06 Educating Jack (7 page)

‘I just thought you would enjoy the break, Beth,’ added Laura a little hurriedly.

‘And so we shall,’ said Beth with a relaxed smile.

Conversation ebbed and flowed as Beth and Laura caught up with the latest news. ‘And is there a man in your life?’ asked Beth. Laura looked into her tea cup and shook her head.

‘Well, it’s not for the want of offers,’ said Pippa with a whimsical smile.

‘I’ve given up on men for the time being,’ said Laura.

There was an awkward silence, broken eventually by Pippa saying, ‘Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms.’ We walked into the huge carpeted hallway and collected our luggage.

‘Hope you don’t mind,’ said Pippa, ‘but I booked a table for the four of us in one of my favourite French restaurants by the river … absolutely super food and Daddy has an account there. So,’ she glanced at the ancient grandfather clock, ‘say, back down here at seven?’ Rhetorical questions and swift organization seemed to be a natural part of Pippa’s world and we nodded and went upstairs. It also occurred to me that, on a primary headteacher’s pay, there would never come a time when I would have a restaurant account.

When we met again in the hall I immediately noticed that I was the only one who didn’t appear to have changed to suit the occasion. After a welcome shower and a shave, I had dug out a clean casual polo shirt from my sports bag and put on my old herringbone sports jacket with the leather elbow patches that I had worn on the drive down. I looked down at my baggy grey trousers and old Kicker shoes and felt distinctly under-dressed for a night out with the three beautiful women who stood before me. Beth had unpacked four different outfits from her large suitcase and finally decided on a cream blouse and chocolate brown skirt, plus a neat matching waistcoat. Her beige
Cagney & Lacey
raincoat with padded shoulders and loosely tied belt was the height of fashion and emphasized her slim figure. She looked terrific.

Meanwhile Pippa, once again, had somehow managed to look both casual yet simply perfect in a DAKS country classic suit in herringbone tweed with patch pockets and leather buttons. Next to her stood Laura in a pair of skin-tight Burberry jeans, calf-length leather boots, blue denim shirt, green denim jacket and a red neckscarf tied in a knot. She had let down her long brown hair and the look was that of a confident and dynamic woman … except for her eyes. It was as if she had a weighty problem on her mind and her thoughts were elsewhere.

Pippa locked the door behind us and we strolled out into a cool but perfect evening and walked along Argyle Street, across Pulteney Bridge and towards the nightlife of the city. Laura led the way, deep in conversation with Beth, while I walked beside Pippa.

‘You all look amazing,’ I said.

Pippa grinned. ‘It’s nothing really. Laura and I are busy at the moment promoting the Ralph Lauren Western Collection. It’s the latest casual gear.’ She looked me up and down. ‘And Jack, if you don’t mind me saying, you
could
look really good if you put your mind to it.’ She considered me as if deciding how to dress a mannequin. ‘To start with, you’re tall and slim, which is an advantage, and you’ve got naturally wavy brown hair that, if you let it grow a little longer, could look quite fashionable.’

‘I haven’t given it much thought,’ I said, feeling as though I had been undressed and dressed in the space of a couple of sentences.

‘Jack … there are some delightful gentlemen’s shops in Bath. Not quite Oxford Street, but we girls could transform you while you’re here.’

‘I’m fine thanks, Pippa,’ I said. Even so, I was beginning to wish I’d packed my charcoal-grey suit, the one I used for weddings, funerals and parents’ evenings.

Pippa was now in full flow. ‘I could see you in a rather arty sky-blue cord suit with a flamingo-pink linen shirt and a slim Eighties maroon tie and, of course, a pair of modern lightweight steel-framed spectacles with large lenses.’

I felt a little embarrassed following this assault by the fashion police and I pushed my Buddy Holly spectacles further up the bridge of my nose. ‘I’m not sure
pink
has got up to Yorkshire yet,’ I replied.

‘Pity,’ said Pippa. ‘Clothes maketh the man.’

It was then I realized we were from different worlds.

The French restaurant had the feel of a London bistro, relaxed, comfortable, friendly and full of young professionals. The maître d’hôtel knew Pippa well and we were guided to a candlelit corner table.

I glanced at the menu, which was written entirely in French, apart from the prices … and they were extravagant. Pippa spoke fluent French and ordered for all of us. For a starter, she ordered
le sauté de grenouille persillé
, which turned out to be a sauté of frogs’ legs with button mushrooms, parsley, and lemon and garlic butter. There was also a huge bowl of the local speciality for us all to share: mussels cooked in cider, shallots and cream.

I played safe for the main course and, thankful for my O-level French in the Sixties, ordered
La poitrine roulée de porc
, which turned out to be the most delicious braised organic pork belly in cider, ginger and honey, a treat for a hungry Yorkshireman after a long day’s driving. Everything was perfectly cooked and I reflected that this was a long way from Sheila’s
if-in-doubt-give-it-anextra-ten-minutes
cuisine in The Royal Oak. Gradually I relaxed, and the conversation and red wine flowed in equal measure.

However, I sensed that, on occasion, behind the light laughter lay heavy thoughts. There seemed a superficiality to our conversation; what needed to be said appeared hidden. It wasn’t until towards the end of the evening when we were sipping liqueurs and Pippa and Beth had slipped out to the ladies’ room that Laura struck up a new conversation.

‘So how’s married life, Jack?’ she asked. She put down her glass of cognac and looked across the table into my eyes. Her stare was challenging.

‘It’s fine, Laura,’ I said evenly.

She dabbed her mouth with a linen napkin. ‘And is my sister happy?’

‘You would have to ask her yourself,’ I replied.

She smiled. ‘I have, Jack.’ Then she leant forward. Her skin was flawless, and the scent of her perfume was both light and fragrant.

‘And are
you
happy?’ she asked quietly.

It seemed a curious question and the pause before my reply seemed to last an age. A private cocoon of heavy silence surrounded us as I looked into her green eyes.

‘Yes, I am,’ I said.

Suddenly, Beth and Pippa reappeared. ‘And what are you two plotting?’ asked Beth with a grin.

‘Nothing, big sister,’ said Laura smoothly, ‘just thinking that Jack here needs pointing in the right direction.’

‘Really?’ said Beth.

‘Yes,’ said Pippa, ‘to a gentleman’s outfitter.’

‘Poor Jack,’ said Laura. ‘But, sadly, I have to agree.’

‘I think my dear husband is too set in his ways,’ said Beth reprovingly. ‘Not exactly the new-age Eighties man, are you darling?’

There was a moment when Pippa looked knowingly at Laura, who responded with a flicker of a smile. It was a brief communication that meant nothing to a mere man but, between women, spoke volumes.

It had been a long day and, back in our room, Beth switched on the television set and turned the volume low. The film was
They Call Me Mister Tibbs
and we sat on the bed together watching Sidney Poitier in his iconic role while chatting about the evening and what we might do the next day.

Later, the television was still on when I finally climbed into bed and it was almost midnight when Beth emerged from the bathroom in a nightdress I hadn’t seen before. Her honey-blonde hair looked slightly tousled as she walked barefoot towards me.

‘Are you
really
watching this?’ she teased. The new programme was
Claire Rayner’s Casebook
with a discussion dedicated to stressful marriages and divorce. I switched it off. ‘I don’t think it applies to us,’ I said.

Beth smiled as she turned out the light. ‘I agree,’ she said as she climbed in next to me and we kissed. It was two hours later that we finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Next morning I awoke first. I crept out of bed and peered out of the window at the view of the park and the countryside beyond. It was an eerie world of grey and ghostly images, all life blurred and featureless. Slowly, the dawn sun spread its warmth over the sleeping land and illuminated the moist vapours of mist covering the fields with a shroud of silence.

It was then that I reflected on our perfect night, and I looked back at Beth and marvelled at her naked body. Making love with this beautiful woman had always been special, a journey of ice and fire, but somehow last night had been
different
. There was an insistence about Beth, a fresh urgency and a desire that could barely be satisfied. One thing was certain … I would never understand women. As I hunted for my shaving kit at the bottom of my sports bag I smiled. Life was full of surprises and I wasn’t complaining.

Over breakfast Beth and I were still stifling yawns, but a new day awaited us in this beautiful city and it was ours to explore.

‘More coffee?’ asked Pippa after a breakfast of croissants and delicious Welsh honey from Fortnum & Mason.

‘Yes please,’ said Beth sleepily. I watched both Beth and Laura blow on the surface of their coffee before sipping it tentatively, mirror images across the table, but clearly with different moods on this beautiful day.

‘So what are your plans?’ asked Pippa.

‘Just a little exploring,’ I said. ‘Probably the Abbey and the Roman Baths.’

Pippa looked across at Laura, who seemed deep in thought. ‘Laura and I have things to do, but we could meet you for afternoon tea – say three o’clock outside the Pump Room in the Abbey courtyard.’

‘Fine,’ said Beth. ‘Then perhaps a little shopping.’

The thought of shopping with three women filled me with horror, but I said nothing.

So it was that on a sunlit autumn morning Beth and I, hand in hand, walked the streets of Bath and marvelled together at this beautiful Palladian-style city designed by the architect John Wood.

‘You look happy,’ I said.

‘I am,’ she said simply, and there was peace in her green eyes and firmness in the way she held my hand as we strolled into the city centre. Two thousand years ago the Romans had arrived and had fallen in love with the natural thermal spas and so they built their elegant baths and temples. History touched every street and building, and I recalled that Jane Austen lived here from 1801 to 1806 and set parts of
Northanger Abbey
and
Persuasion
in the city.

We walked into Bath Abbey, known as ‘the Lantern of the West’. The wonderful light that illuminated the interior explained why, and we sat on one of the pews to enjoy the mantle of peace that descended on our private haven.

‘I love you,’ I whispered.

‘And I love you, Jack,’ she said quietly, resting her head on my shoulder. ‘We needed this time for the two of us.’ Her words were like balm on a wounded heart and, for a fleeting moment in the sanctuary of this grand medieval cathedral, I understood the meaning of unconditional love.

Later we walked down North Parade Passage past Sally Lunn’s, the oldest house in Bath and, nearby, we called into a coffee shop. We ordered filter coffee with hot milk as well as the local delicacy, a rich, round toasted brioche bun based on the famous recipe of the young French refugee, Sally Lunn.

Above the counter, in preparation for Hallowe’en, a huge orange pumpkin had been hollowed out. With a sharp knife, circular holes had been carved for the eyes, plus a triangular nose and a rectangular mouth complete with tombstone teeth. A candle flickered inside. It was a gruesome sight and we both smiled. It was good to relax together and I realized we had eased smoothly into holiday mode.

‘Happy?’ I asked.

Beth grinned and blew on the surface of her hot coffee. ‘Perfect, Jack, simply perfect.’

A short while later we stared in wonder at the historic Roman Baths, dating from the first century AD. It seemed a pity that the city was now a spa in name only. Sadly, a few years ago the ancient pipework had revealed serious contamination and, since then, the precious hot mineral water had been simply diverted into the River Avon.

‘Look at this, Jack,’ said Beth, pointing to the guide book with a smile. In 1668 Samuel Pepys had written in his diary, ‘Methinks it cannot be clean to go so many bodies together in the same water’. I recalled the shower Beth and I had shared this morning but kept this precious thought to myself.

Then we continued up the hill to the Assembly Rooms and enjoyed browsing in the Bath Antiques Fair. From there we continued round the elegant curve of the Circus up to the magnificent eighteenth-century Royal Crescent, a semi-elliptical terrace of thirty grand houses, complete with over a hundred giant Ionic columns. We stopped and looked in awe. This really was a triumph of eighteenth-century geometric engineering. ‘Isn’t it wonderful, Jack?’ said Beth, holding my hand. Above our heads a scattering of squirrels darted with quick and nimble steps along the branches of a gnarled oak tree. Her soft hair touched my cheek as I kissed her and we walked on, happy in our private world.

Finally we returned to the Abbey Churchyard outside the Pump Room where Pippa and Laura were waiting for us. Afternoon tea was a brief, simple affair as the three women planned an afternoon’s shopping together which held no interest for me. Schoolwork seemed a long way off and, as we sat there, I watched the people passing by and listened to a local busker playing Paul McCartney’s ‘Yesterday’, which really did feel so very far away.

‘See you back here in a couple of hours, Jack?’ said Pippa. It was another of her rhetorical questions and I smiled, grateful for the opportunity not to be involved. The three women set off shopping and I settled down with another pot of tea and a copy of the
Bath and West Evening Chronicle
. The local news seemed to be dominated by an article about two hundred members of the Wiltshire Motor Cycle Action Group who were protesting against the wearing of helmets. It looked as though the days of the open road and wind in your hair were numbered.