by Jo Verity
Tom started straight in with, ‘You must have forgotten to put the net on.’ The effect was predictable and Maddy accused him of never believing her or taking her seriously. She flounced out but Anna noted that she slammed the door quietly, as the mother of a sleeping baby always does. Tom followed and she heard him apologising for his thoughtlessness. Progress indeed.
The house, suddenly filled with four generations, had become a lot smaller. Every room was cluttered with mounds of baby clothes or caches of her father’s belongings. There were several pairs of his spectacles, in labelled cases, on the arm of the sofa and a trail of hankies and sweet wrappers wherever he went.
Tom could use his work as an excuse to escape whenever he needed solitude, but her only haven was her studio. This was fine if she wanted to work but it wasn’t the most comfortable place to read or sit daydreaming. Wherever else she went in the house, she got roped in for baby minding or keeping an old man company. It was temporary of course. They would be going back to Bath for the funeral, but she could already see that her father was enjoying the company. She’d spotted him filling in the application for a Senior Coach Card so it looked like he would be visiting them more often from now on.
‘I was starting to get the hang of being Anna Wren,’ she said to Jenny, who had just finished briefing Eric on his tasks for the coming week. ‘I think I must have been a bit depressed when the girls left. I couldn’t work out what I was for. My function. Coming here was supposed to help me work that out. Now I’ve slipped back to being Frank Hill’s daughter and Madeleine’s mother.’
‘And Seren’s grandmother. Don’t forget that one.’
They moved into the shade of the overhanging hazel trees. The heat shimmered off a field of ripening wheat and Anna had to squint against the glare.
‘Will Maddy stay, d’you think?’ Jenny asked.
‘For a while. She’s got no chance of finding a job. Childminders are ridiculously expensive and, anyway, I don’t think she’d trust anyone to look after the baby.’
‘Well, you make sure you don’t get taken advantage of. I certainly don’t intend to provide unpaid childcare for any grandchildren I might have.’
It was easy for Jenny to say this but would she be able to refuse Sophie, or her two sons, when they turned up with a baby and were desperate for support? Yes, of course she would. The Redwoods had plenty of money and Jenny would simply pay someone else to do it.
‘Watch out,’ said Anna, pulling Jenny’s arm. They stood aside as Bill’s car came up the lane and swept around the corner. He bipped the horn and waved.
‘Did you see Sally while you were away?’ Jenny asked. ‘It’s all gone a bit quiet on that front, hasn’t it? Any gossip from Luke?’
‘No. Nothing at all. I’m really beginning to believe she’s gone for good.’
‘Well they won’t stand a chance of getting back together, if he carries on the way he’s going.’ She moved closer and lowered her voice. ‘I was in the summerhouse the other afternoon, reading, and he wandered in. He gave me a load of guff about being lonely and needing a woman to talk to. He knew perfectly well that Peter was away. We had a couple of glasses of wine and then he had the nerve to tell me that he’d always fancied me.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I thought he was joking at first, until he tried to grope me.’
‘Did you tell Peter about it?’
‘Of course. He roared with laughter. Apparently he likes the idea of my being a sex object. Says it turns him on. Don’t look so horrified, Anna. I thought he’d probably tried it on with you, too.’
Would Tom have laughed? Wouldn’t he have beaten Bill senseless if he’d known about the kiss? She avoided Jenny’s implied question. ‘Maddy mentioned that she’d seen him with Celia.’
‘Really? She hasn’t said anything to me and we’ve spent quite a lot of time together lately. Frankly, I don’t think she’s very happy.’
‘She was very kind to Madeleine, while we were away.’
‘Mmmm. Maybe we three should go out for lunch soon. Have a good natter. It’s hopeless here, with all the interruptions.’
‘When I get back from the funeral, perhaps. I can’t abandon Dad at the moment.’
‘Of course. Shall we pencil in next Friday? It’s sure to be all right with Celia. They never go out. We could pop up to Shrewsbury and do some shopping.’
Anna had imagined that this sort of thing would be happening all the time. Little jaunts with her friends. Good company on tap. But she could count, on the fingers of one hand, the times that they’d been out together. She did miss Sally. Her intelligence and wit more than compensated for her irritating traits. The foursome had divided into pairs and Jenny and Celia had become very palsy. Then Sally’s departure and Madeleine’s return had altered the balance of everything.
Tom invited his father-in-law to help rationalise the log supply. He was aiming to stock-pile enough wood for the winter and had built a log store against the outhouse wall. He constantly encouraged everyone to drag back a fallen branch whenever they went for a walk up to the wood, but he was the only one who ever bothered to do it.
‘Say no if you’re too tired, Dad. We want you to do whatever you feel like doing,’ said Anna.
‘Sounds good to me. I need some fresh air. Tom can do the manhandling and I’ll tell him where he’s going wrong.’
When he was younger her father had seemed a well-built man, taller than Tom but not as solid. Watching him walking across the yard, she could see that he had shrunk. His neck looked too thin to support his head and he’d had to roll up the legs of Tom’s old overalls several times, to keep them from dragging on the floor. She ran after him with a tattered straw hat and, when he turned for her to put it on his head, she kissed his cheek. ‘What’s that in aid of?’
‘To stop you getting sunstroke.’ She chose to misunderstand his question.
Back in the kitchen, Maddy was organising the baby in the sling on her chest, fiddling with the straps. ‘Judith’s home and I thought we might go for a stroll. We could go up to the wood, see if it’s cooler up there.’
‘D’you want to leave Seren with me and have an hour off?’
‘Thanks, Mum, but I’m fine. We’ll be back in an hour or so.’
When they’d gone, she phoned Steven at work. He assured her that he had checked with Mr Tunley, only an hour before, and everything was proceeding smoothly. He didn’t ask about their father and the call finished abruptly when his secretary called him away to do something that couldn’t wait another minute.
There was no question of cooking on such a stifling day and, with nothing to do in the kitchen and everyone engaged elsewhere, she had an hour or two to herself. The August sky was almost colourless and there was no breeze to give relief. The air smelled of hot car oil and she remembered one similarly scorching summer’s day when Tom and Bill had attempted to fry an egg on a manhole cover. The girls were young and they were on holiday, with the Davis family, in west Wales. The egg hadn’t cooked and had made a terrible mess and they had laughed about it for days. It had been a wonderful holiday, even if Maddy had spent the whole week terrorising Emily with a bucket of crabs.
Gardening was out of the question and she made for the shade of her studio. The thick walls of the old building regulated the temperature. In the winter it was bearable, even when the north-east wind drove the snow up the valley. And in the summer it was a cool retreat.
It was less than a week since she’d started to model the animals for Noah’s Ark but Dorothy’s death, and the trip to Bath, had pushed the new project out of her head. This was how she would spend her afternoon, making some more creatures to send in, two by two. But neither her hippos nor her horses would shape up and, after several attempts, she lost patience and abandoned them.
The back door to Number One was open and she could hear Bill whistling in the kitchen. She slammed the studio door and crossed the yard, slapping her flat sandals on the smooth paviers. He looke
d up and waved to her from the window.
‘Hi, Bill,’ she shouted, wandering into the kitchen. He stood at the sink, balancing a pile of dirty crockery. His tight khaki shorts and yellow polo-shirt made him look like an overgrown Boy Scout.
‘Sorry about the get up. If we have a continuous spell of anything I tend to get caught out. This is my last hot weather outfit. If the temperature doesn’t drop tomorrow, I’m done for.’ He grinned.
‘I think you look rather … stylish.’
‘You’re very kind. And you look as lovely as ever. Can’t think why Tom lets you out of his sight. I wouldn’t. Fancy a cold drink? Or something stronger?’
‘I don’t want to stop you doing that. Come to think of it, why are you doing that?’
‘The dishwasher’s broken. Well, not broken exactly. Stuck shut.’
‘Is it…?’
‘Yes, full to bursting. That’s why I’ve been using this stuff.’
Anna could see that ‘this stuff’ was Sally’s exquisite Villeroy and Bosch dinner service, the one she’d bought to commemorate their silver anniversary and which took pride of place in the china cabinet. ‘D’you think that’s a good idea? Isn’t it a bit fragile for every day?’
‘No choice. It’s this or the old plastic picnic set and I’m buggered if I’m going to eat off plastic plates. Can’t see the point of having the stuff, if you can’t use it. The chap’s coming to have a look at the machine on Monday.’ He turned back to the bowl of soapy water and started dunking the plates.
‘I’ll have a white wine, if you’ve got a bottle open.’ She gave a belated reply to his offer of a drink.
‘Oops.’ One of the plates slipped from his wet hands, back into the bowl. Fishing it out, he inspected the rim. ‘Only a tiny chip. No real damage.’
25
They carried the bottle of wine up to the sitting room, where Bill assured her it would be cooler. ‘Catches a through draught up here.’
The Chardonnay was chilled and far too easy to drink. She was thirsty and, after a couple of glasses, it was the most natural thing in the world to slip off her shoes and lie back on the sofa. Bill began massaging her feet, holding each one firmly, gently kneading the flesh and flexing the ligaments. He worked his way up, pushing his thumbs hard enough into her calf muscles to cause a satisfying pain. He took it slowly and, without a word from her apart from the occasional involuntary ‘Mmmm’, sensed what gave her pleasure. Odd, considering how big and clumsy his hands were, but her eyes were closed and his touch was thoughtful and tender. She drifted.
He had already proved himself to be an accomplished kisser and he confirmed this, as he lowered himself carefully on top of her and opened his lips on hers. As she responded, she heard Tom, calling from the garden, but it didn’t sound an urgent summons and he only called her name twice.
Anna had everything under control. They were both fully clothed and, although she could feel that he was aroused, the stout cotton layers of his shorts and underpants separated them. Her skirt had been there, too, when they started but somehow it had ridden up to her waist. He pressed down harder and it became more difficult for her to breathe.
‘Thank you, thank you. I’m so happy.’ She opened her eyes. There was a soppy look on his face, as he drew his head back, leering at her. His fleshy cheeks wobbled and a thread of saliva hung from his lips. He didn’t look like Bill any more.
‘What d’you mean, thank you?’
‘I love you, Anna.’
She felt his hand groping for the zip on his shorts, pinching the tender skin on the inside of her thighs. ‘No. Stop. Stop it.’ She heaved herself up and pushed him away, her forehead bumping his slack mouth. He recoiled and slid sideways onto the floor. She pulled her skirt down, grabbed her sandals and ran down the stairs and out of the house.
When the family reconvened in the kitchen at the end of the afternoon, no one asked her how she had spent her time but, by the time she started preparing supper, she felt detached and dizzy. It might have been a touch of heat stroke, or more likely the effect of the white wine. She had a suspicion that they’d finished off a litre over the course of an hour.
Madeleine chatted to Frank, reminiscing about a trip to the seaside one long-ago August day. ‘It was hot, like today and, on the way back to the car, we lay in the shade of the bracken, eating jelly babies. Flora, me, you and Grandma. Where would that have been?’
‘Three Cliffs. Or Pennard. She loved those Gower beaches.’ And he loved to talk about Nancy.
Tom wandered around, singing to the baby cradled in the crook of his arm. Seren was awake but very calm, staring up into his face, her oily blue eyes unblinking. ‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…’ Just like he’d sung to their babies. ‘…You make me happy when skies are grey.’ Here they were, content and peaceful, like any other family on a perfect summer’s day.
The lettuce which Tom had picked less than an hour earlier needed washing and, as she pulled the individual leaves away, a fat caterpillar dropped into the water. It had been eating its way out from the centre of the lettuce and the inner leaves were slimy with its dark green excrement. Her stomach churned but she managed to get to the cloakroom before she was sick. Clammy and shaking, she steadied herself, waiting for the next wave of nausea. It came, a trace of wine lingering with the smell of vomit. And again, until she knew that it was over.
‘You OK, love?’ Tom, baby now over his shoulder, pushed the door open.
She nodded and tried a smile. ‘Must be the heat. I’ll stay here for a bit, just in case.’
Maddy came and took Seren.
Tom felt the back of her neck. He handed her a towel, to wipe away the sweat, and filled a glass with cold water. ‘Rinse your mouth with this.’
‘Thanks. I’m sorry.’
‘For what? Don’t be silly. Here.’ He lowered the lavatory seat and she sat down, overcome with a fit of shivering. ‘Give it a minute or two and then I think we should get you up to bed.’
‘What about supper?’
‘We’ll sort all that out. Come on.’
He helped her up the stairs. Her head felt tender and her stomach was cramping.
‘Would a shower make you feel nice?’ He eased her clothes off as if she were a small child, then sponged her down gently in barely-warm water. By the time he dried her, she was almost incapable of moving. He coaxed her across the landing and steered her towards the bed, flipping back the cotton sheet. It was wonderful to lie down and not to fight the swirling giddiness. He drew the curtains to dim the room and, kissing her lightly on her forehead, went out, shutting the door behind him.
‘Feeling better, Mum?’
‘I think I’ve been asleep. What’s the time?’
‘About eight, I think.’
‘Did you have something to eat? I don’t know what…’
‘Yes. Don’t worry. Grandpa Frank’s gone for a walk and Dad’s doing the washing up. I think Seren may be asleep.’
Raising her hand to her forehead, Anna touched the skin, aware of a slight lump where she had collided with Bill’s teeth. No one had mentioned it, so perhaps there was nothing much to see.
Maddy stood at the open window, peering down into the yard. ‘Bill and Celia look so tiny from here. They haven’t a clue anyone’s spying on them.’ She leaned forward. ‘I’ve always thought Bill was a bit of a dark horse.’
‘What?’
‘Well, haven’t you? He probably needs a secret life to escape from Sally. She can be a bit controlling sometimes.’
‘Nonsense. What are they doing?’
‘Talking. I can’t see their faces but it looks as if it’s serious. Hang on, Bill’s putting a bag in his car. Is he off somewhere? Yes, he’s getting in.’
She wished she could time-travel back twenty-four hours and re-start this horrid day. What in heaven’s name had come over her? Could it be the menopause? Mood swings and erratic behaviour were commonly quoted symptoms but, then again, so was a decrease in libido. Wa
s she trying to make up for lost time or something? Tom had been only her second sexual partner and maybe she was feeling a bit short-changed. However she looked at it, it was definitely Sally’s fault. If Sally had accepted comfortable middle age here, with her husband, none of this would have happened.
‘… and he’s been asking about us … Mum?’
‘What?’
‘I said Brendan’s been in touch with Judith. Remember she gave him a lift that time? He’s been asking about the baby and me. He’s talking about coming to see his daughter.’
Anna could think of nothing to say but Maddy wasn’t prepared for her to remain silent.
‘Say something, Mum. Don’t lie there looking pained.’
‘It’s just that … I thought it was over between you. You said he was a big mistake.’
‘You’d all love that, wouldn’t you? You want me to settle for Tal and for everything to be neat and tidy. Like Flora’s going to settle down with boring old Luke and you’ve settled for boring old Dad. I think you’re all jealous that I …’
‘How dare you.’
‘What?’
‘Will you stop behaving as if you’re different from the rest of us. You’re not. Grown-ups don’t always get what they want. Now you’ve got a child of your own, you’ve got to put her first. I’m sick and tired of having to listen to everyone’s problems, then being shouted at when I tell them what I think. You’ve obviously made up your mind what you’re going to do, so there’s little point in discussing it further. Could you go now, please? I feel dreadful.’ Anna rolled onto her side, pulling the sheet up over her face. It felt good to let her feelings out. Tom did it all the time. Let him play peacemaker.
She stayed under the cover, waiting for the door to slam but the room was quiet, apart from the summer noises brought in on the freshening breeze. Before she knew it, she was sliding away, down the echoing passageway towards sleep.