Out of Step (19 page)

‘How?’

‘Easy. After he’s got them hooked he always buys them the same egocentric present.’

‘What?’

‘A green malachite necklace.’

‘Mmm,’ Nell said appreciatively. ‘Well, I suppose it beats a box of chocolates.’

Rob stared into his wine and said nothing.

Nell did a quick mental subject-trawl, but could only come up with small talk. ‘So, how’s the new caravan coming along? Will the guy ropes be like those on a tent?’

Rob raised his head and made a face of mock despair. ‘It’s not going to happen at all. It appears the site owner was underinsured so he’s decided to sell up in the New Year and call it a day.’

‘So what will you do?’

‘Find somewhere else. I’ve got to be out before Christmas, in fact. He’s having family to stay.’

But that’s in less than a week! Where will you go?
Nell thought, No, I’m not asking him that. ‘What are you doing for Christmas?’

‘Taking the children up to London to stay with Bert. It’s my turn to have them this year. They’re fond of him for some reason and they love London.’

‘Is Cassie home yet?’

‘Yes, she is.’

‘And will she make a fuss about letting them go?’

‘I just don’t know. She used to be so desperate to get rid of them, but now it’s all “Mic this” and “Mic that”. God knows what the two of them get up to together.’

‘Really?’ Nell raised her eyebrows.

‘Who can tell? You’d think with my cosmopolitan background I’d know all there is to know about human behaviour, wouldn’t you? The truth is, it confounds me every time.’ The lights came on again as he was speaking and, to Nell’s disappointment, the intimate atmosphere vanished in the glare of several 100-watt bulbs.

They ate cheese and fruit and talked about the weather, and the likelihood of global warming, and how far up the Torrent valley would become inundated if the polar icecaps were to melt. It’s interesting stuff, Nell thought, but too impersonal. I’d like to know more about him and what he’s really thinking.

‘Coffee?’ she offered.

‘Yes, please.’

‘And then I’d better go and make up the spare bed for you. I’m afraid it will have to be blankets; I’ve only got one duvet.’

‘Fine,’ Rob said. ‘I prefer blankets anyway.’

Making a bed with someone is an activity usually attended by an easy familiarity, Rob thought as Nell handed him a pillowcase to stuff. Strangers do not make beds together. Not of course that Nell is a stranger, she’s a very comfortable person to be with, but it’s odd to be spreading bedclothes with her. They folded the top sheet back over the blankets in unison, one on either side of the bed.

‘Will you be warm enough?’ Nell asked.

‘I’m sure I will. In the caravan I used to top up my bedding with an old overcoat my father brought back from Moscow. It’s immensely thick and heavy. I think Bert only gave it to me because he got too broad for it, or maybe because it’s in a very tatty condition, especially now after the storm. We call it the dead Russian.’

Nell laughed. ‘I wouldn’t fancy sleeping under one of those.’ They tucked in the sides of the bed and stood back.

‘Look,’ Rob said, suddenly shy again, ‘Don’t let me mess up your entire evening. Just do what you’d normally be doing, and I’ll fit in with that.’

‘It’s no big deal,’ Nell said. ‘Some reading of newspapers, a bit of telly – that’s about it.’

They sat in her sitting room by an open fire. Nell read the real life section, and Rob the business pages. Then they watched a programme on BBC2 and Nell got out her needlepoint and sewed a bit more of her unicorn design, putting in the shading on its mane with soft brown and beige wool.

‘I can’t do the background in artificial light,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell the different greens apart.’

‘What’s it for?’

‘A cushion cover? I don’t know really. I just like doing it.’

Rob put another log on the fire and watched her in amusement as she threaded the ends of wool carefully under previous stitches on the back, before snipping them off with scissors. He thought: I’d like to have had a sister. This could be the nearest I’ll ever get to one. I was such a fool to turn down her offer! I do wish I could make fast off-the-cuff decisions, but somehow I never do, and I always live to regret it. Maybe I’ll get another chance. I can’t very well bring it up now; she’s more than likely changed her mind … I can still help her with practical things, though. After all, I do know this place better than anybody.

‘I’ve just had a thought,’ he said.

‘Mmm?’ Nell was threading up some ginger-coloured wool.

‘Yes. When this snow begins to thaw, any that may have got in under the tiles will start to drip through your ceilings upstairs.’

‘Oh stuff!’ Nell exclaimed, pursing her lips (nice full lips). ‘That’s a pain. What’s the best thing to do?’

‘When it happened to me years ago, I went up into the roof space and rolled the snow into as many snowballs as I could, and chucked them down the hatch into the bath,’ Rob said. ‘I couldn’t get it all out, of course, but enough to prevent the plaster on the ceilings below from collapsing. And it all dried out eventually.’

‘Right,’ Nell said, considering. ‘But not tonight, I think.’

‘Not while it’s still snowing, no.’

‘They’re forecasting a freeze for several days, aren’t they? So there’s no immediate panic. I’ll do it before the thaw.’

‘Tomorrow,’ Rob said, ‘I must try to get in to work. I’ve got a difficult client on my back, and I’ve got some
important figures to sort out. Could I phone Tom now? He’ll pull the Rover out for me in the morning, I’m sure.’ And later in the week, after work, he thought, I’ll come back and give you a hand with your arctic attic-full. He was pretty sure there would be a lot of snow up there, but he didn’t say this to Nell. He wasn’t about to alarm her unduly about the unpleasant task ahead.

At 9 p.m. Nell went up to turn on her electric blanket, and offered Rob a hot-water bottle.

‘No thanks.’

‘I thought you weren’t the macho type?’ she teased. ‘I won’t tell anyone, honestly.’

‘Oh, go on then.’

Later, lying in the unfamiliar bed with his toes cosily warm on the woolly hot-water bottle cover, he reflected wryly on his fears about staying at the cottage with Nell. What a berk I am, he thought. Why on earth was I worried about ‘complications’? Is she after my body? Is she hell!

Next morning at first light he woke with a start to the sound of a working diesel engine outside. He threw on his clothes and looked out of the window. A large yellow tractor with a snowplough on the front had just finished clearing the turning circle as far as Nell’s blue Citroën and, on seeing him at the window, the driver reversed over and opened his cab door for a word.

‘Mornin’,’ he said cheerfully, switching off the engine and looking up at Rob. ‘Overslept, then?’

‘Morning, Tom. Yes. I haven’t been used to a decent bed lately.’ Rob rubbed his eyes.

‘You quite sure you wants diggin’ out, or do I leave ee bide a few days more?’

‘Today would be ideal thanks.’ Rob strove to keep a straight face.

‘An’ what was you playin’ at then, up over? Rally drivin’ in reverse, was it?’

‘Something like that. I’ll come down.’

Rob went downstairs. Nell was in the kitchen, fully dressed, making tea. ‘Would he like a mug?’ she asked. ‘Only I thought I’d let you deal with him in case it was, you know … embarrassing.’

‘I’ll ask him. Thanks.’ Rob was unaccustomed to such sensitivity. He put on his parka and boots.

‘Tea?’ he offered Tom.

‘Had some before I came out, thanks.’

‘What’s the top road like?’

‘Handsome. Gritters have bin along. I reckon ‘twill all be away come tomorrer.’

‘I’ll pop back before I get off to work,’ Rob called to Nell.

‘OK.’

‘You’m well in there,’ Tom said with a wink. ‘Got your old place back an’ all!’

Rob climbed into the cab of the tractor. ‘I wish,’ was all he said.

‘I am totally, utterly,
miserably
pissed off!’ Anna said, the moment Nell lowered herself into the swimming pool the following morning.

‘Oh dear,’ Nell said. ‘Why?’

She looks genuinely concerned, Anna thought. She’s a good person. Perhaps I shouldn’t make use of her. But it’s a perfect opportunity, so what the hell! ‘I just hate the bloody winter,’ she said. ‘It’s dark and cold, and the Boss hardly comes down at all these days. I suppose I’m just plain lonely, but it’s at times like Christmas when it really gets to me. Would you believe he’s just told me he’s taking Ermintrude and the kids skiing on Boxing Day for ten whole days! So just when I most need him, he won’t be there. Story of my life! How could he
do
that to me?’

‘Well… I suppose he has responsibilities …’

‘So why can’t they sodding well ski here? There’s been enough snow!’

‘It isn’t quite the same thing though, is it?’

Anna ignored this. ‘I mean, why take crappy Ermintrude anyway? She probably can’t even stay upright.’ She was pretty sure she could see Nell thinking,
Oh yes she can!
And decided to give her another clue. ‘And the brats are too young anyway.’

‘Are they boys or girls?’

‘Boys.’ Anna stared Nell out. She
knows
, Anna thought. I’m sure of it. So why doesn’t she just come out with it? I need her to guess, or my plan won’t work …

‘What sort of an age?’ Nell asked.

‘Sevenish? I dunno. I don’t really care. Anyway, I can’t go on like this. It’s really fucking me up. So I’ve decided…’ She put on a determined but defensive expression.

‘Decided what?’

‘That I’m going to have him. I need him, and I’m fed up always coming second best. And he doesn’t love her anyway; he’s told me so. So I’m going to reason with him and make him leave her.’
That should do the trick!

‘But you can’t do that!’ Nell looked horrified.

‘Watch me.’

‘But it’s immoral! You can’t just
steal
someone else’s husband.’

‘Happens all the time. Look around you.’ Anna shrugged.

This was clearly too much for Nell. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘I’m going to have to be straight with you. I know who “The Boss” is. I found one of your earrings on his houseboat.’ She stared Anna in the face.

Anna pretended to flinch. ‘Oh God!’
Good!
‘How long have you known?’

‘Since March.’

‘So why on earth didn’t you say? I thought we were friends.’

‘Ermintrude – as you so dismissively call her – is my best friend,’ Nell retorted stoutly. ‘She and I were at school together.’

‘Oh shit!’ Anna said. ‘I honestly had no idea of that. What can I say? You haven’t told her, have you?’

‘Not yet.’

‘And you won’t, will you? Please promise me? I need to be able to choose the right time to talk to Paul. Otherwise the whole thing could just fall apart, and it’s my whole life…’ She put her hand on Nell’s shoulder and gazed at her as beseechingly as she could.

Nell shook her off. ‘Why should I help you? It’s Elly I care about.’

‘Look, you’re upset. I’m sorry. I had no idea you two were close. But her and Paul’s relationship is dead in the water. She must have told you that. She’ll probably be relieved to get shot of him. I just don’t want it to be … messy … you know? It would be so much better if he breaks the news to her in his own way. Nell?’

But Nell was already swimming away from her, and Anna could tell by the furiousness of her crawl, that she had taken the bait.

Anna began to swim too, but reflectively, doing a gentle breaststroke. Now, if she had got her human psychology right (much boosted by the unexpected best friend scenario) then Nell would be on the phone to Ermintrude as soon as she could be. Then with luck, the said Ermintrude would flip and demand an immediate divorce and then she, Anna, could step in sweetly and pick up the pieces with no machinations suspected. She really did not want to be involved in anything … unpleasant.

As Nell dried herself after swimming, with her mind full of Anna and Elly and Paul, and in a confusion as to what on earth she should do for the best, she discovered to her
intense annoyance that she’d forgotten to bring her hairbrush. She had also just towelled her hair into an unmanageable frizz. Then she remembered with even more disgust that Sibyl had arranged to be late at ARTFUL
^L
that morning, so she wouldn’t be able to borrow hers. There was nothing for it but to go all the way back to the cottage before work. What a damn nuisance.

She had managed to drive up and down her lane without difficulty, after Tom’s efforts with the snow-plough. The main roads were already completely clear, with the snow and slush piled high in dirty lumps on the verges. Nell was afraid it was melting faster than expected, and wouldn’t last until the next weekend after all. So Rob’s children would have to go without their promised sledging. It came to her in passing as she drove that although she’d only met Josh once, she was afraid she didn’t actually like him or Rosie very much. But it was an unnatural and unwomanly thought, best swiftly squashed.

It wasn’t until Nell had gone upstairs to her bedroom to fetch her hairbrush that she realised how advanced the thaw actually was. On the ceiling above her head was a dark, damp, spreading patch…

Bloody hell! Nell thought. This can’t wait. I’m going to have to do something now. She pushed her bed out of the way of possible drips, pulled on her gardening clothes, and then turned her attention towards getting up into the roof. By standing her stepladder (unopened) on a towel in the bath, she could just reach high enough, and when she had climbed to the top of it and pushed the hatch cover aside, she shone her torch round the roof space. Above her head glimmers of daylight were visible where the overlaps on the clay tiles were poor or damaged. Parts of the floor were covered in up to two inches of snow, but it wasn’t a proper floor. There were a couple of planks laid loosely over the cross-members and some of the gaps in
between were half filled with lengths of fibreglass wool. In places the snow was lying directly on the plaster of the ceiling below.

So that’s what the survey meant about insufficient insulation, Nell thought. Talk about understatement! No wonder the cottage is so cold. I shall have to do something about it sooner than I’d planned. She put her hands on the sides of the hatchway and heaved herself up through it. There was very little space and the rafters above her head were filthy with dust and bits of old thatch. The cold wetness of the snow soaked through the knees of her jeans at once as she shuffled herself along one of the narrow planks, keeping her balance with difficulty, and conscious that any false move might well result in an expensive replastering job in the rooms below. Then, moving the planks alternately, and using them as thin sliding bridges, she began making snowballs.