A Regimental Affair (35 page)

‘You? Front page of a national? Yeah, right.’ It was Chris’s turn to be disbelieving.

Ginny pulled that day’s copy of the
Mercury
off the dresser shelf and showed him. Chris looked at the picture, looked at Ginny, gave a long low whistle and read the story. As he did so, Ginny made two cups of tea and got the milk from the fridge. She pushed one of the mugs across the table to Chris, together with the sugar basin and a spoon, then she got three more mugs and a baby beaker, filled them with milk and arranged them on a tray, tipped some biscuits from a packet on to a plate and carried the lot through to the sitting room. When she returned, Chris had finished reading.

‘So no wonder you’re a bit paranoid about the press,’ he said. ‘Is it true?’

‘If you want to know if it’s true that Colonel Bob and I had a brief affair in Kosovo, yes it is. Most of the rest is pretty much lies.’

‘Which is why you’ve escaped here to Netta’s. I can’t think of a better place to be than with Netta and her family.’ He sounded terribly sympathetic.

‘Yup, that’s what I thought. I hoped I would be able to lie low until another story came along but I think someone has tipped off the press. I had a couple of calls today from a strange man.’

‘Not me, honest.’

‘No, it wasn’t your voice.’

‘Hallelujah!’

Ginny raised her eyebrows. ‘Which means?’

‘You believe something I’ve said!’ This time Ginny allowed the smile to escape. ‘You’re even more like Netta when you smile, did you know that?’

‘Actually, Netta’s like me when she smiles.’

Chris took a sip of his tea. ‘Do I take it from that that you are the elder?’

‘That’s right.’

The back door burst open and the gust of freezing wind that shot into the kitchen seemed to carry Petroc with it.

‘Oh, great girl, Ginny. Pour us a cup,’ he said seeing the pot on the table. ‘Hi, Chris. I see you and Ginny have met. Any news about Netta?’ As he said all this he stripped off his boots and waterproofs. He went over to the Aga to warm himself.

‘No, she hasn’t called yet,’ said Ginny. ‘I hope it doesn’t mean there’s a problem.’

‘I’ll ring. Are the kids OK?’

‘They’re next door watching TV.’ Ginny poured Petroc a cup of tea and passed it to him. ‘We tired them out with a marathon game of Mousetrap.’

‘Except for Lisa,’ Chris reminded her.

‘Yeah, sorry, she slept through it.’

‘Great,’ said Petroc with a grimace. ‘Never mind, though. With a new baby coming home I don’t suppose there’ll be many unbroken nights for a bit.’

The phone rang. Ginny started, and Petroc and Chris both looked at her, understanding the reason for her reaction.

‘If it’s for me, I’m not here. Say I’ve returned to the mainland, anything, I don’t care.’

But it was Netta with news that she’d been passed fit to go home. ‘I’ll go and get her,’ said Petroc, draining his tea. ‘Do you want a lift back?’ he asked Chris.

‘Would you mind if I waited here? I’d like to see the new addition and I’ll walk back later. Is that OK with you, too?’ he asked Ginny.

‘I don’t mind.’ She was surprised and a little flattered at being consulted.

Petroc pulled on his waterproofs before setting off again. After he had left, Ginny directed Chris to make sure the fire in the sitting room was still OK and the guard was properly in place while she went around the house pulling the curtains and snuggling the building down against the vile weather outside. The lowering clouds had killed any last vestiges of light from the setting sun and it was now pitch black despite the fact that it was barely five o’clock.
What a day to bring a baby home
, thought Ginny as she returned to the warmth of the kitchen.

Chris was sitting at the table when she returned. ‘The kids asked for a video. I put
Cinderella
on for them – Flossie’s suggestion – is that all right, do you think?’

‘Why ask me? If it’s what they wanted, why not?’

‘I just wondered if Petroc and Netta have any views on them watching telly for more than a set number of hours each day.’

Ginny guffawed. ‘I don’t think Netta has totally signed up to the anything-for-a-quiet-life school of motherhood, but she comes pretty close to it sometimes. Frankly, if
Cinderella
is going to keep the little darlings happy for a while so I can get on with their supper, then who’s to worry?’

At that point Flossie banged into the kitchen dragging Lisa behind her.

‘Lisa needs the loo,’ she said, letting go of Lisa’s hand and dashing back into the sitting room before there could be the least suggestion that she might do something about it. Ginny took Lisa upstairs to the bathroom and helped the toddler with the tricky business of her trousers and pants before lifting her on to the loo. She sat on the edge of the bath and waited patiently for Lisa to finish, which seemed to take an age. Finally they were free to return.

Chris was cracking eggs into a bowl.

Ginny stood by the door, her eyebrows raised and said, ‘Hungry?’

‘No, but the children are.’

‘And I was just about to make them fish fingers, chips and beans.’

‘But you haven’t, so I thought I’d make them cheese and tomato omelettes with a salad and brown bread and butter which is a healthier option.’

‘Oh, puh-lease,’ said Ginny. ‘Anyway, they probably won’t eat it.’

‘Yes they will.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I’ve cooked it for them before.’

Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘What, a man cooking? Come off it. What’s your real reason for putting on a pinny?’

‘What, you think I’m cooking just to try to impress you, is that it?’ He gave her a steady look as if to dare her to challenge the implication.

Ginny felt unaccountably flustered. ‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ She regained her composure. ‘All right, what
are
your motives then?’ she demanded.

Chris went on whisking the eggs in the bowl. ‘You’re in the army, right?’

‘So?’

‘You fire guns but you don’t do it to pull the blokes, to impress them or anything.’

‘No, it’s my job – sometimes. I still don’t get your point.’

‘Cooking – it’s what I do.’

‘Ah, so Chris isn’t your real name. What is it then – Jamie, Gary, Ainsley?’

Chris gave her a withering look and began to chop some tomatoes. Although Ginny would not admit it she was suitably impressed by the way his knife reduced the round red fruits into a pile of tiny chunks in seconds.

‘No, I’m not a TV chef; I run a hotel in the town. Like most people here I support my family through the tourist industry. OK?’ As he said this he gave her a look which defied her to make fun of it.

‘Oh.’ Ginny felt a little foolish. She remembered him talking about the reason for his trip to the hospital – an accident with a kitchen knife. She should have made the connection earlier. In the ensuing, rather chilly silence, she noticed that she felt a small sense of disappointment that yet another man whose acquaintance she had made came complete with a ready-made family in tow – which made him unavailable. Not that she wanted him to be available, as she didn’t find him at all attractive. Not in the least, she told herself firmly. Not one jot.

Chris got out a pan and put it on the Aga. He melted some butter and then tipped the eggs into it. Ginny watched him work and wondered how long it took to become such an expert, as he obviously was. He moved the eggs around in the pan until they began to set then he tipped in some of the chopped tomatoes and cheese and flipped the omelette over so it folded in half. When it was done he slid it out of the pan and on to a plate which he put in the Aga to keep warm. Then he began the process again.

‘Look, rather than watch me, would you grate some more cheese?’ he asked.

Ginny nodded and went to the fridge for a lump of cheddar. She found a board and a grater and set to work. The silence changed from cool to companionable. Chris carried on making omelettes and then, when they were all done and keeping warm in the oven, he whizzed up a salad.

‘Call the kids for me,’ he said.

Ginny went into the sitting room and told the children to come through.

‘What’s for supper?’ demanded Flossie.

‘Omelettes,’ said Ginny.

‘Ooh, goody,’ said Barnaby. ‘Did Uncle Chris make them?’

Ginny nodded and had to move out of the way to avoid the stampede of small people all racing to get to the table first. Ginny watched Chris lift Lisa into her high chair and serve the children their food. She wondered if he treated his own family with the same care that he seemed to lavish so effortlessly on Netta’s brood, but if he did, why was he up in Netta’s kitchen and not back at home with his own?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jen was sitting in Megan’s room, flicking through a copy of
Cosmo
. As soon as Sarah had got back from Montgomery House, she had dropped a heavy hint to Jen that it might be a good idea if she and Megan made themselves scarce, so the two mothers could talk. Will had gone out to see a friend, and it wasn’t that Sarah cared if Jen overheard anything – she was old enough to be discreet and she wasn’t directly affected – but she felt it was unfair on Megan. Jen had instantly picked up the unspoken suggestion and, with a quickness of wit honed by years of having to find excuses for being terminally disorganised at school and rarely being able to hand her homework in on time, she had told Megan her CD player was at school and she wanted to listen to a new album she’d got for Christmas.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a stereo we could use?’ she had asked innocently.

‘There’s one in my room. We could go back to my place if that’s OK with you?’

Sarah had given Jen a broad smile and told her not to hurry back. As Megan had left the room, Jen mouthed at her mother that she owed her one. She liked Megan well enough, but she was three years younger. for heaven’s sake, and she really hadn’t fancied spending the dying remnants of the afternoon in her company.

Still, it had come as a pleasant surprise that Megan had a copy of the latest Cosmo and now Jen was slouched in the rocking chair, half looking at the pictures of the hottest styles in accessories and half listening to Megan, who was lying on her bed, feet at the pillow end, telling her in detail about her school. In the background, Jen’s Travis album was playing.

‘And I swear that Mum chose it because she has a complete thing about pink and the headmistress is called Miss Pink.’

‘Miss Pink? Is that her real name?’ Jen turned another page.

‘Has to be. The old bag hasn’t the imagination to change it.’

Jen looked around Megan’s room. ‘Your room’s not so bad; pink’s all right. At least your mum does it up. Mine just takes what we’re given. She thinks that by putting a few pictures up on the walls and shoving the ornaments on the mantelpiece it’s going to look like home, but it never does. It just looks like another gross army quarter.’

‘Yeah, but
your
mum doesn’t mind mess.’

‘You mean we live in a tip,’ said Jen dryly.

Megan flushed with embarrassment. ‘No, I didn’t mean that at all. Your house is great, it’s comfortable. It looks lived in.’

‘And so does a pigsty.’

Megan laughed. ‘You may not like your place, but try living with my mother. I bet you’d soon change your mind then. I can’t even sit on the sofa without her twitching the cushions straight. Every meal we have has to be at the table with napkins and place mats and crap like that. I bet you’re allowed to eat on trays and watch TV.’

‘You mean, you don’t?’

‘See!’

Jen whistled to express her disbelief. ‘It sounds as bad as boarding school.’

‘Yeah, and on Thursday I’m back there. I swap this place for school, great.’

‘I quite like school,’ said Jen.

‘I did.’

‘So what’s changed?’ Even as Jen said that, she knew she’d put her foot in it. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. Of course.’

Megan turned away and shrugged. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she mumbled.

‘You think it’ll be bad when you go back?’

‘Dunno. The girls I like, my friends, they’ll be all right, but there are some right stuck-up cows there.’

‘Yeah, we’ve got ones like that too. But they won’t read a rag like the
Mercury
, will they?’

‘But they’ll all know about it. They may not read the
Mercury
, but they’ll have heard, won’t they?’

‘Yeah,’ said Jen. She shut the magazine up and tossed it on to the floor, creating a small island of mess in the perfect room. ‘So who do you think’ll be worse; the ones who blank you or the ones who act all concerned but aren’t?’

‘It’ll all be gross. And the teachers’ll be awful.’ She put on a silly voice. ‘
Megan, you know you can always talk to me if you need to
.’ Huh! They just want to pry when they say that. They don’t care at all, skanky lot. I expect they’re already laying bets as to what is going to happen to him.’

‘What do you think that’ll be?’

‘I overheard Mum talking to your mum. They were talking about a court martial.’

‘Gross.’

‘And if he gets found guilty of misconduct, your mum thought it might mean he has to resign.’

‘Shit,’ said Jen.

‘I know. And if Dad’s out of a job, what will happen to us?’

‘He’ll find something else,’ said Jen with a confidence that was entirely false.

Megan didn’t answer her; she just stared at her with an expression of utter disbelief until Jen dropped her eyes.

‘The thing that worries me, though …’ said Megan. She stopped, diffident about voicing her concerns.

‘Yes?’

‘Well, what if Mum and Dad split up?’

‘You think they might?’

‘Dunno.’

‘But they’ve been married for ages.’

‘Yeah, but it’s a pretty awful thing Dad’s done, isn’t it?’

There was another silence as both girls thought about the implications of Bob’s actions.

‘I hope Ginny loses her job too,’ said Megan angrily.

‘At least she’s been sacked from the regiment, so you don’t have to see her.’

‘The cow.’

‘But you liked her.’

‘Two-faced bitch. I reckon she was only nice to me to get at my dad. She used me. Can you believe it?’ The pain and bitterness that she felt was evident in her voice. Jen thought she sounded close to tears. She hoped Megan wasn’t going to break down. She wasn’t sure she could handle it.