Authors: Katie Fforde

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women

Second Thyme Around (9 page)

BOOK: Second Thyme Around

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Perdita picked up the catalogue which still lurked on Kitty’s kitchen table and took a lingering look at the vet in the sailing trousers. ‘If you can’t tuck a nice man into my stocking, I would love a new spade.’

‘You’re not taking that rust-bucket to Shropshire, are you?’ Lucas demanded when Perdita delivered the last salads he was going to get before the New Year.

‘No, I’m getting a lift.’

‘With your boyfriend? That’s nice. What kind of a car has he got?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Perdita without thinking, and then added quickly. ‘He’s changed it recently.’

Janey, who was making roses out of butter with a potato peeler, gave Perdita a curious look.

‘So he’s coming down from Shropshire to pick you up?’ Lucas went on.

Perdita thought rapidly. If she just said yes, could she
be caught out in a lie? Could anyone – Lucas, for instance – be able to tell that a car driving into the village came from Cornwall, not Shropshire? ‘Mmm.’ She tried to sound noncommittal.

‘Perhaps you’d like to bring him here for lunch?’

‘Oh no, he’ll be in a frightful hurry. We won’t have time for lunch.’

Lucas’s steely gaze narrowed frighteningly. ‘I don’t believe in this boyfriend of yours. I think you’ve just made him up.’

Perdita blushed furiously. ‘How ridiculous! Why on earth would I do a thing like that?’

Lucas shrugged. ‘To prove something to someone – to me perhaps.’

‘I’ve never heard anything so silly in all my life.’ Perdita was wearing outdoor clothes and the kitchen suddenly became unbearably hot. ‘Why on earth would I bother to lie to
you?
’ Oh,
why
had she?

‘Then bring him here for lunch – a drink even.’

‘No,’ said Perdita firmly. ‘I am not going to disrupt – ’ a moment’s panic while she tried to remember if her mythical boyfriend had a name – ‘his plans just to show you he’s real!’ She made a face. ‘“Sorry, darling, I know you’re in a frightful hurry, but would you mind just coming to lunch so I can prove to –” ’ she almost bit her tongue as she realised how nearly she had referred to Lucas as ‘my ex-husband’ in front of Janey and Greg – ‘“someone I sell lettuce to,” ’ she hurried on, trying to sound scathing, ‘“that you really exist?” I don’t think so.’

‘Fair enough, but don’t you forget, seeing is believing.’ Perdita, elated at having got herself out of trouble, smiled sweetly at him. ‘And don’t
you
forget that if you don’t believe in Father Christmas he won’t bring you any presents. And I don’t suppose you’ve seen him lately.’

‘True, but then, I don’t hang up my stocking any more.’

This produced an ‘oh’ of compassion from Janey, and a tiny spark of it from Perdita. ‘What are you doing for Christmas, then?’ she asked.

‘Like your boyfriend, I’m working, except on Christmas Day.’

‘Oh.’ Perdita’s compassion warred with relief that she and Kitty were both going away, so she couldn’t possibly feel guilty for not inviting him to spend Christmas Day with them. Or worse, with her on her own. ‘But you’ll have somewhere nice to go for the day, won’t you?’

‘Oh, no need to worry about me, Perdita. I expect I can conjure up a “girlfriend”,’ he said the word in inverted commas, ‘from somewhere.’

‘Oh, good. Happy Christmas then, Lucas. Janey, we must go for a drink together, or something. I’ll see you before then, anyway.’

‘Just a minute. I’ve got a card for you,’ said Lucas. He handed her an impressively large envelope.

‘Oh,’ Perdita was horribly caught out. ‘I’m afraid I only send them to people if they’ve sent me them, as they come in. And it’s a bit late, now.’

‘So I’m even cut off your Christmas card list? How sad,’ he murmured softly, so Janey wouldn’t hear.

‘Oh God!’ said Perdita. ‘I’m leaving, before the violins start.’

When she got home and opened the card, inside it, as well as a beautiful Madonna, were neatly shredded strips of cheque.

Janey, whom Perdita ran into in the post office, was bubbling with Christmas spirit and enthusiasm. ‘When I found out that Lucas was going to be on his own for Christmas, I invited him round.’

‘To have Christmas with your family? How kind.’ How brave, how foolhardy, she thought. And how surprising that he accepted.

‘We’ll all have Christmas lunch together, of course, but in the evening we usually go round to my auntie’s. I thought me and Lucas could stay behind. He’s not going to want to have tea with my Auntie Susan, is he?’

‘Possibly not. But what will you do with him?’

Janey blushed. ‘I thought we could watch the film on telly.’

‘Really, Janey, don’t you think Lucas is a bit old for you?’

‘No. He’s gorgeous. And I’m sure he’s just grumpy because he’s lonely. I mean, fancy being on your own at Christmas!’

Perdita did fancy that very thing, quite a lot, but knew Janey wouldn’t believe her. ‘You’re so kind and generous, Janey, I just don’t want you to get hurt.’

Janey sighed ecstatically. ‘I wouldn’t mind being hurt by Lucas. One night of passion would last me for years. I mean, I know he’d never look seriously at a girl like me, but he might just …’

At this moment, the queue shuffled on, but Perdita was horrified. Janey had no notion of what she was saying. A crush was one thing, but for Janey to sacrifice her body – quite possibly her virginity – to Lucas, was very much more serious. She was only eighteen, after all.

Perdita sacrificed her place in the queue, so she could keep talking to Janey. ‘You wouldn’t do anything silly, would you?’

‘It’s up to me what I do, Perdita. And anyway, what’s all this about a boyfriend? You didn’t tell me about him! And spending Christmas together! It must be serious! How dare you not tell me something so wonderful?’

Perdita took a deep breath. ‘We really can’t talk here,’ she said. ‘Let’s meet for a drink, and I’ll tell you all about it.’

‘OK. White Horse, Thursday night, eight o’clock? We
can both walk there, and I’m not working then.’

‘Sounds good, as long as I’ve got my Christmas shopping done by then.’

‘But, Perdita! That’s the day before Christmas Eve!’

‘Is it? Oh, plenty of time then. Yes, that’ll be great.’

Perdita retreated to the back of the queue to contemplate the evils of deception, and to speculate about whether she could trust Janey with the truth about her fictional boyfriend, or if there was a risk she might let something slip to Lucas.

As things turned out, Perdita was spared the decision. Geoff, her broken-hearted chauffeur, rang to ask if he could pick her up the night she had arranged to go for a drink with Janey. Perdita couldn’t do anything but agree, and rang Janey to cancel.

‘I wasn’t expecting him before about midday on the Friday,’ she explained. ‘But he’s managed to get away early, so I couldn’t complain.’

‘But where does he come from? I thought you said you never went on dates?’

‘Honey, I really can’t tell you all about it now. I’ve got to rush out and do some shopping, but I promise I’ll give you a blow-by-blow when I come back. Now you won’t do anything stupid with Lucas, will you? I mean, I know he’s terribly sexy and everything—’

‘How do you know?’ Janey interrupted indignantly. ‘I thought you hated him!’

‘I do, I do! But I can tell you find him sexy, and I just don’t want you seduced by a bastard, that’s all.’

‘It’s really none of your business who I’m seduced by, Perdita.’

‘Oh, Janey, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be bossy, but I’m just worried about you, that’s all. You’re so young and lovely, and Lucas is old—’

‘And lovely.’

‘Exactly, and you’re worth so much more than him …’
Perdita sounded as desperate as she felt. ‘So just be careful, OK?’

‘OK, Agony Aunt. I won’t do anything foolish. Well, I mean, I would if I thought Lucas was up for it, but I don’t think he fancies me. Now you’d better run along to the supermarket, which will be the only shop left open, and do your Christmas shopping.’

Perdita was not reassured. After all, Lucas had fancied
her
once, and Janey did remind Perdita of her younger self. And why else would Lucas accept an invitation to spend Christmas Day with Janey’s family? It seemed so out of character. Unless he’d changed one hell of a lot since she’d known him. And from what she’d seen, he’d got worse, not better. One good thing was that Janey would probably tell Lucas that Perdita had been picked up earlier than expected, which would, with luck, give her boyfriend story a bit of much lacking substance.

By about five o’clock on the day before Christmas Eve, Perdita had dispatched Kitty safely into the friendly hire car and driver who took her about if Perdita couldn’t. Kitty, dressed in her best coat and skirt, made for her in the war by her husband’s tailor, looked timeless and very fit.

‘Goodbye, darling,’ said Kitty, kissing Perdita. ‘And have a lovely time. I do hope this Geoff turns out to be a dish.’

Perdita hugged as well as kissed the old lady. ‘I don’t suppose he will for a minute, but it’ll be fun. And don’t you run off with anyone without letting me check they don’t just want you for your money.’

‘Silly child. Now goodbye, and don’t worry about me.’

‘I won’t,’ said Perdita, knowing she would. Having waved the car out of sight, Perdita walked back to her own house and transferred some clothes into a sports bag. She put in a haphazard collection of garments,
hoping they would do. Then she put on her best jeans and jumper, and waited for her lift.

Geoff knocked on her door an hour and a half after he had arranged to. He was full of apologies, but Perdita felt certain he blamed her directions. He was tall and stooping and had floppy brown hair, which would have been attractive had it been washed more recently.

‘I’m so sorry you had such a dreadful time getting here,’ said Perdita, pulling on her ancient sheepskin coat. ‘How long will it take to get to Shropshire, I wonder?’

‘Another couple of hours, I expect. Is this all your luggage? What about presents?’

‘Um, they’re all in the bag,’ said Perdita, convinced by his question that it wasn’t only her clothes which were totally inadequate. ‘My boots and some bottles are in this cardboard box.’

‘Right, we’d better get off, then.’

Geoff didn’t seem inclined to chat, but as his car was warm and comfortable and Perdita was extremely tired, she prepared to just sit back and be driven. Just as they were moving out of the village, she noticed, to her absolute horror, Lucas, driving an extremely sleek convertible, as different from Geoff’s Volvo as possible.

If she could have trusted Lucas not to pull over, and make them do the same and involve her in all sorts of complicated lying, she would have alerted Lucas to her presence in Geoff’s car. Then he could have seen Geoff for himself, and believed that she had a boyfriend. But as Lucas was less predictable than one’s chances of being struck by lightning, she slunk deeply down into the seat, so he couldn’t possibly see her. Why wasn’t he at Grantly House, cheffing, she wondered. She glanced at her watch. It was after ten; perhaps he’d finished early. She sighed. They wouldn’t arrive at Lucy’s until long after midnight.

‘Does Lucy know we’re going to be so late?’ she asked.

‘No. You’d better ring her. My mobile’s on the back seat. The number’s in the memory.’

Mobile phones were a wonderful invention, thought Perdita, for those who knew how to use them.

Chapter Seven

Lucy’s face seemed to be wearing everyone of the seven years since Perdita had last seen her. Then, she had been tanned and relaxed from living in the Caribbean, now, she had dark circles under her eyes and looked far too thin. She fell on Perdita as if she were her saviour, reminding Perdita of her school days, when Lucy always wanted Perdita to get her out of scrapes.

‘Perdita! It’s so lovely to see you! You haven’t changed a bit, damn you. I’m so glad you could come. And you, Geoff, of course. We only got in the house yesterday, and hardly anything’s unpacked. Mummy’s arriving tomorrow, and we must get at least her room in some sort of order. It’s her first Christmas since Daddy died, and I want it to be
perfect
for her.’

Perdita knew. ‘But surely,’ she said, as Lucy ushered her into the vast and echoing house, ‘she’ll understand you’ve just moved in. She won’t want you to fuss too much over her?’

‘No, of course not. But she always made Christmas so perfect for
us
, I want it to be right for
her.’
Lucy’s voice was suspended for a moment, then she cleared her throat and swallowed hard.

Remembering how much she had cried on the phone, Perdita put a sympathetic hand on Lucy’s arm. ‘It must be quite upsetting for you, the first Christmas without your father.’

‘Well, yes it is. But that’s not why I’m crying. Not that I am crying, really. It’s just a hormonal thing. Don’t
take any notice. Have you met Jake?’

‘Only at your wedding. It’s very kind of you to invite me,’ said Perdita to the large, amiable man before her.

Jake’s hand enveloped hers, and then he pulled her forward for a hug. ‘The favour is all on your side. If you can stop Lucy getting thoroughly overwrought you can stay until spring. Come and have a drink.’

‘But it’s nearly two o’clock in the morning,’ said Perdita, suddenly desperate for alcohol. ‘Don’t you want to go to bed?’

‘The children are in our bed,’ said Jake, leading the way into a vast sitting room, which would be wonderful with curtains, paint and floor covering and more than the few bits of furniture that were dotted about. ‘Their cots are still dismantled, and so we can’t go to bed until we’ve put them up. We slept on the floor last night. Geoff, I was hoping you might give us a hand. Whisky punch?’ He handed Geoff a glass and looked questioningly at Perdita. ‘We don’t usually have this until Christmas Day, but we got desperate. It’s guaranteed to kill off any cold bugs which may be lurking.’

‘It’s terribly important we don’t give Mummy a cold,’ explained Lucy. ‘It goes to her chest. I really don’t want her getting bronchitis.’

‘Of course not,’ agreed Perdita, suddenly wondering how Kitty was.

‘The trouble is she will overdo things so. She lets the children exhaust her. She’s a bit of a perfectionist.’

‘It runs in the family,’ said Jake, casting his wife a significant, reproachful glance.

‘I’m not a perfectionist usually,’ Lucy protested. ‘It’s just I want this Christmas to be right.’

‘But you’ve just moved house,’ said Perdita for what seemed like the tenth time. ‘You can’t possibly expect to be able to do everything you usually do.’

‘Well, I haven’t! I didn’t make my own Christmas cards
this year. And Mummy made the cake and the pudding. I made the mincemeat while the people who bought our old house measured up for curtains. Far too late, really.’

‘But you were up until after one making the pies.’ Jake yawned. ‘I hope you two don’t mind sharing a bedroom,’ he went on. ‘There are only three habitable rooms upstairs, the roof leaks in all the others. Ma-in-Law’s got the master bedroom with the dodgy en suite. Us and the children are crammed into the nursery, so that only leaves one room for you.’

‘It’s very big, though,’ added Lucy. ‘And it’s got two beds. You don’t mind sleeping bags, do you?’

Perdita felt that if she drank any more whisky punch she’d fall asleep where she sat. ‘Er, not at all,’ she said.

‘Mummy’s got to have the best room, and although the bathroom doesn’t work terribly well, it is at least a bathroom. I’m afraid the rest of us have to use the downstairs shower and lav. Very bad feng shui, an en suite,’ added Lucy. ‘I hope she won’t mind.’

‘Your mother doesn’t go in for feng shui, does she?’ asked Geoff.

‘I don’t think so, but that’s not the point, is it? It’s either bad for you or it’s not. You don’t have to
believe
.’

‘But, darling!’ Jake seemed set to tear out what remained of his hair. ‘I thought you were longing for an en suite! I thought that was one of the main reasons we bought the house!’

‘Oh, I don’t care about it. I just want it to be OK for Mummy.’

Jake sighed the sigh of a man who had given up hope of ever understanding his wife. ‘Who’s ready for another drink?’

‘I think we’re all just about ready for bed,’ said Perdita, who had for some moments been longing for her own home, and her own bed, in which she would have been asleep for hours by this time.

‘A night cap, then.’ He drained the last of the punch into everyone’s glasses, except Lucy’s.

‘I hope I don’t disturb any of you in the night,’ said Lucy apologetically. ‘I have to get up to go to the loo rather a lot at the moment.’ She paused, then shook her head and swallowed. ‘I’m pregnant. Don’t tell Mummy. That’s why I’m so tearful. I’m perfectly all right if people don’t draw attention to it.’

‘The children are fascinated,’ said Jake. ‘They keep looking at Lucy and saying, “Mummy’s crying again.”’

‘You’re no better!’ snapped Lucy. ‘You keep saying, “‘Ere we go, waterworks.” ’ She laughed with an edge of hysteria to it. ‘I suppose it is a bit bizarre. I just hope Mummy doesn’t notice.’

Perdita thought that unless Lucy’s mother was both blind and deaf she couldn’t fail to notice, but didn’t like to mention it.

‘I don’t suppose Perdita really wants to share a room with me,’ said Geoff, getting up. ‘Perhaps I’d better sleep down here.’

Lucy frowned. ‘OK, but you’ll have to promise to get rid of all your bedding before Mummy’s up, when she gets here. It’s so studenty, having people sleeping on the sofa.’

‘I really don’t mind sharing, Geoff, but if you’d feel happier sleeping down here …’ Briefly, Perdita wondered how she’d have felt if she’d had to share a bedroom with Lucas. Not half so comfortable, she decided. But then, Geoff couldn’t exactly be described as sex on a stick, not even by a frustrated divorcee like herself. She drained her drink. ‘Well, let’s go and get these cots organised. Lucy looks done in.’

As they went upstairs Perdita pondered that suddenly Christmases with Kitty seemed calm, comfortable, but a little dull. This was what many families had to cope with at Christmas – the hunt for perfection with no chance of finding it. She hoped she could cope.

Christmas Eve, with its own share of rituals, found Perdita in the kitchen, offering to cook a meal.

‘Not that I’m much of a cook,’ she said to Jake.

‘Doesn’t matter! I’ve got to go and assemble a bloody doll’s house! And the instructions probably make perfect sense to a Japanese-speaking architect, but they make damn-all sense to me.’

‘Geoff will help you. He seems like a man who reads instructions.’

‘Why Lucy insists on giving them a doll’s house, when there’s no time to build it except when they’re asleep, which hardly ever happens …’

‘It’s so they’ve got their own house to move into,’ said Lucy, coming into the kitchen. ‘It’s like giving the first child a baby doll when the second one comes. Oh, Jake! I thought you agreed with me on this!’

‘I’m going to cook supper,’ said Perdita, quickly, before Lucy could burst into tears. ‘I’ve explained to Jake. I’m not much of a cook, but I’ve had a lot of experience with less than perfect kitchens.’

Unlike the others, she was unfazed by the camping gas stove which was all there was until the solid fuel stove was persuaded to light. And the lack of any gadgets, except a rather unhygienic wooden spoon and a rusty knife with a loose handle, didn’t faze her either. ‘It’s pretty much a home from home for me,’ she explained.

Her long-neglected artistic skills were also called upon. The house was huge, filthy and empty, but it had beautiful proportions, and a garden full of wonderful evergreens. Once asked to ‘do something about the sitting room, please!’ by a potentially tearful Lucy, she let herself go.

Having sent Geoff to the nearest town to raid it for fairy lights, Perdita ripped ivy off the outside walls of the house, and sellotaped them above the picture rail. She sawed down an almost entire holly bush, which threatened to scar anyone foolish enough to come down
the path, and stuck it into an enormous terracotta pot. She found a twisted willow in the garden, and made a designer Christmas tree out of it, decorated with the lights Geoff had brought back.

‘It looks
stupendous,’
said Lucy, in tears again. ‘It’s a pity coloured lights are so “out”.’

‘It was all I could get,’ said Geoff, defensively.

‘And I’m sure I saw someone using coloured lights on
Changing Rooms,’
said Perdita.

‘Did you?’ This seemed to cheer Lucy up immensely, and Perdita was pleased she had lied. ‘You’ve both been brill. Don’t take any notice of me. I’m always like this when I’m pregnant.’

‘Then how are you going to keep it from your mother?’ Perdita felt that for everyone’s sake it would be better if things were out in the open.

‘Oh, I don’t know, just keep a stiff upper lip, I suppose.’

‘But why don’t you want her to know?’ asked Perdita, having dispatched Geoff to find dry wood for kindling so they could light a fire and take some of the chill off the room. ‘Surely, a new grandchild to look forward to would cheer her up, wouldn’t it?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. It just seems so selfish of us, having sex when she’s in mourning and can never have sex again. Can you imagine that, never having sex again?’

Until recently, Perdita could have faced the prospect with equanimity, but just recently she had found herself wondering a bit about it.

‘Well, I suppose it would be dreadful. But she can only be in her fifties, she might marry again.’ Lucy’s eyes filled up at the thought. ‘And your mother would be horrified if she felt you weren’t having a proper marriage because your father died,’ Perdita added hurriedly.

Lucy sighed. ‘I suppose that’s true. But I really would rather not tell her about it just yet. She does worry about me when I’m pregnant.’

Perdita felt that Lucy’s mother’s fears were probably justified. Moving house, Christmas and pregnancy seemed a combination likely to bring on something dreadful – miscarriage, a nervous breakdown, or at the very least, chapped cheeks owing to Lucy’s semi-permanent tears. ‘So what else do you want to do in this room, then?’

‘Well, in Scotland I always had a big garland of evergreens over the fireplace, and then hung the stockings from it. I made the family ones ages ago, but of course, this year I had to run up a couple for you and Geoff.’

Perdita was horrified. ‘Lucy! How could you find the time? You must be mad! Making things like that with things as they are. Now don’t cry! I mean, it’s so sweet of you to go to so much trouble. But we would never have come if we knew we were going to cause so much extra work.’

‘Nonsense! You’re both doing far more work than you caused me! I don’t know what I’d do without you!’ Lucy sniffed, and then absently began to peel away a bit of wallpaper. ‘So what about your love life, Perdita? No one since Lucas? Not that I was surprised you split up.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well, I mean, it was just too hot and passionate to survive, wasn’t it? And you were so
young
, practically a child bride. Not that I’m implying it was your fault …’

‘I did at least remain faithful for those few short months, but I had no idea how to handle him.’ She wasn’t exactly a dab hand at it now. She sighed.

‘So, is there anyone in your life now? No? Oh well, I’m sure … I don’t suppose you ever hear from Lucas?’

‘Funnily enough, I do, sort of. He’s become a chef at the local hotel and moved into the village. I sell him salads.’

‘A chef? I thought he was something in the City?’

‘He was. But he gave it up and became a chef. God knows why.’

‘How bizarre! What on earth made him change direction like that?”

‘I have no idea.’

‘But is it awkward? Dealing with him?’

‘Well …’ Should she tell Lucy about Lucas’s curiosity about her love life, and her pretending she was spending Christmas with her boyfriend? Perdita wasn’t really accustomed to woman-to-woman chats, except with Kitty and Janey.

‘Oh, go on, do tell,’ pleaded Lucy, looking more cheerful than Perdita had yet seen her. ‘I haven’t had a good gossip for yonks.’

‘He does keep asking me if I’ve got another man in my life and, of course, I haven’t. So I pretended I was spending Christmas with my boyfriend.’

BOOK: Second Thyme Around

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