Kate's Progress (13 page)

‘He’s won loads of cups,’ she said proudly. ‘He’s by Shilstone Zulu, the champion stallion, out of Sell Valley Doris – she was a champion too. And he jumps. We came third in the Junior Open at Little Buscombe last year.’

‘Gosh,’ said Kate, leading the way into the cottage. ‘I didn’t know I was in the presence of equine royalty.’

Inside, the girl stopped dead, and said, ‘Oh, it looks so different with all the furniture gone! A bit sad, really. Mrs Brown lived here for years and years, and now there’s nothing left.’ Kate had nothing to say to this. The girl, staring around, went on cheerily, ‘You’ve knocked the wall down. I like that. I can’t believe how much lighter it looks.’

‘Just getting rid of all that dark wallpaper made a difference,’ Kate said.

‘What else are you going to do?’

Kate told her a bit about her plans.

‘It’ll be so nice,’ the girl said at last. ‘Mummy will be ever so pleased.’

‘Will she?’ Kate said, passing with the bucket into the kitchen. ‘Why is that?’

The girl stopped, and turned and looked at her. ‘Oh. Don’t you know who I am?’

‘Well, I’m sort of guessing, but you haven’t said yet.’

‘Oh, sorry! Jolly rude of me. I’m Jocasta Blackmore. Mummy’s Lady Blackmore – it was her you bought the cottage from.’

She stuck out her hand in a practised manner, and Kate shook it and said, ‘I’m Kate Jennings.’

She scraped the last bit of mortar out of the bucket – fortunately it was almost empty, and stuck it under the running tap to clean it. Jocasta watched, and said wistfully, ‘Mrs Brown always used to give
me
a drink, too.’

‘I’d be happy to oblige, but I’m afraid the only thing I can offer you is tea. I don’t have anything else in the house.’

‘I like tea,’ Jocasta said happily. ‘I didn’t use to, but I started drinking it for breakfast instead of milk. Mummy says too much milk makes you fat.’

‘You don’t have to worry about that,’ said Kate with a glance at the girl’s slim, athlete’s figure. ‘Did Mrs Brown give you something to eat as well?’

‘Well, usually. Cake or biscuits or something. But if you don’t have anything …’

‘I just happen to have a large piece of cake left over from lunch, that you’re welcome to,’ Kate said.

They took the bucket of water out to the pony while the kettle was boiling. He was head down, nosing among the weeds and eagerly tearing up mouthfuls, and seemed entirely indifferent to the water. Kate wondered if it had just been a ruse to get talking – not that she minded. When the tea was made she put the cake on a plate and they went out together to the front garden, Jocasta carrying one of the kitchen chairs, and they sat where Kate had been sitting, and watched the pony grazing as they drank their tea.

‘He likes it because it’s something new,’ Jocasta said. ‘I suppose it’s a different taste.’

‘The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence,’ Kate said.

‘Is it?’

‘It’s a saying,’ Kate explained. Amazing how these old bits of lore didn’t get passed on any more.

‘It’s true,’ Jocasta discovered. ‘You always see cows with their silly heads stuck under the wire trying to get a bit of grass in the next field when there’s perfectly good stuff on their own side. This is fab cake.’

‘My next door neighbour made it. I was all out of food today, so she made me a sandwich for lunch, and put the cake in with it.’

‘Oh, Kay, you mean. I know her. She’s ever so nice. So why did you buy Little’s?’

Kate explained she’d been left some money and had fancied a change – she left out the dating disasters from the story.

‘I can’t imagine ever being tired of London,’ Jocasta said. ‘There must be so much to do. I know Mummy would rather live there. She’s always going up for the day, and she moans like anything when she comes back that she wishes she could have stayed.’

‘Would you like to live there?’

‘Well, maybe. Not all the time, because I do like riding and dogs and things. But I wouldn’t mind some of the time.’ She took another bite of the cake. ‘There’s been an awful fuss at home about Mummy selling Little’s. Ed was mad as fire. Do you have any brothers?’

‘No. I’ve got four sisters.’

‘Five of you? That must be brilliant! I’ve always wanted a sister, but Daddy died when I was a baby so that was a washout. All I’ve got is two brothers, and they’re really old,’ she concluded gloomily.

‘Aren’t they nice?’

‘Oh, I suppose they’re all right, in a way, but it’s not the same. Ed is so strict about everything, and he’s always worrying about money, and he gets cross, and he and Mummy have terrible rows. Jack’s all-right-ish. I mean, he’s not strict like Ed, and he doesn’t tell me off, but he’s really embarrassing sometimes. He’s so old, but he pretends to be young, which makes me squirm. He keeps going out with different girls, and some of them are my friends’ sisters – God, it’s embarrassing! I mean, why can’t he just do old-people things instead of trying to be cool, which he
so
isn’t? You should see him dancing! Honestly – gag!’ She rolled her eyes.

Kate thought it was not the moment to reveal she was going to a dance with him on Saturday. Instead she asked what was more interesting to her. ‘Why didn’t Ed want your mother to sell Little’s?’

‘Because she’s not supposed to sell any part of the estate. Daddy wanted it all kept together, because Grandpa had to sell so much of it because of death duties, and Ed feels the same. He hates the idea of letting anything go. When Daddy died, Ed thought it would all be left to him because he’s the eldest, but instead Daddy left everything to Mummy for her lifetime. Ed says she’s only supposed to spend the income from the estate, and not be able to sell anything, but apparently the way it was drawn up, the will and everything, there’s a loophole or something. Anyway, it wasn’t written down properly by the lawyers, so when Mummy needs more money, she sells something. She sold some paintings last year, and Ed made such a fuss, so she said this time she’d sell something no-one liked or wanted, which was Little’s, because it wasn’t a pretty cottage and no-one wanted to live in it. But Ed made even more fuss and said that selling real estate was even worse than selling chattels and if Mummy couldn’t see that she was an imbecile and not fit to be in charge of a piggy bank.’

Kate saw the unhappy look on the girl’s face, and thought she understood why she had paid this sudden visit, and why she was so eager to chat. She came from a divided household; and she was lonely.
I’ve always wanted a sister
.

‘He didn’t really say that?’ she said.

Jocasta nodded. ‘He was pretty mad,’ she added in exculpation. ‘And he apologized the minute he’d said it. But every time he comes down there seems to be a row. It’s terribly boring.’ She looked away as she said it. Not boring, Kate thought, but upsetting.

‘What do you mean, when he comes down? Doesn’t he live at The Hall?’

‘Oh, yes, but he works in London. He’s got his own company, and he’s usually there in the week, three or four days, but he comes home for weekends because he’s supposed to be running the estate for Mummy, and Jack runs the factory.’

‘You have a factory?’

‘Don’t you know?’ she exclaimed, opening her eyes wide. ‘Haven’t you heard of Blackmore Tweed? It’s famous all over the West Country, and it’s sold in London and everything. We make all sorts of woollen cloth, lots of it from our own wool, but especially the tweed – even Mummy says it’s beautiful, and she buys all her clothes in London.’

‘I see. And Jack runs the factory,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘He’s supposed to,’ Jocasta said casually, ‘but I think it probably runs itself, because he doesn’t seem to go there very often. He’s always messing around and having fun.
That
makes Ed mad, too.’ She sighed. ‘Everything seems to make Ed mad these days.’

‘Poor Ed,’ Kate said absently.

‘Poor Jocasta,’ the girl retorted vigorously. ‘Stuck in the middle of it.’

‘Yes, that must be tiring,’ Kate said.

Jocasta warmed with the sympathy. ‘I say, you could come riding with me! I don’t mind having Chloe if you want Daphne. Though you’re so small and thin you could probably ride Chlo if you wanted. She’s only eleven-two, but Exmoor ponies are very strong. They can carry big heavy men, and keep going all day.’

‘Shouldn’t you be at school?’ Kate remembered belatedly.

‘Half term,’ she said promptly. ‘We finished yesterday, and we get all next week and go back the day after Bank Holiday. Wouldn’t you like a ride?’

‘I’d love it, but you’d better ask your mother first. She might not like you lending a pony to a complete stranger.’

‘Well, you’ve bought her house, so you’re not really a stranger. You’re practically family. That was really good cake,’ she added wistfully, wiping up the last crumbs with a forefinger.

‘I’m afraid that’s it. I only had the one piece,’ said Kate.

‘Oh well, I better be going. Daphne doesn’t like stopping for long.’ The pony was contentedly grazing, but Kate had an idea that Jocasta was belatedly feeling some social embarrassment, though whether for having revealed family secrets or for having eaten all the cake herself, she couldn’t tell.

They stood up, and Jocasta caught the pony, pulled down the stirrups, and led it out of the gate, which Kate held open for her and closed behind her. She leaned on the gate while Jocasta checked the girth and mounted. The pony chewed its bit and flirted its ears back and forth, swishing the luxuriant black tail against early flies.

‘Thanks for the water,’ the girl said when she was settled. ‘And the tea and everything.’

‘You’re welcome. Drop in any time.’

A heartfelt look of gratitude. ‘Would you like to go riding next week?’ Jocasta asked: her
quid pro quo
of hospitality, the one thing she had to offer.

‘If your mother says it’s all right,’ said Kate.

‘Oh, she will. She doesn’t care what I do,’ the child said scornfully.

Poor kid
, Kate thought. ‘Well, I’d love to,’ she said.

Her reward was a brilliant smile. Jocasta gathered the reins and turned the pony. ‘Great. I’ll see you, then.’

‘By the way,’ Kate said on a last thought, ‘your name – quite unusual. Did your mother choose it?’

Jocasta nodded. ‘She just thought it sounded nice,’ she said indifferently. With a wave of the hand she trotted away, turned on to the dirt track, put the eager pony into a canter, and was soon out of sight.

Jocasta: the queen of Thebes who notoriously married her own son, Oedipus, after he had killed her husband, his father. Quite some personality to be named after. But it sounded nice.

Yes, thought Kate, another thing Lady Blackmore ‘didn’t get’.

Kate gave quite some thought to what to wear on Saturday night. It was all very well for Jack to say not to worry, it wouldn’t be very smart, but the words ‘country club’ and ‘dinner dance’ had never been thrown at her wardrobe before, and they were finding no resonance there. It didn’t help that all her clothes bar the working ones were still in boxes.

It also didn’t help that Kay was in a ferment of excitement about it. ‘Ooh, it’s ever so glamorous! All the nobs belong to the country club. I’ve waitressed there once or twice when they had big do’s and needed extra staff. You’ll have a lovely time, but sooner you than me. It’s so posh I’d be so nervous I’d be knocking my glass over and dropping my fork every two minutes! What’re you going to wear?’

Ah yes, what? Her little clubbing numbers wouldn’t strike the right note, she felt. Jack had said you didn’t have to wear a long dress, but she doubted that meant you could wear skirts so short that they were a mere pelmet to your thighs. She had longer things, but they weren’t very special.

‘I’m sure anything that’s good enough for London will be good enough for sleepy old Liscombe,’ Kay said loyally, with an abrupt reversal that did not fill Kate with confidence.

Eventually she chose her ‘little black dress’, as Lauren had always jokingly called it, reasoning that you could never go far wrong with black. At least, you couldn’t be criticized for it – could you? It was short, but not ultra-short, the skirt ending just above the knees. It was of a clingy, shiny material that looked like satin but wasn’t, and it was a good thing that a couple of weeks of hard work on the house had worked off any spare fat she had, because there wasn’t room in there for anything but her basic body and a skintight pair of pants. It was sleeveless and low-plunging at the back, so she couldn’t wear a bra with it, making it one of the few occasions she was glad of her lack of boobs. She paired it with glossy sheer black tights and strappy black heels, and relied on having her hair down to provide relief from all that monochrome.

‘What do you think?’ she asked Kay, who had come over – again – specifically to inspect her outfit.

‘You’ll catch the eye in that lot,’ Kay said, which was not entirely reassuring. ‘You got any jewellery? It’s a bit plain, maybe.’

‘I’ve got these earrings.’ She got them out. They were shiny, faceted black drops, only plastic, but they looked like jet if you didn’t get too close. And she explained about having her hair down.

‘You’ll look
lovely
!’ Kay said with the sort of emphasis with which you tell a child going to the dentist won’t hurt. ‘And I tell you what, why don’t you come over ours to dress? You can use our bathroom, and I’ve got this posh bath essence Darren bought me for Christmas. And I can help you with your hair. I’ve got these ’lectric curlers that’ll take the frizz out lovely.’

A bit of comfort, a decent mirror and a bathroom that didn’t have bare floorboards were more temptation than Kate could resist. It took a long soaking and some vigorous work with a scrubbing brush to get rid of all the building dirt, and Kay produced some Norwegian hand cream that Darren used when he worked outside in the winter to induce something like smoothness in the poor abused appendages. She washed her hair and used a special de-frizzing serum afterwards, and Kay proved very adept with the curling iron, and produced smooth, shiny curling tresses that Kate adored. Sitting in front of Kay’s dressing-table mirror she said, ‘Thank God it’s been dry all day. One breath of damp air and it’s back to coconut matting.’