Second Thyme Around (22 page)
Lucas didn’t speak for a moment. ‘I’m sure he’s fine. Now, what about a gin and tonic? Have a grown-up drink, for a change.’
Perdita let him exchange her cider for a gin and tonic. She didn’t want to pursue the matter of Roger, but she couldn’t abandon the subject of where Lucas was to stay so easily. ‘There may be somewhere at the health farm. A staff flat, or something. I could ask Ronnie.’
‘You don’t have to worry about me, Perdita. I can find somewhere to stay. It’s only for a couple of weeks, three at the most. I could have a suite at the hotel if all else failed.’
‘Only if all else fails? It sounds lovely to me. The rooms are really nice at Grantly House, aren’t they?’
‘Lovely for a night, but you wouldn’t want to live there.’ Perdita’s drink was strong and surprisingly pleasant. It enhanced her tiredness and made her feel weak. ‘You probably think I’m pathetic, not wanting you to stay in my house.’
He stared into his pint to avoid agreeing that he did.
‘I know it’s the logical solution. In fact, it would probably be good for someone to be there. Keep burglars away.’
He put down his glass and cleared his throat. ‘Listen, Peri—Perdita …’
He corrected himself hastily and Perdita started at the sound of his pet name for her, a name that no one else used.
‘I do know how much I hurt you,’ he went on. ‘And there hasn’t been a day since I did it that I haven’t felt terrible remorse.’
This admission made Perdita feel even worse about not wanting him in her house. He’d done wrong, but he’d regretted it. She shouldn’t hold it against him.
‘Also anger,’ he added.
‘Anger?’
She felt angry now. ‘How have you felt anger about me? You were the one—’
She felt angry now. ‘How have you felt anger about me? You were the one—’
‘Yes, I know all that, but while I actually ended the marriage, you have to accept that the fact it went wrong wasn’t only my fault.’
Perdita had not accepted that, and, as a concept, this was actually entirely new to her.
‘I don’t know what you mean. How can I possibly have had anything to do with it? I loved you, I was faithful to you. How can it have been my fault, in any way?’
‘You didn’t fight back, Perdita. You didn’t demand that I was faithful, you didn’t curse me for bringing colleagues home unexpectedly. You let me get away with murder.’
‘But you can’t blame me for any of that! I was only eighteen, for God’s sake!’
‘If you hadn’t put up with so much bad behaviour, I might have stopped behaving badly. You should have thrown me out when I came home smelling of other women, made me see what I stood to lose by abusing our relationship.’
‘That’s so unfair! I can’t believe you’re blaming me for all that!’
‘I’m not blaming you for my bad behaviour, I’m blaming you for not reacting to it.’
‘But how was I supposed to react? Hit you over the head with a rolling pin?’
‘That’s what you’d do now. You wouldn’t be so bloody passive.’
‘This is absolutely outrageous! You were a complete bastard, you were a bully, you slept around! I was lucky I didn’t get some foul disease! And you’re holding
me
responsible!’
me
responsible!’
‘Not responsible,
partly
responsible.’ He looked at her with something which could have been respect. ‘You’ve changed so much, Perdita.’
partly
responsible.’ He looked at her with something which could have been respect. ‘You’ve changed so much, Perdita.’
‘Just as well! I never thought that even you could be so unfair as to blame me—’
‘I said, I didn’t blame you, but that you being so passive didn’t help.’
‘I didn’t know how to be anything but passive. I was so young – and young for my age. I didn’t realise I had any control over my own destiny until after you left me.’ She glared at him as a thought occurred to her. ‘I suppose you’d say I should be grateful.’
He smiled back. ‘Too right! If I hadn’t left you, I’d have bullied you to death, and I expect our six children would have bullied you too. You had a lucky escape.’
‘Not so lucky that I didn’t avoid meeting you in the first place. That would have been really lucky.’
He met her gaze with an expression which was both rueful and challenging, a little amused. ‘You owe me your independence, everything about you that makes you the successful businesswoman you are –
if
you are. But I don’t want you to feel obliged to let me sleep in your empty house. And thinking about it, I don’t want to sleep in a bed that you’ve watered with a million tears,
because of me. I don’t suppose I
could
sleep.’
if
you are. But I don’t want you to feel obliged to let me sleep in your empty house. And thinking about it, I don’t want to sleep in a bed that you’ve watered with a million tears,
because of me. I don’t suppose I
could
sleep.’
Perdita finished her gin. ‘That’s all right then. That’s us both happy.’
‘I wouldn’t go as far as that. I still need somewhere to stay.’
Suddenly Perdita decided the whole thing was silly. She was silly to mind about Lucas being in her space. If she was over him, she was over him, and if him leaving her had turned her from a mouse into a mover and shaker, perhaps she did owe him something. She chewed on the lemon, which was all that was left of her drink. ‘It’s all right, Lucas. At first I couldn’t hack it, but I realise now that nothing you can do to me can hurt me any more. Do have my bed, Lucas. Feel free.’
Lucas frowned. ‘I don’t know if that makes me feel better, or profoundly depressed. Do you want another drink?’
Perdita shook her head. ‘I don’t think I should. I feel sleepy enough as it is.’
His frown cleared. ‘There’s a lot going for you, Perdita.’ ‘I know. I’m probably in line for a Business Woman of the Year award, or something.’
‘No you’re not. You probably have to make money to get one of those. But you are a wonderfully cheap drunk. Two sips of cider and a gin and tonic, and you’re anybody’s.’
‘Except yours, Lucas. I’ll never be yours again. Now, could you please take me home?’
As usual, Perdita went in to say good night to Kitty.
‘So, is he going to stay in your house?’ she asked, looking very small and childlike, with her hair freshly plaited.
‘I can’t remember how we left it,’ said Perdita, feeling foolish. ‘Kitty, do you think it was in any way my fault that our marriage failed?’
‘Why do you ask, dear?’
Perdita took this as a yes. Kitty would never chide her about it, but the fact that she called her ‘dear’ in that particular way told Perdita that yes, she was in some way responsible.
‘Lucas said if I hadn’t been so passive, he wouldn’t have behaved so badly. I think that’s really unfair.’ This was directed at Kitty, as well as Lucas.
‘But it’s probably true. If you’d been more mature, more sophisticated, you might have been able to handle him better. If you married him now, you wouldn’t let him get away—’
‘The difference is,’ Perdita interrupted, all trace of the gin and tonic gone, ‘I would not marry him now. Not for anything. Which I suppose answers my question – I was too naive not to marry him, and too naive to keep him. therefore, it was partly my responsibility too.’
‘Your personality might have been very suppressed when you were eighteen,’ said Kitty, ‘but when there are two people in a relationship, however dominant one of them is, the other still has some part to play.’
Perdita sighed. ‘Perhaps it’s nice not to think of myself as just a victim. Perhaps being a failure is marginally better.’ She suddenly laughed.
The following Saturday Roger was due to return from his business trip, and Perdita wondered if she should take Lucas’s comments about Roger being after Kitty’s money seriously. She decided not to and as she had a lot to do in her tunnels, she put it out of her mind. It was also changeover day.
Thomas was leaving, and Beverley was taking over. Now they knew each other’s ways, the handover was almost nonexistent, according to Kitty, amounting to little more than an exchange of gossip. Having signed Thomas’s form, Perdita left them to it and went across to the poly-tunnels. When she came back she was exhausted, and
longed to sink into a bath with a bad book and a glass of whisky, which had been promoted from ‘only in emergencies’ to ‘drink of choice’. But Roger was there, so she felt obliged to drink sherry with him and Kitty. She made Beverley join them so she wouldn’t have to talk.
longed to sink into a bath with a bad book and a glass of whisky, which had been promoted from ‘only in emergencies’ to ‘drink of choice’. But Roger was there, so she felt obliged to drink sherry with him and Kitty. She made Beverley join them so she wouldn’t have to talk.
‘While you were out,’ said Beverley, ‘someone called Ronnie phoned. He was very insistent that you had agreed to have your hair cut. This evening, at about half-seven? Before dinner? Is that right? Did you have that arrangement?’
‘No! Honestly, that Ronnie, he’s so bossy.’
‘He said he’d cut my hair too, if I wanted him too.’
‘Well, what about mine?’ said Kitty. ‘Will he leave me out?’
They all laughed. The thought of Kitty having her hair in any way different from two plaits round her head was totally unthinkable.
‘You couldn’t do that, Aunt Kitty,’ said Roger. ‘What would people think?’
Kitty didn’t answer this question.
‘And surely,’ went on Perdita, thinking aloud, ‘Lucas would have said something if the television show was that imminent? I mean, I know he believes in keeping people in ignorance, but surely he’d mention that. I’ll have to get the kitchen sorted out a bit and things.’
‘Well, let’s have our hair cut anyway,’ said Beverley. ‘As I said to that Ronnie, I haven’t had a chance to get mine done for ages. I would appreciate the opportunity.’
‘Don’t you have the chance to get it cut when you’re not with us?’ asked Perdita, trying to be tactful.
‘No, my other lady lives in an even more remote place than this is.’
‘You mean, you have another client? You don’t have time off when you’re not looking after me?’ asked Kitty, who obviously thought Beverley worked one week in three.
‘Oh, I do have a couple of days, but I need the money.’
Kitty and Perdita exchanged guilty glances. ‘Of course,’ said Perdita.
‘And although you’re very conscientious about making sure I get my two hours in the afternoon, not like some people, there isn’t time to get my hair done. I said as much to Ronnie on the phone.’
‘Ah.’ Perdita realised that the television programme was probably months away, but Beverley really needed a haircut, and Ronnie was sympathetic. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly seven now. ‘Well, I must have a quick bath first. I’m covered in grime and probably stink. Let me grab a sandwich, I’m starving.’
‘You’re surely not going to eat a sandwich in the bath?’ protested Roger.
Perdita nodded, heaving herself to her feet. ‘If I fall asleep, Ronnie can start on you.’
‘When are
we
going to eat?’ asked Roger, plaintively.
we
going to eat?’ asked Roger, plaintively.
When Perdita got downstairs, nearly an hour later, she found Ronnie in the sitting room. Roger was nowhere to be seen, but Beverley was sitting on a stool with a cape round her neck. Kitty was sitting in her wheelchair watching with apparent interest as Ronnie wielded the scissors. Something about her was different. Then Perdita gasped.
‘Kitty! You’ve had your hair cut!’
‘I thought it was time for a new look,’ she explained, somewhat smug. ‘Do you like it?’
Perdita looked. Kitty had had her hair in a plaited coronet about her head ever since she’d known her. Now it curved softly round her face with a short, feathery fringe. It looked wonderful.
‘It’s amazing! What on earth made you decide to get Ronnie to cut it?’
‘I told you, I thought it was time for a new style. And it saves the carers and you having to plait it all the time. Thomas,’ she explained for Beverley’s benefit, ‘has never
really got the hang of plaiting. It means Perdita has to do it, and she’s got enough on her plate.’
really got the hang of plaiting. It means Perdita has to do it, and she’s got enough on her plate.’
‘I hope you didn’t do it because of that,’ said Perdita. Beverley was looking concerned too.
‘She did it because she wanted a new look,’ said Ronnie. ‘She’s told you. I think she looks ten years younger.’
Perdita smiled. ‘He’s right, Kitty. You don’t look a day over seventy-nine.’
‘Which means Perdita will look eighteen again,’ said Kitty, ‘when Ronnie’s had a go at her.’
Perdita shuddered at the thought. ‘Oh, please not! I was awfully young and silly at eighteen. Make me look thirty and sophisticated.’
Ronnie, was carefully levelling up the back of Beverley’s hair and biting his lip in concentration. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
When Perdita’s turn came, Beverley took Kitty to the bathroom to get her ready for bed.
‘You’ll be done by the time we get back,’ said Kitty, ‘the amount of washing Beverley makes me do.’
‘So, Perdita. What do you want? Something young and sexy to attract that man you were going to get yourself?’
‘To be honest, I can’t be bothered to think about men just now. Kitty takes all my spare time. I can hardly remember what life was like before she had her stroke.’
Ronnie tugged a wide-toothed comb through Perdita’s curls. ‘You were going to find a man and let the girls give you a makeover.’
‘Was I really? Would you mind terribly if I ducked out of that particular agreement? I just don’t have the energy.’
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