by Ivan B
She popped a stuffed walnut into her mouth and crunched it to death. “Guess you could call me a woman who’s happy to be a woman and happy to be single.”
Norman sipped his apple juice, noted Petra’s eyes and passed the glass over. He wondered just how you got so much divine Russet flavour into one sip. He watched her closely. There was something going on here that he didn’t understand. This had been one of the causes of his failure with women, they would deliver statements at one level and he’d often read them at another. “Are you trying to convince me or convince yourself?”
She froze with another stuffed walnut hovering just in front of her lips. Eventually she tucked it in her mouth and ground it between her teeth. “What makes you think I don’t believe it?”
He shrugged, “Male intuition.”
She ignored his answer. “As I said, I’m bad news for you, let’s just leave it at that.”
“Suppose I don’t want to leave it at that?” He swiftly retorted.
He watched her for a moment and decided that he liked what he saw; what red blooded man wouldn’t want a blue-eyed blonde with a figure like a supermodel? He analysed his thoughts to see if that is all he saw. “If you did want to leave it at that you wouldn’t be here, you’d be off flirting with Daniel, you know he fancies you, he’s been ogling you all evening.”
She grinned, “He’d fancy anything in a skirt that didn’t want commitment.”
She gazed at her plate, “Look would you mind eating this lot, goodness knows what the calorie count is of those miniature cream puffs.”
“Miniature,” he drolly replied while scooping up all three and readily disposing of them down his gullet. He suddenly leant forward, “Cards on the table.” He said decisively. “I wasn’t looking for you and doubtless you weren’t looking for me. We are also an unlikely pair of bedfellows.”
She cringed at the word ‘bedfellows.’ He seemingly didn’t notice and ploughed on. “To be honest I rather thought that you considered us all beneath you.”
He drew an invisible circle with his left index finger on the table-top. “But my views have changed.”
She lifted her eyes to heaven and sighed, “That’s just the sex talking. You like the sex ergo you like me. I tell you it’s a false notion.”
He leant back, “Well I’d rather like time to find out if that statement is true.”
He leant forward again, “Let’s see. Let the snow go and let’s see each other outside of this place. I guess we’d soon know.”
She stretched out her elegant legs, “Would you expect me to be faithful to you, by that I mean not having sex other men if I feel like it.”
“Yes, I would.”
She steadily looked him in the eyes, “That would be rather novel for me.”
She picked up the wine glass and ran her finger round the top. “I’m what’s called an easy lay, everybody knows it and nobody expects any commitment afterwards.”
He wondered how to reply. Eventually he sighed and gesticulated with his hands. “I don’t think of you as an easy lay. I know we started with sex, but I’ve moved on. I know we probably have little in common apart from acting, but we could work at it. I’m just asking that you give it a go.” He paused before adding, “And I don’t believe a word of that ‘happy to be a woman and happy to be single’ crap.”
She made a swift grab and stole a canapé off his plate. “Suppose I did, would you really be faithful to me when you’re surrounded by all those famous actresses?”
“Yes, and if I failed I’d tell you, but believe me I wouldn’t be setting out to fail.”
“OK,” she said to her own surprise, “I’ll give it a go, it will be different, but new ventures are always worth trying.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He closed his eyes and sat back with a look of pure joy on his face, she could have hugged him. He’d done all the running, prevented her from diversionary tactics and hunted her down. She rather liked that, most men just took her to bed and then kissed her goodbye. In any case she couldn’t get him out of her mind and was at a loss to know why. He suddenly came to life. “One thing,” he said, “I won’t be with a load of actresses, I’m turning down the soap job and concentrating on a radio job. Then I can do three days a week and live here the rest of the time.”
“What!” She almost yelled, “What?”
Ella Happleberry surveyed what was left on the buffet table and sniffed, this was all what she termed ‘fancy food,’ all little bits and pieces and nothing substantial. She gathered up two plates of food and ambled over to her husband, thrusting a plate under his nose. He wrinkle said nose, “No pork pies?” he shouted.
“Shut up and eat.” She replied.
Halfway through her plateful she took a brief rest and let her eyes linger on Rupert as she wiped her fingers on a fragile wafer thin serviette. He was standing next to a short woman in an over-tight dress and , try as she might, Ella could not remember where she had come from. Rupert laughed and Ella smiled. She liked Rupert and had been terribly saddened to watch his decline from competent vicar to gibbering buffoon via a nervous breakdown. Now it seemed there was some sort of normality returning to his life. She watched as Rupert took a plain piece of paper and with a number of deft movements turned it into a flying swan. She smiled as she remembered how her grandson had been mesmerised by his paper animal skills and started to remember when…
Simon spent most of the time huddled in a corner talking on his mobile phone to his married girlfriend. It had been kind of Julia to invite him, but he was beginning to feel more and more like an outsider. He wanted action and activity spiced up by a bit of avarice, but these people were different, they all seemed to be more concerned about quality of life and contentment. He’d set himself a goal, he wanted to be a millionaire by the time he was thirty-five, once he’d done that he’d be content, but until then he needed more than this. He caught hold of Harry as he passed clutching half a bottle of white wine and looking content with the world. “Have you heard any weather reports?”
Harry gave a half-drunk grin, “Had a look at Ceefax. Says snow has probably passed over, but temperatures are going to stay below freezing for a couple more days.”
Simon grimaced, “Will they snow-plough the main road out of here?”
Harry shrugged, “Doubt it. Usually the council rings us up and offers a small contract to clear away some of the snow for them. This time they haven’t bothered, no money apparently.”
Harry continued his journey and Simon pounced on an almost full bottle of red wine. He reasoned that if he had to say he might as well enjoy himself.
Julia crept up behind Buster and then put her arm around his shoulders. “Just where did you get all this, I thought Maria and Jeremy never entertained here?”
He put his arm round her waist, “They didn’t. On the other hand they used to have what they called their private party evenings. They’d have a buffet, a video and a drinking session. I think they used to enjoy it, in any case it doubtless passed the time for them.”
“So this lot was frozen?”
He could hear the bewilderment in her voice. “Cook chill. Yes it’s frozen, but you can bring it up to room temperature in no time at all in a powerful microwave. This lot’s from a London supplier, it’s even got little tags attached to the bags of goodies that you just plug into a slot in the microwave, so no manual intervention required. As I’ve said Maria was not into cookery.”
She squeezed him too her and realised that she was more than slightly drunk. “However you did it it’s been marvellous.”
He smiled like a Cheshire cat on pure cream from the satisfaction of making her happy. He smiled again as he thought of the fact that this might become his life’s work from now on, providing for her and keeping her safe had its merits, but making her happy had more, much more.
Chapter 22
The Morning After
Julia woke up totally disorientated. She was lying a
lmost fully clothed in the centre of the circular double bed. She rolled onto one side to spot, in the dim light, her jewellery carefully laid out on some sort of flap that had obviously pulled out of the wall before wondered why the room continued to rotate. Ten seconds later a group of blacksmith’s formed up in her brain and started to beat the hell out of her skull. She re-focussed her eyes on the little flap and spotted a glass of water and two capsule shaped tablets. She managed to down the tablets and wonder how she had got into the bed before she mercifully passed out
Sarah woke up to an horrendous sound. It took her more than a few seconds to realise that Rupert must be singing in the bath. She wandered over and surveyed the view. As promised there was no fresh snow just a white vista of frozen landscape. She checked her watch and phoned into base. Nothing had changed, nobody was on the way to liberate her train or her and Mr Gladbury sounded if he was having his umpteenth nervous breakdown. On the positive front he did seem glad that she’d phoned in and relieved that she wasn’t screaming for rescue.
Petra woke up mercifully hangover free. Once again she was in Norman’s bed squashed between him and the wall. She managed to rotate onto her back. She wondered if the snow had affected her brain. Only twice in her life had she had anything approaching a steady boyfriend. The first had been during her second year at drama school, he’d eventually left her for a slinky producer, and six years ago when she’d dated a cameraman while she was an extra on a film-set; that had ended in total disaster when his wife had walked in on them. One half of her wanted to run away screaming that she wasn’t yet ready to settle down and the other half was longing for some stability. Overall she knew that her life had been running out of control, there had been nothing planned, just a random series of jobs, liaisons and close encounters. She rolled onto her side and let her body take up the contours provided by Norman’s sleeping frame as this gave her the few extra millimetres that made all the difference between being squashed and enjoying closeness. As she gazed at his back she began to wonder how she had got to where she was. Convent school to mixed sex catholic education to drama school and almost immediately into being involved in a soap opera Because Stannard’s Cove had a large number of child actors there had been strict rules and etiquette to be followed, but once she’d left that behind her life had taken on a divergent path.. Somehow she’d slipped into a world of casual sex, easy affairs and total detachment while pretending to be attached to the lifestyle. She hadn’t chosen this, rather she’d just slipped into it, which rather summed her up. She never planned, never thought ahead, never ever sought a different path, she was always content to let life roll on. Of late it had not been rolling on for her, rather it had been rolling over her. Acting jobs had become scarce and she’d had to take a number of jobs to make ends meet, but with few qualifications and haphazard concentration she’d never make a career out of any of them. So gazed at Norman’s back. So was she using Norman as a means of escape, as a lifeline, as a means to an end for her own convenience? She pondered for a few moments before muttering to herself ‘Oh shit, I’m falling in love.’ She knew that this was something different, something that reached inside her to stir destroyed and long repressed emotions. She tried to analyse where the difference had occurred and drifted back into a dreamless sleep.
Harriet looked up from her book, she’d moved onto The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. Her mother stirred in her sleep and then her breathing went back to a regular pattern. She listened to the house and decided that nobody was up and about yet. She liked the house, it had a sort of warm and comfortable feel that said ‘people are happy here.’ She thought of Ambrose House and shivered; at first she’d thought it marvellous and swish, then she’d thought it rather over-fancy and hard edged, finally she’d decided that it had no feel at all. People didn’t live there, they just passed through not caring about it on the way. She went back to her book and got lost in the world of Narnia.
Julia awoke a second time and realised that it was daylight. She glanced at her watch and rolled onto her back, it was well past nine and she would normally have been teaching a class load of independently minded children by now. She decided that she felt nominally OK and sat on the edge of the bed. The room did not rotate and her head only had the dullest of aches. She staggered to the bathroom and had a freezing cold shower. As she emerged from the bathroom she stopped. Buster had obviously put her to bed last night and had removed her jewellery, shoes and belt, however he’d not taken advantage of the situation. He’d not even slipped into the same bed. Her heart warmed to him.
Eventually Jenny Flosse had three men at the breakfast table, Harry, Mark and Colin. All of them looked slightly the worse for wear, but none of them appeared to have a gross hangover. She gently placed some toast in the toast rack. “Good night last night, Julia did us proud,” she said.
Harry smacked his lips, “Beautiful food, wonderful wine, dreadful furniture. You know I couldn’t find one comfortable seat anywhere.”
Mark stretched his arms heavenwards and made a grunting noise. “All designer stuff, don’t worry Julia told me it was all going.”
“No sport’s channels,” muttered Colin. 54” state of the art TV and no sport’s channels.”
Jenny chuckled, “Not for long if I know our Julia.”
Mark stretched again, “Think she’ll still work when she’s married him?”
Julia was asking herself the same question. She’d found a bath-robe that nearly fitted her and padded down to the kitchen to enjoy a morning cup of tea. Buster was nowhere to be seen. For once in her life she didn’t have to work. She enjoyed teaching, and it was more of a vocation than mere employment, but she’d had to have some job as she knew the farm couldn’t sustain her if she didn’t pay her way, not that this fact would have stopped her parents trying. However now it was different, she was slipping into a world where money wasn’t a driving force for basic sustenance any more; so did she still want to teach?”
Her musings were disturbed by Buster who plodded into the kitchen and flopped onto a stool. He looked dreadful. She gazed at his dishevelled face, “Hangover?” She enquired softly.
“Lack of sleep, up most of the night talking to your brother.”
“Which one?”
“Mark.”
She giggled, “Always last to bed and first to rise, only needs about four hours sleep.”
She frowned, “Did you put me to bed?”
“Yes, reckon your brother kept topping up your glass when you weren’t looking. I’ll have a word, that’s not funny you could have passed out and hurt yourself.”
She laid a hand on his arm, “Don’t, I did the same to him at his graduation party.”
She watched his face, “Why did you put me in the big room and not the spare room?”
He turned slightly pink, “Couldn’t get you through the door, big room’s got double doors.”
“You could have undressed me.”
“Didn’t seem right, didn’t have your permission.”
She slipped off of the stool and kissed his forehead. “You go and get some sleep, I’ll clean up.”
Buster gave a lopsided grin, “We did most of it, only the back room to clear.”
He staggered out of the kitchen and Julia followed him up the stairs to get dressed, deciding that whatever she did in this house his beige pyjamas would be the first to go.
Sarah listened to the radio and paused for the weather report. It promised a radical change within thirty-six hours as a warm front was slowly sweeping across the country. She suddenly realised that she felt disappointed that her stay was predicted to end. She ruffled hoof’s head and inspected the Aga. She decided that if her time here was indeed coming to an end she’d cook Rupert something special for the evening meal. She went to the garage and extracted a pair of steaks that she’d spotted earlier. She glanced at the Mini and wondered if Rupert would ever get it roadworthy. She smiled to herself, if he didn’t it wouldn’t be through want of trying.
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nbsp; Julia paused by a silk rose and wondered why anybody would waste good wine by trying to water it. She tipped the wine away and dried out the pot. This was almost the last act in tidying the back room as it hadn’t been used much anyway. She pushed closed the corner cupboard door only for it to pop open again. She opened the door and noticed that the bottom shelf was not right back on its runners and gave it a push, it didn’t move. She knelt down and squinted at it, noting that there was something stuck down the back that was preventing its travel home. She removed the glasses from the shelf and eased the shelf out. Lying under it were a dozen or so little foil wrapped sweets about the size of a humbug, one of which had become trapped behind the shelf. Except it was obvious that they weren’t sweets. She felt the blood drain away from her face. She sat back on her haunches and stared at the little innocent looking packets of some drug or other and wondered if Buster knew. In her talks with him in had become obvious that Maria and Jeremy had not told him anything about what they actually did, after all he was only their minder so why should they? She cast her eyes around the room, was there anywhere else she hadn’t looked? She started to hunt around.
Jenny eyed Petra across the kitchen table as fed the last of the breakfast mugs into the dishwasher. She decided that Petra would not have been her choice of woman for Norman. On the other hand she’d seen the disaster Colin had had with his first marriage and in Jenny’s eyes the woman had been perfect. She passed over a cup of tea. “Anything else dear?” She dutifully enquired.
Petra shook her head, “No thanks, ate enough last night to sink the Titanic.”
“Head all right this morning then?” Jenny hoped that the enquiry didn’t sound too catty.