Second Thyme Around (10 page)

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Authors: Katie Fforde

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women

BOOK: Second Thyme Around
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‘You didn’t want him to know you weren’t attached?’
‘No! He left me for another woman, an
older
woman. A girl has her pride.’
‘But is he still with this woman?’
‘No, but it’s only a matter of time before he breaks some other poor schmuck’s heart. He’s spending Christmas Day with Janey, his sous-chef. She’s got an almighty crush on him, and I’m really worried that she might do something silly, like sleep with him.’
‘Oh dear. Men are such bastards – with a few notable exceptions, of course,’ Lucy added quickly, as Geoff came in with an armful of twigs.
‘Listen, Lucy, would you mind if I rang Kitty? I know I’ll forget if I wait until after six, when your mother is here.’
‘Oh no, please do. But I’ll have to find Jake’s mobile. We’re not actually on the phone yet.’
Geoff sighed, reached behind him and produced his phone. ‘If you’ve got the number, I’ll punch it in for you. It’ll take for ever, otherwise.’
Perdita felt herself go pink. ‘I am sorry about erasing all those numbers. I’ll just run up and find Kitty’s.’
 
 
‘I’m having a splendid time,’ said Kitty, when Perdita finally got hold of her. ‘They’re looking after me so well. We’ve been playing bridge, and they don’t think I play badly at all.’
‘Well, I hope it’s not for money, and don’t play poker,’ said Perdita, glad to hear Kitty sounding in such good form.
‘And how are things with you? Did that Geoff turn out to be attractive?’
‘Er, yes, I’m using his phone now.’
‘Oh, and he’s listening? I’d better shut up about him then. Still, it’s very nice of you to ring.’
‘I just wanted to make sure you were all right. But I’d better go now. Lucy’s mother is arriving in a moment, and I must make sure her room’s in order.’
‘Really? I hope you’re getting a rest, darling. You’re supposed to be on holiday. But I mustn’t keep you. Bye bye, darling. Speak to you soon.’
Perdita peered at the phone, eventually working out how to switch it off, and then went upstairs to the master bedroom with the dodgy en suite.
 
‘How did you manage to get it so clean and tidy in here with no vacuum?’ asked Lucy. ‘And it smells wonderful.’
‘Well, I found a stiff broom, which is all I have at home, after all.’
‘Really? How extraordinary! Why haven’t you got a vacuum?’
‘Well, you know how it is, I have other priorities, and my house is tiny. I found an ancient tin of polish in the larder. That and the rosemary is responsible for the smell.’ Perdita caught Lucy’s little frown as she surveyed the bed. ‘You want me to iron the sheet, don’t you?’
‘Mummy always irons sheets.’
‘But do you know where the iron is?’
‘Yes. It is a pity there isn’t a plug in here. I don’t know how they managed without even a bedside light. I’ve got a camping gas lamp for Mummy.’
Perdita realised that this meant she would have to heat up the iron in another room, and then run along the freezing passage to do the actual ironing. Not even for Lucy’s mother was she going to unmake the bed and iron the whole sheet. The bit that turned over and the pillow case were more than enough, in her opinion.
‘I do hope Jake gets the Aga going,’ said Lucy. ‘It’s such a pity there’s no central heating.’
‘But a bit late to worry about now, don’t you think?’
‘Oh, don’t!’ Lucy’s eyelids flickered. ‘Do you think Mummy will freeze in here? She has an electric blanket at home.’
‘Have you got a hot-water bottle?’
‘Yes, but God knows where. Do you think we could buy one?’
In central London, possibly. In the middle of the Welsh Marches, at five o’clock on Christmas Eve, Perdita felt it was unlikely. ‘I packed one, she can have mine,’ she said, making the ultimate sacrifice.
‘Oh, Perdita! You are a star!’
 
‘Yes!’ Jake’s triumphant cry woke an infant who had been dozing on an old church pew. ‘It’s going! I’ve got the Aga going!’
‘If it’s an Aga,’ said the child, who was six and frighteningly bright, ‘why does it say R-A-Y-something on it?’
‘That’s because it’s a Rayburn,’ said her father. ‘But don’t tell Mummy. She’s got her heart set on an Aga. It’s a life-style thing.’
‘Rayburn’s are better space heaters,’ said Geoff, who, with Perdita, was sitting at the table peeling potatoes. ‘Which is a bloody good thing, if you ask me.’
Perdita was wearing all the clothes she had brought and
was still cold. As she worked outside most of the time and was therefore used to it, she wondered how the others were managing.
 
Lucy’s mother finally arrived. She was a small, kindly, undemanding woman. Her little car was filled with baskets and boxes and suitcases. After the prolonged greetings, a relay of people unloaded it for her.
‘I’ve brought ready-prepared sprouts,’ Mrs Heptonstall confided to Perdita. ‘Lucy’s a dear, sweet girl, and so good to me, but she does tend to fuss, especially at Christmas.’
‘I know she wants this Christmas to go well, for your sake,’ said Perdita, from behind a huge cardboard box, en route to the kitchen.
‘Oh dear! I knew this would happen. She’s only just moved house and she’s going to get upset if we can’t find the cranberry sauce.’
‘Oh no,’ said Perdita. ‘That’ll be all right. She’s made some from a special recipe. I know where it is.’
Mrs Heptonstall tutted. ‘Honestly! And between you, me and the gatepost, I think she’s pregnant. But don’t say a word because I don’t think she’s realised it herself yet.’
Perdita put the box down on the kitchen table, panting slightly. ‘How could she not know? I mean, she’s got two children already. She must recognise the signs.’
‘Her periods went funny when her father died. She probably thinks that’s what’s happening. But I think I’ll let her get used to the new house before I say anything.’
Perdita opened her mouth, very tempted to tell Mrs Heptonstall about Lucy’s reluctance to tell her mother about her condition, but decided against it. If she ever got Lucy on her own again, she would tell her instead.
 
Christmas Day passed far more calmly than Perdita would have predicted, thanks to Mrs Heptonstall eventually
convincing Lucy that she really enjoyed feeling useful again, and that the world wouldn’t end if not every detail was as it was in the magazines.
Everyone except Lucy, who was ordered to stay in bed, went for a long walk after the stockings had been opened and a chocolaty, boozy breakfast had been consumed. The turkey was timed to be cooked at three o’clock, so no one needed to rush, and after a light buffet lunch, which appeared, Mary Poppins-like, from Mrs Heptonstall’s basket, they opened presents.
Perdita immediately draped herself in the huge, creamy white shawl her mother had sent her, and earmarked the cheque from her father to go towards a better van. Thus her pile was quickly dispensed with, as she hadn’t brought Kitty’s table lamp with her.
Her presents to other people were surprisingly successful. The green nail varnish was extremely popular with its six-year-old recipient, although less so with her parents. The four-year-old was thrilled with the huge plastic bubble filled with miniature chocolate footballs. Lucy genuinely liked the selection of herb vinegars which Perdita had made herself, and the lavender bags which she hadn’t, and Jake looked at the wine, which had come from Kitty’s husband’s cellar, with quiet reverence. Geoff had a similar bottle and they exchanged glances which said, ‘How did that rather scatty woman come up with such bloody good wine?’ Perdita smiled, and said nothing.
‘Do feel free to ring Kitty,’ said Lucy, yawning. ‘You must be worrying about her.’
Perdita, who hadn’t been, suddenly did. ‘That would be nice. Just to say Happy Christmas.’
‘Jake, give Perdita your phone.’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Geoff, resignedly.
 
Kitty was, as expected, perfectly fine, although annoyed to
be rung up when she had a very good hand. ‘I was going to play five no trumps,’ she said crossly. ‘Now my partner, a very nice man, knew Lionel slightly, will take advantage of my absence and play it for me.’
‘Oh? I am sorry. I wish I’d known.’
Kitty sighed. ‘Oh, don’t worry, dear. They said it was a difficult hand to make. I expect I’d have gone down horribly.’
Having no knowledge of bridge Perdita could make no comment. They chatted on about meals and presents and weather and eventually rang off.
‘She’s fine,’ said Perdita. ‘Now, should we be doing anything in the kitchen?’
She went in to see and found Lucy’s mother searing the roast potatoes with a blowtorch.
 
On Boxing Day evening, Perdita had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the fire, both children in her arms and a copy of
Magic Pony
open on her lap, when Lucy whispered sharply in her ear, ‘Perdita? Wake up. Someone’s at the door for you. I think it’s Lucas.’
Perdita woke up with a start and for a moment thought she’d dreamt what Lucy had said. But Lucy was standing in front of her, looking highly agitated.
‘Did you say it was Lucas?’
Lucy nodded. ‘I only just recognised him. I only saw him at your wedding, and it’s been years. But he’s here, and he’s asking for you.’
‘What on earth is he doing here? And how did he find me?’
‘I don’t know! I only know he’s asking for you!’
‘Well, you’d better bring him in, then.’
‘Who’s Lucas?’ asked the green-nailed six-year-old.
‘He’s – an old friend,’ lied Perdita, guiltlessly.
‘What’s he doing here?’ asked the four-year-old.
‘I really have no idea.’
Lucas came in looking tired, with an air of unaccustomed concern.
‘Lucas?’ said Perdita, getting up. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s Kitty.’
 
 
It seemed as if the floor was trying to pull Perdita downwards, specks of black danced around in front of her eyes until they joined together and everything went black. Then she felt a rough hand at the back of her neck, pushing her head between her knees. A thread of consciousness told her that you were not supposed to do that any more, that current thinking was that you should just let people faint. Then she came back to reality and panic.
‘It’s all right,’ Lucas was saying. ‘She’s not very ill. She’s not even in hospital, but the people she’s staying with thought you should be informed.’
‘Then why did you come in person?’ asked Lucy.
Lucas gave her a look which could have provoked tears from a tougher soul than Lucy. ‘Because Perdita didn’t leave a telephone number.’
Fortunately Lucy remained unmoved. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘that would be because we’re not on the phone.’
Lucas made a gesture with his hands which said, ‘which was why I had to come in person, Dumbo.’
‘So what’s wrong with her?’ Perdita’s mouth was stiff and her voice sounded croaky, as if she’d been ill herself.
‘She’s had a TIA – transient ischaemic attack,’ said Lucas.
‘Well, what’s that? It sounds dreadful.’ Lucy glanced at Perdita, concerned.
‘It’s a very mild stroke, one which has left no aftereffects. As I said, she’s not even in hospital. There’s really no need for you to panic.’
‘But I must come now,’ said Perdita. It wasn’t a question.
He nodded.
‘Do you feel better, dear?’ asked Lucy’s mother. ‘You’ve had a nasty shock. Would you like a drink of water, or something.’
‘No, I’m fine.’ This wasn’t quite true, but she didn’t want to delay her departure by a second. She attempted a smile. ‘I’ll just go and pack.’
Lucy came up with her, leaving her mother to tend to Lucas. ‘I’m so sorry, Perdita. I know what you must be going through. When Daddy died … It’s a very growing up experience.’
And Lucy’s daddy, Perdita couldn’t help remembering, was much younger than Kitty. ‘Well, Lucas says she’s not that ill. If she’s not even in hospital …’
Rather to her surprise, Lucy put her arms round Perdita and hugged her, very hard. ‘You’ll never get all this in that hold-all,’ she said after a minute. ‘I’ll get you some carrier bags.’
 
Later, in the car, Perdita felt the need to talk. ‘I know Kitty’s very old. She’s going to die sometime, and soon. I just don’t want her to do it when I’m not there.’
‘Of course not.’ Lucas was driving fast. Perdita had been nervous at first but then got used to it. He’d always driven that way.
‘She’s been a lifeline to me, ever since I first went to boarding school.’
‘I know.’
‘And for her to die—’
‘She’s not going to die for a while, Perdita.’
‘When I’m hundreds of miles away …’
‘But she’s not. And you’re not. She’s not going to die until you are by her side, and have probably been longing for her to die for some time.’ He gave a little sigh of
exasperation. ‘You know what I mean. Old age can be very cruel, and you wouldn’t want Kitty to suffer.’
‘No, of course not.’
A little later she said, ‘It was very kind of you to come and get me.’
‘It seemed the least I could do, in the circumstances.’
‘Which were?’
‘A frantic phone call from the people Kitty is staying with. A Mrs Lettum-Havvit, or something.’
‘Ledham-Gold,’ Perdita sighed.
‘Something like that. She’d got my number from Michael Grantly.’
‘But how on earth … ? Why you?’
Lucas shrugged and changed gear to overtake the car in front. ‘Apparently I was the only person Kitty could think of who might be able to get in touch with you.’
‘So she wanted me to be with her, did she?’ This did not bode well. Kitty hated causing anyone any trouble. Having Perdita shipped back from Shropshire on Boxing Day night was the last thing she would do unless she felt very ill and frightened.
‘I don’t think she did, particularly. But her hostess did.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘I gather the doctor thought it was a good idea.’
Perdita digested this, trying to work out if it was good news or bad. ‘It really was very, very kind of you to stop doing whatever you were doing …’
‘Cooking.’
‘To come and find me.’
‘Bloody right it was kind. God knows what’s happening in the kitchen. Those idiots have probably ruined my reputation by now.’
‘What idiots?’
‘Greg and Janey.’
‘But it’s Boxing Day. Surely you’re not open on Boxing Day? Poor Greg, poor Janey.’ At that moment Perdita
remembered who Lucas had spent Christmas Day with and her anxieties concerning it. But not even present circumstances made it possible for her to ask Lucas if he had seduced Janey on the sofa while her family went for tea at Auntie Susan’s.
‘There aren’t many in, just a few staying at the hotel for Christmas. Those two’ll make a complete bollocks of it, but who cares? The guests have absolutely no appreciation of good food anyway.’
‘They didn’t ask for ketchup?’ Perdita’s horror was perhaps a little exaggerated.
‘No.’ He shot her a glance. ‘They weren’t keen on the cardoons, though.’
Perdita thought it best to ignore this. ‘So what did they do about Christmas dinner? You had the day off, didn’t you?’
‘We gave them their meal in the evening. I was back to cook that.’
‘So you spent the day with Janey’s family?’
‘You know I did.’
‘Well, did you have a nice time?’
‘It was very pleasant.’ He sighed again. ‘And no, I didn’t seduce Janey, if that’s what you’re worrying about.’
‘I don’t know why you think the idea that you might have done any such thing had even crossed my mind,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’re far too professional to mix business with pleasure.’
‘I am, and for your further information, sleeping with half-fledged ducklings does not come under the heading of pleasure.’
‘It did at one time,’ she said, blushing in the darkness.
‘That was a long time ago, and that was you.’
Lucas filled the sudden silence with some rather complicated jazz which Perdita’s tired and shocked brain found difficult to unravel. She closed her eyes and dozed.
‘So,’ asked Lucas, a little later, when she had woken up.
‘Which one of those men was your boyfriend? The fat one or the one with dirty hair?’
With Kitty ill, perhaps dying, the lying and subterfuge just seemed silly. Perdita sighed. ‘Neither of them. There is no boyfriend. Geoff, who gave me a lift up, is Jake’s brother. I’d never met him before.’
Lucas nodded, but didn’t look at her. ‘And you told me a bundle of complete untruths. Why was that, I wonder?’
‘Why the hell do you think? You and I were married once. You left me—’
‘For an older woman.’ He sounded bored.
‘And I was on my own, years later. I didn’t want you to think I was carrying a torch for you, that’s all.’
‘You mean, you’re not carrying one? I’m devastated.’
‘I would very much like to devastate you, Lucas, but I don’t think the fact that my once-broken heart is very much mended is going to do it.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s not as hard as you think.’
‘Of course, in some ways, you coming back has done me a favour. It made me aware that I didn’t have a man, and made me wonder if perhaps there isn’t something missing in my life.’
‘Oh? What?’
‘Well, you know. Sex, companionship, that sort of thing. Not that I have much time for it, of course,’ she added. ‘And I may be quite wrong. A lot of women are totally satisfied and happy being single these days. But I thought I might have a boyfriend for a while, and see if I liked it.’
‘Unfortunately, as there’s such a shortage of single, eligible men, and apparently none at all locally, it might be quite difficult for you to find a boyfriend.’ He shot her a provocative glance. ‘Maybe I should try my chances with you.’
Perdita continued to look straight ahead. ‘Not if you ever want to be able to father children, no. And “eligible” is the operative word, Lucas.’
Lucas laughed in a way that Perdita hadn’t heard for years.
‘I need a cup of coffee,’ he said. ‘I’ll stop at the next service station.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d consider what they serve there as coffee.’
He laughed again. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers. I need something, or I’ll fall asleep.’
Perdita let her breath out sharply, suddenly aware of what he had sacrificed to fetch her. It would amount to a drive of not less than three hundred miles. On Boxing Day.
‘I really am so grateful to you for fetching me. I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you.’
‘Oh, that’s quite easy. You can agree to make a television cookery programme. In your house. With a brand-new cooker. Provided by me. That’s really not too much to ask, now is it?’
‘That wasn’t the reason you came for me, was it? So you could blackmail me into doing what you want?’
‘Of course. The minute I got the phone call I didn’t wonder why the fuck she didn’t have a mobile phone, so she could be contacted, I thought, what a brilliant opportunity to get Perdita to be co-operative! I’ll play on her anxieties over Kitty to manipulate her into giving me my way.’
Perdita blushed in the darkness and felt herself go hot. ‘I’m terribly sorry. That was quite out of order.’ She gulped. ‘And of course I’ll do the television programme.’
‘Don’t overdo the gratitude or I might be tempted to hold you to it. Here’s the turn-off. Do you want to go to the loo? I’ll meet you in the café. I want to look at the map so I can see where the Lettum-Havvits actually live.’
 
‘It’s going to be terribly late when we get there. It’s past ten now,’ said Perdita, when they were back on the road.
‘Mrs—’
‘Ledham-Gold,’
‘—said she’d stay up for us. And we should be there soon after eleven.’
‘It’s still terribly late to be calling on people you’ve never met.’
‘They sounded very kind, and very concerned about Kitty. Not because she’s that ill,’ he went on slightly impatiently, as Perdita frowned with anxiety, ‘but because they’re so fond of her.’
‘How sweet.’ Perdita sighed again, bracing herself for the effort of mentioning the cheque. ‘Talking of kind,’ she said, ‘thank you for sending my cheque back, but I’m afraid I really can’t accept it. I don’t need your money …’
Lucas braked sharply and pulled onto the hard shoulder. ‘If you ever mention that cheque again, or make any further attempts to give it to me, I will come and find you in whatever distant corner of the earth you’ve hidden yourself, and beat you. Do you understand?’
He sounded more genuinely angry than she had ever heard him. ‘OK, OK.’ Perdita hoped he couldn’t hear the tremble in her voice. ‘Don’t get all worked up.’
‘This is not worked up. This is simply telling you how it is.’
He paused a moment, to let his feelings on the matter sink in, then flicked the indicator, looked over his shoulder, and pulled back out onto the road. Perdita was shaking. If she wanted to touch that particular nerve again she must do it when she was in a position to escape.
 
After they came off the motorway they got lost three times. Rather unexpectedly, Lucas took responsibility for this himself. ‘You can’t map-read in the dark. There’s no need to apologise for my taking the wrong turning. You’re so unreasonable sometimes, Perdita. I’m pretty sure it’s down here.’
A security light flashed on as they approached the gates
of the house, which were open. The front door also opened before they had time to knock, and they were ushered very kindly inside.
Perdita felt tears spring to her eyes as she saw Kitty, looking suddenly very small and old, lying in a vast double bed.
It was obviously the best bedroom, and Kitty was surrounded by colour co-ordinated floral fabric, little frilled table lamps, valances and mirrors. A kidney-shaped dressing table was wearing the same fabric as the multi-swagged curtains and the bed linen. Perdita saw a door to an en suite and glimpsed fluffy towels in matching pink. She knew the plumbing would work perfectly.
‘Darling, how lovely to see you! I told them not to bother you.’
‘I’m so glad they – you,’ she glanced up at Kitty’s hostess, whose name she suddenly couldn’t remember, although she knew it wasn’t Mrs Lettum-Havvit, ‘did bother me. I couldn’t have lived with myself if you’d been ill, and I hadn’t known.’
‘And did that nice man bring you down? The one who drove you to Shropshire?’

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