Slightly Foxed (13 page)

check that he hadn't already downloaded last night's Whiskas

onto Florrie's duvet, I put my head around the door, only to

pull it back so fast that I nearly got friction burns from the air

molecules.

Piers. His T-shirt and jeans were neatly folded on the floor,

the boots he'd worn were propped up near the door. He was

106

Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

sprawled face down, and very obviously naked, across

Florence's bed.

Oh bloody hell.
Now I remembered what I'd done. Piers

and I had been laughing hysterically coming up the stairs,

recreating a scene from an old TV sketch show that we'd both

treasured. He'd asked if he could stay over to save himself

the drive home, and I, desperate for the loo and the comfort

of my duvet, had agreed.

I peered cautiously into the bedroom again. I was so used

to seeing Florrie, duvet tucked up to her chin, that seeing

Piers angled, arms above his head, one leg bent and the

duvet—well, it certainly wasn't covering much of his body, put

it that way—was very strange. As I watched he stirred, one

hand twitched and he made to roll over, at which I withdrew

very smartly and went and had a very noisy shower. With

singing. There was going to be absolutely
no chance
of him

still being spread-eagled nude when I came out of that

bathroom.

[Back to Table of Contents]

107

Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

I sat on the Exeter train opposite a man who was clearly

very fond of cheese and onion crisps, and next to a woman

who seemed to be going for the world record in marathon

mobile conversations. I really hoped that both of them were

only going as far as Bristol, because I'd rather be left alone to

imagine Leo with his shirt off. But my mind was being

squeezed into far more workaday lines. Such as—Jacinta's

face when Piers had dropped me off at work that morning,

and her comical outrage when I insisted there was absolutely

nothing going on between us, other than his staying over so

as not to have to drive all the way to Thirsk very late and

ever-so-slightly over the limit.

"He stay in your home and you are not even
kissing
?" Jace

had shaken her head. "Alys, you are disgracing women."

"Look, for the last time, it's
Piers
, he's so much too young

for me that he might as well be in playgroup, he is not

interested in me nor I in him. And anyway, how come you're

always in so early? If you came in at the proper time, you

wouldn't even have seen him drop me off."

"I am aroused at six by my alarm."

I'd gone "hur hur" in a childish way. Jacinta had given me

a very arch look and I'd been quite glad when five o'clock

came and I had been able to head home and pack far too

many clothes for my weekend away.

It
had
been quite nice though, I had to admit, having Piers

over. When I'd finished my entire repertoire of shower songs

108

Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

and emerged fully dressed, he'd been sitting at the table

drinking tea, eating toast and reading Florence's
Cosmo Girl
.

We'd indulged in a brief exchange on not taking Agony Aunt's

advice too seriously, I'd pinched a piece of his toast and he'd

given me a lift to work. All in all it had been a lot nicer start

to the day than my accustomed grunt from Florrie. No wonder

I'd arrived at Webbe's with a grin on my face and, I suppose,

no wonder Jacinta had misinterpreted said grin.

Exeter station was sweltering under a copper-gold sky

when I disembarked. This came as a shock to the system. In

York the weather had broken, grey rain was tipping out of

bleak chilly skies, and I was dressed accordingly in a sweater

and long skirt. Once I'd steamed onto the platform, it was

obvious I was as ridiculously overdressed as a pantomime

horse at a lap-dancing club. I was wondering if I'd have time

to sneak into the Ladies and change, when Leo came charging

onto Platform One, leaving assorted stunned-looking women

staring over their shoulders, as though the Milk Tray Man had

gone Express Delivery. "Alys! God, I was afraid I'd missed

you."

He looked both better, and worse, than last time I'd seen

him. Better in that he'd had a haircut and a decent shave.

Worse in that he was wearing a T-shirt stained with what

looked like creosote, the most horrific pair of shorts outside

an Eric Morecambe tribute show and a pair of rubber ankle

boots which made him look a bit like a kinky pixie. "Sorry

about the get-up. I was down on the yard, completely lost

track of time—had to come blasting over without changing."

109

Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

"It's good to see you again." Inadequate maybe, but what

else can you say when you're only on your second meeting?

So much hung on this.

"And you, Alys." I found myself enfolded in a tentative hug

which gave me the maximum opportunity to ascertain that,

yes, the substance on his T-shirt
was
creosote. "Gosh. You've

certainly come well wrapped-up."

"Well, it's grim up north." It was a bit tricky to balance in

the top-only hug, and my legs were beginning to give out. I

performed a little shuffle and Leo took this as a hint to let go

and step back.

"Let's go, shall we?" He picked up my bag, gave a tiny

grimace at the weight, and we went outside to where the

Land Rover was triple-parked on a taxi rank. "If you like you

can come and take a look at the new arrivals. Would you like

to?"

As opposed to, say, shagging you senseless round the

back of the feed bins? "Mmmmm," I said, with what I hoped

was the right note of enthusiasm.

He started the engine, shot me a look over his glasses and

gave a little half-grin. "I didn't tell Isabelle that you were

coming down again." He hauled the big vehicle out into the

traffic. "I wanted to keep you a secret, just for now. Since

Sabine died, there hasn't been anyone, because I couldn't
let

there be anyone, if you understand. And now, well, I'm not

sure that I know how it all works any more, the whole

relationship thing. I'm terribly out of practice, Alys, and really

rather scared you see." He was keeping his eyes on the road.

110

Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

I looked at him. A sudden line of poetry came into my

head and I muttered it, without realising. "
All my life, a

wrapping round the gift.
"

Green, green eyes met mine. Unblinking. "That is so like

something I wrote once. I don't remember exactly how it

went, but it was along those lines."

I was proud of myself, I didn't flinch or look away, just

looked into those jaded pools. "Spooky."

"Yes. Uncanny. Perhaps that's why I feel this—attraction to

you, because we have a similar outlook on things."

Damn, and I was hoping it was my sexy smile and my

delicious bottom that had won the day. "Maybe."

He focussed on the road with a fierce kind of expression,

his thoughts clearly a million miles away from the automatic

act of driving. I found it strangely attractive to watch. He was

here and yet not here—physically present but his soul was

sunk somewhere in the poetic depths which held him. I

wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but that seemed a

little presumptuous. After all we really didn't know each other

that well.

"Better get some Stud Nuts."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh. Sorry, Alys, I forgot it was you there for a minute.

Usually the only person I'm driving is Jay."

"Your stud manager, yes?"

He beamed a brilliant smile at me. "Yes. Jay is, well, she's

my right-hand man."

111

Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

She?
This
I've been on my own and unsullied since my

wife died
, and all the time he'd been knocking around on a

day-to-day basis with a
woman
?

"Couldn't get by without her, she's a wonder with the

ponies."

We drove towards Charlton Hawsell, down the narrow,

banked lanes. The air smelled of singed dust, but the heat

had lifted as darkness sank over us. A pleasant stroke of

anticipation passed down my spine as I looked at the man

driving next to me. In this half-light, he was even more

attractive. Blurred edges made him a silhouette of perfection,

with his glasses gleaming now and then in the headlights of

passing cars. I wanted to reach out and touch him but didn't

dare.

"Here we go." The Land Rover bucked and rolled as we

turned up the driveway and I saw the chiselled angles of

Charlton Hawsell House in front of us. Its chiselled owner

swung the wheel to the right and we passed by the house

proper and down the gravelled pathway which led to the

stable yard. My heart sank somewhat. I was tired, grubby and

hungry after my journey, sweat was still trickling down my

back under the jumper and I was developing the bumps of

prickly heat. If Leo decided to take the plunge and sweep me

off to bed tonight, it would be like sleeping with a newly

plucked turkey. One which smelled of grimly hard-working

twenty-four-hour deodorant at that. But I remembered from

Florrie's days of pony owning, horses seemingly required

more care and attention than your average newborn.

112

Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

The yard was full of activity and completely floodlit. What

was going on, it appeared, was horse care on an industrial

scale. It was Teenage Girl Central. I could feel the angst and

acne from here.

"Some of the girls come up from town, especially in the

school holidays to help around the place." Leo killed the

engine outside the gate.

Some of the girls?
It looked to me like the whole of the

underage female contingent of Charlton Hawsell. The teenage

boys round here probably had to date each other.

"Hi, Leo." As soon as we walked within range of the

floodlights the greetings went off.

"Hello, girls." Leo seemed oblivious to the hero worship

which crackled in the air. "Alys and I are just going to take a

look at the foals, then I'll give you a hand." I felt every pair of

eyes swivel away from the four-legged beasties and towards

me. The air thickened like hormone soup. If Leo left me alone

for a second, I'd probably be bludgeoned to death with cherry

lip gloss and copies of
Mizz
. "Through here, Alys."

The foaling boxes were in blessed semidarkness. Two

mares were quietly eating hay in a determined way, one had

a foal suckling beneath her and the other foal was lying by its

mother, sprawled untidily in the careless way of the very

young. He indicated the shape like a badly made sock puppet

spread over the straw in front of us. "I thought we might call

her Alys. Would you mind?"

Charlton Alys.
Sounds a bit like a football team.
But I was

absurdly touched. "I wouldn't mind at all." I watched my

namesake wave a dreaming leg briefly.

113

Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

"Good." Slowly Leo turned me around until I was facing

him, lowered his face to mine and gave me a kiss, a brief

stroke of the lips. I was glad he hadn't gone for the full face-

eating scenario, what with all the rampant adolescence going

on outside. Puberty might not be fatal, but being submerged

under a jealous heap of it could be. "Why don't you go on up

to the house and make yourself at home. I'll lend a hand here

then come and join you. You know where the wine is. Leave

your bag in the wagon, I'll bring it on with me."

I wandered on up and into the dark hallway where I found

some light switches. These lights revealed that I was at the

front of the house, in a wooden-floored area with doors

leading off to left and right, and the big staircase I had

ascended on my previous visit behind me. I opened a door at

random, it gave onto a huge room with a moulded ceiling and

an impressive array of mismatched armchairs. Another door

led into a room lined with bookshelves, and another into what

seemed to be an office with a computer screen eerily lighting

a semicircle around itself.

I giggled to myself, but the giggle was magnified, thrown

along distant corridors, rattling off into the shrinking distance,

growing more and more indistinct as it vanished around

unseen corners. No wonder people who lived in houses like

this tended towards keeping mad women in attics as a

recreational activity.

"Alys?" Leo was calling me from somewhere, it sounded

like several corridors away.

"I'm here!" I called back.

114

Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

"I've got your bag! Do you want to come to the kitchen