not until after the sweet course that he hurried up, grabbed her hand, and said, ‘My turn! I don’t care what promises you’ve made, I’m dancing with you now.’
‘What a cave man you are. Are you going to drag me away by my hair?’
‘Do I need to?’
‘No, I’ll come quietly. It took me hours to get it to look like this, I don’t want the risk of it coming off in your hand.’
On the dance floor he put his arm round her waist and said, ‘I warn you, I’m the world’s worst dancer.’
‘So I’ve heard.’
‘Who told you?’ He pretended indignation.
‘I have my sources. And actually, I’ve been watching you.’
‘Ah. Well, do you mind if we just walk?’
‘Sounds good to me.’
Luckily it was a slowish number, so they just rocked from foot to foot, not moving very far. He hummed the tune, and sang a phrase into her ear.
‘You have a nice voice,’ she said.
‘Church choir since the age of eight.’ Kate was pleasantly surpris
ed. It didn’t seem to accord with the bad-boy image he seemed eager to establish. ‘Are you having a nice time yet?’ he asked.
‘Actually, I am,’ Kate said. ‘It’s flattering to have so many men want to dance with me.’
‘It’s that dress,’ said Jack. ‘Word’s gone out that you can feel everything through it.’ She punched him on the arm. ‘Hey, that hurt. I was joking.’
‘You weren’t.’
‘I didn’t mean it in an unflattering way. And anyway, the dress would be nothing if you weren’t interesting to talk to. Everyone keeps telling me how fascinating you are.’
‘Fascinating?’ she said derisively. ‘What is this, nineteen-twenty?’
‘I mean it. There are a lot of good-looking people in this room, a lot of smart ones, a lot of rich ones, a lot with high-powered jobs, big houses and bodies that owe everything to the gym and private instructor. But you can count the ones who are interesting to talk to on the fingers of one hand.’
‘Well, thank you,’ she said, and bestowed a kiss on his cheek.
He pulled back his head to look gaugingly into her eyes, and then kissed her back, on the lips. It was not a mere peck. Maybe it had been meant to be, but it lingered, and Kate felt various bits of her melting. He was a seriously good kisser. She broke off at last, and said, ‘Hey! A person has to breathe now and then.’
‘What a pity,’ he said with a sinuous smile. ‘Maybe you could learn a way to breathe and kiss simultaneously. It’s a shame to waste a talent like that.’
Ten
Kate woke with the sun on her face, reminding her that she had not pulled the curtains last night. Reaching for her watch she discovered it was only just after six, and she turned over and snuggled back down, with a sense of luxury, to enjoy her thoughts.
She went over everything from last night, and had a few uncomfortable moments wondering if she had made a fool of herself. She remembered the fur coats and the Looks, the fact that even when the younger set had finally arrived, nobody there was dressed as she was. Yes, she had been besieged by men wanting to dance with her, but – oh my God, had that been because they saw her as some kind of tart? She went cold all over as the thought occurred to her. Jack had said it was because she was interesting to talk to, but he might just have been being kind. Would the County be talking in years to come of that woman from London who showed herself up, had everyone staring at her, and nearly ruined the evening for everyone else? Perhaps next time she went down to the village there would be covert glances and sniggers behind the hand. Perhaps she’d never be able to leave the house again without a sack over her head. Perhaps she’d better become a nun in one of those closed orders …
She turned over, looked out of the window at the pale morning sky, and better sense prevailed. What did she care if she wasn’t dressed like everybody else? She’d been perfectly respectable. And the men she had danced with hadn’t tried to take advantage or proposition her. No, either Jack was right, or it was just the novelty of a new face that had been attractive. Probably the latter. She got the impression all those people knew each other terribly well. Anyway, it wasn’t as if she was staying here for ever: in a few months she would be gone, and it wouldn’t matter what anyone thought of her.
And then she thought about Jack. He had driven her home, and when he pulled up outside the cottage he had turned off the engine. She had been wondering whether he expected to be invited in, and was remembering she only had instant coffee and nothing alcoholic to offer, when he said her name, and she turned to find him looking earnestly at her. And then somehow she was in his arms and they were kissing. It started gently, though warmly, but soon they were ‘chewing the face off each other’, as they said back home, and the temperature in the car was rising rapidly.
This time it was he who broke off, drawing back from her just enough to look at her, though his hands were still holding her. He began, a little uncertainly, ‘Shall we—?’ and she was sure the sentence was going to end, go back to my place? She remembered that he was living at home and wondered how awkward that would make things. She started to say, ‘I think it’s maybe a bit soon to be taking things further,’ and only got as far as I think when he resumed with, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ she said quickly. ‘I was enjoying it.’
But he looked for a moment confused and almost miserable. ‘I was – I don’t want you to think … Things are a bit complicated.’
She cooled. ‘You’re seeing someone else,’ she suggested with a hint of froideur.
‘No, no,’ he protested hastily, and it sounded genuine. ‘It isn’t that. It’s – I can’t really explain.’ He coughed and started again, sliding his hands down her arms to take hold of her hands and press them. ‘I really like you. I’d like to see you again. Would that be all right?’
She smiled. ‘I’d like that. I had a lovely time tonight.’
‘I’m glad. And perhaps we could—?’
‘Take things slowly?’ she supplied, since he seemed to be making hard work of the conversation.
He looked relieved. ‘Yes! Get to know each other a bit, before—’
‘Of course,’ she said.
His trademark wicked grin made a return. ‘Though I don’t promise to be able to keep my hands off you for that long. The delicious and entirely edible Miss Jennings.’
‘Oh, I have my gristly bits, like anyone else,’ she said, and they parted on laughter.
This morning, lying in bed, she thought, now what was that? While they were kissing she knew he’d wanted to, just as she had, but then he’d suddenly stopped himself. Was it the difficulties of location? Something to do with the ex-wife and kid? Was there, in spite of his protest, someone else? Or had he a dark secret – something embarrassing perhaps, like a third nipple, or the inability to achieve sexual congress unless wearing parachute harness and a World War Two flying helmet?
She smiled to herself. Maybe he just likes you, and doesn’t want to rush things, she suggested. Which made her ask herself what she wanted from him. He was attractive and amusing and she liked him, and she’d be glad to date him, have a fling with him: it would certainly enliven her time here in Bursford. Whether it would lead any further – whether she would want it to lead any further – were questions she couldn’t answer. And there was no reason why she should. Just enjoy it as it comes, she told herself; and on this sage advice, she realized that she was too wide awake to doze any more, jumped out of bed and decided to go for a walk before breakfast.
Kay was out in the front, shaking out her doormat, when Kate reached home again, and called to her. ‘Hello! You’re out early. I’d a thought you’d be having a lie-in after last night.’
‘I wasn’t that late home,’ Kate said. ‘It wasn’t much after one.’
‘I hear you were a roaring success – everyone wanted to dance with you,’ Kay said.
‘How on earth could you have heard that already?’
‘My friend Tanya was one of the waitresses. She rung me up when she’d finished clearing up and said you were dancing every dance and poor old Blackjack wasn’t getting a look-in.’
‘He had plenty of other people to dance with.’
‘Oh, I know. I bet he asked every girl in the room. He’s a card, isn’t he? I told you! And I told you you looked gorgeous. Liscombe has never seen anything like you. Want to come over and have breakfast? I’m just putting eggs on.’
‘Oh, no, thanks,’ said Kate. It wasn’t that she felt fragile, but she didn’t want a post-mortem, which would in any case have to compete with Dommie’s insistent chatter. ‘You’re so kind, but I just want a quiet cup of tea and my own thoughts this morning.’
‘Bet they’re good ones,’ said Kay, and went indoors.
In the quiet of her own shabby kitchen, Kate had two cups of tea, and toast and lime marmalade, and when she had cleared it up she thought about what work in the house she ought to do. It was then she discovered that her taste of the high life last night had made her re
stless. She didn’t want to put on her working clothes and get dirty, and spend the day alone scraping wallpaper. Get used to it, girl, she told herself. You didn’t come down here to hobnob with the nobs. Jack said he wanted to see her again but he hadn’t made any specific date, and apart from him she only knew Kay and the Royal Oak crowd, and it was too early to be going for a pint.
Suddenly she remembered her childhood visits to Granny and Grandpa Jennings, and how they had always all gone to church on Sunday morning, the whole family clean and shiny in their best, walking off together to the dear little stone church of St Salvyn (at least, old folk like Granny and Grandpa called it that, although it had been renamed St Mary Magdalene’s, because the Church wasn’t even sure St Salvyn was really a saint). Somehow, she always remembered St Salvyn’s with daffodils blowing in front of it, their yellow brilliant against the grey stone.
That’s what I’ll do this morning, she thought. I’ll go to church.
She repeated it out loud and it still sounded like a good idea, so she went off to bath and dress.
There were lots of churches in Somerset dedicated to All Saints, which presumably saved having to make a choice and risk offending anyone in Heaven; but the good folk of Bursford must have been even less decisive than the norm, because the parish church was called St Mary and All Saints. It didn’t get more inclusive than that. It was bigger than St Salvyn’s, mostly fifteenth century, and its square stone tower was much taller, perhaps because, being built in the valley, it needed a higher tower to be seen from a distance and over the trees.
Kate had made an effort, put on her smartest pair of trousers and a decent top, even polished her shoes – or buffed them, at least, with a cloth, since she couldn’t find any shoe polish among her boxes, wasn’t even sure she owned any. Her hair, amazingly, was still unfrizzy from last night, and she tied it neatly in a tail behind, and put on the minimum of make-up for self-respect.
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