Jenna was already heading out of the kitchen, but she paused long enough to call mischievously over her shoulder, ‘You can’t be much of a strain on chicken and salad. Cold chicken and cold salad, that is. Welcome to Liberty’ All!’
Fortunately the fire had been laid ready by someone – probably Bill – and the fuel was all dry, so it caught easily and didn’t present Jenna with any problems. Outside the thunder and lightning had passed and it was just pouring steadily out of a gunmetal sky, the unnatural dusk melding into real twilight now. The sound of the rain drumming on the conservatory roof was quite comforting in a way, but the room was still chilly and unwelcoming, so she left the fire to put on some lamps, and then turned on the CD player, which still had the disc in from last time. She closed the doors into the conservatory, and soon the crackling of the fire was mingling with a Chopin étude and the rain could be heard no more.
Kitty came back with Xander, now clad in tracksuit bottoms, a sweatshirt and a pair of thick, nubbly socks donated by Bill, his hair drying but still tousled. She had never seen him anything but elegantly garbed and unruffled, and it was almost like meeting a stranger for the first time. They had evidently come back via the cellar, for he was carrying a bottle and Kitty had a posy of glasses in her hand. Watch padded in behind them and made straight for the fire, almost shoving Jenna out of the way to sit down with a sigh, staring into the flames so that he didn’t have to notice the weather beyond the windows.
‘Sacrilege really,’ Kitty said cheerfully, ‘but I thought we could have a glass before supper. I know wine is for food, but this Mercurey is very soft, and Xander promises he won’t tell anyone influential what we’ve done.’
‘Who cares what people say?’ said the new version Xander blithely, wielding the bottle opener.
‘Well, you do, dear,’ Kitty reminded him, ‘because they have to think you have impeccable taste or they won’t buy their furniture from you.’
‘By the way,’ he said to Jenna, ‘I saw you go past the shop this afternoon. I waved to you, but you didn’t come in.’
‘The sun was reflecting off the glass. I couldn’t really see you,’ Jenna said. You waved to me? You waved to me? ‘I think the fire’s caught all right,’ she said. ‘Should I put more wood on yet?’
‘Yes, now’s the time,’ Kitty said. ‘Shall I do it?’
‘Let me,’ Xander said. ‘You pour the wine.’ He knelt down on the hearthrug beside Jenna and reached over the dog to reshape the fire and put more logs on. The borrowed clothes smelled slightly earthy – she supposed they were some of Bill’s gardening kit – which made Xander’s strangeness more real. He looked younger, too, with his hair unsleeked and the rosy firelight glowing in his face. The everyday stern, controlled lines had softened, and he looked – yes, carefree: as he must have been in the past before his troubles fell upon him. That was why he seemed younger.
He turned his head and caught her staring at him. She blushed, but he said easily, ‘Do you know the old saying about making a log fire? “One can’t, two won’t, three might, four will, but it takes five to make a fire.”’
‘That’s right,’ Kitty said. ‘You can’t be stingy, or it just goes out. A wood fire needs to be big.’
‘Needs to be good wood, as well,’ Xander said. ‘What’s this – ash?’
‘Yes, and some laurel and apple,’ Kitty said. ‘Ash is the best for fires – fortunately, since it grows so fast and seeds so far.’
‘What’s that old rhyme, Kitty, about firewood, that you used to say when I was young?’ Xander asked, sitting back on his heels and taking the glass of wine she offered him.
‘Rhyme?’ Kitty said. ‘Oh, I know what you mean.’ And she quoted it.
Beechwood fires burn bright and clear
If the logs are kept a year
Birch and fir-wood burn too fast
Blaze too bright and do not last
Applewood will scent the room
Pear wood smells like flowers in bloom
But ash-wood wet and ash-wood dry
A king may warm his slippers by.
‘Oh, I love that,’ Jenna said, and made her say it again so she could remember it. Kitty and Xander remembered other old saws and country sayings for her amusement as the fire blazed up and the rain fell steadily outside, making the inside cosier by contrast. Barney appeared looking shamefaced and sneaked into the firelit circle, where he flopped down with relief. The level in the bottle went down. The wine was delicious, very soft, as Kitty had promised, and wonderfully scented – ‘Almost like violet cachous,’ Jenna said.
‘You’re exactly right,’ said Xander. ‘You have a good nose.’
‘It would be fun to go through some of Peter’s cellar with you,’ Kitty said. ‘Both of you, I mean. Three is just the right number to try out a bottle. With two, you get too drunk too soon.’
‘Well, this one’s nearly dead,’ Xander said, holding the bottle up to the light. ‘Lovely burgundy, Kitty.’
‘We’ll try something else with supper,’ Kitty said, and then her face fell as she remembered. ‘Oh dear, cold meat and salad. I really can’t get enthused by salad, especially on an evening like this.’
Jenna said, ‘Why don’t we do something else with the chicken? I’m sure there are plenty of ingredients in the kitchen. I can cobble something together with onions and garlic and – what else?’
‘Rice,’ Xander said. ‘There’s bound to be rice.’
‘A sort of risotto, then?’
‘Pilaf,’ Kitty said. ‘Isn’t it a pilaf if it has meat in it?’
‘I don’t care what it’s called,’ Jenna said, jumping up. ‘It must be better than salad. Shall I have a go?’
‘Can’t let you labour all alone,’ Xander said, getting up too. ‘We’ll all go.’
The cooking session turned out to be moderately hilarious, with only Kitty sounding a note of caution as she thought of what Mrs Phillips would say if anything in her precious kitchen was left less than immaculate. Kitty found some chicken stock in the freezer to cook the rice in. Xander insisted on chopping the onions and garlic, which he said was a matter of chivalry. ‘Can’t have a lady’s dainty hands smelling of garlic. What happens when your knight comes back from the crusades and wants his brow caressed?’
‘I’ll wash my hands while he’s looking for the key to the chastity belt,’ Jenna answered.
She cut up the chicken, and chopped a couple of rashers of bacon from the fridge, and then found some mushrooms in the larder, which she sliced, while Kitty cooked the rice. Xander reached down the biggest frying pan and they started chucking things in, frying the bacon, onion and garlic first, then adding the rice, chicken and mushrooms. Various dried herbs, salt and pepper, and finally, from Kitty, who was really getting into the swing of it, a few shakes of Tabasco.
Kitty got out some big pasta bowls to eat it from, with smaller bowls for the despised salad, which was acceptable now as an accompaniment, and they carried it all back into the sitting room with another bottle of wine – a fat and peppery Rhone this time, which Xander said would stand up to the food.
‘Delicious,’ Jenna said, sampling the first mouthful.
‘Delectable.’ Kitty went one better.
‘You can taste the cooperation,’ said Xander.
‘And the fellowship of joint effort,’ Jenna added. ‘We ought to give it a name.’
‘Risotto Holtby,’ Kitty suggested.
‘I thought it was a pilaf,’ said Jenna.
‘All right, then,’ said Xander, ‘we’ll call it Edith Pilaf.’
‘I have to ask,’ Jenna said. ‘Why Edith?’
‘Because it’s so delicious and nutritious we’ll have no regrets.’
‘I think you must be very drunk.’ Jenna smiled at him. ‘Delicious and nutritious?’
‘If I were drunk I couldn’t say it,’ he pointed out.
‘Mrs Phillips said a good one today. “Double damask dinner napkins.”’
‘That i
s a good one. “Double danask danner nipkins.”’
It just got sillier, as they drank the Rhone and ate the delicious Edith and thought of ever more difficult tongue-twisters, right up to and including the fiendish ‘Amidst the mists and sharpest frosts . . .’ Jenna’s sides ached with laughing. Xander seemed to have abandoned every last shred of dignity.
The dogs dozed and twitched in the warmth of the fire, darkness fell and the rain stopped. The food was finished, Kitty put some more music on, and a quieter mood came over them. They listened and talked comfortably like the oldest of old friends. It was an evening so undemandingly pleasant it was almost blissful – like being back home, Jenna thought.
‘It reminds me of when I was a child,’ she said aloud at one point. ‘With Olly and Harriet, playing ludo on the floor for hours and hours. It was my favourite game when I was about six. I used to think it was the greatest treat there was, playing ludo with my brothers and sisters.’
‘My parents sadly didn’t provide me with any of those,’ Xander said. She looked at him quickly, but he hadn’t said it bitterly, and indeed he was smiling and relaxed.
‘I sometimes think,’ she said carefully, ‘that it’s a mistake to have too happy a childhood. Nothing else in life ever matches up to it, so it’s all downhill after that. You grow up, you all scatter, and suddenly you haven’t got a family any more. What do you do then?’
Xander considered the question seriously, looking into the ruby glow of the last of his wine, held up against the firelight. ‘Make a new one,’ he said at last.
Sixteen
Oddly, after such a pleasurable evening, Jenna didn’t sleep well. She had disjointed, uncomfortable dreams, and kept jerking awake as if she had been called, and being unable to remember just for a moment where she was. She fell into a heavy sleep at last just before dawn, when the first birds began their chorus, and woke finally to find it was after nine o’clock.
The first image that came to her waking mind as she sat up, yawning, was of Xander, so disarmingly different and approachable in his borrowed slobs and unruly hair. It gave her such a tug, somewhere deep inside her, that she drove it out briskly, jumped out of bed and dashed for the shower. Why, at some point under the streaming water (Xander dripping wet from the rain – oh, stop it!), she should have decided that she would go out with Harry that evening, she couldn’t afterwards determine. Probably it had nothing to do with the strange and beguiling evening she had just spent. She had probably been moving towards that conclusion anyway.
To her surprise, she didn’t get the immediate warm endorsement she had come to expect from Kitty when she ran it past her. In fact, for an instant, Kitty’s face actually fell, though she hoicked up the smile immediately and said, ‘Of course – you don’t need to ask my permission!’
‘But you didn’t look pleased about it,’ Jenna pursued. ‘What’s wrong? If you don’t want me to go out in the evenings I won’t go. Really, it’s not that important.’
Kitty looked alarmed. ‘Goodness, I don’t need a babysitter. What are you thinking – that I asked you here to take care of me in my dotage?’
‘No, but we have enjoyed chatting in the evening over dinner—’
‘Yes, I love your company, but I’m quite used to being on my own, and I wouldn’t dream of interfering in your social life.’
‘Well, then, what was it? You looked as if you didn’t like the idea.’
‘Oh, it isn’t that. Well, if you insist, it’s just that he has a bit of a reputation as a tearaway. But that could just be unkind gossip. And you’re a grown woman – you can take care of yourself.’
‘I can. But we’re just going for a meal, that’s all. I shan’t get into any trouble.’ She looked seriously at Kitty, wondering what else might be troubling her. ‘And I shan’t get my heart broken,’ she added. ‘Remember, it already is. That’s the best defence – I’m completely immunized against charm at the moment!’
The residue of doubt disappeared from Kitty’s face. ‘I hope you have a lovely time. I really mean it.’
‘Thank you,’ Jenna said. She reflected afterwards that it seemed to have been fear for her heart rather than her body or reputation that had bothered Kitty, and wondered why. Was it something to do with Xander, who had rebounded disastrously from Stephanie to Caroline? Was she afraid Jenna might rebound into the same family? The pleasing thought came to her that if she did, she’d end up as Xander’s sister, ha ha. Now wouldn’t that please the Ice Queen!
‘Hey, Red!’ said Harry. ‘I was afraid you weren’t going to call.’
‘Oh, you shouldn’t say that. It makes it sound as if you didn’t have complete faith in your irresistibility,’ said Jenna.
‘Well, I didn’t mean it, of course. I knew you would call – couldn’t help yourself. I was just flattering you by suggesting you had a choice.’
‘We could play that game all night. Is the offer of dinner still on?’
‘I’ve already booked the table,’ he said. ‘That’s how confident I was.’
‘You have to book? For Congolese food?’
‘I told you, this place is cutting edge. For this week and next week, anyway. Who know what will be hot after that? Hey baby, the Success Express is leaving the station – you gotta jump on board!’
‘It sounds exhausting.’
‘We could eat in at my place instead,’ he said sinuously.
‘No, thank you. I’ve been warned you have a reputation.’
‘That’s very hurtful,’ he said in wounded tones; and then, in curious ones: ‘Reputation for what?’
‘Vanity, vanity! All I heard was that you were a tearaway, whatever that is.’
‘Oh, that’s just the car,’ he said. ‘I’m relieved. I was afraid people actually did know what I was up to.’
‘And what are you up to?’
‘Well, I’m not going to tell you just for the asking, am I? Forewarned would be forearmed. Talk sense, Red! Shall I pick you up at seven thirty? Best bib and tucker?’
‘Fine. See you then.’
Oliver phoned around six o’clock. ‘I’m off to Delhi tomorrow morning, so I thought I’d check in on you before I go.’
‘How long this time?’
‘Six weeks. And that ought to be the end of it – I hope, anyway. I certainly don’t want to be out there in the middle of summer.’
‘Do you know where next?’
‘Well, there are talks of the Arctic circle, but I imagine that has to wait until the ice re-forms next winter. In the meantime, I might even get a home posting for a few months, which would be heaven.’
‘Really?’
‘Sit in an office doing paperwork and drinking coffee, like normal people? Are you kidding me?’
‘Chacun à son gout. Dream that dream, boy.’
‘So anyway, for the next few weeks, at least, I’ll be leaving it to Sybil to keep an eye on you. How are you, baby sis? You’re sounding quite bright.’
‘I’m fine. Moments of gloom and despair, but there’s so much to think about here, interesting things and interesting people. It keeps me from brooding.’
‘Excellent. At the risk of introducing a topic for brooding, yon Patrick still keeps phoning.’
‘Really?’ Jenna felt a quickening of gratification.
‘Every day. Syb’s getting almost sympathetic to him, though she won’t tell him anything, of course. But she says the poor bloke’s falling apart. He’s desperate to see you.’
‘I’m glad. I really want him to suffer.’
‘Do you? I’ll take that as a healthy sign. You don’t want us to pass on your address, then?’
‘God, no! He’s probably only wanting to get Charlotte’s watch back, anyway.’
‘According to Sybil, Charlotte’s history and he wants you back.’
‘Are you trying to get me back with him?’
‘Don’t be daft. I can’t advise you either way. I’m just telling you the situation so you can make informed choices. You wo
n’t be staying in Holtby for ever.’
‘No,’ she said, with a pang of sadness at the thought. Whatever the situation down here, it was at least simpler than her life in London, where she’d have a home and job to find, as well as ‘getting back on the horse’ – made more difficult when it was metropolitan types like Patrick you had to cope with. Maybe she could marry a simple ploughman and stay here for ever – living in a damp two-room cottage like Xander’s, no doubt, she added derisively. Love among the haystacks. ‘Hey,’ she said cheerfully, ‘I’ve got a date!’
‘Good for you,’ said Oliver. ‘Is he nice?’
‘Amusing,’ she said.
‘It’s good to keep your hand in,’ he said approvingly. ‘Just don’t go falling for the simple life, will you? It’s never as simple as it seems on the surface.’
‘How do you always know what I’m thinking? I do love you, Olly. I miss you.’
‘I haven’t gone yet. And don’t forget the real reason you’re down there – to find a way for Kitty to make a living from the house. On the subject of which – Sybil tells me to say “weddings” to you. Apparently rich people will pay huge sums to hold their weddings in stately homes, which I gather Holtby almost is.’
‘Stately enough – and yes, I had thought of weddings. It’s on my list with the other ideas – though there are problems involved with wedding hosting.’
‘There must be problems involved with any of the ideas.’
‘Yes, you’re right. But don’t worry, I’m working on it. Just got a bit of research to do, and then I’ll be ready to make my presentation. I have to have all my ducks in a row, so that Xander can’t shoot them all down.’
‘I thought ducks in a row was exactly what people did shoot down. And why would Xander? He’s the godson, Alexander, I take it?’
‘Because he’s a stuffed shirt. Only he’s sometimes not as stuffy as others,’ she added, remembering the moment in The Hart in Hand when he looked down at her, and the fact that he wanted to take her riding again. And last night . . . She shook herself. ‘But he’s bound to be stuffy about any idea I have for Kitty. He seems to suspect me of some devious purpose concerning her.’
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