A Married Man Part 7

Lavinia nodded slowly. 'It does. Second-hand clothes, books, home-made marmalade, tea-towels, that sort of thing. I could ring Patricia McGovern, she's very big in Save the Children'

'No, I meant, you know, proper work. For money.' G.o.d, that word again.

'Oh!' Rose looked startled. 'For you?'

'Well, yes, you know, like a career,' I said desperately. 'Like I had before. Not just for the money, but well, something for me!' I flushed. Awful. Like some jumped-up little arriviste in a Noel Coward play. Except this wasn't a Noel Coward play, dammit, this was the twenty-first century and why was I being made to feel like a grasping parvenu, demanding even more largesse?

'But you're quite right,' I mumbled. 'I could do some charity work as well. It would be... terribly good for me.'

'Excellent!' beamed Rose. 'I'm sure Lavinia can think of something suitable. The NSPCC are always looking for volunteers, even if it's just rattling a tin outside Waitrose, and there's always the church flower rota, of course. Mimsy Compton-Burrell usually does the altar, but you could take the pews, and we're always short of people to make new kneelers. Do you do tapestry, Lucy?'

'Not ... terribly well.'

'Oh well, never mind. The cleaning rota then. Anyone can do that, rub-a-dub-dub! And don't forget, it's not all work and no play around here. There's always a tennis four somewhere, isn't there, darling?'

Lavinia nodded enthusiastically. 'Oh absolutely. And in the winter of course the hunt meets twice a week, here sometimes, which is jolly convenient, but oh. You don't, do you, Lucy?'

'Not as such,' I said weakly.

'Oh well. Ma.s.ses of girlie lunches and dinner parties galore, then. You won't be short of things to do!''Super,' I breathed faintly.

'Now. Hector's gone to make sure that your luggage is brought straight round here by Ted and put excactly where you want it. Don't take any truck from him, incidentally,' warned Rose. 'We're having a bit of trouble with him at the moment. He doesn't think Archie pays him enough, which is ludicrous. And I gave his wife my old pashmina the other day.'

'Not your lavender?' Lavinia raised her eyebrows.

'Absolutely. So watch him, Lucy, he can be rather . .

'Uppity,' finished Lavinia firmly.

'Exactly,' her mother agreed. 'So. We're going to leave you in peace now to unpack, and we'll see you for an early supper, my love. Drinks at six, and I'll introduce you to your new au pair! Don't take any truck from her, either. Quite a little madam. Too exciting! Toodle-oo!'

And off they both scurried, arm in arm, out of the barn and down the bank to the lake, chattering animatedly.

I walked to the door and watched them go, leaning rather feebly on the door frame. I felt exhausted already. Faint, even. No breakfast, of course, which didn't help, and this vile hangover, but something else, too. I narrowed my eyes across the parkland, watching their figures hurrying up the hill to the yellowing glory of Netherby. Something to do with turning over a new page in my sketchbook, expecting to see a fresh sheet only to find someone else had already started a picture. A picture I wasn't sure I liked. I quickly averted my eyes from the house and gazed instead more proximately, at the myriad of flowers at my feet. The sun, high in the sky, beamed benevolently on the phlox and roses and lupins that spilled over the little path, urging me to forget my misgivings and feel the pulse of nature. I breathed in deeply, shutting my eyes and savouring the heady scent. Lovely. Suddenly, though, I s.h.i.+vered. When the sun went behind a cloud, it was cooler than one imagined. I turned and went inside to phone Maisie and Lucas. Let them know I'd arrived. It seemed to me I missed them already.

Chapter Seven.

Before the boys and I finally panted up the hill to Netherby on the dot of six that evening, we were to endure a faintly hysterical afternoon. It had started soberly enough with Ben and Max playing quietly with the train set whilst I unpacked, then gravitating to bouncing on every bed and sofa in the place yelling their heads off, to them finally going awfully quiet as they discovered a long coil of rope at the bottom of the garden.

When I came down from making up the beds, someone whizzed past my ear.

'Hey!'

It was Ben who, having climbed onto the kitchen table, slung the rope over the lowest beam and tied it fast, had launched himself off the gallery. He was now swinging, Tarzan-style, from one side of the room to the other, shrieking and grinning from ear to ear. It looked great fun and not as dangerous as it sounds as the rafter was low and immensely strong, but I couldn't be persuaded to join them.

'Come on, Mum! It'll easily hold you - look, we're both on it!' He swung across with Max holding onto his legs, whooping madly.

'No thanks,' I said unpacking a box full of tins and cereal. 'I don't particularly relish the thought of Granny popping down to see how we're getting on and finding me flying around the room, flas.h.i.+ng my knickers.'

'Why not? It's our house, isn't it?'

'Yes, but it just looks a bit, you know. Cavalier.'

'What's that?'

'Well, you know, a bit ungracious and flippant. Like pop stars tras.h.i.+ng a hotel or something.'

'I'm not tras.h.i.+ng it!'

'I know, you're fine but oh crikey. I don't know why I've brought all this food, come and look at this!'

They slid down the rope and ran over.

'Cupboards,' I cried, flinging them open, 'literally full of stuff. Soup, cereal, pasta she's catered into the next century. And blimey, look at the larder!'

I held open the door for them to see and we gazed upon, not just a pint of milk and some Mother's Pride to keep us going, but shelves full to bursting with cakes, fruit, biscuits, pork pies, pate, cold sausages, salami, children's yoghurts and bars of chocolate.

'Yum,' drooled Max.

'How kind,' I murmured, as the boys fell upon it. 'She really has thought of everything.'

know, let's take it outside and sit by the lake.' Ben was already grabbing some scotch eggs and a packet of biscuits.

'We could, I suppose,' I said doubtfully. 'As long as we remember to be back in time for drinks. It's quite late already . .

But Max was already disappearing out of the door withfistfuls of chocolate and bananas.

'Hey, hang on. Here!' I seized a wicker basket Rose had left on the bottom shelf of the larder and we piled the stuff into it. Convenient, I thought, as I packed the basket. And there was a rug on the larder floor too, and a checked tablecloth. I picked them up slowly. Was this what she'd planned then? And if so, why hadn't she just said, 'Oh by the way, I've left you a picnic?'

Nevertheless, we dutifully set off down the hill to the lake, and picked a spot just before the gra.s.s got too long and the bulrushes started. On the other side, the moorhens dipped and the mayflies were gathering. The lake had that perfect, peaceful flow, without turbulence; silent but for the dragonflies and b.u.t.terflies adding their delicate hums and flutters to the s.h.i.+mmer. All very idyllic, but I glanced up warily there too was Netherby, looming on the hill, windows glinting in the sun. We were incredibly visible. Max already had his shoes and socks off, and was dangling his feet in the water, his toes large and bleached against the bronze pebbles of the shallows. Ben grabbed the rug and made to throw it up in the air, but as he did, I held his arm.

'Actually, no, not here, Ben. Tell you what, why don't we go round the other way? Towards the folly?'

'Oh M-u-m.' Max protested. 'I'm all wet!'

'But it's just fields and things up that way,' reasoned Ben. 'I know but so? We could explore.'

I turned and set off determinedly. Off in the opposite direction, up and around the back of the barn. After a few moments, I heard the boys complaining, but nevertheless following on behind.

The sun was strengthening now, but up the hill we trudged in the heat, towards the old folly, traipsing through fields of watchful sheep, until finally, we pushed open a gate and arrived in a glorious meadow full of tall gra.s.s and b.u.t.tercups. I had a quick look around to ensure it was stock free.

'I haven't the faintest idea where we are,' I panted, pretty much on my chin strap now, tut what d'you think? Will this do?'

I glanced back to see that the boys had already flung themselves into the b.u.t.tercups with the air of travellers who'd reached their journey's end. Flat on their backs, arms and legs spread like a couple of starfish, they gazed up at the sky. I grinned and knelt beside them, setting out the picnic. Yes, I thought, eyeing them as they sat up and guzzled the c.o.ke I handed them in cans, yes, this will do. This is good. Thank You, G.o.d. This is precisely what I had in mind for them this summer.

We ate our picnic, and then I watched as they tickled b.u.t.tercups under each other's chins, measuring their mutual regard for b.u.t.ter. Building poignant memories, I told myself. And this was how it should be. Miles from the city and with world enough and time, for once, to enjoy one another.

I laughed as the boys tried to flop backwards in the gra.s.s without their knees buckling, and then, the gra.s.s being so high, hiding from me as I pretended I couldn't find them. Later, we lay on our backs in the meadow, peacefully counting b.u.t.terflies; Max was burping on purpose and pretending he couldn't help it and Ben and I were doing our best to be outraged 'Max!' but giggling too, when suddenly a shot rang out.

We sat bolt upright in horror. Then peoww! another one came winging over our heads.

's.h.i.+t!' I grabbed the boys and shoved them down in the gra.s.s.

'Get off my land you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, or I'll blow your brains out!'

Keeping the boys' brains firmly in the dirt, I sat up and swung about, terrified. I couldn't see anything, but the voice had come from up near the folly. I narrowed my eyes. Away in the distance, I spotted a tweedy figure, in breeches and a hat.

'Go on! b.u.g.g.e.r off!'

'I don't believe we're trespa.s.sing,' I squeaked back nervously. 'My parents-in-law, Lord and Lady Fellowes, own this land, and they-' Peoww! 's.h.i.+t!'

There it went again, another shot, only this time, I didn't hang around to argue.

'Come on, boys,' I muttered, grabbing the basket which happily I'd pretty much packed. 'We're leaving. OK, we're going!' I yelled, as seizing our bundles but still leaving a certain amount of detritus behind, we fled.

'Keep your heads down!' I hissed as we raced across the field.

'And don't come back!' came the warning shot as we raced down the hill to the barn.

We flew inside.

'Was he going to kill us?' breathed Ben, wide-eyed with terror as we slammed the front door shut behind us. I leaned back on it, eyes shut, heart racing.

'No darling, not kill,' I gasped, clutching my chest. 'Just trying to frighten us, that's all. Probably the gamekeeper, who has no idea we're here yet.' I staggered weakly to the sofa and flopped down. 'Grandpa probably forgot to tell him. Although I could have sworn ...'

'What?'

'Well, I just thought the voice was familiar, that's all.' Suddenly I sat up with a jolt. Looked at my watch. 'Oh Christ you two, look at the time! It's ten to six already. Granny's expecting us in ten minutes'

'But were they real bullets, Mummy?' persisted Ben.

'No, darling,' I soothed, s.n.a.t.c.hing a hairbrush and raking it through my hair. 'An airgun probably. People don't shoot each other out here. This isn't the Wild West.'

I hurriedly brushed their hair and rubbed dirt off their faces with spit before running up to change. Ben, tailing me the while, was clearly still unnerved by the experience, whilst Max, exhilarated, kept popping up behind sofas with an imaginary gun, yelling with homicidal glee, 'Peeeow! Peeeow! Go on, b.u.g.g.e.r off, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!'

'Max!' I came running down in what was hopefully an appropriately chaste skirt and top, fiddling with some beads around my neck. 'That'll do. Now forget it, please. Come on, let's go - oh G.o.d, look at me!'

I caught sight of my flushed cheeks and tousled hair in a mirror by the door and seized the brush again.

'You look lovely, Mummy.' Ben's brown eyes were still anxious as he stood beside me.

I hugged him hard. 'Thank you, my darling. And listen, don't worry about what happened in the field, OK? I'll talk to Granny. There's bound to be a perfectly reasonable explanation.'

'But - maybe we shouldn't ask her immediately?' He looked worried. 'I mean, she's been so kind and everything,she might think we're complaining, if it's the first thing we say when we go up there'

I regarded this serious, sensitive child of mine. Wondered how many years of him putting me to shame there were ahead of me.

'Quite right,' I agreed. 'We won't march up there, guns blazing, demanding to know who the devil ruined our picnic,' even if we were threatened with decapitation, I thought privately. 'I'll bring it up later, quietly, to Grandpa, when the evening's got going.'

The evening got going fairly promptly, actually, with what could be described as a flying start. As we walked up through the park on what was turning out to be the most blissful summer's evening, I noted with surprise that everyone was gathering on the huge bal.u.s.traded terrace at the back. It was well-known that Archie loathed eating outside, considering it continental, uncomfortable, and basically for poofters only, but a table under a vast umbrella had been laid.

'How nice,' I said in surprise as Rose came scurrying across to meet me, as ever on her tiptoes, nose up, like a little squirrel.

'I thought the boys would prefer it out here. It's much less formal. The dining room has a way of making people feel ill at ease, don't you think? And the kitchen's so hot.'

'It's perfect,' I a.s.sured her. 'And the boys will love it. Oh, Archie.' I turned. 'How lovely to see you.'

Archie, a huge man with bristling eyebrows, was bearing down on me, Brigade tie strangling him in an uncompromising knot. As Rose slipped away to supervise dinner, his rheumy brown eyes roved over me lasciviously.

'Lucy, my dear. Looking quite ravis.h.i.+ng as usual if I may say so. Quite delicious!' He kissed me, quite close to my mouth, and then quickly rubbed his thigh with the palm of his hand, which he did when he was excited. 'I can't tell you how delighted we are to have you here amongst us, and with these young whipper-snappers too! Grrrrr!' He ruffled the boys' hair so energetically Max nearly fell over. 'Little horrors, eh? Grrrrr!' Max's hair took another battering. Archie clasped his hands gleefully. 'So! Quarters all right? No complaints? Rose has been f.a.n.n.ying around down there for months, so it should be up to scratch. Obsessed, she's been. Sliding off at a moment's notice to iron napkins or some such rot so much so that I thought she might have a lover down there. But no such luck haw haw!'

I joined in nervously. It had long been tacitly accepted that relations had fizzled out years ago between Rose and Archie. Rose, after four children, had determinedly hung up her negligee, leaving Archie to 'sort himself out' as she delicately put it, as if he was simply fixing his own breakfast. Whether her offhand att.i.tude was genuine or face-saving was hard to tell, because the 'sorting out' apparently involved a mistress; a rather bosomy blonde called Wanda in the next county, who hunted hard with Archie twice a week, before tumbling into bed with him for some energetic s.e.x. 'Boots, hunting stocks an' all', was the rumour that went tartly round the kitchen staff, with Rose, one a.s.sumes, happy enough to turn a blind eye and hand over the reins on a twice-weekly basis.

It was clear that this didn't entirely satisfy Archie, though. There were rumours of further liaisons in London, and I have an idea he was fabulously over-s.e.xed. He was quite capable,for instance, of listening to some old crony hold forth at a party, whilst absently stroking the bottom of the woman beside him, murmuring, 'Lovely, lovely,' with the poor woman, eyes huge with horror, too taken aback to slap him.

One took for granted that his gaze pretty much got stuck at bust level during mixed conversation, and he made little attempt to disguise it. Female anatomy was his hobby; he was interested so, de facto, he stared. This evening, however, I noticed his brown eyes were focused on bigger and better distractions.

To my left, a very pretty girl with auburn curls, a wide smile and a Gap T-s.h.i.+rt strained across her ample bosom, was talking to Hector who looked fit to expire, so flummoxed was he by the attention. Her Antipodean accent drifted across the York stones, and by the way she was dressed, I guessed she was the au pair. As I talked distractedly to Archie, it occurred to me to wonder if Rose had selected her deliberately. There had long been some frustration in the Fellowes camp at Hector's inability, at thirty-six, to produce a girl, any sort of girl, of any description and from any background, just for a cup of coffee, for heaven's sake, Rose would lament. He went to dinner parties, she reasoned, was always the spare b.l.o.o.d.y man, and met plenty of women, but never brought anyone back. 'And he's got so much to offer!' she'd wail, waving her arms around to indicate, one felt, rather more than just his personality.

Ned and I had always maintained that he wasn't gay, as some suspected, but just incredibly shy, and possibly a bit as.e.xual. I wondered, too, if this recent ploy of Rose's, to pluck a really pretty one, a really voluptuous one, and dangle it under his nose like a fat, wriggling worm as if to say, 'There now, matey, resist that if you can,' wasn't actually a high-risk strategy. In the first place, Hector, being the sensitive soul he was, was quite likely, not to get his rocks off, but fall madly in love with the girl, which wouldn't be what Rose had in mind at all, and secondly, I couldn't help feeling that Archie might be keen to have a go too. His mouth was fairly watering at the prospect now, and he was rubbing his thigh like billyo. But then again, Rose was no fool. She'd probably thought of that and decided - so b.l.o.o.d.y what?

'Have you met Trisha yet?' Archie hissed abruptly, cutting me off in mid-sentence and dragging me across the terrace. 'I'm not supposed to perform the introduction because Rose wants to spout some ridiculous tommy-rot about insisting she's not foisting her on you or something, but you simply must meet her. h.e.l.l of a filly. h.e.l.l of a filly. I say, Trisha!'

She broke off from talking to Hector which gave the poor boy a chance to mop his brow, catch his breath and rearrange his trousers. Just then, Rose came bustling up.

'Oh Lucy, have you met Trisha yet?'

'Well no, but Archie was just-'

'Only I simply wanted to say that I don't want you to think I'm interfering and arranging everything without consulting you, but my dear, we've been so lucky. Trisha here is over from Australia for a year, and although primarily engaged to help Joan in the kitchen, she's also kindly agreed to look after the boys, if and when you need her. No pressure at all though, Lucy. She knows you're pretty much a full-time mum, it's just - well, if you do want to take off to London for the day, or - I don't know, get your hair done ...'

'It would be marvellous,' I broke in, 'to know I could leave them in capable hands. Thank you Rose, you're quite right. It would give me such a lifeline'

Rose beamed in relief as Trisha and I shook hands.

'Hi!' she grinned, flas.h.i.+ng perfect pearly whites at me. 'And these are the boys? Ben and Max? Archie's told me all about you two.' She crouched down. 'We're going to have such a good time. D'you know how to play Canasta?'

'No, I don't,' said Archie eagerly as the boys blinked shyly. 'Sounds fun. Cana-?'

'It's a card game, Archie,' she laughed, straightening up. 'And you're probably a bit old for it.'

'Rubbis.h.!.+' he snorted. 'Not too old for anything. Fit as a fiddle, me. Keep going for hours - I mean, miles!' He rubbed his thigh feverishly. Lowered his voice. 'Incidentally, I thought I'd um, show you around the place a bit later on, my dear. Make sure you know your way around. Don't want you getting lost in the raspberry canes, do we?'