The Mixture As Before

by Rosie Harris

  There were mirrors everywhere reflecting the opulence and glamour of the setting. It was over the top; it had a Hollywood flavour, but she loved it.

  So far neither her family nor friends had been allowed to see it. She had managed to put them off calling, assuring them she was fine but much too busy and that the house was in a state of complete turmoil at present.

  She’d implied to the family that she was getting out and about with her friends. To Thelma and Brenda she’d made the excuse that she was busy with her family and, because she’d sounded so bright and cheerful whenever any of them phoned her, they had accepted her explanation.

  Jan hadn’t been in touch at all, but Jason reported that Jan was still annoyed by the amount of time he was spending at Willow House.

  Margaret had spasms of guilt about Jan. It was true that every minute of her day was taken up, as she claimed, but mostly it was with Jason.

  When he had first suggested that she should go with him to select paint colours, or approve the fabrics or fittings he had selected, she had hesitated, remembering his admission when they had been on the boat of how he felt about her. Since he never mentioned the episode again, however, and treated her with nothing but the utmost courtesy, she began to wonder if it had all been a figment of her imagination.

  She began to look forward to his arrival each morning and she was eager to know his plans for the day. His suggestions were so varied that it was like being on a continuous holiday.

  The days she enjoyed most were when they went up to London to browse over fabrics in Harrods or Liberty’s, or to wander along Bond Street, or the King’s Road, in search of unusual items of furniture.

  Before making any important decisions Jason would often suggest they should first visit a specialist shop. Often these were in outlying country areas. He took her to Gloucester and Bath, to Evesham and Broadway in the Cotswolds, as well as to Stockbridge and Salisbury in the West Country.

  Jason was a fount of information and turned each outing into a special occasion, whether they went to exhibitions, toured museums, or visited a stately home. On all of these jaunts, he knew of quaint half-hidden pubs and restaurants that all had one thing in common; they all offered superb food.

  She had never been so entertained, so pampered, or so fussed over. He consulted her over the minutest detail, anxious for her opinion and unwilling to make a single move without her approval.

  He employed only the very best craftsmen to work at Willow House and at the end of the day, when they returned to check on how the restoration work was progressing, he was adamant that every detail must be in accordance with her wishes.

  She had only to show the slightest hesitation when he made a suggestion and he would insist she considered several alternatives. She had never felt so important, or known a man to be quite so attentive. It was all very flattering and ego boosting.

  Reginald had always observed such customary attentions as opening the car door for her, holding her coat, and always walking on the outside of the pavement when they went out together. When they were at home, though, it was more usual for her to wait on him than the other way round. Not so with Jason. He was equally attentive and courteous wherever they were. If she stretched out a hand to reach a cup, or a glass, he noticed at once and immediately moved it closer. He was so attentive that she sometimes thought that if she dropped something he would spring forward and catch it before it touched the ground.

  Their outings together had a sparkle; the excitement of not knowing from one day to the next what they would be doing. She played a game with herself. She would watch for his arrival from an upstairs window and try to guess what the day’s excursion was to be from the way he was dressed. In the main, Jason favoured casual clothes. Tight-fitting black jeans teamed with a polo-necked shirt sometimes in black, but often in white or red or even pale blue, always worn with a black blazer. On formal occasions he would wear an amber suit the same colour as his eyes, or a charcoal grey one that made him look as dramatic as an actor.

  In this he was the complete opposite of Reginald who had always dressed formally in impeccably tailored suits, crisp white shirts, and expensive silk ties. Even his casual wear had been flawlessly cut, and in discreetly muted colours.

  At first, Margaret had felt self-conscious about the way heads turned and people stared when she was out with Jason. Aware that her greying hair made her look much older than him she took to wearing a hat.

  ‘I should be the one to cover my head, not you,’ he grinned, misinterpreting her intention. ‘Does it bother you that I have no hair?’

  ‘No, no of course it doesn’t. Why should it?’

  ‘You’ve never commented on it, but I could tell from the expression on your face the first time we met that you were taken aback.’

  She coloured uncomfortably. ‘I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone so … so completely bald. Except Kojak on television. I always assumed that he shaved his head for effect. Yours is too smooth to be shaved. Have you always been—’

  ‘Bald?’ He ran his hands over the golden expanse of his skull. ‘Yes, ever since I had glandular fever when I was in my teens. If it bothers you I could always wear a toupee or a hairpiece when we go out?’

  ‘Good heaven’s, no!’ She laughed uneasily. ‘It’s part of your character.’

  They hadn’t mentioned the subject again but Margaret wore a hat less and less. People staring no longer troubled her. They could think what they liked. There were so many other things in life to take her attention.

  The men working under Jason’s direction were transforming Willow House. Each day there seemed to be some new development that struck like an electric shock, sending her senses spinning, yet at the same time giving her a feeling of satisfaction.

  She was so excited by all that was taking place that she decided that, once all the work was complete, she would throw a party. She would invite all the family as well as Jan, Thelma and Brenda.

  ‘If the weather holds we’ll make it a barbecue,’ Jason insisted, assuming without her asking him that he was also invited. ‘That will be much more sensible since there will be quite a number of small children running around.’

  ‘And what if it rains?’

  ‘If it has to be indoors then everyone will have to be confined to the garden room until the food is out of the way. That should minimize the risk of any damage to the new decor.’

  ‘Perhaps a sit-down meal would be better?’

  ‘Quite out of the question,’ he told her, emphatically. ‘There’s far too many people coming. It has to be a barbecue or a buffet.’

  ‘Depending on the weather!’

  ‘Either way, we’ll keep the doors to all the rooms closed. No one will be allowed inside the main part of the house until after they’ve eaten. Then, when the children have had their hands and faces washed I will take everyone on a guided tour. Now won’t that be splendid?’

  Margaret tried not to laugh. Even though Charles had been married for sixteen years he still treated Willow House as home. The thought of Jason telling him, or any of the others who were coming, that they were not permitted to wander wherever they wished would certainly cause an outcry.

  Determined that she would be free to enjoy the occasion Margaret decided to call in the same caterers who had provided the spread after Reginald’s funeral. When she mentioned this to Jason he looked most perturbed.

  ‘No, No, NO!’ he protested, his amber eyes gleaming, his lower lip pouting. ‘That would spoil everything.’

  ‘I don’t want to have to spend days and days baking, and preparing everything,’ Margaret said firmly. ‘Anyway, I’m out of practice.’

  She hadn’t organized anything on the scale she was planning now since well before Reginald had retired. And she’d been ten years younger then, she thought ruefully.

  ‘Simply leave everything to me,’ Jason told her. ‘I shall enjoy every minute of it. I adore cooking and it will give me a chance to try out the kitchen and see if
any changes are required.’ His bald head glowed and his face shone with delight, like that of a gleeful cherub.

  Margaret knew when she was beaten. Having grown accustomed to not fighting battles she was unlikely to win she gave in with a smile. In the days that followed, though, as Jason arrived armed with lists of the dishes he was planning to cook and even longer lists of the ingredients required, she wished she had been more resolute. It was too late now to change the arrangements, she reflected. Jason was as excited as a child promised his first bicycle.

  ‘It’s going to be fabulous,’ he enthused, his amber eyes glowing. ‘My flat over the studio is far too small to hold a full-scale party. The nearest I’ve ever got to staging something like this has been arranging Jan’s parties. That’s been tremendous fun, but nothing compared with what I am going to do now.’

  At the mention of Jan’s name, Margaret felt faintly alarmed. There was still a marked coolness between them because Jan felt she was monopolizing Jason’s time, so would letting him organize her party make things worse, Margaret wondered?

  Nineteen

  ‘That was some party!’ puffed Hetty Chapman, collapsing into a chair, and looking across the room at her husband. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been to one I’ve enjoyed so much in my whole life.’

  ‘Mm. It was certainly different.’

  ‘And the house! Old Reginald wouldn’t recognize it.

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘You don’t sound very impressed.’

  ‘I was impressed alright, but I’m a bit worried about what it’s all costing. I do hope Margaret isn’t overspending.’

  Hetty yawned and loosened the belt on her dress. ‘I shouldn’t let that worry you. Charles will be keeping a tight hold of the purse strings.’

  ‘I most certainly hope so. I’ve no idea how much Reginald left but Margaret has a long stretch of years ahead of her with no source of income. It isn’t as though she has a job of any kind.’

  ‘Reginald would have left her comfortably off. She’s probably got more money than we’ll ever see. He was pretty shrewd and he inherited Willow House remember. I imagine he invested his money well and he probably had a hefty life insurance policy. Mark my words, you can bet Charles will be keeping an eye on her financial affairs.’

  ‘Will she listen to him though? From the way she was carrying on tonight I would think the only person likely to have any influence over her at the moment is that decorator fellow Jason Parker.’

  ‘Her toy boy!’

  ‘Hetty!’ Joseph’s grin softened the condemnation in his voice.

  ‘Well, you’ve got to admit he’s years younger than her. And that bald head!’ Hetty shivered. ‘It’s almost like seeing him without any clothes on.’

  ‘Mm. Odd sort of chap, I thought.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s kidded Margaret into letting him do Willow House up exactly as he wants it because he’s planning on moving in with her.’

  ‘You could be right about that. Willow House must seem like a very desirable residence compared to that poky little flat over his studio in Cookham High Street.’

  ‘That large bedroom, the one he called a leisure room, I wouldn’t mind betting that if he does manage to move in there he’s planning to make that into a permanent studio for his own use.’

  ‘You could be right but I hope not. If Margaret gets herself saddled with a bloke like that she’ll have the devil’s own job to get free of him.’

  ‘Perhaps she won’t want to? It’s a big house to rattle around in on your own.’

  ‘Yes, it would have been much more sensible if instead of spending so much money having Willow House done up she had moved to something smaller. A flat, or a cosy little bungalow, would have been more suitable for her and so much easier to run.’

  ‘Well, it’s too late to talk about that now. After all the money she’s spent on Willow House she’s hardly likely to want to move.

  ‘Mm. Well, let’s hope she doesn’t have to do so, but if she goes on spending her money in such a reckless way it may well come to that.’

  Joseph and Hetty Chapman were not the only ones concerned about Margaret’s financial future. Charles was aghast by what was happening.

  ‘She’s had the place done out from top to bottom! Not only decorated but new furniture and fittings, as well. It must have cost a small fortune,’ he ranted as he and Helen drove home from the party.

  ‘It’s a long time since they had anything at all done to the place, it was all a bit shabby,’ Helen protested. She sighed enviously. ‘I absolutely loved her new bedroom. And that Jacuzzi …’

  ‘Stop right there! It’s no good you getting any ideas about having one of those installed at our place because we can’t afford it.’

  Helen’s lips tightened. ‘If your mother can then I don’t see …’

  ‘She can’t afford it, either! First thing tomorrow I shall be going to see her and putting her straight on one or two points.’

  ‘Is that necessary? Surely your father has left her comfortably off?’

  Charles bit his lip. He had no intention of telling Helen the true state of affairs. He was anxious, however, to nip in the bud any ideas she might have about them redecorating, or buying new furniture.

  ‘If Mother goes on spending in this manner then she will end up absolutely destitute in a couple of years’ time. It’s not advisable to spend your capital when you are not in a position to earn any more.’

  ‘That may be true but it’s a one-off outlay, surely? She’s hardly likely to have the house done over again, now is she?’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that. I have a feeling that if that Jason fellow has his way it’s quite possible that in a year or so she’ll change it all for something quite different,’ pronounced Charles gloomily.

  ‘He did seem to be very much at home there, didn’t he?’ Helen murmured. ‘For a design consultant, or whatever he calls himself, I mean. You would have thought he was the man of the house the way he served the drinks and ordered us all around.’

  Charles’s mouth tightened. ‘Shutting all the doors before we arrived and then taking us on a conducted tour and opening them one by one …’

  ‘It was almost as if we were strangers or prospective buyers …’

  ‘We should all have taken a stand and refused point blank to take orders from him.’

  ‘How could we! It would have ruined everything for your mother.’

  ‘Better that than let that gigolo run the show,’ Charles muttered angrily.

  Anger flared in Helen. It was the one thing that infuriated her, the way Charles held a post-mortem on everything and decided in retrospect on the course of action that should have been taken.

  ‘Then why didn’t you speak out? After all, you are head of the family now,’ she reminded him.

  As they waved the last of the guests off and began to clear away the remains of the buffet, Jason looked questioningly at Margaret.

  ‘Was it a success?’

  ‘Success! It was absolutely brilliant.’

  ‘They certainly seemed to enjoy the spread,’ he persisted as he stacked up the plates and glasses.

  ‘And so they should! The food was absolutely delicious. I had no idea you were such an excellent cook, Jason.’

  ‘It’s one of my hobbies but it’s not very much fun cooking for one. I like to have someone to appreciate the results.’

  ‘You should have got married.’

  ‘I never met the right person …’

  His voice drifted off and Margaret wondered if she had touched on a raw spot. She wasn’t sure that he liked women, leastways not in the way most men did.

  She felt embarrassed that she had broached the subject. She didn’t want him to think she was prying. After all, it wasn’t any of her business. She had hired him to advise her on redecorating Willow House and his personal preferences were really no concern of hers, whatsoever.

  She already felt uncomfortable about how much of his time she had taken up recent
ly. As Jan had pointed out on more than one occasion, over the past weeks he had devoted most of his creative energy exclusively to the work he had been doing for her.

  The many outings to select fabrics, furniture, and fittings, the visits to exhibitions, and trips to London were, she was sure, over and above what he normally arranged for a customer.

  She assumed he didn’t think of her as a mere customer any more than she thought of him simply as a designer. He had been so kind and understanding that a warm friendship had blossomed between the two of them. She would miss him now that all the work was finished.

  Turning round from the sink he took her hands in his. ‘I have a lot of friends but I’ve never felt as close to anyone as I do to you,’ he told her softly.

  Margaret remained silent, her mind racing, remembering his declaration of love when they’d been on the Castle Gold on the night of Jan’s birthday party. Suddenly, with a sense of shock, she realized that their frequent outings, his constant attention, had not been the actions of a professional man selling his services. They had been more in the style of old-fashioned courting.

  She didn’t know what to say, or even how to act, for fear of spoiling everything. She was quite happy for their relationship to continue along its present lines, but she suspected he wanted more.

  Although she hadn’t grieved over Reginald’s death she had to admit that she did sometimes feel lonely. With the passing of time, the things he had done which had irritated her became shadowy, almost as if they were figments of her imagination.

  In the past she had longed to have time to herself, to be able to do as she liked, to go wherever she wished without having to consider anyone else. Now, after a couple of months of being on her own the novelty of being a free agent had begun to pall.

  More and more she found herself remembering the good times she’d enjoyed with Reginald. She began to dredge up memories buried so deep in her subconscious that they were like vignettes from another life. Nuggets of happiness no longer coated in the nervous tension that had so often marred the actual event. Now they shone like polished stones, a rosary of precious moments that she counted over and over again.