‘I can’t say I’ve had much call to notice lately,’ said Kitty. ‘But perhaps your coming will shake me out of my rut. I ought to have a new wardrobe. I can’t even remember how old this thing is. I simply haven’t thought about clothes since Peter died – isn’t that dreadful of me? But you know how one invitation always sparks off another. Perhaps this is the beginning of a whole new social life.’ She didn’t sound unhappy at the prospect. ‘Is that a car?’
There was the sound of wheels approaching over the gravel, as the first guests arrived, and the evening began. There was an influx of people, cheerful greeting, introductions, and Bill popped up like a genie with glasses of champagne on a tray. She caught his eye as he withdrew, and he winked at her, which warmed her. The arrivals were the pre-dinner-drinks crowd, late-middle-aged and elderly local people, solid, respectable and wealthy, and their interests were County and political. They were soberly and plainly dressed, the men in suits and the women in ordinary-length dresses that might have been Marks and Spencer had they not been obviously more expensive. Jenna felt out of place, but comforted herself that they were not, of course, dressed for a dinner party. They spoke kindly to her, but it seemed an effort, since she did not share any of their interests, and they soon slipped with relief back to talking to Kitty and each other. Jenna smiled and drank more champagne. At least this bit wouldn’t last long.
Before they left, the dinner guests started arriving, so there was an overlap. The first in was the woman from Parker’s Farm, in ankle-length floral, full warpaint and the sort of chunky costume jewellery that Jenna had seen in department stores. She’d always wondered who bought it. When introduced to Jenna (‘Madeleine Enderby – she and Simon have Home Farm and keep the farm shop’) she clamped a hard hand round Jenna’s wrist and said, ‘Oh, we’re old friends! We had quite a chin at the shop this morning, so we’re practically sisters now! But you haven’t met the Hub – Simon, this is Jenna that I was telling you about.’
He was a red-faced, well-fleshed, genial man, evidently pleased with life and proud of his wife. They called each other Mad and Si, and occasionally Hub and Wifey. She did the talking, and he laughed at her jokes. They were refreshingly easy to get along with, especially Mad, since she was happy to talk without requiring answers.
Jenna drank more champagne, and when a pause for breath occurred she asked why the shop was called Parker’s.
‘Oh, the Parkers had Home Farm before us, and they started the farm shop back in – what was it, Si? Nineteen seventy-four?’
‘Nineteen seventy-three – but they’d been at Home Farm for generations,’ Simon managed to get in before she was off again.
‘So Home Farm was just as often called Parker’s Farm. You’ve probably noticed the lane a bit further along is called Parker’s Lane. Anyway, when we took it over we decided to keep the shop, and we tried changing the name but it never took. Everyone kept calling it Parker’s, and we were losing passing trade because people were telling them to go to Parker’s and there was our shop called Enderby’s, so they were going straight past. So in the end we gave in—’
‘To overwhelming pressure—’
‘And put up a new sign with the old name on it, and everyone was happy. But it’s like that here,’ she added, leaning a little forwards so Jenna could see where the perma-tan of her upper bosom ended down in the vee of her dress. ‘Sacred traditions and so on. Mustn’t be trampled on. Which reminds me – what have you done to upset Caroline Russell?’
‘Now, Mad, no gossip,’ Simon said unconvincingly.
‘It’s not gossip. I got it from Abigail Turner – is she coming tonight?’
‘I think I saw that name on the guest list,’ Jenna said.
‘Of course, you don’t know any of these people yet. Poor you. Or maybe it’s lucky you! Well, let me warn you, some of them are pure poison.’
‘Come on, Wifey, don’t put the poor kid off,’ Simon said. ‘It’s not that bad,’ he added to Jenna. ‘It’s just that some of these locals are slow to take to new faces. Mad and I have been at Home Farm for twenty years—’
‘Nearer thirty. We came in 1980.’
‘And some of them still think of us as newcomers.’
‘Well, I won’t be staying long enough to cause anyone any heartache,’ Jenna said. ‘I’m strictly temporary.’
They looked at each other. ‘Really?’ said Mad. ‘That’s not what I heard. Hmm. Well, anyway, just a word to the wise – keep on your toes.’
Jenna was hauled away then to meet other dinner guests. The pre-dinner people were obediently taking their leave, so the sartorial soup was now undiluted. All the men were in dinner jackets and the women were in long dresses, mostly floral prints or small figured patterns on backgrounds of black, grey, maroon or dark blue. They were elderly, kindly and dull, and spoke to Jenna as the liberal headmaster of a top public school might speak to the village girl who had been chosen to present a bouquet to the wife of the Lord Lieutenant: they tried to put her at her ease, without the faintest idea of what subject might engage her. Jenna felt surreally out of place, and drank more champagne.
Fatty was circulating now with plates of canapés, which Jenna eyed with amazement. When she found herself next to Kitty she murmured, ‘How did Mrs Phillips have time?’
Kitty whispered back, ‘She didn’t. I went to Marks and Sparks in Wenchester yesterday.’ And then she took Jenna’s arm and turned her and said, ‘I do want you to meet Jim Lancaster. Jim, this is Jenna Freemont, my much-removed cousin.’
Jenna found her hand engulfed in a strong, warm one, and looked into the face of a man who had been to hell and back and therefore knew a thing or two about the importance of love. He was in his vigorous sixties, with bushy grey hair and eyebrows that would defy taming, and blue eyes used to long horizons, and a mouth made for smiling. And kissing. Goodness, Jenna thought, I have had a lot of champagne.
‘Jenna – delighted to meet you,’ he said. He had a delicious, rich, warm voice, and Jenna felt a frisson that told her if she was Kitty’s age she’d be leaping into bed with him at the slightest encouragement. Oh, what a terrible, terrible shame it was about the wife! And she appreciated for the first time how ghastly it must be to have to wait for someone to die before you could have what you wanted and needed; and how doubly ghastly to have to keep from wanting her to die.
She pressed his hand and said, ‘I’m delighted to meet you, too,’ and tried to put into her voice the sympathy she felt, the wish to be friends, and the message that she didn’t mind in the least if he slipped in to Kitty’s room after dark. ‘Kitty’s told me about you,’ she said. ‘And Bill says that you have a lovely garden.’
He smiled. ‘Well, I think my garden’s lovely. One always thinks one’s own child is, whatever outsiders may think. Are you interested in gardening?’
‘I wasn’t before. I lived in a flat in London. But seeing this place, I think I could be.’
‘Kitty has a genius with flowers. Her eye for colour is remarkable.’
Impulsively, probably because of the champagne, Jenna said, ‘I wish mine was.’ She gestured to her dress. ‘I feel so out of place.’
His eyebrows went up. ‘But you mustn’t! Because we’re all dull, it doesn’t mean you have to be. And only a genius would have known that pink would work so well with your glorious hair. You look ravishing, my dear, and I feel privileged to be talking to you.’
She smiled. ‘Thank you. You’re very kind. But—’
‘No buts! No one here tried very hard tonight, because they didn’t know what it would be like. It’s Kitty’s first party for a very long time, so they just dragged out the old rag they’ve worn a dozen times. But you’ve gingered them all up. The next party someone gives, you’ll see the difference. They’ll all have new dresses, and we’ll all be much more cheerful for it.’
She laughed. ‘How do you know so much about female psychology?’
He twinkled. ‘I was a sailor. I spent my whole life in the n
avy. A girl in every port, and a port in every girl.’
‘I wish—’ Jenna began, but was interrupted by the arrival – perilously close to being late – of the last guests: Caroline Russell, her brother, and Alexander Latham. All conversation ceased and everyone turned towards the door, where Caroline had paused, and stood framed.
‘Pure theatre,’ Jim murmured wickedly to Jenna. ‘How that girl loves to make an entrance!’ Jenna glanced at him, startled, and he grinned and mimed smacking his own hand. It made her giggle.
Kitty hurried forward to greet her. Caroline was in pale blue chiffon, floor-length, with loose half-sleeves and a décolletage nicely judged to show just the proper hint of cleavage. Her corn-gold hair was piled up and she wore two rows of pearls round her neck, while the ones in her ears were surrounded by diamonds, which caught the light as she moved her head. She looked like a queen. Alexander appeared, tall and dark and gorgeous in the crisp black-and-white setting of dinner jacket, the perfect foil to her bright pallor.
He looked at Jenna over Caroline’s shoulder with what seemed to be a forbidding frown. It must be disapproval, she thought. She felt suddenly that they were the real grown-ups, rich, confident, cosmopolitan, far out of her sphere. She felt ridiculous in her too bright, too short Hobbs dress, shimmery pearlized tights and strappy, tottery sandals. The only thing that glinted when she moved were the sparkly hair slides, which were entirely made of plastic.
She found herself walking forward, all the same (had Jim given her a discreet shove in the back to get her started?), to do the pretty, as Kitty wanted her to. They exchanged meaningless greetings. Caroline looked down on her with a brief curl of the lip before she fixed the icy smile into place, and said, ‘Goodness, what an intriguing dress, Jenny. You must have brought that with you from London. I’m sure you couldn’t get anything like that down here. It’s – how would you describe it, darling?’ She turned her perfect profile towards Alexander.
‘Pink,’ he said tersely. ‘Hello, Jenna. Are you settling in?’
There was no friendliness in his tone, but at least he got her name right.
‘Yes, thank you. And I’ve started work,’ she added, to let him know she was not merely a ligger.
‘I’m sure you have,’ Caroline said grimly, as though she had a whole different definition of ‘work’ to apply to Jenna. ‘But we won’t talk about that. This is a social occasion. Allow me to introduce my brother Henry. Henry Beale. Harry, this is Jenna.’
She unblocked the doorway at last and Alexander stood aside to allow the figure behind him to be seen. Though smaller than Alexander he was still taller than Jenna, and as he took her hand he could look right down the front of her dress, which he did with gleeful frankness.
‘Hello, Red,’ he said with a grin. ‘I see you’ve thrown yourself open to the public!’
Ten
‘You!’ said Jenna.
He grinned. ‘I kind of guessed it was you. Didn’t you guess it was me?’
‘Not at all. When Kitty said she’d invited Caroline’s brother for me, I thought—’ She stopped, realizing the champagne was leading her into indiscretion.
‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘You thought what?’
‘Well, I thought you’d be a stuffed shirt,’ she confessed.
‘Like old Xander, eh? Look at him scowling at us. Doesn’t approve of the young entry having fun! Poor old guy.’
‘Old guy?’ Jenna was amused. ‘He can’t be more than thirty-five, six.’
‘Seven. Eight. Who knows? But that’s ten years older than me. You can’t expect me to see him as a young guy, especially the way he acts. I can’t think what Caro sees in him. If he keeps on looking this way, though, he’ll be in trouble with her. That’s why I thought it was you, by the way – in case you were interested.’
‘Thought what was me? What?’ She was confused.
‘Thought the newbie at Holtby House was the gorgeous redhead I kept bumping into. From the way old Caroline was spitting tacks about this young thruster who’s taking advantage of dear old Kitty.’
‘She wasn’t! Was she?’ Jenna was disconcerted.
‘She implied you were a bit of an outsider, all right,’ he said. ‘And usually when she gets a down on someone from the word go, it’s because they’re prettier than her. Especially if they’re also younger. So when I saw you swanning about Holtby, I thought, “I wonder.” And now I know. And here you are, knocking her eye out again in that dress.’ He made an encompassing gesture of his hand.
‘Oh, don’t,’ Jenna moaned. ‘This dress is a disaster.’
‘Is that what you were in Belminster for? Hobbs, isn’t it?’
‘How on earth do you know that?’
‘I know other females apart from you. So why don’t you like it? I think it’s brilliant.’
‘I had no idea what everyone else would be wearing tonight. And everyone else is in full length and muted colours. I stick out like a sore thumb.’
‘If that’s a sore thumb,’ he said, looking at her admiringly, ‘then – whack my opposable digit with a hammer, baby, cos I’m on with that.’
She laughed, feeling a bit better. He really was extremely good looking, with hair a shade darker than his sister’s, and a fine, straight-nosed, classy sort of face, not quite as chiselled as Caroline’s and, instead of her cool blue eyes, rather fascinating hazel ones. And she always liked men who made her laugh. That’s why it was such a mystery that Patrick had stolen her heart. Oh Patrick! But she mustn’t think about him now. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I did think I might as well have something I’d wear when I go back to the real world. They had it in black, but I like this colour.’
‘It’s genius to wear something like that with red hair. What do you mean, the real world?’
‘Oh, I don’t mean it insultingly,’ she said hastily. ‘I suppose I’ve been in London so long everything else seems a bit surreal.’
‘I always feel that way when I’m in London. Oh, hello, Helen. How are you?’ He turned politely as one of the other guests came up to him, and Jenna, remembering what Kitty had wanted of her, moved away to circulate and speak to everyone else in turn.
In this way, she found herself eventually with Alexander, detached for the moment from Caroline, who was talking to a thin elderly man that Central Casting would have snapped up for rector parts.
‘Hello,’ Jenna said politely.
He didn’t smile.
‘Problem?’ she asked brightly.
‘If you must know,’ he said, ‘I don’t think that dress is at all suitable.’
She wasn’t entirely surprised. ‘Kitty loves it,’ she said. ‘And it’s her party.’
‘Kitty’s polite.’
‘So what’s wrong with it?’
‘You know perfectly well,’ he said, glaring at her cleavage.
She had felt uneasy about it all along, but she wasn’t going to let him criticize her. ‘I can see you enjoy looking down on me,’ she said.
Two spots of colour appeared in his cheeks and he looked away.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘I don’t know what your problem is with me, but I’m just here, at Kitty’s request, to do a job. I’m not part of your local society, and I don’t have to fit in with it. When the job’s done, I’ll be off, and out of your hair.’
His eyes returned to her face. ‘Is that what you think? Then you must be extremely un-noticing. Kitty’s very taken with you, and she’s enjoying having you here.’
‘Well, what’s wrong with that?’ Jenna said indignantly. ‘I just don’t get what you’re in a state about.’
His nostrils flared. ‘I’m not in a state. I never get in a state—’
‘That I can believe,’ Jenna said.
He breathed hard. ‘I’m very fond of Kitty, and as her godson I have every right to be concerned about her. I don’t want her to be hurt, and I don’t want her to be exploited.’
She lost her temper a little bit. ‘I don’t know what the hell you think it is I’m
doing here,’ she began, managing to keep her voice to a low hiss, ‘but you’ve got some cheek coming here criticizing my appearance and implying – well, I don’t know what you are implying. That I’m some kind of crook?’
‘I didn’t say that. But this so-called job of yours—’
‘It’s something Kitty wants doing – which, by the way, I would have thought you were the ideal person to do, if you could have been bothered.’
‘I couldn’t possibly find the time,’ he said, indignant in his turn. ‘I have a business to run and it’s full-time work. But even if Kitty does want you to do this, you don’t have to embarrass her at her party by turning up looking like a—’
Fortunately, since Jenna had a half-full glass of champagne in her hand, he didn’t finish the sentence. ‘Like a what?’ she demanded.
He waved a hand. ‘Shocking pink and slashed to the navel—’ He took a breath and started again. ‘You must see it isn’t appropriate,’ he added, his tone more propitiating.
‘But you didn’t say what you think I am,’ Jenna growled menacingly. She wasn’t ready to fold. ‘What am I?’
‘I think you’re just like your mother,’ he said coldly.
At that moment Jim appeared between them and said cheerily, ‘Good party, isn’t it? Wonderful to see Kitty entertaining again. And Mrs Phillips cooks like an angel. You must have the inside track on what delights are before us, Jenna. Care to give us a preview?’
It was like coming down to earth again with a solid bump. The rest of the room tuned in around her, and she blinked like someone waking. What on earth had been going on? Why had she and Alexander been at each other’s throats? She didn’t know the man from Adam. She looked round furtively, hoping no one else had noticed, as Jim obviously had. He had come to throw cold water on them like fighting dogs.
‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly spoil the surprise,’ she said lightly, managing to smile nearly normally. ‘But from the little I know, Mrs Phillips ought to be in the Michelin Guide.’ She risked a glance up at Alexander, who was looking almost as bemused as she felt. She tried an apologetic smile on him and got a twitch of the lips in response. ‘You must have tasted more of her dinners than I have. How many stars do you think she should get?’
Country Plot Page 11