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Authors: Katie Fforde

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women

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BOOK: Second Thyme Around
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Jealous, in spite of herself, she decided he could spare her the embarrassment of seeing Lucas again so soon. ‘Well, I’m glad it went so well. I want you to deliver to Grantly House today.’
‘What? Why?’ William didn’t like dealing with customers. He was shy about going into people’s work space, even when he was bringing them things they wanted, and Perdita, once she had discovered this, didn’t ever ask him to do it.
Perdita felt she had no choice. The thought of breezing into the kitchen under Lucas’s quizzical, questioning gaze, trying to pretend nothing had happened, was beyond her. She’d have to let her feelings revert to hatred, wait until
they were no longer confused with lust, before she could carry on as normal.
‘The thing is, William, Lucas and I got on really badly on Saturday night. I really don’t want to face him until he’s had time to calm down.’ She was transferring her feelings to Lucas, she knew, but didn’t mind maligning him. He had behaved badly long before she had. ‘I mean, I really lost my temper. I threw a glass at him.’
‘Really? I can’t imagine you throwing things.’
‘Well, nor can I, usually, but Lucas and I just rub each other up the wrong way. So would you please, please, deliver today? You’ll see Janey.’
‘I don’t know what to do, or anything.’
‘It’s very straightforward. You drive the van round the back, go in through the kitchen entrance and bring the boxes with you. It’ll be three loads today, I think. I’ve got some pea plants he ordered last week, but didn’t get. He might as well have them today.’
‘But supposing he doesn’t want them?’
Perdita couldn’t quite decide if William was afraid Lucas would throw them at him. ‘Then he’ll tell you, and you can take them back. It’s no problem off-loading them, I can take them to Ronnie later. But Lucas will want them, I promise. Come on, William. You haven’t had much opportunity to drive the new van.’
‘Oh, OK.’
‘Thank you, William. You’re a star.’
William shot her an anxious look. Stardom was not what he wanted.
 
Perdita planned to catch up on her missed sleep in front of the television. Two bad nights and two days hard gardening had made her very tired and, with luck, the right kind of television programme would send her off in a way the World Service had been unable to. So she cursed when there was a knock at the door. Her feelings when she saw
it was Lucas, in jeans and sweater, were not so much mixed, as homogenised. She couldn’t tell if she was angry, pleased, irritated or plain terrified. She was definitely extremely wary, however.
‘What do you want?’ she demanded, standing in the opening of the door so he couldn’t get past her.
‘I need to speak to you.’
‘My telephone’s in working order and there’s really no need to apologise. I know you behaved badly, but I did too, and the least said, soonest mended, don’t you think?’
He scowled. ‘I have no intention of apologising!’ He was outraged by the notion. ‘I bitterly regret what happened, but I’m bloody well not going to say I’m sorry!’ He glared at her. ‘Passions run high in professional kitchens, you know. People say and do things they don’t mean. There’s no need to take it personally.’
‘Oh. So you’d’ve behaved like that with any of the people working there, or Janey, would you?’ The thought was chilling, for lots of reasons.
‘No! God, you do make a mountain out of a molehill! Janey wouldn’t have driven me to distraction like you do, and nor would anyone else trained—’
‘But any other woman – I take it you do restrict yourself to women – who was a novice, and made a few mistakes, would have received the same treatment as I did?’
He sighed. ‘Perdita, you threw a glass at me, you tried to pull a knife on me, you bit me, you kicked me several times and I lost my temper – justifiably. You behaved extremely badly, and I wasn’t much better, but as I said, these things happen in kitchens. Now, can I please come in!’
She held fast to the door. ‘Why? You’ve said your piece, now go away.’
‘Perdita! I’ve come about the cooker. You know? The one I’m having put in your kitchen so there’s something half decent for me to cook on?’
‘Oh God! I thought you’d forgotten about the cooker.’ She meant that she’d forgotten all about it.
‘How could I? And can I please come in? It’s bloody cold out here.’
Perdita sighed and opened the door. It was strangely comforting to find Lucas the same ornery pig he always had been. And it had been nice of him not to refer to her shameless, uncharacteristic sexual passion. Compared to that, throwing the glass and trying to stab him seemed like mere irritability.
‘I came because it’s arriving today,’ he said, having marched into the kitchen. ‘I’ll help you clear a space for it.’
‘Hang on! Why didn’t you warn me? You can’t expect me to take delivery of a cooker without notice! And I’m not even sure I agreed to have one.’
He ignored her last sentence. ‘I would have warned you this morning if you’d been brave enough to show up. But actually, I only knew about it myself on Friday.’
‘I saw you on Saturday, why didn’t you tell me then?’
He shot her a searing glance which reminded her only too well. ‘Other things on my mind. But I’ve told you now, and I’ve come to clear a space for it.’
‘Lucas, I’m sure I didn’t agree to it. Why did you order it without telling me – asking me?’
‘We did discuss it, you must remember. But I didn’t mention it when I ordered it because I didn’t know how long it would take to arrive. And I knew that you’d put up a lot of pathetic arguments against having it. Now can we please find room for it?’
Perdita, unclear if she had in fact told Lucas that he could put a new cooker in her kitchen, frowned. ‘There’s no need. There’ll be space when they take the old one out.’
‘The new one’s a bit bigger than the old one.’ Lucas knelt down and took out a tape measure from his back pocket. ‘We may need to get rid of this shelving.’
‘Well you can’t!’
‘Yes I can, easy. Look, it’s rotten.’
‘Lucas! Stop demolishing my kitchen! I know it’s not much and that you hate it, but this is where I live! You can’t just come storming in here and rip it apart!’
A piece of rotting melamine bent like cardboard before tearing. Woodlice and silverfish darted and dived, looking for cover, and a very large spider trotted indignantly across the floor. Perdita backed away unobtrusively. Being nervous of spiders didn’t sit well with her independent-woman image.
Lucas rose to his feet. ‘I’ll get a carpenter to come and make good. And you’d have plenty of storage space if you didn’t keep so much clutter. Here, take these.’ He handed her a pile of Pyrex dishes, all opaque and edged with brown, from long-ago burnt pastry. ‘I bet you never use half this stuff.’
Perdita put the pile in the sink, not because she intended to wash them, but because the sink was, for once, empty. ‘I’ll go and find a box to put these things in. But you’d better make sure I’ve got some cupboard space!’
‘I’d put in a whole new fitted kitchen if I thought it would make you happy,’ he said, without turning round.
Perdita stared down at his back, watching him pull out piles of jam jars, washed, but yet-to-be-recycled tins; polystyrene dishes which might be useful for seeds; a very beautiful but broken antique vegetable dish, and some yellowing paper plates of unknown origin. Was he teasing her? If so, why do it in a way she could so easily ignore?
‘Are you going to get those boxes?’ he asked.
She returned ten minutes later to find the entire contents of her kitchen in her sitting room.
‘I thought you might as well have a clear-out,’ said Lucas, ‘while we wait for the cooker.’
Perdita felt strangely detached, and just watched as Lucas filled the boxes. After a few minutes she went back
into the room previously known as her kitchen, and put the kettle on. By the time it had boiled, and she had made two cups of tea, Lucas had filled all the boxes, and had made a neat pile of the remaining crockery.
‘You’ll have much more space now you’ve got rid of that lot.’

You
got rid of it!’
‘What do you want done with it? Charity shop? Jumble sale?’
‘I think I’ll just go through it all, if you don’t mind, and check you haven’t disposed of anything important.’
He sipped his tea. ‘I haven’t.’
Perdita surveyed the boxes. She was not attached to possessions for their own sake, but she did have a sentimental side to her. ‘Kitty gave me most of those things. I may want to keep them to remember her by when she’s gone.’
‘If you need this junk to remember Kitty by, your memory must have deteriorated more than hers has. Besides, I imagine this house is full of things she gave you which you find useful. There’s no point in hanging on to the tat.’
Knowing he was right, she decided to attack him on another issue. ‘Well, you’d know all about Kitty’s memory, seeing as you’ve been visiting her.’ She just stopped herself adding, ‘behind my back.’
‘You found out about that, did you? I knew you’d be upset, but I wanted to see if she was better, and she seemed to enjoy my company. I think she gets a little bored of women gushing over her all the time.’
‘I am not at all upset. Who Kitty chooses to see is none of my business. And I do not gush over her.’
‘I didn’t mean you, idiot, I meant all those visitors who treat her like a little old lady. I don’t know why people believe that a woman of Kitty’s age is likely to have less experience of life than they have.’ He kicked the boxes
nearer the door with his foot. ‘I’ll put this lot in the car, to get them out of the way. You drink your tea. The men’ll be here with the cooker in a minute.’
She perched on the window seat, watching Lucas putting boxes of her possessions into the boot of his car. She was unsure why she was allowing him to do it. There were probably a thousand, deeply significant, unconscious reasons, but the one she felt the most likely was that she didn’t care enough about the things to fight him for them. Fighting Lucas could only be undertaken if you cared, passionately. She tutted at herself for her apathy. Really, she should block Lucas at every stand. Perhaps, she decided, if she wasn’t so short of sleep she would have.
When she spotted a van driving up the road she set off for her poly-tunnels via the back door. Lucas could be on the receiving end of the inevitable unkind comments on the width of the cottage doors.
 
Only when she was certain that the delivery men had gone did she go back and see what Lucas had inflicted on her. It seemed to take up an entire wall.
‘My God, it’s big!’ she declared.
‘Thank you,’ said Lucas. ‘So is the cooker.’
She ignored him. ‘It’s taking up most of the kitchen. How am I to manage without any cupboard space or working surface? There’s only the draining board left!’
‘I’ve got a joiner friend of mine coming tomorrow. He’s going to build you a counter with shelves underneath. For now, all the stuff you actually need is over there.’ He indicated a neat pile of crockery. ‘He’s going to use recycled iroko and put a bit of slate next to the cooker to put hot pans on. It’ll look very nice.’
‘It sounds very expensive.’
‘Actually, it’s not. And I’m paying anyway.’
‘Actually, you’re not.’
‘Yes I am. We agreed.’
‘No we didn’t.’ In reality, she couldn’t remember what they’d agreed, but it was irrelevant. She was not allowing Lucas to buy her a new kitchen.
‘Perdita! Don’t be silly! You can’t afford all this! And you would never have bought a new cooker in a thousand years! I believe if the old one blew up, you’d manage on a camping gas stove.’
‘You’re probably right. But for whatever reason, I’ve got a new cooker, and I refuse to let anyone else pay for it. Anyway, how do you know I can’t afford it?’
‘Oh, stop playing games! I’m paying and that’s that!’
‘No.’ She spoke quietly and calmly. ‘I have my pride, Lucas, and if you think I can accept a very expensive cooker, and a new – some sort of wood—’
‘Iroko.’
‘—you’re wrong. I don’t need your charity.’
‘It’s not charity!’
‘So if I have a new cooker, I pay for it.’
In the face of her obdurate calm, Lucas took himself in hand. ‘Perdita, I perfectly appreciate how you feel. I left you in a very hurtful way, and it’s very understandable if you hate me.’ He frowned. ‘Particularly after the way I behaved on Saturday. But think about it logically. I am doing a television cookery programme because I want to. To further my career, to get publicity for Grantly House, so eventually, I can ask Michael Grantly for mega amounts of money. You have nothing to gain from this—’
‘That’s not what you said when you tried to persuade me to do the programme in the first place.’ Perdita was enjoying herself. For the first time in her life she had Lucas exactly where she wanted him, practically begging.
BOOK: Second Thyme Around
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