Fern Britton - The Postcard

‘I don’t know. We could practise it a few times if you like.’ She shook her head and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

He continued, ‘Or we could talk about something else?’

‘Oh, let’s talk about something else.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and rubbed at her tired eyes. ‘Let’s talk about you. What do you paint?’

‘Ah well, I paint landscapes for myself, and portraits for money. That’s why I’ve come down here with Adam, actually. I have a commission to paint Lady Carolyn Chafford of Chafford Hall, near Launceston.’

‘How very posh!’

‘Not quite as she sounds. She and her husband bought the title – feudal, of course, so not in the peerage – with the manor, but they are very nice and very loaded, so she’ll do for me.’

‘And tell me about your partner, Adam.’

‘Partner?’ A frown wrinkled Kit’s clear brow then he started to laugh. ‘He’s not my partner . He’s my cousin.’ He sat back in his chair and tipped his head to the ceiling, letting out a deeply infectious laugh. ‘Oh my God, that’s why Queenie said the dogs were like children to me!’ He reached for a handkerchief in his jeans and wiped his eyes. ‘She’s very open-minded, I’ll give her that. Wait till I tell Adam.’

Penny was smiling too. ‘Typical Queenie. She loves a gossip. She was convinced you were going to be the only gays in the village.’

Kit blew his nose and put his handkerchief back. ‘Oh, that’s so funny. Sorry to disappoint her, but Adam and I have lived together, practically from birth. Adam lost his dad in the Falklands War and so his brother, my dad, took him and Auntie Aileen in and we grew up as brothers.’

Penny’s mobile phone interrupted him. Penny looked at the screen and saw it was Jack Bradbury from Channel 7. A familiar surge of panic made her clench her hands. She could feel her pulse quickening. She reached for the phone and cancelled the call.

Kit felt her mood change. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Fine, yeah.’

‘I barely know you but I can see you are upset,’ he said gently.

Penny flashed a wide smile at him and pushed the phone under a pile of newspapers. ‘Just a work thing. It can wait. Want a biscuit?’

Penny and Kit spent the rest of the lunchtime swapping snippets about their lives, work and village characters.

‘Just look out for Queenie,’ Penny warned, ‘she’s not the sweet innocent old lady that she likes to pretend to be. She has a sharp business head with a love of gossip but a heart of gold. Pendruggan wouldn’t be the same without her.’ Penny hesitated for a moment then added mischievously, ‘Let’s not tell her just yet that you and Adam aren’t a couple.’

‘You are very naughty for a vicar’s wife, aren’t you!’ Kit nudged Penny’s arm with his elbow.

Penny sighed. ‘Well, I used to be naughty – before I married – but let’s just say this last couple of hours have been the most entertaining I’ve had in a long time.’

‘Intriguing. What was your life before this one?’ he asked.

Penny told him about what she did, about her production company and Mr Tibbs, her thrilling time in Hollywood with the film Hats Off Trevay .

‘That was your film?’ asked Kit in amazement.

‘Yep. Well, me and quite a few other people too, but it was amazing.’

‘What a life you’ve had. How on earth have you managed to settle down in sleepy Pendruggan?’

She shrugged. ‘Oh. You know. I have a wonderful husband and Jenna my gorgeous daughter. Lots of blessings.’

‘You must miss the excitement of your old life, though?’

She picked up their coffee mugs and took them to the sink. ‘Maybe. A bit.’ She kept her back turned so that Kit wouldn’t see the disloyalty she felt at having suggested her marriage wasn’t happy. She and Simon were going through a difficult patch admittedly. Everything he did annoyed her. The way he ate, breathed, looked— She pulled herself up sharply at these terrifying thoughts. Keep going, Penny, keep going.

‘Well, I’d better be off.’ Kit was standing and tying his stripey jumper round his neck.

Startled, Penny stood up straight. ‘Yes of course. Well, thanks again for the flowers and the company.’

She opened the back door to let him out and found her best friend Helen rounding the corner.

‘Oh Helen, you must meet Kit. Helen, this is Kit, our new neighbour at Marguerite Cottage.’

Helen shook his hand. ‘Lovely to meet you. Queenie is all agog with the news of two young men arriving in Pendruggan.’

‘We’ll try not to disappoint,’ smiled Kit, tapping his nose conspiratorially.

Penny turned to him. ‘If you want any fish or lobster, Helen is the woman to go to. Her partner, Piran, catches them all the time.’

‘Sounds amazing. Adam loves my curried lobster.’

Helen beamed excitedly at him. ‘Oh, Piran and I love curry.’

‘Well, I must cook for you when we’re settled.’ Kit bent to kiss Penny’s cheek and shook Helen’s hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, but I have a date with Puffing Bob.’

‘Gasping Bob!’ Helen and Penny shouted in unison and they watched Kit stroll over to Marguerite Cottage just as Gasping Bob’s rusty Rascal van rattled its way towards him.

‘He seems nice,’ said Helen.

‘He is. Very,’ said Penny, and immediately burst into tears.

Helen bundled Penny back into the kitchen. ‘What’s happened, darling?’

‘It’s my mother,’ sobbed Penny. ‘She’s dead.’

‘What?’ Helen was shocked. ‘When?’

When Helen had heard the whole story, short though it was, she became very practical.

‘You must phone your sister and ask her when the funeral is.’

‘I don’t think I have her number.’ Penny’s head was in her hands. ‘And the last time we spoke it was so awful. I can’t ring her.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Penny, she’s your sister. She should have phoned you by now, anyway.’ Helen stood up and looked purposeful. ‘Right, where is your address book?’

Penny looked at her, pale-faced. ‘In my office somewhere.’

‘In your desk?’

‘Probably.’

‘Right. I’ll get it and we’ll call her.’

‘I’m not sure I’m up to that.’ Penny struggled out of her chair and followed her friend to the office. ‘Please, Helen. I can’t. I need to feel a bit stronger before I—’

It was too late. Helen was in the office and pulling at a drawer. As she did so the house phone rang.

‘Don’t answer it!’ Penny almost screamed. ‘Leave it.’

The two women stared at each other before the answerphone picked up. They listened to Penny’s recorded voice telling the caller that she was unavailable and to please leave a message. She would get back as soon as possible.

It was Jack Bradbury.

He was shouting. ‘Penny! Jesus . Don’t you ever answer your calls or look at your emails? Mavis Crewe is pulling out and if you don’t get me six new scripts and a Christmas special soon I can promise you that you will never work for me or Channel 7 ever again!’

He hung up.

Helen looked at her friend properly.

Penny shoved her hands inside the saggy pockets of her ancient cashmere cardigan dropping her pale,swollen-nosed and red-eyed face to the floor.

It was the first time in twenty-five years that Helen had ever seen Penny Leighton look defeated. ‘Open your emails,’ she said.

Penny hovered for a moment; she’d got into an awful habit of hiding things and Helen would be cross with her if she knew the emails were deleted. She took a deep breath and then made her decision. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine.