Wishing Water

by Freda Lightfoot

  Music blared out from the one while the television set blinked blankly at her, too early for its programmes to have begun. Peeved, she switched it off again.

  ‘Waste of money, that was,’ she said and went to glare out of the window instead. It was, in Renee’s view, a typical Lakes day, grey and miserable with rain coming down in stair rods. Poor old Jimboy. He’d hoped to get a bit of fishing in later.

  ‘Anyone would think it was November instead of September,’ she mourned. ‘And nobody to talk to half the time, what with Jimmy working long hours and Derry never in.’

  She’d been glad at first when Jan and Lissa had taken the boathouse. Give Jimmy and me more time on our own, she’d thought. But in the twelve months since she’d found it hadn’t worked out as she’d hoped. Jimmy worked all hours and she was more and more alone. Derry still hung around, making a nuisance of himself.

  ‘Not that he isn’t still fanciable,’ she admitted, mouth lifting into a knowing smile. ‘That’s part of the problem, isn’t it, Peter?’ she said, addressing the budgie. ‘Don’t do to have two gorgeous men in one house. Particularly when you wouldn’t mind sleeping with either of them. Not that I would, you understand. But thinking about it can have a funny effect on a girl.’

  She sat with her hands cradling a mug of tea, her skirt pulled up over bare thighs to warm her cold legs by the glowing bars of the electric fire, and began to plan.

  They were having a nice pair of lamb cutlets tonight, baked with a sprinkle of rosemary on top, accompanied by mash potatoes and some nice Batchelor’s peas out of a tin. Amazing really that she had taken so well to cooking. There’d never been the opportunity before, not at home where you were lucky to get a bag of chips. Nor at the Marina Hotel where she worked, skivvied more like, as a waitress and general dogsbody.

  Renee hated working at the hotel. Jimmy hated it too. He felt threatened by all the young men she met there.

  ‘Just because I like to dress with a bit of flair,’ she constantly assured him, ‘men think they can take liberties, cheeky buggers. Forever pinching my bottom they are, and I don’t like it. No respect for women, that’s what it is. Not like you, pet.’ Then she would kiss him and in no time at all he would feel better. He was a good man, her Jimmy.

  ‘Deserves the very best, don’t he, Peter darling?’ She reached for her packet of cigarettes and lit one.

  Having beaten out its ill temper on its companion in the swinging mirror, the budgie chirruped back, quite equably.

  Renee pulled out her own small spotted mirror from her crocodile plastic handbag and, holding it in one hand, started to titivate her hair with the other, cigarette stuck between orange lips, eyes creased against the ensuing curl of blue smoke.

  ‘I’d hand in me notice only I enjoy a bit of money of me own, d’you see? Point of fact, we could do with a bit more.’

  The budgie attacked its millet spray, quite unconcerned.

  ‘Jimmy works hard all day at the boatyard, comes home knackered and a tired man ain’t no good to woman nor beast.’ She laughed. ‘You know what I mean, Peter boy?’

  He blinked at her through the bars then bashed his bell, just to assure her that he understood perfectly.

  ‘I fancy one of them new Hotpoint washing machines. A Hoover vac and a new electric cooker. So clean they are, you wouldn’t credit. We might even save up enough for a Hillman Minx.’ She blew smoke rings up to the yellowed ceiling. ‘Ooh, that would be lovely, don’t you think?’

  Sometimes she could hardly sleep, she was that busy planning. She stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette and set off up the stairs to investigate the bedrooms.

  There was hers and Jimmy’s, the biggest in the house. Next to that was Jan’s which she’d shared with Lissa for a time. At the end of the landing, next to the bathroom, was Derry’s. That was only a single but it was a good-sized one all the same. You might fit a three-quarter bed in it if you got a smaller chest of drawers.

  She took a tape measure out of her skirt pocket and started to measure.

  With these three bedrooms in operation she could take in two, four, maybe five, guests at ten shillings and sixpence a night bed and breakfast. She started doing sums in her head, got lost and went searching for a bit of paper on the kitchen mantelshelf.

  Back upstairs again, satisfied with her arithmetic, she faced her major problem. Jimmy.

  First off she’d have to persuade him to convert the loft into a bedroom for them to use. It had a proper staircase to it, that was one good thing, narrow but solid. But the room itself was a junk heap with cracked floorboards that didn’t quite reach the plastered walls, and no electricity. She stood rather gingerly on the floorboards and stared out of the small attic window.

  The rain had stopped and though the mountains beyond were still wreathed in mist a faint sun was attempting to break through the grey cloud, sending shafts of sunlight down on to the grey water. Needing no further indication of a brighter day ahead, she could see two elderly couples taking to the lake with gusto, pulling up masts and sails, swinging jibs about, wheeling dinghies down the slipway.

  You get a good view of the lake from up here, that might appeal,’ she announced to the empty room, so used to talking to the budgie she hardly noticed when it was absent.

  But she’d have her work cut out to persuade him. It wasn’t so much the joinery in the loft that would be the problem. Best craftsman in Carreckwater, Jimmy was. Had built their kitchen cupboards easily and with the same spit and polish as the clinker-built boats he worked on for his boss at the yard. They could spend the winter getting it ready for next season.

  Oh, no. It was the idea of having strangers in his house. She’d have to prove her figures, show him how much money they could make with bed and breakfast. How tourism was the coming thing.

  Renee upturned an old box, licked the tip of her pencil and sat on it to tot up the figures again, just to make sure she’d got them right. It was true. She could make more money out of letting three bedrooms than she could working four nights a week at the hotel.

  But then she came to the most difficult problem of all, which could put a stop to all her plans. Derry. Renee thought about this for some time, chewing on the pencil till it was a frayed soggy mess, as she had used to do with the pencils the teacher gave her at school. Got a right telling off for that she had.

  But she was a married woman now, not a schoolgirl, for all she was only seventeen. She could make her own decisions. If she wanted to chew pencils, she would chew pencils. If she wanted Derry out, then out he would go. And she could handle Jimmy. When had she ever not been able to handle Jimmy?

  B and B. That was the future.

  The solution came to her. Mr Brandon. He could tell her about any possible regulations the council might throw at her. And he might also be able to help with Derry.

  The rain had stopped and the sun was glinting on pale pebbles, lapped by the waves on the shore. A breeze shuffled across the water and the reflections of cloud and boats and sunbeams broke into a brilliance of disorganised fragments then pieced themselves together again, like a jig-saw. It made Derry feel quite light-hearted as he hurried to the boathouse. The two girls would have finished early since it was half day closing and he’d made it his habit to take lunch with them every week at this time. Whether there’d be a welcome for him today was another matter.

  He couldn’t quite make Lissa out, one minute all friendly, the next cool and distant. Jan said she had family problems needing dealing with. And he always managed to say or do the wrong thing when she was around. He might like to give the impression of the tough, swaggering man-about-town, but in truth he was as shy and very nearly as inexperienced as Lissa herself. He knew she was jealous of the attention he got when he was singing, which excited as much as it irritated him.

  How could he not enjoy it when all the girls screamed at his music, or hung around waiting for him afterwards? Gave him a good feeling, that did. Made him look real cool to his mates. But he couldn
’t quite see himself as a lothario. Was that the word? Up close they unnerved him with their long nails and bright pink lipstick. Girls liked you to spend money on them, which he didn’t have.

  And Money was something he’d never have if he stayed at Brandon’s, a small, down-at-heel solicitors.

  In any case Derry believed he could afford to be choosy. He was going to be famous, wasn’t he? Some days he thought the right girl might be Lissa Turner. When they quarrelled, he thought not. She’d thawed a bit recently but still kept him at arm’s length. And they never had a minute to themselves. He thought she deliberately encouraged Jan to hang around, perhaps only tolerated him because he was Jan’s brother.

  Once he got a recording contract, then the money would really start rolling in. Derry had no doubt that he could make it big. She’d take more notice of him then, wouldn’t she? The fact that half the teenage boys in the country had the same dream did not occur to him.

  He clucked to the ducks as he swung along, whistling happily, his natural optimism restored. He took no notice of the people sitting upon the green benches as he sprinted up the steps to the boathouse. His heart was racing, and he bounced impatiently from one foot to the other as he waited for Lissa to open the door.

  Five seconds later there she was, as lovely as he had imagined.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello.’

  Tongue-tied, he simply looked at her. He could scent the sweetness of her skin, longed to run his hands over the slim curves of her back and up into those silky black curls. She still hadn’t let him cross the threshold, nor had he noticed.

  ‘It’s turning colder.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Winter coming on.’

  ‘Hm.’

  They talked like strangers and looked at each other like lovers. ‘Sorry about the other night.’

  ‘Family business, that’s all,’ she said, wondering why she felt the need to explain. ‘I over-reacted.’

  ‘No, like you said, none of my business. Right blockhead I am. Won’t do it again.’

  ‘It’s OK.’

  ‘Will you be my girl?’ he blurted out. Oh God, he thought, I’ve messed it up again. What’s the matter with me? No wonder she was staring at him. Probably wondering how to let him down easy and get rid of him without giving offence.

  As he set one hand at each side of her head on the door frame, she blushed hotly, feeling oddly trapped. Yet she could easily walk away into the living room. Not that she wanted to. She couldn’t seem to move a muscle. Her legs had quite turned to jelly. ‘I – I don’t know,’ she said, looking up at him through lowered lashes. Waiting. When the kiss came, with only their lips touching, she felt a shudder of desire run right through her like an electric current. It was as if her mouth had found sanctuary and yet opened the rest of her body to an excitement she had never believed possible.

  ‘Lunch is ready,’ Jan called from the kitchen and they broke hastily apart. Gave a half laugh. Embarrassed, as if she had actually caught them.

  But if Jan had missed the kiss, more than half the people on the lakeshore benches certainly hadn’t. They’d thoroughly enjoyed the moment, sighing as they remembered sweet young love. Save for one man in a pinstripe suit, who sat frowning with displeasure into his uneaten sandwiches.

  Renee Colwith stood before Miss Henshaw wearing what could only be described as a mulish expression. ‘I’ll wait,’ she said.

  ‘Mr Brandon has appointments well into the afternoon,’ replied Miss Henshaw through pursed lips. It wasn’t true but she didn’t believe it gave a good impression for the General Public to imagine they could simply walk into a solicitor’s office and be seen right away. Particularly a madam such as this who was clearly no better than she should be.

  ‘He will see me,’ Renee insisted, bending her knees slightly so she could peer under the gold lettering on the glass panel of the inner office door to see if anyone was inside.

  Miss Henshaw was incensed by such impertinence and got up, ready to bar the way with her own frail body if need be. ‘You should have rung for an appointment,’ she chided.

  Renee laughed. ‘The only bells that get rung in our house are in the budgie’s cage.’ She resented the secretary’s hard gaze, judging, making assumptions. And after she’d put on her best pink fluffy wool coat and black gloves too.

  The stand-off might have gone on indefinitely had not Philip Brandon chosen to return early from lunch. Disturbed by the sight of Lissa in the arms of his own clerk, his appetite had gone.

  ‘Yes?’ he barked at the girl with the orange mouth, bright pink coat, and the most ridiculous bleached blonde hair, hopping about on her stiletto heels that were drumming holes into his office lino.

  Vera Henshaw made plain her disapproval of this unexpected visitation. ‘This girl wishes to speak with you. I told her you were engaged, and offered to make her an appointment later in the week.’

  ‘It’ll only take five minutes.’ Renee batted her spiky eyelashes, which usually did the trick where men were concerned. This one, however, wasn’t even looking at her.

  Short on patience in his current mood, even with his secretary let alone a potential client, Philip stormed past both women, burst into his office and flung off his coat in a single movement of fluid rage. ‘I can spare you two.’

  It was enough.

  Renee’s wriggled with delight as she cast Miss Henshaw a sweetly venomous smile and sashayed into the inner sanctum, shutting the door with a cheery wiggle of her fingers through the window.

  When she had finished telling Philip Brandon her plans, he reached past her and drew the green blind down over the glass.

  ‘Sit down please, Mrs Colwith. You and I should talk.’

  Derry had been given the task of calling upon Elvira Fraser to ask her to sign a document for the bank. The old lady was disappointed that it wasn’t Philip himself, but warmed instantly to the fresh-faced young man who was shown into her parlour.

  ‘Would you care for some tea? Indian or Earl Grey?’

  Derry politely declined. If he got this over with quickly he would have time to call and chat with the girls, assuming the old dragon wasn’t anywhere about. He explained his need to hurry to Mrs Fraser in more diplomatic terms.

  ‘Mustn’t be seen to be wasting time,’ and brought a smile to the old lady’s drooping mouth.

  ‘Not all young men would see it in that light. Mr Brandon must inspire loyalty in his staff.’

  Derry made a non-committal grunt. ‘I’ve brought you a form to sign, something to do with releasing funds.’

  Elvira hooked her glasses on her long nose as he handed her the papers. ‘Ah, this will be concerning my investments. Should I read it?’

  Derry inwardly groaned. If the old dear read every word on these two closely packed pages they’d be here all day. ‘I shouldn’t worry,’ he said, anxious to be off.

  ‘Will I have enough income to keep on my dear housekeeper, do you think? Then there is the man who does my garden. I really couldn’t manage it on my own.’

  She fiddled anxiously with the rings on her plump fingers and Derry felt suddenly sorry for her. Old and vulnerable, Elvira Fraser reminded him of his own gran. Never missed a trick, his old gran. But she’d been poor, Elvira Fraser was rich. House by the lake, servants. What was she worrying about? She was loaded.

  And if he explained it all wrong, he’d be the one to get it in the neck. ‘I’m sure Mr Brandon will explain it all properly when he calls next time.’ Derry held out the pen.

  Elvira smiled at the charming young man, thinking it would give her a lovely excuse to invite Philip to luncheon. They could have salmon mousse, and finish with a nice glass of port. ‘Of course. Where do I sign?’

  It was the Monday following Renee’s discussion with Philip Brandon that Derry burst into Stevens Drapery, his face crimson with outrage. ‘What do you think she’s put me in the garden shed.’

  Jan and Lissa stared at him for a moment, nonplussed. ‘Who has
done what?’

  ‘Renee. She says she wants my room and she’s put my bed in the shed. I either sleep in there or get out.’ Both girls exchanged a long glance, then burst into peals of laughter.

  ‘It isn’t funny.’ Derry sounded deeply hurt. ‘It’ll be cold out there come winter.’

  ‘Buy a paraffin lamp. Weren’t you a boy scout?’ his unsympathetic sister suggested.

  Derry took out his comb and began to smooth back his quiff as he always did when he was agitated. ‘I wondered if I might kip down on the floor at your place?’

  ‘Think again,’ Jan told him as Lissa’s heartbeat quickened, though whether from fear or excitement she couldn’t rightly say.

  ‘Why is she throwing you out?’ Lissa asked.

  ‘Would you believe she’s going to do B and B? It’s all your fault, Lissa. You started her on this cooking lark.’

  Lissa couldn’t help but giggle at the look of outrage on his face. ‘Why shouldn’t she do bed and breakfast? Sounds like a good idea to me. But that isn’t till next season surely?’

  ‘Claims she needs to redecorate and refurbish. She’s got Dad doing up the loft to use as a bedroom for them.’

  ‘Fumigate your room, more like,’ Jan laughed, backing away to avoid any retaliation. ‘You’d best get out of here before the dragon catches you. The last thing I need is my notice because of your troubles.’

  ‘I might catch pneumonia in that shed,’ Derry mourned. ‘I’d rather stay at the boathouse.’ He’d taken quite a fancy to the idea. He’d get all his meals made and see Lissa every day. A nagging landlady clocking him in and out was not Derry’s idea of a peaceful life.

  Jan rolled her eyes. ‘Why should we help?’

  Because if he couldn’t find a room, he might leave, Lissa thought. But Jan wasn’t for backing down. Derry was on his own. The subject, it seemed, was closed.

  Chapter Ten

  Autumn was coming to Carreckwater and the numbers of visitors declined. Families had gone home, children returned to school, and elderly couples who enjoyed a little gentle walking occupied the narrow streets. Gentlemen in good sound windcheaters, ladies in sensible twin sets and tweed skirts, woollen socks and walking shoes. Both sexes sporting cherry wood walking sticks and warm woolly hats.