by Anna Jacobs
She’d get round to that soon, but would wait for a rainy day. For the moment she was enjoying getting to know this part of Wiltshire.
When her phone rang the following morning, Simone snatched it up eagerly, hoping it’d be Libby or one of her daughters because it would be early evening in Australia. But they’d have spoken straight away, so she just said, ‘Hello?’
‘Is that Simone Ramsey?’ a man’s voice asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I believe I’m a relative. Your parents emailed my mother to say you were spending some time in England and suggested the family might like to get in touch.’
‘Oh?’ She still wasn’t convinced this was a genuine call. ‘And your name is?’
He chuckled. ‘Suspicious, aren’t you?’
‘It’s usually safer.’
‘I’m Lance Mundy. My mum was a cousin of your mother’s. The two of them kept in touch occasionally. I don’t think your mother knew that mine was dead when she emailed about your visit.’
Simone was still not convinced by this. None of the relatives her parents had caught up with was called Mundy, she was sure. She’d have remembered it. She was good at names. ‘Oh. Um, sorry about your mother.’
‘Thanks. It’s been a few months now so I’m used to it.’
His casual tone of voice made her even more suspicious. She was sure she’d never get used to losing her parents.
‘I wondered if you’d be at home tomorrow afternoon? I’d love to pop in and say hello. I only live half an hour’s drive away.’
‘That’d be, um, nice. Don’t you have to work?’
‘No. I’m self-employed.’
‘Oh, sorry if I sound dopey. I’ve still got a bit of brain fog from the jet lag. Yes, do please drop in. And, um, bring your wife or significant other.’
‘I no longer have a wife. We divorced a few years ago. I’m quite harmless, though, I promise. About two o’clock suit you?’
‘The morning would be better, if you don’t mind. How about eleven o’clock? I’ll make us a bit of lunch.’
‘Or we could go out somewhere. My treat.’
‘It’s no trouble. I have something arranged for later in the afternoon, though.’ She wasn’t making arrangements to spend the evening with a strange male. Maybe she was being too cautious, but there you were. Better safe than sorry.
‘All right. You’ll need to give me your address. I only have your email and phone number.’
‘Sorry.’ She gave it to him and put the phone down, wondering why she hadn’t warmed to him. He’d been pleasant enough but hadn’t sounded at all upset by his mother’s death. Though she could have been mistaken about that. Some people could keep a stiff upper lip whatever happened to them.
Well, she’d find out about her alleged second cousin tomorrow. She prayed this Lance Mundy person would be a good conversationalist. Talking to strangers one to one could be rather awkward if you didn’t take to the person. Thank goodness she’d liked her neighbour instantly. She’d had no difficulty chatting to Russ. On the contrary.
She frowned. She still had the feeling that she’d seen him somewhere before but hadn’t been able to place him.
When she went out to her car, another vehicle braked suddenly in front of her house. A woman got out and hurried across to her.
‘You must be the Dittons’ Aussie house swapper.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Linda told everyone in the street about you. I’m Cindy and as you can no doubt tell by my accent, I’m an American.’ She pointed along the street. ‘That’s my house with the blue curtains. If you’re not doing anything tonight, how about coming round for a drink after tea? Come around seven and I’ll introduce you to some of the neighbours. We’re a friendly lot here, though we don’t live in each other’s pockets.’
‘That’d be lovely.’
‘Is there anyone else staying with you? If so, bring them too.’
‘I’m here on my own.’
‘Then just amble over around seven.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Eek! Sorry, have to dash.’
The prospect of meeting people and having something to do in the evening brightened the day considerably for Simone.
And she wouldn’t feel unsafe walking about fifty yards along a street to get home, even if she stayed until it was late.
When the time came to go and join the group, however, she began to feel a bit nervous and waited until she saw another couple go into the house.
To her relief the small group of people at Cindy’s were all very pleasant and she enjoyed chatting to them. They stayed only for an hour or so, then one couple walked back along the street with her.
She wished there were places like this for older people in Australia. She loved Cindy’s house even more than the Dittons’ and Russ’s places. None of the houses she’d seen here so far were tiny boxes like most Aussie retirement homes. They were very suitable for older people who didn’t want the trouble of large gardens but still liked room to swing a cat.
She saw that Russ had returned but there was no sign of him at the window, so she watched television for a while then went to bed.
Maybe things wouldn’t be as lonely here as she’d feared.
Chapter Eight
Russ watched Cindy stop to chat to his new neighbour. He’d been invited for drinks to Cindy’s too but wasn’t going because his leg was throbbing. The fall hadn’t been good for it. He hoped it would have calmed down again by the next day.
To his relief, it was fine in the morning. Must be the combination of exercises and rubbing with anti-inflammatory gel and of course his leg was getting better all the time, so setbacks would be briefer. He’d have to go more carefully in future, though, and get a handrail put up on those outside steps.
He might do some sketching. That was physically easy. He wasn’t conceited enough to offer his sketches for sale, because he wasn’t good enough. He was far better at filming than drawing, but he enjoyed it nonetheless and sometimes produced rough sketches to help him visualise how to film something.
He began working on a sketch he’d planned of a lively young crow pestering its mother for food. It was based on a photo he’d snapped a couple of days ago during a stroll down to the lake. It was good that there were wooden benches at intervals there. He liked to sit and watch the world go by – the animal as well as the human world.
When the phone rang, he briefly contemplated leaving it unanswered, then shook his head and picked it up. He’d promised himself to interact more with people once he got here. ‘Hi. Russ here.’
A wobbly voice with a slight French accent said, ‘Russ, it’s me, Justine.’
His heart sank. ‘Oh, hi sis.’
The only answer was a sob.
Here we go again, he thought. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Everything. Can I come and stay with you? Just for a little while, till I get my bearings in the UK and work out what I’m going to do?’
He didn’t want another of his half-sister’s dramas dumped on him, but how could he turn her down when she was clearly deeply upset about whatever it was? ‘Yes, of course you can.’
She started sobbing in earnest. ‘Thank you. I didn’t know what I’d have done if you’d said no.’
Camped on his doorstep until he let her in, probably, he thought. She was good at dramatic gestures to get her own way. ‘When do you want to come?’
‘Today. I’m in Swindon already. I caught a bus here from the airport at Heathrow. Can you come and pick me up?’
‘Can’t you get a taxi?’
‘No. I haven’t got any more money.’
He closed his eyes, upset at the mere prospect of her coming to stay. He didn’t want to live with her ever again, because she was forever making scenes, but the mother they’d shared was dead and Vera was his aunt on his father’s side so no relation to Justine. He didn’t know much about her father’s family because his mother’s second husband hadn’t stayed around for long after his child wa
s born.
‘I’d better pick you up, then. Whereabouts exactly are you?’
‘In a café near the bus station.’
‘What’s its name?’
‘Oh. I didn’t notice. Just a minute.’ There was a fuzz of voices, then she came back on the phone. Jacko’s Kaf spelt K-A-F.’
‘Right. It’ll take me about half an hour to reach you, depending on traffic. Stay there.’
‘All right. But please hurry.’
There was always some need to hurry where Justine was concerned. Was she ever going to get her life in order? He’d thought she was happy and safe with the new guy, who’d seemed to really care for her, or at least had been physically infatuated by her. It had seemed more promising than usual because two years in one relationship was a record for her.
What could have gone wrong?
Then it occurred to him that he didn’t have a bed for her and he growled in annoyance. They’d have to stop and buy one on the way home. Might as well buy two while he was at it. And bedding. He would probably have other guests from time to time.
Most of all, he was doing this because just before her death, his mother had begged him to keep an eye on her youngest child if anything happened to her. He’d hoped it’d never happen because looking after Justine was no picnic. Oh well, he’d cope.
Annoyed about this interruption just as he was enjoying sorting out his studio, he locked the house and went out to his car, rubbing his aching leg.
Life was like that, hit you on the head with a problem just as you were relaxing. And make no mistake about it, Justine usually brought trouble with her.
Thank goodness she’d got off the drugs. There had been a difficult year or two when she went off to university and she’d never finished the art course.
Well, she wasn’t getting into his art materials or using his studio. She was a messy worker who wasted a lot of paint and paper.
He had trouble finding a parking spot near the station, so it was more like three-quarters of an hour before he got to the café.
He saw Justine sitting at a table near the window, dabbing her eyes and staring anxiously out. She didn’t smile or stand up when she saw him coming towards the café.
He went inside and over to her table. ‘I’ve only got short-term parking so can we leave straight away?’
She grabbed his arm and said in a low voice, ‘I’ve not got enough money to pay my bill.’
‘OK. I’ll do it.’
When she stood up, he was surprised to see that she was pregnant. He wasn’t sure how far gone she was and she quickly pulled her coat across her belly, as if to hide it.
After he’d paid, he gestured towards the door. ‘Come on. We can’t discuss whatever’s wrong here.’
He was about to lead the way out when she tugged on his sleeve.
‘My luggage.’
There was a large suitcase, rather battered, as was the backpack she was carrying herself. ‘How come you’re using such shabby luggage?’
‘I’ll explain later.’
He picked up the suitcase and she followed him.
‘Please don’t be angry with me, Russ,’ she begged once they were outside.
‘I don’t know what’s happened, so how can I be angry or otherwise? Let’s wait till we get home to discuss whatever’s gone wrong, shall we?’
When he got her and her luggage into the car, he said, ‘I’ve only just moved into my new house, so haven’t got much furniture yet. We’ll have to stop on the way there to buy you a bed, unless you’ve a longing to sleep on the floor?’
‘No, of course not. I thought you were renting a furnished flat?’
‘That had only one bedroom, so you’d have been out of luck at moving in with me there. Fortunately for you, I moved into a new house recently. I wasn’t expecting guests so soon, though.’
‘Well, I wasn’t expecting to have to dump myself on you.’
‘What’s happened to lover-boy?’
Tears filled her eyes again and he didn’t want her having one of her hysterical fits, so said hastily, ‘No, tell me about it when we get home. You can help me choose some beds first.’
After a couple of minutes of ostentatious mopping of eyes, she asked, ‘Do you have any spare bedding?’
‘No. I’ve got nothing extra, hardly any crockery, either. We’ll eat up at the hotel tonight and go shopping for food tomorrow.’
‘All right.’ She looked at him. ‘Thanks, Russ.’
Which was more than he’d expected. On the few other occasions she’d descended on him, she’d acted as if she was entitled to his hospitality. This beaten-looking, pale imitation of his half-sister worried him.
Or was it another act?
Her indifference to what they bought worried him even more. Normally she enjoyed shopping and drove him mad fiddling around to match or tone colours together perfectly. Now, he quickly chose beds to suit his own taste by bouncing on them to make sure the mattresses were firm, and paid extra to have them delivered later that afternoon. They settled for cream-coloured sheets and pillowcases and flowery duvet covers. That would be enough for the time being.
She didn’t say anything as he drove the rest of the way home, but at least she’d stopped crying.
When they were inside the house, he said, ‘All right. Sit down and tell me what’s wrong’
She started talking as she made her way across to an armchair. ‘It’s Pierre. He doesn’t love me any more.’
‘Oh? What makes you think that?’
‘He doesn’t want to get married.’ She laid one hand on her stomach and sat down carefully. ‘He wants to make his own child a bastard.’
As he’d thought, a lovers’ quarrel, probably a storm in a teacup.
‘Did he throw you out?’
‘No. I waited till he’d left on one of his stupid business trips and then I came back to England. Only I didn’t realise he hadn’t paid off my last credit card bill so I didn’t have access to enough money to travel comfortably. I’d forgotten how bad it is to travel cattle class and I’m exhausted.’
‘Have you spent all this quarter’s allowance from your trust fund already?’ By anyone else’s standards she was well off.
‘Yes. I needed a few things. And my next payment from them isn’t due for another month, so I’m flat broke.’
‘How are you going to manage till then without any money? Sounds as if it was a stupid time to leave Pierre. He’d at least have kept you in the style to which you’re accustomed.’
She gave him one of her wounded looks.
‘I’m not responsible for you, Justine, so you’re not staying long. I have my own problems, which you don’t seem to have noticed, and I’m not, never have been and never will be rich. In fact, I’m going to need all my own money to live on. I’m still having trouble with my leg because of the accident.’
It might be a bit of an exaggeration about his finances, but it’d never do for her to think he was going to be a soft touch.
‘Sorry. I should have asked how you were. I thought you’d have recovered fully by now.’
‘Why break the habit of a lifetime?’
She looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you never think of other people. Why should that have changed?’
Silence, then, ‘That’s what Pierre said when he told me about your accident in Australia.’
‘Perhaps you need counselling about that aspect of your life?’
She sighed. ‘He said that too. As if I’d go to a shrink! Especially one he chose. He’s a controller, that man. I can’t do anything without his permission. You’ve no idea.’
He wasn’t going to discuss that. He rather liked Pierre.
A pause, then, ‘Can I stay here till I’m solvent again, Russ?’
‘Not for a whole month, no. You can stay for a day or two, though, just while you sort things out with Pierre.’
‘But—’
He held up one hand in a stop sign. ‘Or unt
il you’ve found some other idiot to sponge off. You trained as a commercial artist even if you didn’t finish the course and you’re quite good. Why don’t you try getting a few casual jobs and earning your own money?’
She sniffed scornfully. ‘Doing boring, repetitive adverts! As if.’
‘That’s how most people earn a living – doing boring stuff. Money is money, however you earn it. Now, you look like you need a shower and a change of clothes. You can’t have a lie-down before the bed arrives, though. I’m going to be working in my studio but when you come down, give me a shout and I’ll get you something to eat.’
He took her up to what would be her bedroom, showed her the bathroom she’d be using and found her a towel. Then he left her to it, going into his studio and shutting the door. He groaned as he leant against it. Oh, hell! Looking after Justine was the last thing he needed.
Would Pierre come after her? He might. But he’d not know where Russ had moved to. Very few people did yet.
On that thought, he got out his phone, found Pierre’s number and texted him the new address and the fact that Justine had just turned up. Thank goodness, Pierre had contacted him after the accident to ask how he was doing. Not Justine, Pierre!
She didn’t come down to find him, so he didn’t go hunting for trouble.
When the beds arrived, he and the delivery men found her curled up on the floor in the spare bedroom, fast asleep. Her belly looked bigger than Russ had expected. How far along was she?
‘Pregnant women!’ one of the men said in an indulgent tone. ‘My wife was just the same. Kept falling asleep all over the place.’
Russ didn’t correct him about Justine being his wife. He watched her wake up, clap one hand to her mouth and hurry into the bathroom.
When the sounds of her throwing up came echoing out, the man grinned. ‘My wife was like that too. Cheer up, Mr Carden. It only lasts nine months.’
Russ shuddered at the mere thought of even one week with her. He wasn’t having his peace and quiet spoilt by his immature half-sister.
He prayed that Pierre would contact him quickly.
Russ watched the big van drive away then wandered into his studio, unable to settle. He stood staring out of the side window at the rear garden of the next house and saw Simone come out and shake a duster, holding her face up to the sun and smiling. What a difference there was between the two women.