Out of Step (7 page)

‘Don’t knock it,’ Paul said. ‘I should grab it while you can.’

‘That sounds like a threat.’ Elly turned back to the porridge.

‘Cobblers,’ he said calmly. ‘Only to someone paranoid like you.’ He put his arms around her from behind, but she moved so he missed her cheek, kissing her ear instead.

‘Too loud!’ Elly complained. ‘Go and call the boys, will you? This is ready.’

Paul went to the bottom of the stairs and bellowed, ‘WILL! SAM! BREAKFAST!’ Then, suspecting it might be a good few minutes before they bothered to come downstairs, he slipped into his study and dialled a very familiar number. He stood there, keeping an eye on the
door and muttering, ‘Come on, come
on,’
until she answered. ‘Darling? It’s me.’

‘Oh Paul… how did it go?’

‘Fine. I’ve told her and, Lord be praised, she even likes the idea! So I’ll be down soon to make sure it’s as good as it’s cracked up to be.’

‘But that’s marvellous! I never thought she would. It makes things so much easier for us. You are clever.’

‘Got to go, OK? I’ll phone again soon. Love you. Bye.’

Rob decided he should do the honourable thing. He didn’t regret the outcome of Christmas Day – very much the reverse in fact – but he told himself that he must consider Nell’s feelings. What good could he possibly be to her? He counted up his liabilities: he was about to lose his house; any money he had was likely to be bled from him the moment he’d earned it; he was obliged to put Josh and Rosie first (they were a priority he could never disregard). So there wasn’t much left. He had nothing, in all conscience, to offer her. He supposed he should ring her up and apologise. Apologise for what? For kissing her? He
liked
Nell, dammit!

He delivered the garish cardigan to ARTFUL
^L
as he’d promised, when the shop opened again after the holiday break, but he didn’t linger, pretending to be in a tearing hurry. He felt bad about that afterwards, but he fell back upon an enduring habit – when in doubt, do nothing. Things often resolved themselves without one having to commit oneself either way.

Life went on. He sighed a lot. It rained even more. The river rose. Rob kept an eye on it, and filled half a dozen sandbags just in case. The telephone rang regularly. He got on with his work.

When Rob had turned up just before lunchtime on 2nd January, carrying her cardigan in a Tesco bag, Nell
greeted him cheerfully and glanced sideways at Sibyl to check that she was on cue with, ‘Why don’t you take a break? I can manage fine on my own for a while.’ Sibyl came forward at once to say it, but Rob beat her to it.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Afraid I’ve got to rush. Already late for an important appointment. Just wanted to return this.’ He thrust the bag at her, made a little gesture of apology with both palms momentarily raised uppermost, and was gone.

Nell found herself standing there stupidly, clutching the bag. Then she closed her mouth firmly and bent her head, not wanting to catch Sibyl’s sympathetic eye. Sibyl tactfully said nothing, and went to tidy up one of the display racks.

Nell waited more than two weeks for Rob to phone her. Silence. The telephone sat there inert, unresponsive, useless. Nell felt like throwing it through the window. Rob had definitely fancied her; she knew the signs. So why hadn’t he done something about it? She felt more angry than upset, and found herself crashing things about as she prepared a Saturday evening dinner for four.

Paul, Elly and Sibyl arrived all together in Paul’s car. Elly and Paul, it appeared, were barely on speaking terms. Sibyl made an ‘Oh Gawd!’ sort of face at Nell as they came in. Nell wished a lot of things all at once: that she’d been a little more noncommital when on the phone to Elly on Boxing Day; that Elly and Paul would sort out their differences and make a go of their marriage; and, more than anything, that she hadn’t asked them all over for a meal that evening. She half smiled at Sibyl and took her cloak to hang up.

‘Wuhhh!’ Sibyl exclaimed. ‘It’s horrible cold outside. So much for global warming!’

Nell led them into the sitting room and poured drinks.

‘Common misconception, that,’ Paul said, taking a careless gulp of whisky. ‘Everyone seems to think we’re
going to end up surrounded by luxuriant growths of vines and lemon trees and olive orchards, and God knows what. But it’s a fair chance that it will in fact get
colder
here as global warming takes hold.’

‘Why?’ Nell asked, welcoming a neutral topic of conversation.

‘Oh, don’t encourage him,’ Elly urged.

‘Don’t worry,’ Paul said testily. ‘I won’t bore them. I can say it all in a couple of sentences.’ He gulped his whisky again.

‘You drink too fast,’ Elly said.

‘Go on then,’ Nell said quickly.

‘Right, well it goes something like this: extra heat leads to more precipitation, i.e., snow at the poles, which leads to more ice formation and therefore to more icebergs breaking off the glaciers in Greenland, which float southwards into the North Atlantic cooling it down and making the water less salty and therefore less likely to sink. This has a good chance of disrupting the Atlantic conveyor system altogether, and deflecting our Gulf Stream current southwards towards Spain. Don’t forget we’re on the same latitude as Labrador. Without the Gulf Stream bringing us extra heat from the tropics, we’d be very cold indeed!’

‘It’s just exaggeration,’ Elly said. ‘It’ll never happen.’

‘I certainly hope not,’ Sibyl said. There was an awkward silence, and then Elly and Paul both spoke at the same time.

Elly said, ‘Just as well you didn’t come for Christmas!’

Paul said, ‘Christmas wasn’t the same without you.’

‘Yes… No…’ Nell said. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t come, but…’

‘She had better things to do, didn’t you, Nell?’ Elly looked expectant. ‘What’s the latest, then?’

‘Maybe she doesn’t want you to dissect her entire private life in public. Have you even considered that possibility?’ Paul demanded.

‘Sorry,’ Nell said hastily. ‘Just got to go and see how the food’s coming along.’ She retreated to the kitchen. Sibyl got up and followed her, shutting the door behind them. She was wearing gypsy earrings and lots of loose layers of clothes, mostly of navy blue, with a long necklace of bright clashing wooden beads. She looked magnificent. Nell turned to her gratefully.

‘Oh dear,’ Sibyl said. ‘Those two get worse all the time. Just as well the boys stayed in London with their other grandma. Can I do anything useful?’

‘You could mash these,’ Nell said, offering a pan of drained potatoes. ‘What’s the problem? D’you know?’

‘I’ve a shrewd idea, but I won’t say in case I want to unsay it later.’ She mashed away energetically as Nell dished up. ‘Perhaps this houseboat of theirs will be a good idea. It’ll certainly make family holidays less fraught.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Hasn’t Elly told you about it? Oh dear, perhaps it’s supposed to be a secret. Pretend you don’t know, yes?’

‘Right.’ They carried in the food, and set it out on the dining-room table.

Paul and Elly came in and sat down. It seemed they had reluctantly made a pact to tone down the conflict.

‘Shall I tell her?’ Elly asked him.

‘If you want.’

‘We’ve got a treat for you tomorrow, Nell, which includes being out for lunch. All right?’

‘Great,’ Nell said, thinking: Houseboat? One of the Eely creek ones? That would be a happy coincidence.

Sunday morning was sunny. The tide was at its lowest and the river had retreated to a wide stripe of water in the middle, beaching the houseboats and revealing a tatty causeway: Eely Isle’s connection to the rest of the world. The Tozers’ houseboat turned out to be the red and green
one that Nell had admired previously, and she was more than delighted to be shown around it. Inside it was neat and cleverly constructed with wooden panelling, shiny brass, and red velvet cushions. Everything, including the sink and cooker, could be shut away into its own small cupboard. Seats metamorphosed into extra beds. Tables folded up and down. There was even a solid-fuel stove with a long black chimney stack, but it plainly wasn’t lit because no warmth emanated from it.

‘It’s wonderful!’ Nell exclaimed. She had expected it to be more like camping, but Elly pointed out facilities at the mooring she hadn’t had occasion to notice before: an ablutions block with hot water only yards away, bins for rubbish, electricity lines, and water hoses. ‘Does anybody live on these boats all year round?’

‘No,’ Paul said. ‘They’re rented out to holidaymakers, so we’ll probably never see the same people twice. Suits me very well. I have quite enough of the social scene in London.’

Nell wondered if Elly felt the same.

Elly obviously felt cold. ‘Is there any possibility of heat,’ she asked, ‘or are we all supposed to freeze heroically to death?’

‘Give me a chance,’ Paul said. ‘I’m just about to light the damn stove. All right?’

‘How about us two going for a walk while he does that?’ Elly said to Nell.

Nell glanced at Paul. He made a
‘Please
, get her off my back and out of here before she drives me barking mad’ sort of expression with screwed-up nose and pursed mouth. ‘Good idea,’ she said quickly. ‘Upstream or down?’

‘Down towards the sea.’

They set off over the Eely bridge and along the path on the south bank of the river.

‘Right,’ Elly said. ‘Ten walking steps, followed by ten
running ones, followed by ten walking ones, and so on. That way, we’ll soon get warm. OK?’ She set off without waiting for an answer, dodging the puddles nimbly to preserve the shine on her expensive leather boots.

Nell was relieved to be away from the tension that Paul’s presence always seemed to generate.

‘… Nine, ten!’ Elly chanted, slowing down.

‘It’s a lovely houseboat,’ Nell said, catching her up. ‘Sibyl will adore it too.’

‘Good isn’t it?’ Elly said. ‘I can’t quite work out why Paul’s buying it, but I’m sure there must be an ulterior motive.’

‘You don’t seem to like each other very much at the moment,’ Nell ventured.

‘That must be the understatement of the year!’ Elly shoved her fists deep into her pockets. ‘When the boys are older, I’m definitely going to leave him. I’ve made up my mind.’

‘Oh, Elly!’ Nell was distressed. ‘I’m so sorry …’

‘… Eight, nine, ten!’ Elly counted. ‘Come on, run! One, two, three …’

After half a mile of this, they stopped and walked normally.

‘So, how’s Rob?’ Elly panted.

‘Dunno.’

‘Why? Haven’t you seen him lately?’

‘Not since New Year, no.’ The trees around Bottom Cottage were coming into view. In a few minutes the cottage itself would be visible too. Nell wondered whether Rob would be at the window with his binoculars, and whether they should turn round now before he could see them. She didn’t want him to think she was mooning after him. But Elly kept going, and it was already too late, so she followed.

‘But why ever not?’ Elly asked.

‘Because he hasn’t phoned. Simple.’

‘The bastard!’ Elly said indignantly. ‘After all your hard work too.’

‘I didn’t do it for a quid pro quo.’

‘No, of course not. I didn’t mean that.’

They walked in silence for a while. Then a high-pitched wailing sound reached their ears. It was travelling across the water from the cottage.

‘Listen!’ Elly said, stopping and staring across the river. Nell stopped reluctantly beside her. She hadn’t got her binoculars with her, but she could see three figures in the garden behind the stone wall, one tall and two small. The taller of the two children appeared to be making the noise, and keeping it up apparently effortlessly in spite of the entreaties and promises the man seemed to be making. Then the smaller child joined in.

‘Oh dear,’ Nell said. ‘Poor things. I wonder what’s wrong?’

‘Sounds to me,’ Elly said, ‘as though you’re well out of it.’

By the time February came, Nell had hardened her heart and accepted the fact that Rob Hayhoe was not interested in her. Even Elly had stopped pestering her for news of him. It had been a disappointing nonevent and it was now over. Yet somehow she still hadn’t had the heart to do any serious house-hunting, nor to burn her boats by putting her own place up for sale. She decided to wait until spring, the season when many people’s fancy rashly turns to thoughts of a move.

She sat indoors during the extended winter evenings doing tapestry and watching television. She told herself she would have been better employed in her usual habit of reading intelligent books, but soap operas were unchallenging and provided a necessary distraction from too sharp a consciousness. So when the telephone rang one weekday, just as she was cosily settled on the sofa,
she didn’t rush to answer it, but got up rather casually, laying her tapestry frame down carefully so as not to lose her needle.

‘Hello?’ she said.

‘Nell? It’s Rob Hayhoe.’

‘Oh… hello.’ Only five weeks and three days late! Nell thought resentfully. I hope he isn’t expecting enthusiasm.

‘Um … sorry I haven’t been in touch. I don’t seem to have had a moment to myself lately.’

‘Oh?’ Lucky you, she thought.

‘But… well, something’s come up that may interest you. Have you found another house to buy yet?’

‘No.’

‘Right, well…’

He seemed to be finding her monosyllabic replies somewhat unnerving.
Good
, Nell thought.

‘Er … I don’t know why I’m doing this really. It might be considered to be a great stroke of luck for me – well it would be if Cassie weren’t on at me all the time about money. I mean, I never wanted to get rid of the place anyway.’

‘Sorry?’ Nell said, confused.

‘No, it’s me. I’m not explaining myself very well, am I?’

‘Not really, no.’

‘Well, I wondered whether you might still be interested. You see, at the very last moment, just when we were on the point of exchanging contracts, my house-buying chain has been broken. It seems my buyer’s buyer has unexpectedly lost his job and can’t proceed, so my buyer has had to drop out too, at least until he can find another punter to buy his house. So the upshot is – Bottom Cottage is on the market again.’