Catherine Alliott - A Rural Affair

‘I know she will. We talked about all that too – A levels, university. She’d like to go to Frazer House for sixth form.’

‘Oh. Can you afford it?’ Frazer House was private.

‘No. But I think we should try. She’d do so well there. I’m going to persuade Dan that we should borrow it, crawl to the bank manager.’

I was silenced. Jennie didn’t believe in borrowing, it was against all her instincts. She kept a very tight hold on the purse strings, but then again, as she always said, she had to. Dan would blow it all on the three-thirty at Kempton if he could.

‘Don’t think you’ll have any difficulty there, then,’ I grinned.

She smiled. ‘No, I know. And I do also know,’ she eyed me sheepishly, ‘that I am a controlling old bag at times, but trust me, you’d be the same with my family.’

I wouldn’t, I knew. I’d be more like Dan; but that would be hopeless, wouldn’t it? People like Dan and me frittered money until there was nothing left – like Dad, I realized, remembering too my hefty cheque to the hunt. Because it didn’t really interest me. Careful people like Jennie were crucial. But then, that’s what I’d thought I had with Phil. And look how careless he’d turned out to be? With feelings, rather than money.

‘And there is a boy,’ went on Jennie, still with Frankie. She sipped her coffee. ‘The only problem is, it’s Hugo.’

‘Hugo!’ I turned back from stuffing my sheets in. I was astonished. Hugo. Angus and Sylvia’s rather gorgeous grandson, who hunted to hounds in the holidays and was currently on his gap year before going to Cambridge. He was very much not what I’d expected, and very much the property of one of Angie’s girls, surely?

‘I thought he was joined at the hip with Clarissa?’

‘That’s what Clarissa thought too, and is mighty upset about it. She considers him to be her property – even though he’s never been out with her. She knows he’s with a friend of hers but she doesn’t know who. He wants to break it to her gently, which is why it’s a secret.’

I remembered Frankie running under cover of darkness to a car outside the pub, which of course was where he worked. Remembered too Angie telling me Clarissa was upset about a boy.

‘Oh. Good for Frankie.’ I couldn’t help it.

She grinned. ‘I know. He’s a lovely boy.’ Suddenly she looked defiant. ‘But then she’s a lovely girl. Interesting too. Not your run-of-the-mill, giggle at everything, flicky-haired type.’

‘Quite.’

‘She wants to grow it,’ she said absently. ‘Take it back a shade or two. More tawny.’

‘Good idea.’

We were silent a moment. My mind flew back to Jennie, years ago, struggling with this defiant, wilful child, whose alcoholic mother had become more and more disinterested. There’d been some good years after that, between the ages of about nine and twelve, when all that mattered had been getting in the netball team in the winter and the rounders team in the summer – Jennie had even bribed the teacher with chocolate brownies once – but then some tricky ones. Could it be that she and Frankie were entering a good phase again? And could it last, this time? Jennie had certainly put her back into it, even if at times she felt she hadn’t.

‘Dan must be pleased? That you two are back on track?’ I hazarded, closing the machine door with an effort. Too full.

‘Yes, even though it’s slightly at his expense and he’s been cast as the tyrannical Dickensian father.’

‘That was just shock talking.’

‘I know, and Frankie knows it too. Yes, Dan’s pleased. In fact I’d go so far as to say he was positively smug last night. I assumed he’d be asleep when I finally crawled upstairs after my session with Frankie, but there he was, propped up on pillows, bright-eyed and banking on me being extremely grateful.’

‘Ah.’ I laughed. ‘Bad luck.’

‘Actually I rather enjoyed it. Didn’t seem like the onerous duty it sometimes does. I joined in for a change, rather than viewing it entirely as a spectator sport.’

‘Slightly too much information, Jennie.’

‘Sorry. Just explaining the baggy eyes this morning.’ She grinned sheepishly and hid them in her coffee. They twinkled a bit. ‘Anyway, we made a sort of pact to go away on our own for a few days after Christmas. Get to know each other again, as they’re so fond of telling us to do in women’s magazines.’

‘Good idea. I’ll have the kids.’

‘Thanks, but I think Frankie will be fine if you’d just keep a weather eye. Lob some fresh fruit over the fence every now and then.’

It occurred to me that a few weeks ago Jennie would never have trusted Frankie to look after the younger ones. They must have had a very good chat.

‘And what about you?’ She eyed me speculatively. I flinched. I knew that look. Once Jennie had sorted out her own life there was nothing she liked more than getting to grips with someone else’s. I wriggled under her laser beam but was trapped, like a moth on a microscope slide. ‘I thought you were going out last night? How come you were still skulking in your dressing gown when we burst in like the Addams Family?’

‘Ah. Well.’ I told her about Luke. About Angie. Then about Peggy.

She looked thoughtful a moment. Compressed her lips. ‘Bit of a knee-jerk reaction?’

‘What, mine?’

‘Well, yes. Angie casually mentions you haven’t exactly been left destitute, and suddenly his motives are all wrong and he’s a gold-digging fortune-hunter and you drop him like a hot coal.’

‘Well –’

‘You’re not exactly Jackie Onassis, Poppy.’

I flushed, remembering I’d compared myself to the very same woman last night. ‘No, of course not.’

‘You’ve just been left enough to buy a decent house and educate your kids, which the widow of any professional man who’s built up a business might expect. Luke could have worked that out for himself. And you’ve still got two children, as he rightly observed to Angie. Still come with baggage.’

I stared at her. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying you’re leaping to conclusions, courtesy of Peggy, who only thinks in black and white. Roger was the love of her life, ergo there will never be another. End of story. So she gads about teasing the elderly bachelors but will never bring herself to land one. Is that what you want?’

I sat down slowly. ‘Well, put like that …’

‘Life is not black and white, Poppy, it’s very grey, to the point of being grimy. There’s a great deal of compromise and shading of areas – ask me and Dan. Just because you went so wildly wrong with Phil, doesn’t mean all men are shits and you’re going to go disastrously wrong again.’

I gasped. ‘Did you have a glass to the wall?’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Well, that’s what I think! What I told Peggy – that I will go wrong!’

‘I know, I can tell. And Peggy’s encouraging you to be forensic, to settle for nothing but perfection. She would. She’s all or nothing. Which is fine if you’re happy with nothing. Personally I like a little something.’ She crossed her legs.

I gulped, horribly confused. ‘Oh God. Oh God, I don’t know, Jennie!’ I wailed, shooting anguished fingers through my hair. I clutched at the roots. ‘When I talk to Peggy, I think – yes yes yes; and when I talk to you, I think – yes yes yes too! Why is that?’

‘Because you’re suggestible, like my husband,’ she said calmly. ‘Not a sheep, exactly –’

‘Oh, thanks!’

‘But very persuadable.’ She brushed an imaginary bit of fluff from her knee, warming up nicely. ‘It’s terribly simple really. Do you like him?’

‘Who, Luke?’

‘Yes of course Luke, not Dan. Although you’re more than welcome to him.’