Country Plot

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  However, when she aired this idea to Harry he laughed so much he nearly hurt himself.

  ‘She couldn’t go straight if she was on rails,’ he said when he recovered. ‘She’s up to something. She was born up to something. Conspiracy is the oxygen of life to her. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet. And I wouldn’t care, either, if it weren’t that I quite like old Xander. He’s been pretty decent to me once or twice, and he’ll be hurt when Caro blows him off. He took such a beating when old Stephanie dumped him, and I hate to see a man kicked when he’s down.’

  Jenna reflected on all this in an absent way during her morning’s work, and felt it was an object lesson in not getting caught on the rebound. But that naturally made her think about Patrick, and what Oliver had said about his wanting to get back together with her. Part of her yearned to ‘go home’. It would be so easy: back to the flat, which she had loved, and Patrick, whom she had adored, and the job he said he could get her, the life she had enjoyed, the habits, comforts, friends and assumptions that had been the furniture inside her head for the past four years. She missed him, and she had made such an investment in him that, if he really wanted her back, it would be crazy to give it all up, wouldn’t it? Perhaps the debauch with the blonde had been a seven year itch thing, and now it was out of his system everything would be set fair. They might get married, move into a house, have kids. She and Patrick, a couple for life, like Olly and Syb.

  But that thought pulled her up sharply. It wouldn’t really be like Olly and Syb, would it? Because Olly would never have done something like that. And even if it was a one-off, what sort of a man would betray his partner in their own bed? How could she ever trust him again? And indeed, why should she? She must resist the yearning to go home and concentrate on indignation. How dare he say he wanted her back, as if it was that easy, as if she was his for the summoning?

  Having fumed for a while, she dragged her thoughts away from her situation and got stuck into her work. After lunch, she walked down to the village post office for Kitty. On the return leg she saw the tall shape of Xander inside his shop. Remembering that he had queried why she hadn’t stopped the day before when he had waved, she decided to be neighbourly and pop in.

  He was alone in the shop, going through a box of silver objects, apparently checking them against a sale list. He looked up, with a frown on his brows which she took to be absence in thought, and by way of advancing a reason for her visit she said brightly, ‘Hello! I was passing, so I thought I’d check on the arrangements for Monday, in case I don’t see you before then. You did say you had plans for the weekend.’

  ‘Monday?’ he said, the frown deepening.

  ‘Our ride,’ she reminded him.

  The frown became a positive scowl. ‘I’m surprised you even mention that. I’m surprised, in fact, you have the gall to come in here. Or perhaps I’m not,’ he added, with a scornful curl of the lip. ‘You made it clear from the beginning that you thought your London ways were superior to ours.’

  She was bewildered. ‘What are you talking about? What have I done?’

  ‘You know very well. Did you think you could just do as you pleased and no one would know about it? Belminster may be five miles away but that’s nothing in the country. I warned you that everyone knows everything about everybody here.’

  The ‘Belminster’ gave her a clue. ‘Are you talking about my going out for dinner with Harry?’ she asked in astonishment.

  ‘Except that it wasn’t just dinner, was it? You spent the night at his place. My God, it didn’t take you long to show your true colours, did it?’

  She almost told him that she hadn’t spent the night there, when sweet reason caught her up. ‘What on earth has it got to do with you?’ she said. ‘Do you really think I’m going to clear everything I do with you?’

  ‘No, obviously you think you can go around doing whatever you like without regard to anyone else at all. You seem to think you’re the only person on the planet. As to what it has to do with me, you’re living in my godmother’s house: what you do reflects on her. And as you clearly have no concept of things like honour, loyalty and respect, it falls to me to point them out to you.’

  She stared at him, more in astonishment than anger. ‘Oh, this is medieval!’ she exclaimed.

  The word seemed to inflame him. ‘Yes, I imagine anything to do with decency strikes you as medieval, with your background, but it’s how we live down here.’

  ‘Decency? Because I, a single woman, have a date with a single man?’

  ‘A date, you call it? Are you trying to tell me you didn’t sleep with him?’

  Again she almost did, but indignation saved her. She smiled, thinking of the trampoline. ‘Well, we did bounce some springs,’ she began.

  He boiled over. ‘My God, any bed will do for your sort, won’t it? So much for your broken heart: you haven’t been here two weeks and you’re already working your way through the men. You are like your mother. The morals of an alley cat – and you don’t care who you hurt. I should have known you don’t look like her for nothing.’

  ‘What’s my mother got to do with it?’ she demanded, angry now. ‘You mentioned her before. What have you got against her?’

  ‘You know perfectly well. It’s obvious she taught you everything you know.’ He turned away, looking suddenly bleak, unhappy and tired, the energy of anger leaving him. ‘I’d be obliged if you would leave now,’ he said with cold politeness. ‘I have a great deal of work to do.’

  He looked so miserable that in spite of everything he had said, she hadn’t the heart to kick him further. Besides, not really understanding what it had all been about left her short of ammunition. She was more mystified than anything – though there was a low swell of anger that she was going to enjoy revisiting later, when she had stopped trembling – but the injustice and suddenness of the attack had left her close to tears. Without speaking she turned on her heel and went out.

  Walking fast relieved her feelings somewhat, and when she came in sight of the gate to Holtby House, she slowed and examined her feelings. She had stopped shaking, and she didn’t want to cry any more, but she felt utterly miserable. To have him think so little of her was painful, even though it was wildly old-fashioned of him to object to a woman sleeping with a man on the first date. But there must be something more than that going on, she reasoned. He thought her a loose woman, OK, but why would that upset him so much? Not because of Kitty, surely? Or did he think that loose sexual morals inevitably led to criminal behaviour, like theft and embezzlement? In that case, he would probably try to get Kitty to throw her out. She hated the idea of Kitty’s turning against her. Perhaps she ought to get her word in first.

  But that would mean telling Kitty about the row in the shop, and she was loath to do that. Kitty loved Xander so much, and she was fond of Jenna, too – Jenna knew that. Why upset her, shake up her world, for no reason? No, unless Xander said anything, she would keep quiet about it. After all, she would only be here a couple more weeks, and then she’d be out of everyone’s hair and Xander could find someone else to vent his weird anger on.

  It seemed that he didn’t say anything to Kitty, because she was her usual self, and made no reference to Xander, or Jenna’s date with Harry.

  Harry phoned Jenna in the afternoon. ‘I had a nice time, Red.’

  ‘So did I. Thank you.’

  ‘No ill effects from the nasty foreign food?’

  ‘None at all.’

  ‘Fancy doing it again some time?’

  ‘Yes, I’d like that. As long as it’s understood—’

  ‘I know – no hanky-panky.’ He sighed. ‘You don’t take me seriously.’

  ‘Oh, was I meant to?’

  ‘Cruel! I really must look up “hanky-panky” in the dictionary, see what I am allowed.’

  ‘Nothing but a friendly goodnight kiss.’

  ‘On the lips?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘With a bit of tongue?’

&nb
sp; ‘No! Way over to the side, practically on the cheek. Very dry.’

  ‘Spoilsport. How about this weekend?’

  She hesitated. ‘I’m going to have a lot on this weekend,’ she said. She was thinking of doing her exposition to Kitty about the options, and there’d be lots to discuss, possibly plans to make. She wanted to be there, free and uncluttered.

  ‘Next week some time, then?’

  ‘Yes, why not.’

  ‘Are you going to the planning meeting on Tuesday?’

  ‘I don’t know. Am I?’

  ‘I expect you’ll want to hold Kitty’s hand. How about a drink afterwards?’

  ‘You’re going?’

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll see you there.’

  When she was packing up for the evening, Xander called.

  ‘I wanted to apologize for getting angry,’ he said stiffly. ‘It was bad form. I hope you’ll agree to forget it – for Kitty’s sake. I don’t want to upset her.’

  ‘Nor do I,’ Jenna said. ‘Whatever you might think.’

  ‘I—’ He stopped, and seemed unable to finish whatever he had been going to say.

  ‘Look,’ she said, ‘we just have to be polite to each other when we meet, and I don’t suppose we’ll meet often. I’ll be leaving soon—’

  ‘Soon?’ he interrupted, sounding surprised.

  ‘When I’ve finished the job.’

  ‘Oh yes. I’d forgotten.’

  ‘It won’t be more than a couple of weeks, and then we can forget we ever met each other.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. He didn’t sound happy.

  ‘So can you be polite to a species of lowlife like me?’ she said archly. ‘Your usual icy correctness will do. I promise you I won’t think it implies approval.’

  There was a long silence, as if he was thinking of a number of things he couldn’t say. ‘I can be polite,’ he said at last. He hesitated. ‘Look, about the ride on Monday—’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ she said, briskly efficient. ‘I’ll tell Kitty I cancelled it. I’ll think of a reason. Just forget about it.’

  ‘Oh. All right then,’ he said. And then he put the phone down.

  And that’s that, Jenna thought. It was a pity it didn’t make her feel any happier.

  For the evening meal, Mrs Phillips had left a panful of bolognese sauce, since Jenna had assured her she was perfectly capable of cooking some pasta to go with it. She and Kitty had that with a salad on the side (Bill’s own lettuce, spring onions and fiery radishes, with local glass-grown tomatoes – his weren’t ready yet). They followed it with Mrs Phillips’s apricot almond tart, and clotted cream from Parker’s Farm.

  ‘So what’s on this weekend?’ Jenna asked, replete and waiting for the energy to go and switch on the coffee.

  ‘Well,’ Kitty said, ‘I assume you’ll be going out on Saturday evening?’

  ‘I haven’t any plans.’

  Kitty looked troubled. ‘Oh, but that’s not natural. A young woman like you ought to go out on a Saturday night. I don’t want to cramp your social life.’

  ‘You’re not. I just haven’t any plans.’

  Kitty looked relieved. ‘So you might make some, then?’

  Jenna smiled. ‘White woman speak with forked tongue. What’s going on? You want me out of the house for some reason.’

  ‘Oh, it isn’t that – of course not! But as it happens, I have plans for Saturday, and I didn’t want just to abandon you.’

  ‘I’m a big girl. I can be alone in a house once in a while. Can I know where you’re going?’

  ‘Oh, goodness, it isn’t a secret – well, not from you. There’s a big country show on at Taunton on Saturday, and Jim and I thought we’d go – we both love those things – and then have dinner and stay the night. There’s a lovely country inn we know in the Quantocks.’

  ‘Sounds wonderful.’

  ‘But I’d feel so much better about it,’ Kitty said doubtfully, ‘if I knew you were out somewhere having fun at the same time.’

  Jenna laughed. ‘Well, if it’s a matter of soothing your feelings, I’ll try and rustle up some plans.’

  ‘Oh, do,’ said Kitty, looking relieved. ‘You oughtn’t to stay shut in at home night after night at your time of life. It will make me happy to think of you being out on the spree like other girls.’

  The spree, even a moderate one, had already got her into trouble, Jenna thought. Perhaps she’d make a nice safe date with a girlfriend instead. She hadn’t seen Izzy since the break-up with Patrick. Perhaps they could meet halfway somewhere – if Izzy wasn’t engaged, waiting in by the telephone on the off chance that Toby might call.

  It didn’t take much to persuade Izzy to abandon her phone-watching duties in favour of a girls’ night out. ‘It’ll serve Toby right if he does phone and I’m not there,’ she said with more defiance than conviction, as they had a pre-dinner drink in the bar of the White Hart in Andover, their chosen halfway house. ‘Anyway, it’s good to have a change of horizon now and then.’

  ‘I needed to get out. I was getting cabin fever,’ Jenna said.

  ‘Oh rubbish! How can you get cabin fever in a great, big, huge, mansion-y palace of a stately home?’

  ‘Nevertheless, without a change of scene from time to time I could go completely mad and start murdering people with an axe.’

  ‘You won’t go mad,’ Izzy said confidently.

  ‘It’s been known to happen,’ Jenna said darkly. ‘There are people around the village who don’t seem one hundred per cent mentally stable, if you get my drift.’

  ‘I’ll lend you my Uzi,’ she promised. ‘So what’s with this house, anyway? How can people living in a stately home be so poor they have to move?’

  Jenna explained about the running costs and Kitty’s fixed income.

  ‘But there must be a million ways of making money out of a house like that,’ Izzy said when at last she was convinced. ‘Weddings, for instance.’

  ‘That’s one of the things on my list. But it would involve huge organization and I’m not sure one little old lady would feel up to it.’

  ‘She could get someone else in to run the thing. Or what about a country house hotel? All those bedrooms – perfect!’

  Jenna burst out laughing. ‘Can you imagine the investment needed to get the rooms up to standard, fit bathrooms and fire doors, rearrange the reception rooms, buy furniture and bedding and towels and cutlery and crockery, refit the kitchen to meet Health and Safety standards, not to mention all the staff you’d have to hire? You’d want to be a millionaire to begin with.’

  ‘Oh phooey. You always see problems with everything. Never mind, I’ll keep thinking.’

  ‘You do that,’ Jenna said.

  ‘So tell me about the local wildlife,’ Izzy said when they were settled at their table. ‘Any exotic fauna?’

  Jenna told her about her date with Harry.

  ‘Oh, very cunning, throwing him a false scent by playing pinball and trampolining.’

  ‘It wasn’t a false scent. I don’t fancy him.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, a bit. But not enough. And it’s too soon.’

  ‘Oh, this is a Patrick thing, is it? Don’t let that lowlife stop you exercising your democratic right to bed anyone bedworthy who crosses your orbit.’

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ Jenna pointed out.

  ‘I know.’ Izzy sighed. ‘And I see it all perfectly when I’m away from him, like now. Twenty-twenty vision. But as soon as I get home, that telephone starts staring at me like a little yellow one-eyed god – it’s actually grey, but you know what I mean. It’s sorcery, plain and simple. I mean, what’s so special about Toby?’

  ‘You’d have to tell me,’ Jenna said. ‘Obviously I can’t see it.’

  ‘He’s not even really good-looking.’ Izzy sighed again. ‘And he’s going thin on top, and I’ve a horrid feeling he’s the sort that won’t let go gracefully, and I’ll be in the humiliating position of being i
n love with a man with a comb-over.’

  ‘Is it love?’

  ‘I suppose it must be. Or he mesmerizes me. One or the other. Oh, I wish I could just get free,’ she said with a surge of passion. ‘Cut loose, break it off, over, finished, just like that.’ She made a chopping movement of her hand on the table that made the cutlery rattle. ‘You were so brave getting out from Patrick the way you did.’

  ‘It didn’t feel brave. And I sometimes wonder if it was the right thing to do.’

  Izzy looked alarmed. ‘Oh no, don’t you have second thoughts! He was a louse, a creep, a subhuman! You deserve so much better.’

  ‘So do you.’

  ‘Well, maybe. All right, promise me you won’t go back to Patrick, and I’ll give Toby the heave-ho.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, I’ll think about it. I’ll try.’

  ‘I won’t hold my breath.’

  ‘Probably better not to. But come on, apart from the Toyman, there must be some other useful types down in deepest Zummerzet.’

  ‘It isn’t Somerset,’ Jenna pointed out.

  Izzy waved a hand. ‘They’re all the same to me, these rustic retreats. Anyway, there you are, living on the set of Pride and Prejudice, so don’t tell me there’s no Colin Firth striding around in breeches and riding boots. Aha! I can tell from your expression there is. You sly dog! Or dogette, I should say.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ Jenna said. ‘I mean, he could probably play Darcy, with a bit of help, but there’s nothing between us, and never will be.’

  ‘Never say never, girl. Come on, give! All the details!’

  So Jenna told her the sad history of relations between her and Xander. Izzy listened with rapt attention, and at the end said, ‘It seems obvious to me that the man has feelings for you.’

  ‘I knew you’d say that!’ Jenna said, exasperated. ‘Look, I know you’re only being supportive and best-friendy, but not everyone falls instantly in love with me.’