Country Plot

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  ‘Oh, Bill,’ he said witheringly. ‘Who has a vested interest in keeping her at Holtby House.’

  She eyed him curiously. ‘I might well ask why you’re so keen to get her out of there,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Because it—’ he began hotly, and then stopped, with an arrested expression in his eyes. ‘Get her out?’

  ‘She wants to stay in her home. I’m trying to help her to do that. Why would you think it’s such a bad idea, unless you wanted her out of there for some reason?’

  ‘I don’t,’ he said, in a faint, distant voice. Evidently there was some hard thinking going on behind those dark brows. ‘I’m – concerned for her welfare.’

  Jenna shrugged. ‘I don’t know anyone who isn’t. Do you?’

  He turned abruptly and went away, pushing through the deafeningly chatting crowds like someone who was about to throw up and had to get to the bathroom before he did.

  Jenna, left alone, stared at the space he had left. ‘Nuts,’ she addressed the wallpaper. ‘Completely and utterly out to lunch.’

  It was a couple of days after this that Fatty came in to the library, where Jenna was working on the computer, and said, ‘Visitor for you.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Jenna asked without enthusiasm. There was so much to be done. She was working on the room notes for the drawing room, and it was not as easy as it sounded. Getting stuff in the right order, deciding what to put in and what to leave out, getting the balance between being interesting and overloading the reader with information, was tricky stuff. And hanging over her was the selection and cataloguing of the china for the cabinets – she was just realizing what a huge task that would be. She really didn’t want to be disturbed. Registering the silence, she looked up and saw Fatty struggling with something mentally. ‘Who is it?’ she asked again.

  ‘Mr Acorn,’ Fatty said at last, with desperate certainty.

  Jenna frowned. ‘It can’t be.’

  Fatty looked defeated. ‘Maybe Mr Harpoon.’

  ‘Fatty, nobody’s called Acorn or Harpoon.’

  Fatty shrugged expressively. ‘He say his name, but I don’t understand him good. It sound like Haycorn.’

  ‘Can’t Kitty see him?’

  ‘He ask for you,’ Fatty said, and made a little gesture of her hands which implied that having gone thus far she was turning over all responsibility to Jenna.

  ‘Oh, all right.’ Jenna sighed, standing up. ‘I’ll go. Where is he?’

  ‘I put him in drawing room,’ Fatty said, and made herself scarce.

  There was no one in the drawing room or the hall. She glanced into the sitting room, and then tried the dining room.

  Patrick (whose surname was Á Court – all was now explained!) was standing opposite the fireplace with his hands clasped behind his back, examining the ceiling.

  ‘You look like John Betjeman,’ Jenna said, to cover the jittering and booming that was going on inside her. Shock, she told herself, that was all. Suddenly seeing him where she did not expect him.

  ‘This is the original plasterwork,’ he said. ‘Unusual to see it in such good condition, not even touched up. Nice fireplace, too – not overdone. Georgian simplicity. When was the house built? Seventeen-seventies, seventeen-eighties?’

  ‘Seventeen-ninety, they think. What are you doing here?’

  ‘And that staircase is magnificent. Unusual to find a place like this that hasn’t been vandalized. It’s a gem.’ He lowered his gaze to her at last. ‘I came to see you, of course. To tell you to come home.’

  ‘Tell me?’

  ‘Ask you. Beg you, if you like.’

  His presence, his handsomeness, old associations, were playing havoc with Jenna’s willpower. Now, as he smiled and gazed into her eyes contritely, she was afraid she was a goner.

  ‘I was an idiot,’ he said. ‘I was well out of order. You can tell me off as much as you like, but please come back. I need you.’

  If he had said, ‘I love you,’ she might have cracked right then. As it was she found the strength to ask another question.

  ‘How did you find me? I know for certain Sybil would never have told you.’

  ‘She didn’t. She was quite obdurate. I told her it was for your own benefit – I mean, this is no way to run your life. The longer you’re off the career ladder the harder it will be to get back on, and I’ve got a delicious job waiting for you, right up your alley, and I’m pretty sure I can swing it for you. I’m not without influence in certain circles,’ he said modestly. ‘But Sybil wouldn’t say a word, though I think she wanted to. I suppose you made her promise? I know you were mad at me, and I understand, but this nonsense has gone on long enough. Now be a sensible girl and come home.’

  He smiled at her, and tilted his head slightly, giving her a beguiling look. Jenna’s heart was slowing to normal speed, and this look left her cold. It was the look you might give a little girl of, say, ten or eleven. Let’s stop being silly and go and get an ice cream.

  ‘You didn’t answer the question,’ she said, marking time. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘That’s my business,’ he said in his firm-but-fair voice. ‘I’m here, that’s all. How doesn’t concern you.’

  ‘I think it does,’ she said equally firmly. ‘My privacy has been invaded.’

  He wrinkled his nose, laughing. ‘Privacy? You’re not an actress being snapped by a pap with a telephoto lens. Come on, darling, get a sense of proportion.’

  She continued to look at him steadily, her lips folded.

  At last he shrugged, and said, ‘Well, if you insist – and I didn’t want to mention her name to you, so it’s your own fault – but it was through Charlotte.’

  ‘Charlotte, your new girlfriend, told you where I was so that you could come and get me back?’ Jenna said with ripe disbelief.

  ‘She’s not my new girlfriend. It’s all over with her. And, no, she didn’t tell me. That would be—’

  ‘Suicidal?’

  He looked annoyed. ‘All right, I see you won’t let it go, so this is how it happened. An old school-friend of Charlotte’s from Benenden rang her up, knowing she was in the business, to ask if she knew an architect called Patrick. She naturally said, “Oh, do you mean Patrick Á Court,” and this friend asked did he recently break up with his partner, upon which Charlotte got upset and wouldn’t talk about it any more. But the friend then didn’t find it hard to trace me, of course, and she rang me direct. Established that I was who she was looking for, and told me you were living near her, heartbroken, moping around deep in misery and longing to go home. Said if I wanted you back I should come down and get you.’

  ‘Strangely busy of her to take so much interest in your welfare when she didn’t even know you,’ Jenna said, with a grim idea of who this Samaritan might be.

  ‘She said she was worried about you,’ Patrick said. ‘She wanted you to be happy, and she’d heard so much about me from you that she was convinced we belonged together. I thought it was pretty decent of her to take the trouble. Most people wouldn’t.’

  ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t,’ said Jenna.

  ‘She knew you hadn’t told me where you were but she believed you wanted me to know really. That you wanted me to come and beg you to come home. I said I wanted you back, that it was all over with Charlotte, and she gave me the address. Suggested I came without ringing first, because on the phone you might feel obliged to resist me, but if you saw me unexpectedly, in person – well, I thought that was sound advice. So here I am.’ He smiled broadly. ‘So all you have to do, my darling, is pack your things, and I’m ready to whisk you back to London, where you belong.’

  ‘Where I belong,’ she repeated blankly.

  ‘Although,’ he added, ‘this is a beautiful house, and I can quite see why you came here. Shame to leave it, really. But these places may look good, but they’re hell to live in, and double hell to maintain. You need a fortune just to keep the roof over your head. New build is so much more practical. Speaking of which, I’
ve been asked to work on a new development in Kensington which is going to be pretty spectacular, and I’m sure I’ll be offered one of the flats at a discount rate when it’s finished. Kensington will be a definite step up for us from Fulham, and much more suited to our lifestyle, now I’m moving into the big time, and you’re going to take this job I’ve got lined up for you. Don’t you want to know what it is?’ he asked her temptingly.

  She shook her head. ‘I just want to know one thing. This old school-chum of Charlotte’s – did she give her name?’

  He frowned. ‘She did, but I’ve forgotten it. Chloe or Mary or something plain like that.’

  ‘Caroline?’

  ‘Could have been.’

  ‘Caroline Russell?’

  ‘She didn’t give a surname. Just plunged straight in with “I went to school with Charlotte”. Does it matter?’

  ‘Not to you,’ Jenna said. ‘I’m sorry to say that you’ve been played for a fool. It was a hoax call. I’m not moping and I don’t want to come back to you. I’m very happy – having a whale of a time, in fact – and I have a very important job here.’

  ‘Here?’ he said in rank disbelief. ‘How can you have an important job in a one-horse place like this? My God, don’t tell me you’ve gone native? You’re working in a charity shop or something?’ She laughed, and in annoyance that he couldn’t move her, he looked her up and down critically. ‘You have let yourself go somewhat, I can see. You’ll have to smarten up if you want to get this job I’ve lined up for you.’

  ‘Smarten up?’

  ‘Some decent clothes and shoes. And do something about your hair.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Well, there’s your habit of blurting out the first thing that comes into your mind. You might want to get some help with that, if you want to get on in the real world.’

  ‘But suddenly I don’t,’ Jenna said. ‘You’re a perfect example of the people who inhabit the real world, and I’m beginning to wonder how I ever got involved with you. It must have been a sort of madness brought on by sniffing traffic fumes or something.’

  ‘You really think you’re going to have a better life down here?’ he said in disbelief. ‘My God, you have lost it! You’ll be joining Friends of the Earth and voting for the Greens next. Weaving your own clothes and wearing sandals made from car tyres.’ He stopped, perhaps thinking that insulting her was not the best way to win her back. ‘Look, this is a temporary aberration of yours, and you’ll get over it and want to come back. I don’t want you to suddenly come to your senses when it’s too late. Because I won’t wait for ever, you know. This is your one window of opportunity.’

  ‘Oh Patrick,’ she said sadly. She looked at his lips, and the thought of kissing him made her shudder. Not shiver – shudder. It was gone, all of it, and completely. ‘Four years we were together. What a waste.’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying,’ he said eagerly. ‘It would be a crime to waste it.’

  ‘No, I’m saying it was a waste. What on earth was I doing with you? I bet you’ve never done up your trousers with a safety pin in your life.’

  ‘Of course not,’ he said, bewildered. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  She waved it away. ‘I’m not coming back,’ she said. ‘Not now, not ever.’ She thought of what Gloria Buckminster had said. ‘I couldn’t marry you. I don’t even like you very much.’

  He was affronted. ‘I don’t remember asking you to marry me.’

  ‘You didn’t. Now, I’m afraid I’m going to have to shoo you away, because I’ve got a colossal amount of work to do.’ She gestured him towards the door and in surprise he started walking.

  ‘I think you’re making a big mistake,’ he said.

  ‘Well, if I am, it’s my mistake,’ she said. ‘I take full responsibility. You’ve done all you could. You can go home with a clear conscience.’ Mischievously she added, ‘And maybe it’s not too late to make it up with Charlotte. She might take you back.’

  ‘Of course she will,’ he said.

  ‘Will?’ Jenna laughed. ‘Oh Patrick! What a giveaway.’ She patted his shoulder, speeding him towards the door. ‘She’ll suit your life much better than I did. Drive carefully, now.’

  I’m free, she thought when he had gone. Free of him. It ought to have made her feel happy, but for the moment it only made her feel cold and alone. She really had no home now – she had burned her boats. The nice flat, good job, plenty of money, presentable man on her arm, agreeable social engagements – all that life was over, and she had to start again from scratch. It was a chilly prospect.

  Oh, don’t be wet, she told herself sharply. You burned your boats long ago. And that life wasn’t yours, it was his. You couldn’t live for ever with a man with no sense of proportion.

  And then she thought, Caroline! Heat flooded her system at the thought that Caroline Russell – who else could it be? – would go to such lengths to get rid of her: fury at the cheek of the woman, indignation at being discussed behind her back, at having two people who thought they knew what was best for her and were willing to act on it. But when the rush of anger faded, she was left with a knotty puzzle to chew on. Caroline wanted Jenna to go back to London. Caroline was desperate to get her out of the way. But why?

  Twenty-One

  Kitty came in in high spirits. ‘Gloria Buckminster is amazing! She’s a force of nature. I don’t know how she’s done it, but everyone I’ve spoken to today had already heard from her, and they’re ready to sign up. I shall have more volunteers than I know what to do with.’

  ‘You’ll need them all,’ Jenna promised. ‘A person I spoke to who runs a National Trust house says you need a pool of at least four times the number of stewards you use, and five times is better.’

  ‘We’ll soon be up to that level at this rate. It’s such a weight off my mind!’

  ‘Mine too. It was the bit I was most worried about – I suppose because it was the only bit we couldn’t do ourselves. I get nervous about any part of a job that’s not under my control.’

  ‘How are you getting on?’ Kitty asked, looking over her shoulder at the computer screen.

  ‘Pretty well, but there’s a lot to do. I was thinking: about the china for the cabinets? I could really do with some help on that. It occurred to me that I might ask that nice girl I spoke to at the museum in Wenchester, Nicola Pearson. If you have no objection. She was really knowledgeable – and enthusiastic, which might be more to the point. If she’d be willing to come and look at the stuff and pick out the most interesting bits, it would save me an awful lot of time.’

  ‘What a good idea!’ Kitty said. ‘Of course I don’t mind. I trust your judgement.’

  ‘Oh, thanks! I’ll pop over and see if I can catch her tomorrow.’

  ‘And I’ll go and see about a cup of tea. I expect you could do with one as well.’ At the door she stopped and said hesitantly, ‘I understand you had a visitor today?’

  Jenna smiled to herself. ‘Everyone really does know everything,’ she murmured.

  ‘I’m sorry. Bill told me, and I guessed who it was, but I don’t mean to pry. I shan’t say a word if you don’t want me to, but I just wanted to be sure you weren’t upset.’

  ‘I was, a bit. But I’m not now,’ Jenna said. She looked at Kitty. ‘I’m amazed at myself, but I’m over him.’

  ‘Really?’ Kitty said doubtfully.

  ‘I know. We were together four years, and you don’t get over someone that quickly, but seeing him again only made me wonder what I’d ever seen in him.’

  ‘Really?’ Kitty said again, but hopefully this time.

  ‘Yes, really! I think I must have been asleep and dreaming all that time.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t know if you’ll understand, but dating is so difficult these days and there are so few decent men around – especially men willing to commit themselves to a relationship. When you find one, you tend to hang on to him, even if he isn’t Mr Right.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘Generally you’ll sett
le for Mr Just-about-do. In fact, a lot of the time you’ll settle for Mr-won’t-do-at-all-but-at-least-he-rings-you- again-after-the-first-date.’

  ‘Is it really that bad?’

  Jenna nodded. ‘All my friends said I was so lucky to have Patrick, and it seemed that’s all that really mattered – I had a personable man, when so many of my friends, smarter and prettier than me, didn’t have anyone. And the longer we were together, the harder it was to see beyond being lucky, especially when every year that passed was another year nearer thirty.’

  Kitty laughed, and then shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not making light of your feelings, but really, you know, from the vantage point of sixty-plus, thirty isn’t a mountain. It isn’t even a molehill!’

  ‘Depends on where you’re standing.’

  ‘I know. I do know. But there are just as many men looking for women as vice versa, and you will find someone. I absolutely know it. Probably much sooner than you think. Just don’t settle for second best – promise me? It’s too important for that.’

  Jenna gave a wry smile. ‘But how do you know when you find the right one? That’s the trouble. I didn’t spend four years consciously thinking Patrick was second best.’

  ‘You’ll know when it happens,’ Kitty said. ‘We had a saying – coup du foudre. It’ll hit you like a thunderbolt one day, and you’ll know. And now,’ she said resolutely, ‘I’m definitely going to make some tea.’

  After tea Jenna tried to work again but found herself going cross-eyed, and knew she needed some fresh air and exercise. She decided to take the dogs for a walk. Before she had finished taking the leads down from the hook in the kitchen, both dogs were there behind her, in that mysterious way they had of sensing from any distance up to half a mile that a w-a-l-k was in the offing. ‘You guys!’ she said in admiration.