by Leo McNeir
“Is it finished?”
“Good as. Just one or two small adjustments, and you can move in.”
“Brilliant! We can’t wait.”
“I think you’ll be pleased.”
“Pleased? We’ll be blissful. Bye! See you later.”
Anne was smiling as she continued on her way. Blissful, she thought. That was exactly how Jill and Alex had described themselves soon after they moved in. Anne was delighted. All Marnie’s plans were coming to fruition just as she had hoped. It was going to be a blissful summer.
*
Grace parked beside Marnie’s Land Rover Discovery at the back of the office barn, and wondered if she and Will would need a four-wheel-drive when they lived at Glebe Farm. When they lived at Glebe Farm! The idea thrilled her, and even the thought that there was no proper road down over the field could not diminish her enthusiasm. She stood momentarily by the barn and looked across at the cottages nestling together, the stone facade glowing in the afternoon sun. Grace Parchman, she thought, you are a lucky girl.
She had grown up in the village and had often heard her father, landlord of the pub, The Two Roses, bemoan the fact that there were no houses within the price range of young people. Now, Marnie’s developments brought the prospect of affordable homes. True, they were for rent not for purchase, but most young couples wanted somewhere to make a start, and were not looking for a home for the rest of their lives. This was a better beginning than they had ever expected.
One of the builders was tipping gravel from a wheelbarrow outside cottage number one, and the uncluttered yard seemed bigger than when she had last visited, just a week earlier. It was starting to look like somewhere to live rather than a building site. Grace knocked on the office door and went in to find Marnie speaking on the phone.
With a hand over the mouthpiece, Marnie held up a key ring. “Grace, hi. If you’d like to go over, I’ll join you shortly. Won’t be long.”
Grace was only too happy to have the house to herself and she headed for the blue door with the shiny brass number two gleaming on the new paint. Marnie went back to her phone call. At the other end, the secretary announced that she was putting her through to Philip Everett.
“I’m intrigued about this job in Italy, Phil. Am I right in thinking there’s a catch?”
“You have a suspicious mind, Marnie. And yes … there is a catch. But it’s not obligatory, just an idea I had.”
“Are you asking me to supervise the work or take it on? That’s not clear from your letter. And who’s this member of staff with problems?”
“Answers are: yes, yes and you don’t know her. In that order.”
“Come on, then. Spill the beans. What am I letting myself in for?”
“Briefly, one of our clients has bought a villa in Umbria and wants it restored. You’d love it: sixteenth century, stone, painted ceilings, murals, galleried upstairs, the works. The structure’s pretty sound, but the inside needs a complete makeover. Just your kind of thing.”
“When do I fly out?”
“Exactly.”
“And the catch?”
“Estelle.”
“Estelle?”
“Very promising designer. Reminds me of you when you were starting here: lots of ideas and flare, enthusiastic, very hard-working.”
“You never said those things when I was asking for a rise.”
“Damn right!”
“But?” said Marnie. “I can sense a but creeping in here.”
“Yes. Take all her qualities – your qualities – and exaggerate them just a little. What do you get?”
“If the answer’s not Superwoman, I give in.”
“You get a great worker with real talent and a tendency to get obsessive about things.”
“And you think I might be able to help her?”
“To tell you the truth, Marnie, I just don’t know. But I had this idea that if she got out of the office and had the chance to work alongside someone else with her kind of talent, but a more balanced approach … I dunno. I thought it might calm her down.”
“Not quite.”
“Not keen? Pity, she’s really –”
“I didn’t mean that, Phil. I meant that isn’t the whole picture. You’re keeping something from me, aren’t you? What else is there?”
Philip laughed and replied with a Japanese accent. “You one sharp cookie for a gaijin.”
“So?”
“She’s had a bad time just lately. Usual thing, long-term relationship, boyfriend decided to end it. She went to pieces.”
“When was this?”
“Couple of months ago.”
“And she’s still cut up about it?”
“She took it very badly. They’d been living together for four years or so.”
“By coincidence,” said Marnie, “about the same length of time Simon and I’d been married when we split up.”
“Well, yes.”
“And you remembered how I went to pieces at the time and you thought I’d be a suitable nursemaid.”
“I remembered how you got through, Marnie, forced yourself to go on, even when I knew how painful your life was.”
“I can’t say I’m overjoyed about this, Phil. I love the idea of getting the job in Italy – sounds great. But having those strings attached, playing the agony aunt, I don’t know.”
“No strings, Marnie. I’m offering you the job anyway. To be honest, the client asked for you personally. You did their house in Notting Hill a few years back. The Estelle thing was an afterthought on my part.”
“How’d you see it working?”
“That rather depended on you. If Estelle had a break from the office … pastures new – literally in your case – perhaps she’d get things in perspective, put herself back together again.”
“I found the team in the office a great support when I was having problems. Perhaps you’re underestimating them.”
“I don’t think so. There’s a … a further side to this.”
“Meaning?”
“You went into a shell, Marnie. You went quiet, threw yourself into the work.”
“It’s how I coped.”
“Estelle’s been different. She went off the rails, partying, drinking too much, throwing herself at men.”
“Including you?”
“No.”
“So you’re jealous?”
“I’m being serious.”
“I know. Look, what if I came down and met her, just to talk about the job? We could take it from there.”
“That’d be great.”
“But I can’t promise anything, not until I’ve had a chance to meet her.”
“When can you come?”
*
Marnie and Anne prepared supper in the galley, managing despite the confined space on Sally Ann, to keep out of each other’s way. Anne was slicing red peppers, spring onions, sugar-snap peas and carrots, while Marnie scooped out the pips from two melons. A pan of noodles was bubbling beside them.
Marnie wiped her hands on a towel and opened a bottle of red wine. “OK. Ralph can arrive when he likes. We’re ready. Need any help with those?”
“Nope. All done. When will he be back?”
“That’s in the hands of the gods or – more precisely – the traffic on the Oxford ring-road. Any time now, I expect.”
Marnie was draining the noodles when Anne called into the cabin from laying the table on the stern deck. “Here’s Ralph!”
Through the galley window she caught sight of a tall figure in a light grey suit moving quickly. Marnie saw his hand rise to greet Anne and heard him call out before he turned towards his boat that was moored by the canal at right angles to Sally Ann in her docking area.
Ralph was on sabbatical from All Saints College, Oxford. A professor of economics, he had been using the time to write his latest book on the ‘tiger economies’ of the Far East. For the past year he had lived on his boat, where he had installed all the facilities he needed for writ
ing. In contrast to the ageing and homely lines of Sally Ann, his boat was sleek, a deep sage green with the name Thyrsis emblazoned in gold lettering on the sides. Anne had compared it irreverently to the colours of a Harrods carrier bag. In recent months Ralph had been arranging to leave his college to concentrate full-time on research, writing and consultancy, while acquiring the title and status of visiting professor.
Ralph was an acknowledged expert in his field. In his mid-forties, he had built up an international reputation through his writing and lecturing. A widower for several years, he was convinced he owed much of his recent success to Marnie. She had first met him at a difficult time in his life. Now, he was back on course. They were what Anne described as an item, and were planning to marry.
Anne came through to the galley in search of cutlery and glasses. “Ralph said he’d be five minutes, just wants to change out of his suit.”
It was a lie. And Marnie knew it.
*
Ralph often professed he had learnt much from Marnie, though she always refuted it. But one skill she had taught him was the art of opening champagne bottles without spilling the wine or spraying everyone within range like racing drivers on the podium.
It had been true that he wanted to change into casual clothes, but he had omitted to tell Anne that the real reason he had gone direct to Thyrsis was to retrieve the Veuve Clicquot that he had put in the fridge that morning before leaving for his meetings. Now, as Marnie and Anne sat at the table on the stern deck of Sally Ann in the warmth of the evening sun, he stood and removed the gold cap and wire cage from the bottle. Holding it tilted at forty-five degrees, he fastened his grip round the cork and carefully twisted the base of the bottle till the cork eased its way out with a satisfyingly loud pop! Vapour like smoke from a gun barrel swirled out, but not a drop was lost.
“For one so talented,” said Marnie, “you look remarkably pleased with yourself at accomplishing such a simple act. Or do you have something special to tell us?”
“Special?” Ralph repeated casually. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course not,” Anne chimed in. “Everyone has champagne to celebrate Tuesdays. It’s a well-known fact.”
Ralph smiled at them. “It’s a fair cop, guv. Today is rather special. The University Senate has approved my appointment as Visiting Professor.”
“I thought that was just a formality,” said Marnie.
“Yes, but it’s nice to have it confirmed officially. And that’s not all. My publisher has accepted the new book, my colleague at Yale has finalised my lecture tour of the States and Canada, and the BBC has asked me to do a three-programme series on television in the autumn.”
“Wow!” Marnie exclaimed.
“Quite. The letters were all in my pigeon hole when I got in to college this morning.”
Anne was beaming. “This is a real Red Letter Day.”
Ralph poured the champagne into flutes. Marnie looked on benignly.
Anne frowned. “Wait a minute, Ralph. You said you’d put the champagne in the fridge this morning.”
“That’s right.”
“Which was before you went to college.”
“Of course.”
“I know you’re a genius and all that, but how could you know those letters would be waiting for you?”
“I didn’t. In fact, the celebration has nothing to do with any of my news. That was just a coincidence.”
Marnie laughed.
“I don’t get it,” Anne said.
Marnie stood up, holding her glass. “Come on.” She stepped ashore and gestured to Anne to go with her. Ralph handed her a glass of champagne and followed.
“What’s going on?” Anne asked.
Ralph took her arm. “You’ll see.”
They walked through the spinney where dappled light and shade made patterns on them as they passed. All the while, Anne asked what they were doing and where they were going, and received only non-committal replies. Arriving at the end of the barn where Marnie kept her cars, Ralph pointed across at the cottages, just visible round the side of the office barn. Anne stared at them.
“What am I looking for? They seem no different to how they were when we left an hour ago.”
“Perhaps you’re looking the wrong way,” said Marnie. “Try turning round.”
Anne shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t get this at –”
She stopped in mid-sentence. In front of her, parked at the side of the barn was a car, a Mini, red with a white roof, shiny as new. Two features immediately caught her eye. The first was a pink bow attached to the top of the radio aerial. The second was a large black cat curled up on the bonnet. Anne understood immediately.
“It’s a new perch for Dolly,” she said.
“Correct,” said Ralph.
Marnie added, “And when Dolly doesn’t need it, you can use it for its secondary purpose and drive around in it.”
Anne turned to Ralph, solemnly handed him her glass and performed a cartwheel. When she had completed the manoeuvre, Ralph gave her back the glass and Marnie gave her an envelope.
“I can really use it?” Anne said, her eyes sparkling.
“It’s yours,” Marnie said. “Those are the documents. It’s taxed, insured, and the tank’s full. It’s two years old, low mileage. A present from both of us.”
Anne handed her glass to Ralph and fell flat on her back on the ground, eyes closed. Dead. The cat sat up and yawned.
*
Supper was delayed that evening while a test drive took place over the field track and through the village. Sadly for Anne, no-one was on the street to witness the passage of the gleaming red Mini with her at the wheel, but that did nothing to dampen her enthusiasm. Returning to base, she found it fitted perfectly into the garage barn alongside Marnie’s Discovery and her pre-war MG sports car.
During supper Anne interrogated Marnie and Ralph on how they had come to buy the Mini, and when she protested that they really, but really, should not have done so, Marnie told her that it in no way compensated for all the work Anne had done on a minimal wage. Anne had the good sense not to hog the whole conversation on such an important day for Ralph, though he was happy just to fill in a few more details.
Eventually Marnie said, “Well, I’ve got some news, too. Philip wants me to supervise a project in Italy.”
“Wonderful. Whereabouts?” said Ralph.
“Umbria.”
“Whereabouts is that?” Anne asked.
“Other side of Tuscany.”
“I’ll drive you down if you like,” Anne said nonchalantly, trying to adopt the heavy eyelids of Marlene Dietrich while fiddling with her car keys on the table.
“I’ll bear it in mind.”
“Good. A Mini would be just right. Remember that film, The Italian Job? Minis were the stars.”
“This job,” said Marnie, “would be more mundane, but there is a catch.”
“What kind of catch?” said Ralph.
“Phil wants me to supervise a designer from his office on the project. For ‘supervise’, read ‘play nursemaid to’.”
She outlined her conversation with Philip. Ralph listened attentively.
Anne asked, ”Will she be coming to work here, then?”
“That all depends on my talking it over with Philip … and Estelle, of course. I’m going to see them the day after tomorrow.”
*
After they had cleared the table, Anne excused herself, saying she wanted an early night tucked up with a good book. When asked what she was reading, she held up the instruction manual for the Mini.
Marnie and Ralph walked over to Thyrsis, with its efficient modern shower and more spacious interior, where they slept.
Marnie said, “You didn’t say much when I explained about the Estelle proposition. Were you lost in thought about your budding television career?” She prodded him gently in the ribs.
“Actually …” He opened the hatch in the middle of the boat and went down the
steps. “I was wondering how this arrangement with Estelle would work. You’ve got a good routine with Anne, but it’s all based on you as the designer. Were you wanting to take on staff at this stage?”
Marnie followed him down and pulled the hatch closed behind her. “That’s one of my questions for Philip. I get the impression he’d still be employing her, and she’d just assist me on that one job.”
“It will all depend on the details,” Ralph said. “Typical of Philip to try and help sort out her life.”
“Yes. He always means well, and I do trust him.”
Ralph drew the curtains over the portholes and switched on the lights. “But?”
They walked along to the sleeping cabin. Marnie sat on the bed looking thoughtful. “There are so many imponderables.”
“You have some misgivings about Estelle?”
“It’s just … we’ve made such a good start, Anne and I. We’re a team. I don’t want to introduce a discordant note that might spoil the atmosphere we’ve built up at Glebe Farm.” Marnie kicked off her shoes. “Do you want to shower first?”
“Why don’t we share?”
She smiled up at Ralph. “I didn’t realise you were so environmentally-minded. It’s very public-spirited to want to save water like that.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Ralph ran the shower for a minute to warm up the cubicle while they undressed. They climbed in together and began squeezing shower gel over each other.
“There’s not a lot of room in here,” Marnie observed.
Ralph worked the gel on his hands into a lather. “What’s the bad news?”
3
Marnie caught an express for London after the commuter rush had finished and sat by the window watching the canal that threaded the same route as the railway. She regarded the canal network as a kind of linear village, or like a series of desert trails from oasis to oasis, travelled by nomads who were her neighbours. The newspaper on her lap lay unopened.
The proposal from Philip Everett had been troubling her, an intrusion into the world she had built around herself and Anne – and to an increasing extent, Ralph – since leaving London. She had no desire to expand Walker and Co in the way Philip had developed Everett Parker Associates. She just wanted to work freelance. Somewhere in that idea she hoped there would be a long-term place for Anne.