by Fanny Blake
‘I’m sure there’s something else we could do, if you don’t like the idea.’ Remembering the hell of long walks with her parents, she turned to Charlie, hoping to encourage a flicker of interest. ‘Would you like another drink?’
‘But I thought that’s what you…’ Tony drummed his fingers once on the table’s edge.
‘It’s very hot,’ said Charlie at last. At last she was trying although her eyes were only on Isla, never Tony. ‘How long’s long?’
‘Forecast says it’s going to be cooler tomorrow,’ said Tony. ‘So we could ask the hotel for a picnic. We can take it slow.’
‘Gran?’ Charlie ignored him, just glanced towards the bar. But the twins didn’t reappear.
‘Let’s decide in the morning.’ How was she going to broker peace between these two?
After supper, they went straight to their rooms. Tony went ahead of Isla while she said goodnight to Charlie. ‘Are you okay? You looked so upset.’
Charlie shook her head. ‘All my friends are at a party tonight. And they’ve all been to a film I wanted to see. And a couple of them have joked about me being on holiday with my grandmother. How lame it is.’
‘Really?’ Isla was incensed. ‘What the hell do they know? I happen to be the best company any girl could wish for. Tell them that!’
That earned her a watery grin.
But there was nothing worse than missing out, especially when you didn’t want to be where you were.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll try and find something that we all want to do tomorrow.’
‘Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want me tagging along.’
‘Charlie! I told you before: he does. You’ve just got to make more of an effort.’
‘What about him? Do you really like him, Gran?’
They stared at each other for a moment, Isla controlling her temper. Charlie took her key from her dress pocket and turned it in her hands. ‘Just asking.’
‘I don’t know why you don’t stay off social media if it gets you so upset.’ Isla bent forward to kiss her on the cheek, although Charlie turned away so she missed.
As quickly, she relented and kissed her back. ‘Night, Gran. It’ll be okay.’
And then she had gone.
* * *
‘Just us, at last.’ Tony began to brush his teeth.
Isla couldn’t help reflecting there was something inherently unsexy about a middle-aged man getting ready for bed. What with his teeth, his feet and the normal washing and hair titivating, he took longer than Isla. Not that he was particularly vain, but he seemed to have a lot to deal with.
She stood behind him, looking at his reflection over his shoulder, waiting for the familiar flip of her insides, but it didn’t come. With a touch on his shoulder, she turned him round to face her. There it was. ‘I know she’s difficult but it would be great if you could try a bit harder. For me.’ Though she shouldn’t have to say so.
His brow furrowed. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I was. Just not used to teenage girls, I guess.’ The words were mangled round his toothbrush. ‘And what’s with all the make-up and the skirts? She looks like a Russian prostitute.’ He spat into the basin and rinsed his mouth.
She slapped his arm. ‘No, she does not. She looks like a confused fourteen-year-old. She wants to be treated like an adult although she’s still a child.’ Isla opened the minibar and got out a miniature of brandy. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t met one before.’
‘Not one like her.’ He threw off his clothes onto the chair under the open window, put on a T-shirt over his boxers and climbed into bed with the TV remote. ‘Shall we find a film?’ He began to flick through channels. ‘But yes, okay, point taken. I’ll do my best.’
‘Thank you. I know it’s not what we planned but we can still enjoy ourselves. You haven’t been much better so far, and you haven’t even got youth on your side as an excuse.’ She sipped her brandy and shut her eyes as she felt its burn in her throat. When she next looked, Tony was shaking with laughter.
‘What’s so bloody funny?’
‘You. You are. Oh, come here.’ He threw back the sheet. ‘Don’t let’s spoil things, and I will try. Promise.’
Isla began to undress, feeling the warm night air on her skin. Through the open window, she heard an owl. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘What?’
‘Hearing an owl hoot at night is meant to be an omen of bad luck.’
‘Oh God! I’ve fetched up with a witch woman.’ He mimed a scream then laughed.
‘Shut up, you idiot.’ Isla got into her side of the bed and rolled into his outstretched arm. With her head on his chest, she could hear the beating of his heart. ‘It’s just a superstition. Wouldn’t you have liked a grandchild?’ The side of his face she could see was non-committal. ‘You must have some family somewhere.’
He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. ‘No. I know what you must be thinking but I’ve told you – my parents are long dead and I don’t have siblings or cousins. There was only me.’
‘But you were married.’
‘Twice, but never had children of my own.’ There wasn’t a trace of self-pity in his voice. He was simply presenting the facts. ‘Most of my friends had children but we drifted apart because we had less and less in common. Eileen and I tried but it wasn’t meant to be. So teenagers are entirely alien creatures to me.’ He smiled before kissing her forehead.
‘What happened to her?’ Both of them brought so much history to this new relationship and she was desperate to burrow into his and find out as much as she could about him. She wanted to know him better than anyone. ‘The woman who wanted to have children with you.’
‘Eileen? We went our separate ways years ago.’ He shut that subject down. ‘Then I married Angie when I was in my forties but it was too late for children then. We moved to France for a new start seven or eight years ago. We bought an existing gîte but then she preferred our French builder to me, it turned out. When they moved to the Gironde together, I carried on the gîte alone but, as you know, it all got too much and I was worried about Brexit, so I sold up and now I’m back here to start yet again.’
He continued to present the facts without a trace of emotion. Isla wondered how much hurt he was hiding and squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. You need a woman’s touch in that sort of business.’
‘Oh, please! Tell me you’re not that unreconstructed. But I love you all the same.’ She froze.
The L-word.
Her tongue had been loosened by the brandy.
‘You’re not so bad yourself.’ To her relief, he skated over it.
But the word had come from somewhere. Did she love him? Was that really what she felt for this dear man whom she had only known for a few months? This was not the youthful passion she had felt with Ian, nor the tentative abandonment she had experienced with Keith. This was something else altogether that made her feel safe, cared for. But was it love?
Tony turned off his bedside light and rolled over to face her, his hands moving over her body, touching, caressing, his lips soft against hers.
Instead of questioning her feelings any further – what was the point? – she gave herself up to the moment.
When they woke in the morning, the heatwave was over. Torrential rain fell from an unforgiving sky the colour of a donkey’s belly. Isla looked out of the window at the plants on the terrace being battered under the onslaught, rain bouncing off the paving stones, while beyond the river cattle huddled together under a spreading tree, waiting for respite.
A walk was out of the question.
Charlie didn’t come down for breakfast and Isla didn’t wake her. Jock would do that when he was hungry or desperate to go out. He wouldn’t let her ignore him. Instead she and Tony indulged in a delicious breakfast – muesli and poached haddock for her while Tony went for the full English. He had hesitated.
‘Oh go on, have it,’ Isla encouraged him. ‘It’s on me, remember.’
> ‘Well, in that case… and we’re away. Who cares about carbs today,’ he said, patting his stomach.
Eventually when they were halfway through a game of backgammon, Charlie appeared. Isla noticed Tony register the ripped jeans that were barely held together by fabric. She waited for him to comment but instead he said, ‘Morning, Charlie! Dreadful weather, so the walk’s off. Can we get you something to eat? The sausages are especially good.’ He was trying.
Charlie pulled at the fat single plait that fell over her right shoulder. ‘I don’t eat meat. I told you.’
‘Ah, of course.’ Undeterred, Tony went on to recommend the rest of the menu while Charlie played with Jock’s ears, not responding.
‘I think they may have stopped serving,’ Isla interjected gently. ‘And Jock should go out. I’ll give him a quick walk down the lane.’
‘I’ll go with you.’ Tony and Charlie spoke at exactly the same time.
‘No. You stay here. I won’t be long.’ Perhaps throwing them together might work.
‘I’m coming.’ Tony pushed back the chair, catching the backgammon board with his jacket so all the pieces jumped onto the floor. ‘Damn!’
‘Toast’s fine,’ said Charlie.
Isla grabbed her rain poncho from behind her, took the lead from her granddaughter’s hand and made a swift exit, grabbing an umbrella from the stand at the front door. She hadn’t got far before she heard steps behind her. She turned to find Tony running towards her, hunched under his own umbrella.
‘You needn’t have taken off quite so fast.’ He hopped over a puddle, taking care not to splash his brown suede shoes.
‘For Jock’s sake,’ she said. ‘He was desperate.’
‘Doesn’t look like it’s going to clear up any time soon.’ He hesitated, clearly torn between keeping her company and ruining his shoes. The shoes won.
‘I’ll see you in a minute.’ Rain deluged onto her umbrella. Behind the hotel wall a marquee was ready for a wedding – poor souls, on a day like this. She stepped over the low wall onto a path that ran beside the road, careful not to trip over the exposed tree roots until they reached what looked like the remains of an old bridge. Isla looked across the river then turned around.
‘That’s enough, old boy. The weather’s too grim to go on. Maybe the other two will be talking to each other by now.’
When she got back, Charlie was at the table surrounded by the remains of her breakfast. ‘They took pity on me.’ She finished the last mouthful of toast.
Tony was nowhere to be seen.
‘Are we staying here for the day?’ She sounded so hopeful that Isla was tempted to leave her in her room with her TV and phone. At the same time, she didn’t want her to feel any more unloved or neglected than she already did.
‘Why don’t we go to Clitheroe. And have lunch? And shop?’ She spoke just as Tony joined them, having changed his shoes, she noticed. His and Charlie’s faces told her exactly what they thought of that idea.
‘Why can’t we just relax here?’ he asked. ‘We don’t have to go rushing around in search of entertainment. There’s everything we could possibly need.’
At last Charlie looked as if she approved of something he had said. ‘Great. I’ll be in my room, if that’s okay, Gran. There’s something I’ve been dying to do.’ She got up to leave them. ‘Come on, Jock.’
The dog looked up at his name and, with a wag of the tail, followed her out of the room.
‘Cupboard love,’ said Isla, remembering the open biscuit packet in Charlie’s room.
‘But it’s love,’ he said. ‘Over here.’ He led her to an empty sofa. ‘I’m so glad I’ve found you,’ he said, moving the cushions to make room for her. They picked up the papers, discarding a couple of fishing magazines, and started leafing through them, quite at ease with each other. There was no need to fill the silence with conversation. Eventually Tony spoke. ‘Actually,’ he began. ‘There is something I’d like to talk to you about.’
‘Sounds ominous.’ She hoped she hadn’t gone too far the night before.
He laughed. ‘No, no. I’ve just had an email. Remember I was having that meeting the other evening when you called? Well, it worked. I’ve been asked to go into business with an ex-colleague. We worked together at GSK and I got in touch with him when I got back from France, on the off-chance.’
‘I knew you’d find something soon.’ She felt excited, vindicated. ‘What is it? A small hotel, something like the gîte? Where?’ She stopped. If he moved to the other end of the country, what would that mean for their relationship?
He put up both hands to protect himself against the flood of questions. ‘God, no. I’m done with the hospitality business. This is much more exciting, and different. And worthwhile. He’s developing an eco-alternative to supermarket packaging.’
She looked at him in disbelief. ‘Do you know anything about that?’
He smiled. ‘Not much but, believe it or not, he wants me for my business brain. We’ll be taking over a small sustainable packaging company. Don has done this before very successfully. Listen.’ He went on to explain the work they did, using seaweed and algae among other things to produce degradable food packaging. ‘This is transformational. I can show you their existing website.’
‘But why you?’ She couldn’t imagine what Don thought Tony would bring to the business.
‘Are you doubting me?’ His disappointment was clear.
‘Of course not. It’s just that I didn’t know you had that sort of background.’ Hadn’t he led her to believe that that he had lived a much more hand-to-mouth existence?
‘Surely I told you that when Angie and I went to France I gave up a good job – if by good you mean well-paid – in the food packaging industry?’
‘No, you didn’t.’ She’d remember that.
‘Angie persuaded me that we’d have a much better lifestyle if we gave up everything and moved to France. I guess she did.’
‘But you’re back on your feet now.’ Isla couldn’t help thinking how much this new job might impress Charlie.
‘Yes, I am.’ He gave a wide smile. ‘I simply can’t believe this has happened.’
‘This is great news. I’m so pleased.’ She really was. Although he never said, she could sense how despondent he’d been as he tried to find work. This would make all the difference.
‘There’s just one catch…’ He took her hand and counted off her fingertips one by one, thoughtful.
‘What is it?’ Surely nothing would spoil things for him now, just as he was finding his feet again.
‘He wants me to invest in the company – obviously, if I’m to be a proactive part in it and so that I get my full due. Obviously the return should be substantial, otherwise I wouldn’t be thinking of it. My problem is that my savings are tied up in an investment account so I’ve got to get a loan and/or drum up some other investors because he needs the money now so that he can speed things forward. So that’s what I’ll be doing next week while you’re up north: raising funds.’
Neither of them spoke as she digested all this. She had never seen him so animated. This venture obviously meant everything to him and was restoring his self-worth after months of job-hunting. ‘But I don’t understand why he needs your investment so urgently.’
‘It’s a bit of luck, in fact. He had a business partner who’s had to step aside because he’s been diagnosed with oesophageal cancer. Nasty.’ He pulled a face. ‘So Don’s been looking for someone to step in for a couple of months and I’ve come along just in time. If the deal’s going to happen, he needs to sign everything off fast, because these people are getting itchy feet and will look for someone else if he doesn’t.’
‘It does sound a fantastic venture. Worthwhile.’ She didn’t have enough of a business head to understand the ins and outs of an investment partnership but presumably, if you liked the sound of something it made sense to snap it up. That was why she and Heather made such a good team at the museum. Heather complimented her and
took care of the book-keeping while she curated the collections and dreamed up the children’s events.
‘It really is, and I’m convinced we can develop what’s already there and really make a go of it.’
How could he switch from gîte-owner to planet-saver so quickly? The swift change of direction brought home to her how little she knew him.
‘But how will you raise the money?’
He rubbed his hands together. ‘I’ve got a couple of ideas, and I’m sure that anyone who looks at the figures will want a piece of the action too – frankly, they’d be a fool not to – so I’m not too anxious.’
Isla thought of her own savings that sat waiting for her eventual retirement, put aside to pay off her mortgage and for the travelling she wanted to do. Not too far off now. If May had left her a share of her estate she would have much more financial security for her future – just as Tony had imagined she had. So swelling the pot by some astute investment would be to her advantage. But he was talking about approaching his business associates, not people like her.
‘How much are you looking for?’
‘Just twenty grand in the first instance. That could be a personal loan to me but if anyone wants to invest in the business, and I think they will… Don will be over the moon. He knows I can do this. Look, let me show you the website at least.’
He was back with his laptop almost before she had time to register him leaving the room. As he fired it up, went to the website and started to explain their plans, his enthusiasm was contagious. As he talked, she could feel the possibilities thrumming through her veins too. ‘This is amazing.’
His face was alight when he looked at her. ‘You really think so?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Your believing in it too means everything.’
‘Why wouldn’t I? In fact perhaps I could loan you the money or make an investment?’
‘You’d do that? But that’s not what I meant at all.’ He put the laptop on the table and she could see his eyes were bright. ‘I owe you so much already. I couldn’t ask you…’