Every Woman for Herself

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘Including your father’s single malt?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said, astonished. ‘But if Gloria was nice to you – and she brought the whisky down herself…’

  ‘As a thank-you for giving Ran and Jessica a lift to London. Mind you, I could have done with it before I set out for London, to dull the sound of Jessica’s non-stop twittering.’

  ‘Her voice is a bit high-pitched,’ I agreed. ‘But you are right about Gloria – she must have wanted to give you the anti-love philtre she’s been brewing as soon as possible. It won’t do you any harm.’

  ‘All’s well that ends well?’ he said sardonically. ‘So I drink the whisky and what? I think you’re an absolute dog, and never look at you again?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said coldly.

  ‘But how do I know it isn’t some insidious poison that will send me white-haired and raving?’

  ‘Because she wouldn’t do anything like that,’ I said, with more conviction than I felt, because there were situations where I’m pretty sure Gloria would … but I’m certain this wasn’t one of them. ‘You’d better drink it.’

  ‘I already have, and so have your sisters. And if it’s so harmless, you can prove it by having some too.’

  ‘What – Anne and Em? When?’

  ‘Just after Gloria left; that’s why I haven’t been up to see you yet. My visitors have been arriving in shifts since I got home. Here,’ he added, handing me a tumbler of neat whisky.

  ‘A likely story,’ I said coldly, and defiantly drank the contents of the glass. ‘And why would Anne and Em visit you?’

  ‘Em said she was seeing things clearly now, and she felt Gloria was putting the wrong interpretation on the leaves. She stared at me a long time, but she didn’t say much.’

  ‘Her powers have increased since she fell in love with Chris, strangely enough. Did Anne say anything?’

  ‘Not much, just implied that she would break every bone in my body if I hurt you in any way. But I told her that was the last thing I wanted to do – and then we all had some whisky.’

  ‘You all had it? I hope Em…’ I thought about it. ‘No, it won’t affect her, because she was falling in love with Chris before she drank the love philtre, so she won’t fall out of love with him now. It just sort of hastened things on. And Anne didn’t have any in the first place, so it won’t affect her, either. But you—’ I broke off and stared at him. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Pouring the rest of it down the sink.’

  ‘But what a waste of good whisky!’

  ‘I like to know exactly what I’m drinking,’ he said shortly, tossing the empty bottle into the rubbish bin. ‘Right, that’s that. So now I’m just my usual self, and you are your usual, highly irritating, self, and we start again?’ He raised an eyebrow quizzically.

  ‘Yes. Only I’m not going to look after Caitlin,’ I said, edging towards the door.

  ‘I don’t see why, now you’re not afraid I’m going to jump on you. Though of course, there’s no guarantee that the real, untampered-with Mace might not want to jump on you anyway. And Caitlin’s going to miss you.’

  ‘I’ll miss her, too – but I expect she will be coming down to see the twins, won’t she? We’re bound to see each other then.’

  ‘Charlie – I’m sorry I suspected you of having told everyone what Kathleen said about Caitlin,’ he said unexpectedly.

  ‘That’s all right. I thought you’d buried Kathleen in the woods.’

  ‘I’ve had that test done – the one Jessica was going on about – to see if Caitlin is mine. I couldn’t decide if I really wanted to know. Even if I wasn’t really her father – well, I don’t think anything could alter the way I feel about her. I’m waiting for the results.’

  ‘I never thought she wasn’t yours for a minute, and I don’t suppose Kathleen did, either, it was just something hurtful to say. Has she turned up yet?’

  ‘No, there’s no sign of her.’

  ‘I wonder where she’s got to?’

  ‘I don’t know. And I haven’t managed to get hold of Rod Steigland, the man she’s going to marry, yet either. He’s still in the States, but he’ll be flying over soon for the wedding, so wherever she is she’s bound to surface some time. She called a friend just after she tried to run me down, that’s where Surprise! got the information, so she drove off under her own steam.’

  ‘I really did search the woods,’ I confessed.

  ‘Why? Do you think I’m that kind of man?’ he asked incredulously, and I looked away.

  ‘Well … Gloria told me about your first wife’s accident, and that you had to marry Kathleen when she refused to get rid of the baby…’

  ‘Bloody magazines! They take a particle of truth and blow it out of all proportion!’ he said angrily. ‘It’s true I had an argument with my first wife – we married young, and we fought all the time – and yes, she slammed out in a temper and crashed the car. I’ll always feel guilty about that, just as I expect you will always feel guilty about being the cause of Greg’s death. Is that what you want to hear?’

  ‘But Gloria says you argued because she found out about all the other women.’ (And she’d said his reputation with women stank, but I didn’t repeat that; his temper looked balanced on a knife-edge as it was.)

  ‘There weren’t any other women, Charlie. I’m strictly a one-at-a-time man, believe it or not. The magazines don’t tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth – and what they said about Kathleen was a damned lie! We had a short affair, and I married her simply to stop her aborting the baby. She didn’t want Caitlin, she wanted a career.’

  I looked at him; it all seemed pretty sordid to me. Maybe I’ve led a sheltered life?

  ‘I don’t know what to believe. It’s all a totally different world from the one I’m used to. And I don’t know what kind of man you are, either – except it isn’t my kind.’ I turned to go.

  ‘Charlie,’ he said softly.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Tell Gloria not to give up the day job, because her concoctions don’t work: you still look pretty good to me.’

  * * *

  I closed the door with a slam and set off up the track in the darkness, engrossed in my thoughts … until the night was shattered by the deafening roar of a car engine right behind me.

  The headlights were turned full on, pinning me in their twin beams like a frightened rabbit – except that I wasn’t a rabbit. I leaped sideways into the ditch just in time, and slid down to the icy bottom.

  The car roared past, then pulled up with a squeal of brakes.

  As I clambered out, a door slammed.

  ‘I thought I would have felt it if I’d hit you,’ Angie said regretfully, picking her way towards me in her stilettos. ‘Pity. And it’s a pity no one round here wants to know anything about what you’re really like, not even the local paper. What is it with the Rhymer family? Some sort of rural Mafia?’

  I got to my feet, gingerly. ‘No, the family came from round here originally, so when Father moved back we weren’t incomers: we belong. The churchyard’s full of Rhymers.’

  ‘I was hoping to add one more!’ she said viciously. ‘I—’

  But that was all she had time to say, before I realised the car tail lights behind her weren’t stationary but slowly moving back, and I pushed her into the ditch before landing on top of her.

  The car slowly careered onto the rough verge and stopped at an angle, one wheel hanging over us.

  ‘You didn’t put the handbrake on properly,’ I said, hoisting myself up without being careful about kneeling on her ribs.

  ‘Oof!’ gasped Angie.

  I climbed out of the ditch for the second time. Angie was still spread-eagled in there. She started to lever herself slowly up.

  ‘The car!’

  ‘I think you’ve cracked your headlight. If you walk to the farm, Madge’s dad will get the tractor and tow you out – for a price. And by the way, I think I just saved your miserable life,’ I said,
and left her.

  * * *

  I washed and tidied myself up, then went belatedly up to dinner.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ I said, taking my place. ‘Angie just tried to run me over.’

  ‘Women drivers,’ Father said absently.

  Em stared at me. ‘Something will have to be done about that woman,’ she said severely.

  ‘Better do it bloody quick, before Gloria hears, or she’ll be doing something herself – permanently,’ Anne advised.

  ‘I’ll phone Freya, Xanthe and Lilith after dinner,’ she promised. ‘Bran, lift your book up. It’s in the soup.’

  On the hill

  the bracken burns;

  the red flower feeds

  off beauty.

  From ‘Words from the Spirit’ by Serafina Shane

  Chapter 21

  Home Comforts

  Food For Thought:

  Men are from Mars … so, if some of them make chocolate, they can’t all be bad.

  I tossed and turned all night, then dropped off with the dawn and was the last for breakfast; Jessica was just leaving for school with the girls as I arrived.

  Father had finished – he and Em are early risers, no matter how late they go to bed – but he must have received a parcel in the post, for he was carefully examining the contents of a small box.

  As I sat down with a plateful of calories, he got up and approached Bran with a cotton bud held out before him like a scalpel.

  ‘Open your mouth,’ he said.

  Bran looked at him with amicable blankness, but on having the tip of the cotton bud pressed to his lips obligingly opened his mouth and then closed it again firmly as though he’d been offered a thermometer.

  ‘Open again,’ Ran ordered. ‘And keep it open!’

  Obediently Bran did so, and Father gave the stick a quick twirl and withdrew it. We watched in some surprise as he placed the bud into a little stoppered tube and wrote on the label.

  ‘Father, what are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘Never you mind – it’s just an experiment,’ he said slightly furtively, then snapped impatiently: ‘You can close your mouth now, Bran!’

  Picking up another cotton bud he now advanced on me. ‘Right, Charlie. Your turn.’

  ‘No way!’ I began, pushing my chair back, but I would have done better to keep my mouth shut instead, for he dexterously popped in the stick.

  ‘Really, Father!’ I said, when I was able. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing? You might ask before you do that sort of thing!’

  ‘I don’t know what all the fuss is about,’ he said, adding my stick to a tube in his strange collection box. ‘It’s just a little experiment.’ Then he advanced again with yet another fresh cotton bud.

  ‘Emily.’

  Em and Anne shared a glance and said in unison: ‘Absolutely not.’

  Then Em rose, one finger marking the page in the book she’d been reading at breakfast (Pagan Origins of Christianity in Britain by Florisande Cote-Gibbon), and stalked out in silent disgust.

  ‘Don’t even effing think about it,’ Anne warned, helping herself from a dish of kidneys at the sideboard.

  Father sighed: ‘Well, you girls aren’t as important as Branwell.’

  ‘Already bloody know that, don’t we?’ Anne said coldly.

  He went out bearing his little box, and didn’t mention the experiment again, so I don’t know what all that was about. He does do odd things from time to time. I didn’t let it put me off my breakfast.

  Later, Em gave me a set of five power bracelets, each one made of a different semi-precious stone. There was clear quartz for peace and wisdom, amethyst for intuition and intelligence, rose quartz for love and the healing of past hurts, garnet for creativity, and hematite for stability and peace.

  She said that should cover all the angles, whatever Gloria thought she saw looming in the tea leaves, and it was a nice thought. Had she given me one as a wedding present, my life would probably have taken an entirely different turn.

  * * *

  ‘I’m absolutely shattered!’ Xanthe Skye exclaimed, sinking into the nearest comfortable chair. ‘Freya, Lilith and I spent pretty nearly the whole night, helping that poor, tortured soul, Angie.’

  ‘Tea?’ asked Em. ‘Or one of Gloria’s restorative herbal brews?’

  ‘One of Gloria’s but not the nettle. The nettle is too robust for my delicate nature.’

  Em put the kettle on, and I said gratefully: ‘It was very kind of you all to go and sort out Angie.’

  ‘Actually, we quite enjoyed it – there is such an odd assortment of people up at Hoo House that the vibes can be quite wild! You wouldn’t believe the results with the Ouija board sometimes – but gloomy, always gloomy.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Did you use the board last night?’

  ‘Yes – we formed a circle, just us three and Angie. Her husband came through; he told her clearly to let go of her anger and move on.’

  ‘Did he? Where to?’

  ‘Freya tried the crystal, later, and she thinks a cruise is indicated – a long, long cruise. But first she must be purged of all dark thoughts, in order to reap good fortune. And Lilith said she thought her heart line showed a new love interest entering her life before too long.’

  ‘I believe cruise ships are hotbeds for that sort of thing – and to afford a cruise, Greg’s insurance money must be coming at last, don’t you think? That would be the good fortune.’

  ‘It seems likely,’ agreed Xanthe placidly, taking a teaglass of disgusting straw-coloured liquid from Em. ‘But, as we told her, only if she closes one door behind her will the next door open into a bright new future.’

  She sipped from her glass with apparent relish, then crunched up a peanut butter biscuit with her strong white teeth. ‘She was wavering … then Lilith read her leaves. She’s not as good as Gloria, but she saw the Two Ways clearly and it’s up to Angie now.’

  ‘Oh, she’ll take the money and the man every time,’ I predicted confidently.

  She drank the last of her evil brew and sat back. ‘That’s better. And so is your aura, dear – not quite golden, but better. Would you like me to see what your future holds for you? I have my Tarot with me.’

  I shuddered. ‘No, thanks. I’ll just take it as it comes, one disaster at a time.’

  Widows: Unexpectedly Single

  While a widow has much in common with being divorced (see page 9: ‘Divorced Old Northern Woman – your questions answered’) this is singleness without blame or stigma.

  In fact, being a widow is so terribly respectable it can be played as a sympathy card in tricky situations. For example, while your friends’ husbands will still perceive you as ‘available’, they will not persist once you make it clear your heart was buried with your husband.

  Of course, your heart may have been buried with your husband, in which case you have my very deepest sympathy.

  However, many widows go on eventually to make an enjoyable life for themselves (some even start it from day one) and it is surprising how many perfectly happy and liberated widows there are who take on a new lease of life once the shackles are off.

  Provided the life insurance and mortgage angle are fully covered, Skint Old Widow may also be a contradiction in terms.

  For the down side, many of the answers to the Divorce article apply here too. But always remember: while there is gin and chocolate, there is life.

  Later, a truculent Angie walked into my verandah as I was painting, without so much as a knock on the door – or even a quick graffiti scrawl.

  She planted herself in front of me and said aggrievedly: ‘I’ve got to say I’m sorry, and I’m going to forgive you. I’ll be leaving Upvale soon and going on a cruise.’

  ‘Good for you,’ I said, relaxing my defensive grip on the palette knife. ‘I hope you have fun – a lot more fun than trying to run me over, anyway.’

  ‘Sorry I called you a whore. Sorry I called you a murderess. Sorry I tried to
kill you,’ she reeled off, as if reading down an internal list of Twenty Apologies for the Obsessed.

  ‘That’s all right,’ I said. ‘I’m desperately sorry I killed Greg, and I always will be. Is that it?’

  She examined her conscience – nicotine yellow, ragged edges – and found it reasonably clear. ‘Yes, I think so. Well, that’s that done!’

  She shifted tack, looking over my shoulder at the small canvas. This is something I am not terribly keen on even with people who haven’t recently tried to kill me.

  Something about the painting seemed to strike a chord. ‘You having it off with that gorgeous actor, then?’

  ‘No, I’ve just been looking after his little girl in the mornings,’ I said coldly.

  ‘Only he seemed so protective of you, down at the cottage – play your cards right and you might get a consolation prize for losing Matt.’

  ‘Could any compensation possibly be enough?’ I said sarcastically, but it just passed her by.

  ‘Sort of getting your own back, though, after him ditching you for that nurse in Saudi,’ she suggested.

  I turned and stared at her. ‘Which nurse? He said there wasn’t anyone else!’

  ‘Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he? But I thought you knew. He asked you for the divorce because she got pregnant, and he’s going to marry her – if she can still fit in a wedding dress. God, is she huge! Perhaps it’s twins, she’s big enough for…’

  I could sort of vaguely hear her voice going on and on, alarmed and rising, but it sounded far away, probably because I was on my knees on the cold stone flags, and some poor woman was howling: ‘No! No!’

  It sounded like me.

  ‘Poor old Charlie,’ part of me said sadly. ‘She’s having a bad day, but I wish she’d shut up.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  Someone scooped me up, rigid and resisting, and held me in strong, warm arms. ‘Charlie, what’s the matter?’

  ‘We were just talking, and then she went mad!’ Angie said.

  ‘What have you done to her?’ Mace’s voice said angrily.

  ‘I haven’t done anything! I only came to apologise.’

  ‘You must have said something!’

  ‘Only that her ex-husband was getting married again – his girlfriend’s pregnant. I suppose that upset her, because she never had any – kept miscarrying all the time. But I didn’t know she would carry on like this!’