A Married Man Part 15

Jack grinned good-naturedly and got up to oblige. He disappeared into the barn, and as he did so, Jess suddenly appeared behind him in the doorway. Her face was drained of blood, as white as a sheet.

'Oh G.o.d!' she gasped, clutching the door frame.

'What is it?' I leaped up, knocking the bench over backwards. 'It's Henry,' she breathed. 'He's ill. I must go.'

'Oh Jess, my poor darling.' I hurried over to her. 'What has the doctor been? Do they know what it is?'

'Yes!' She nodded fearfully. 'They've made a diagnosis.' 'And? 'What is it?'

She turned tragic eyes on me. 'Chicken-pox!'

'Chicken-pox!' Teresa and I exchanged stifled smiles. 'Oh Jess, that's all right. Hardly serious. A bit of calamine lotion, a few quiet days at home. Ben and Max have both had it. Pietro too, hasn't he, Teresa?'

Teresa nodded, smiling. 'Quite normal'

'Yes, but he won't know what to do,' Jess hissed. 'Don't you see? It's Jamie! He'll be hopeless! Probably tuck him under his arm and take him to the pub, think the change of air will do him good. Lie him on the snooker table for a kip. That is the kind of man we're dealing with here. Oh gosh, Teresa,' she turned anguished eyes on her. 'I'm awfully sorry to drag you away, but I wonder, would you mind terribly if we . .

'No, no, ees fine' Teresa got quickly to her feet. 'I must get back to Carlo too, make heem some lunch. And get Pietro's homework done too. So, ees fine.'

As they hurried into the house to pack, Rozanna looked horrified.

'We're going?' Her eyes widened incredulously. 'Just as the sun is finally appearing over the yard arm? Just as we were about to settle back in the b.u.t.tercup meadow over there, armedwith our aperitifs? And all because a baby's got chicken-pox, a boy's got some homework, and a grown man can't find his way to the fridge to get himself some lunch? Tell me I'm dreaming.'

'Ah no, not dreaming, Rozanna,' sighed Jack portentously as he reappeared, armed with drinks. He set them down. 'It's the shackles of matrimony for you, I'm afraid' He offered her his arm and she got to her feet.

'Come. They'll be at least twenty minutes packing everything in tissue paper and making more stressy phone calls, and Teresa has got to haul Pietro out of the woods yet, so come. Let us go, you and I, while well, while the morning is spread against the sky. Still blue, you see, and the sun still s.h.i.+ning. Let us go, unenc.u.mbered as we are by spouses and offspring and a tedious sense of duty, away from the sounds of rattling chains, to sink a strong one, a really hefty one, down in the b.u.t.tercup field, in peace.'

'I'll drink to that,' she muttered, clutching her gla.s.s. She took his arm gratefully and tottered off beside him in her heels. Their voices drifted back to me.

'Pleasant evening, Rozanna?'

'Lovely, Jack, thank you. Lovely party, and actually, it got better as the night went on. An unexpected visitor dropped into my sumptuous suite to see me last night ..

'Ah. Nice to know the ancient art of corridor creeping still flourishes. Anyone I know?'

'Oh definitely. A delightful man, and so refres.h.i.+ngly different from the...' Her voice faded into the distance. I sat up straight, straining my ears. Who, I wondered, with a sudden qualm. Who on earth had she meant?

I watched them go. Glanced fleetingly inside, then back to the meadow, longing to hear more. I dithered, torn. After a moment, though, I got up with a sigh, and headed inside to help. I knew my place.

Chapter Twelve.

Days pa.s.sed, and Friday dawned bright, clear and full of delicious portent; Charlie was due to arrive at ten o'clock. My preparations, however, began at eight. Having crept out of bed so as not to wake the boys, I took a long, hot soak in a steaming, rose-scented bath. I then settled down to a good half hour at my dressing table, surrounded by eye shadows, foundations, blushers and a myriad of other colourful products I wouldn't normally entertain; however I'd read in Vogue, that if subtly applied, they could take years off me and make me look a dewy twenty-six. I was keen to try.

Another half hour was then spent with the hair dryer, as I attempted to coax my hair away from frenzied activity and towards cool, elegant waves, all of which, of course, should have been done before achieving the dewy twenty-six, as my make-up, disastrously, began to melt in the heat. Remorselessly did hot air contrive to undo what art had so precariously achieved. By nine-thirty, I was gazing at my reflection in despair. The hair had refused to play ball and gone for a horizontal stance, whilst my face, an attractive orange and s.h.i.+ny from heat and make-up, had recognised favourable conditions and was coaxing out a chin spot even as I watched.

'b.u.g.g.e.r!' I shrieked, reaching for a scrunchy. I sc.r.a.ped my hair back with it and ran to the sink, was.h.i.+ng it all off with soap and water. 'b.u.g.g.e.r, b.u.g.g.e.r, b.u.g.g.e.r!' I wailed into a towel. 'Oh G.o.d, what am I going to do. It's twenty to ten already and I look b.l.o.o.d.y awful!'

Ben put his head round the door. 'You don't,' he said thoughtfully, picking his nose. 'You look nice.' He dug deep with his finger. 'Better than you did before, anyway. Go like that.'

'Like this?' I lowered the towel and peered in the mirror. At least my face looked clean and fresh and the hair, tied back on the nape of my neck, was tamed somewhat. Also, I thought, breathing more calmly, I did have a bit of a tan and my eyes were clear and green, now that you could see them so, hang on . . I added a spot of mascara and a touch of lipstick.

'Better?' I smudged my lips together anxiously.

'Yeah, fine. You look great, Mum, like you normally do. And anyway, what's all the fuss? It's only to see about a job working in a shop, isn't it?'

'Yes darling, quite right and who cares if I don't get it. And this s.h.i.+rt, d'you think? Or the blue?'

'The blue,' said Ben decisively. 'And not those horrid tight trousers either, they make your b.u.m look like an elephant's.'

'Really?' I turned around, aghast. I'd been thrilled to bits to squeeze into these.

'Ma.s.sive. That long skirt you wore yesterday's loads better.' 'Oh.' I blinked. I'd lost about a stone and a half since Ned died, but actually, I had a feeling Ben was right. Even if I lost four stone I'd still be broad across the beam. I sighed and peeled off the trousers I'd been so proud to peel on, albeit lying on the floor, swearing and wriggling.

'OK, the linen skirt it is,' I said, tying it around me, sarong-style, and smoothing down the creases in the mirror. 'Now listen.' I swung back to him, hands on hips. 'Trisha's coming up any minute and she'll either stay here with you this morning or take you up to Granny's.'

'Can't we go fis.h.i.+ng on the lake?'

'No. I'd rather you didn't go near the water if I'm not here.' 'Oh, but Jack said he'd teach us how to get a trout! Please, Mum.'

Jack and Trisha, I thought nervously. A rather fatal combination, surely?

'Well let me speak to Trisha. Oh look, here she is.'

'Hi guys! Hey, you look nice.' Trisha strode into the bedroom with a pile of ironed clothes in her arms. She gave me an appreciative glance as she plonked them on the bed.

'Thanks. Um ... so do you,' I added nervously.

It was, admittedly, a warm day, but Trisha was dressed for the Caribbean. Her denim shorts showed at least half her bottom, her top was actually not a top at all but a bikini, and she'd wrapped a bandanna round her head, warrior style. Her long limbs gleamed.

'Jack and I thought we'd take the boys fis.h.i.+ng today,' she told me. 'Is that OK?'

'Ah, well, actually I was just explaining to Ben that oh! He's here!' I yelped. I jumped back from the window as a car drew up outside.

'Yep, that's your lift,' said Trisha, sticking her head out of the window. 'That's Charlie boy, all right. Yoo-hoo! Up here, Charlie!' I winced as she waved extravagantly. 'She'll be down in a minute,' she yelled, cupping her hands round her mouth. 'Just fixin' her face!' I winced again. Trisha turned back.

'It's OK, you've got a mo. Jack's chatting to him outside.'

'Jack's here?' I hastened across to the window and shot my head out, grinding my teeth. b.l.o.o.d.y man, couldn't keep his nose out of my business for one blasted minute, could he? And what was he saying to Charlie, d.a.m.n him? 'Keep away from Lucy, she hasn't had a man for four years and might throw herself at you? She's fatally attracted to married men seeing as how she lost one herself?'

I s.n.a.t.c.hed my bag from the bed and flew downstairs, intent on damage limitation. As I got to the open door though, I stopped. Charlie had arrived in a pale blue convertible Bristol and was leaning against it, hands in pockets, chatting to Jack who had his back to me. He was wearing cream trousers and a rather faded blue s.h.i.+rt rolled up to the elbows. Tall and broad - Jack, beside him, whilst tall, looked almost frail - he threw back his head and laughed at something Jack said. Not about me, I hoped nervously. Then Charlie turned and saw me.

'Hi!' He smiled, and it seemed to me that the whole of my front garden lit up like a Hollywood set.

'Hi,' I breathed back. There was a moment's silence as I gazed at him, hopefully not too wantonly.

'Hi!' gasped Jack breathlessly, in a direct parody of me.

I turned and regarded him coldly. 'h.e.l.lo, Jack. What are you doing here?'

'My, what a welcome. Well, I was thinking of taking my young nephews for some trout tickling today since you'reotherwise engaged. All right by you?'

'I'm not sure that it is, actually. As I've already explained to Trisha, I'm not too keen on Max being near the water when I'm not around. He's only four and he can't swim yet.'

'Aw, come on, Luce. I'll keep an eye on him. And anyway, I've promised them. They'll be so disappointed'

This much was true. Already I could hear Ben and Max thundering downstairs behind me and I knew he was right. There'd be disappointed faces, followed by disbelief, followed by uproar if I refused, and all in front of Charlie when I wanted him to believe I was a model of calm, unflappable motherhood.

'Well, OK. But listen, Jack,' I lowered my voice and led him away by the elbow so that Ben, Max, and hopefully Charlie couldn't hear. 'If you're going with Trisha,' I hissed, 'I want you to give me your solemn word there won't be any funny business. I mean in front of the boys.'

He frowned. Bent his head, deliberately misunderstanding. 'Funny business?' he whispered.

'You know what I mean,' I said between gritted teeth. 'I don't want you to - well ...'

His eyes widened. 'f.u.c.k her?' he said loudly.

Charlie's back stiffened. His head turned quickly, then away again.

'Jack!' I flushed dramatically. G.o.d, what would Charlie think? 'That was totally unnecessary!' I seethed.

'Quite right,' agreed Jack, frowning, 'no need for bad language. I apologise unreservedly. And I promise to toe the line at all times, particularly in front of your offspring. You were quite right to have a word with me, Lucy, put me straight on a few things. Golly,' he rolled his eyes, 'just as well you did actually, otherwise who knows what might have happened. I mean, I might have chased old Trisha down that river bank, pulled down those hot little shorts of hers and given her a d.a.m.n good seeing to whilst one boy took pictures and the other one quietly drowned! Phew. That was a close one, Luce, you saved me there. Thanks for the tip.' His eyes glittered dangerously.

'Yes, well.' I swallowed. 'Just see that you you know, behave responsibly.'

'Aye aye miss, will do. Will do my very best. Dib dib dib. But when you're back, I mean later on, when the children are all tucked up in bed and it's after the nine o'clock watershed all right if I give her one then?'

'Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Jack, you can do what you d.a.m.n well like! It makes no difference to me!' I hissed.

He laughed as I stormed off to the car, desperately trying to rearrange my expression from one of intense irritation, in order to bestow a beatific smile on Charlie. It wasn't hard, actually. He was born for beatific smiles.

'Sorry about that,' I purred as I slipped, hopefully nonchalantly, into the pa.s.senger side.

'Problems?'

I sighed. 'No, not really. It's just ... well, I haven't seen him for a while Jack, I mean and I'd forgotten how obnoxious he can be. It's all coming flooding back now. Anyway,' I beamed, 'enough of him, how are you? This is so kind of you to take me to see Kit, especially if it's out of your way.'

'Bristol was cancelled,' he grinned, s.h.i.+fting into gear. 'Itwas a TV project of mine which seems to have gone belly up and been shelved for the time being, so it's not out of my way at all. If I wasn't doing this I'd only be sitting at home trying to write another wretched, ill-fated drama. I'd much rather take you up to Frampton instead.'

He smiled and I glowed with pleasure, waving to the boys as we took off down the drive, avoiding Jack's eye. I tried to remember the last time I'd been in a convertible. Years ago, with Ned, on holiday in Greece, one of those Jeep things. Ooh yes... I relaxed back. There was undoubtedly something about the wind in your hair and oops up your skirt, that took years off a girl.

'Is that what you do then?' I raised my voice above the roar of the engine. 'I mean, write for TV?' Oh cunning, Lucy, cunning. Pretend you don't know.

'When I can. There's so much b.l.o.o.d.y compet.i.tion at the -moment though. In the old days I used to just submit a script and they'd say, "Thanks very much, Charlie, that'll be on air next autumn." ' He grimaced. 'Not so these days, I'm afraid. Now there's a fair amount of um-ing and ah-ing and muttering about difficult schedules'

'Oh, but didn't you do that marvellous Light of India series? That was quite recent, wasn't it?'

He looked surprised, as well he might, for I wasn't supposed to know, was I?

'Lavinia mentioned it,' I said quickly, flus.h.i.+ng.

'Lavinia?' He looked even more surprised. 'Blimey, I didn't think I was flavour of the month with her. Never thought I'd hear her singing my praises. But yes, I did do that, and it might seem recent but it was actually two years ago, and two years is a long time in TV. Anyway, I'm not complaining. I tick over.' He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully into the wind. 'What else did the fair Lavinia say? I'd be intrigued to oops, look out. It's Annie Oakley.'

Happily I was saved from having to elucidate on my fict.i.tious conversation with Lavinia, as around the next bend, Violet loomed into view. She was on the other side of the fence, in the field, trying to mount a horse. In one hand she had a Tesco carrier bag, and in the other, a shotgun. She put the plastic bag in her teeth and her foot in the stirrup again, gun under her arm. Charlie glanced at me quizzically.

'Better stop a sec,' I muttered.

As he slowed obediently to a halt I stood up in my seat. 'Are you all right, Violet?' I shouted.

She swung round to me, pink-faced. 'I've just shot Popsy!' she bellowed across the field.

'What?'

'I said I'VE JUST SHOT POPSY!'

I stared at her. 'Why?' I yelled back, astounded.

'Because she was mad, of course! Surprised that blasted farmer didn't spot it sooner!'

And with that she hoisted herself up, swung her leg over the saddle and kicked on hard. As she galloped away into the distance, a cloud of dust s.h.i.+mmered in her wake.

'Popsy?' muttered Charlie, aghast, as I slowly sat down in my seat again.

'Yes.'

'What ... she shot her? Because she was mad?' 'Apparently.' I frowned.

'But ... they're both mad, aren't they?'I turned. 'Sorry?'

'Isn't Popsy her sister?'

'Oh! Oh no, her cow.'

He looked hugely relieved. 'Oh, her cow. G.o.d, that's a relief. I knew there were two of them, wasn't sure of their names'

I giggled. No, hopefully she's not that crazy. But you're quite right, they are a bit eccentric.'

'You don't have to tell me,' he said as we purred off again. 'They're well known round these parts. Their latest gambit, apparently, has been to take all the electricity out of their cottage, because they've both become allergic to it. The pair of them fumble around with torches and an ancient Rayburn stove. G.o.d knows what it'll be like in the winter.'

I sighed. 'I know, the whole thing's chaotic. But they love that cottage. Rose wants them to be "properly looked after", of course.'

'And we all know what that means, don't we?' He grimaced.

On we drove. The noise of the engine didn't necessarily make for smooth conversation, so I contented myself with sneaking sidelong glances at his profile. Lovely straight nose. Square jaw, too. Strong brown hands on the wheel. He caught my eye. Probably my slack jaw, too.