Country Plot (11 page)

‘Well, talk about trusting your fellow man,' she grumbled. She made do instead with walking on up the road until she had passed out of the village and into the country. A short way further on there was a large white gate with a sign on it saying
HOME FARM
and an A-board advertising
PARKER'S FARM SHOP
, listing underneath milk, eggs, fresh fruit and vegetables, local honey, and home-made preserves.

‘I owe myself twenty quid,' she said aloud. ‘Now, what shall I spend it on?'

Oliver rang that evening to find out how she was getting on.

‘The place is amazing,' Jenna said. ‘Just stuffed with brilliant things. Like the best-ever antique market. And Kitty's an absolute dear. She and I hit it off right away.'

‘Michael said she was nice,' Oliver said. ‘But are you comfortable?'

‘Goodness, lap of luxury!'

‘Sybil was afraid it would be all decaying gentry, damp sheets and no hot water, mouldy bread and mice in the kitchen.'

‘I have a bedroom with en-suite bathroom straight out of the Hilton, only nicer, and Kitty has a lady to cook for her, who stuffs me with tremendous food.'

‘Well, you have landed on your feet, then! I'll tell Syb – she was worried you'd fade away or go into a decline or something.'

‘Has Patrick phoned?' Jenna asked wistfully, following the logic trail.

‘Three times. I made Syb answer so that she could tell him with a clear conscience that you'd gone and she didn't know where. He didn't entirely believe her, which accounted for the second and third calls. I dare say he'll call again. Shall we keep on denying you? The cock crowed thrice this morning.'

‘I still don't want to talk to him,' Jenna said, though even she heard the hint of wistfulness in her voice. She braced it to add, ‘He probably only wants Charlotte's watch back. Well, he's not having it.'

‘Why don't you switch on your mobile and tell him that yourself? You don't need to tell him where you are.'

‘I told you, I don't want to talk to him.'

‘But it's very inconvenient for the rest of us, not to mention your friends. Why don't you get one of those cheap pay-as-you-go jobs, and give everyone except Patrick the number.'

‘I might do that,' Jenna said. ‘At the moment, though, I'm going to be confined to the house most of the time. There's a huge amount to do.'

‘Have you found out what it's all about?'

‘Yes, and it's awfully sad. Kitty says she can't afford to live here any more, because of what it costs to maintain the house, so she's selling the contents in the hope of making enough to stay on a bit longer. She loves the house so much, she was hoping to stay here till she died.'

‘Who does it go to after her? Her children? Can't they help?'

‘She and Peter never had any children, his brothers are dead and his nephews are scattered to the four winds. The house isn't entailed. And anyway, no one else would want it.'

‘I wouldn't bank on that. But you mean she hasn't got any family?'

‘None at all. I think Ma is her nearest relly, in fact.'

‘God help her then!' said Oliver, and she could imagine him rolling his eyes.

‘She has a godson who lives locally, but he obviously hasn't offered to help her in any way or she'd have told me. He's a bit of a stuffed shirt, but she adores him.'

‘What does he do?'

‘Furniture restorer.'

‘Oh. Tradesman, then?'

Jenna laughed. ‘Is that why she sounded defensive? But he's terribly posh.'

‘How posh? Trevor Howard or Leslie Phillips?'

‘Trevor Howard, but taller. But he has this ghastly fiancée, Caroline, who's taken agin me for some reason. I met them today, and she was poisonously rude, in that icily correct way that you can't openly object to.'

‘Oh, good. I'm glad she's a bitch.'

‘How so?'

‘Well, every Eden has to have a serpent. If you hadn't identified it, it would mean it was still out there somewhere. You might have stepped on it at any moment. This way, you know where it is and you can avoid it.'

‘You're such a comfort to me,' Jenna said, suddenly missing him. She was getting really into Holtby House and Kitty's problems, but home was home all the same, and there was no one like Olly.

‘No mush, old thing. Anyway, it's obvious what you must do.'

‘It is?'

‘Yes, you must find a way for Kitty to stay on without selling everything.'

‘It really would be a shame if she had to, because all the stuff is packed with history and it belongs here. But it'd be even worse if she had to leave the house. But what can I do?'

‘Think of a way she can make money out of the house, enough to keep it going. Make an income from it. There must be loads of things you can do with a big house. Michael says it's like a mini-stately?'

‘Kind of like that, only messier.'

‘Well, then. Thinking cap on, darling. And I'll brainstorm with Syb, and maybe get the others in on it. It's just the sort of problem the family will like. I'll let you know if we come up with anything. Or they'll let you know themselves.'

She imagined the family ringing her up with their usual useful contributions. ‘I'm sure they will.'

‘Between us we ought to be able to bust it,' Oliver said breezily. ‘Meanwhile, nil desperandum. Chin up, best foot forward and so on. Faint heart never won fair hearing. And watch out for the snakes.'

Later that evening, Kitty came back into the sitting room, where they had retired as darkness fell, from making a phone call out in the hall. She looked a little pink in the face, and her eyes were bright.

‘I've had an idea – in fact, it's more than an idea, because I've already begun to work on it, so I hope you don't mind. I'm going to have a dinner party on Saturday.'

‘How lovely,' Jenna said.

‘Do you think so? I'm so glad. Looking at the dining room this morning and thinking how long it is since I used the table made me feel guilty, so I thought, why not have a dinner party in your honour, to introduce you to the neighbourhood?'

Jenna felt embarrassed. ‘Really, there's no need—' she began.

‘Oh, but I want to,' Kitty said. ‘And you just said it would be lovely. It won't be
terribly
formal, because no one does formal any more, but it will be fun. It's really just an excuse to entertain again, like the old days. You will help me, won't you? I can't do it without you.'

‘Of course I'll help – anything you like. Though I'm not brilliant at cooking. But I can boil water without burning it.'

Kitty laughed. ‘Oh, my dear, Mrs Phillips will do the cooking. She'd never let anyone else use her kitchen. And Fatty will serve, and Bill will see to drinks. But I need you to help me greet people and chat to them. I'm not very good at circulating. Peter used to do all that. I tend to get buttonholed by someone who won't stop talking, and I can't seem to find a polite way to get away, which means the other guests are neglected. But I just know you'll be brilliant at it.'

‘I don't know about brilliant, but I'll do my best.'

‘Any daughter of Annabel's is bound to be good in company. Now, we'll have Xander and Caroline, of course, and I thought I'd ask Harry for you – Caroline's brother. He's about your age.'

Jenna imagined what a brother of the Ice Queen would be like and said, ‘Oh, that's not necessary—'

But Kitty was firm. ‘It's nicer if the numbers are even. I thought I'd ask four other couples, so we'd be fourteen in all, not too many, but enough for variety. Oh, I'm quite excited about it – I'm so glad you came and gave me the excuse! We'll have to plan a menu. Of course, whatever we choose, Mrs Phillips will want to do something different, but she likes to make believe she just cooks what she's asked to cook, so we go through the motions. Are you good with wine? That's one area she won't argue about. I'll show you the wine cellars when the menu's set. Peter laid down a lot – he was the great wine buff. I just know what I like.'

‘I haven't anything to wear,' Jenna said.

‘It won't be terribly formal,' Kitty assured her.

But Jenna thought that if Caroline was coming, it wouldn't be the most relaxed occasion. ‘I've only got cotton trousers and jeans and things,' she said. ‘Nothing remotely suitable for dinner.'

‘There are a couple of dress shops in the village,' Kitty offered helpfully.

‘Yes, I saw them,' Jenna said. Well, the town was only five miles away. She'd have to manage a trip there some time before the fatal night.

It was only later, in bed, that she returned to Kitty's arithmetic and realized that ‘fourteen' meant Kitty was going to invite someone ‘for' herself. She was intrigued; but after the Bill Bennett debacle, she refused to allow herself to speculate in Emma Woodhouse style. She'd find out soon enough.

The next day, Jenna made a start. It was wonderful to wake up in that lovely room, to get up in her own time, to dress how she liked and go down to a grand breakfast that she hadn't had to get for herself. No dashing out of the house, through the din of rush-hour traffic, cramming herself into a train and strap-hanging into the crowded, stifling city. She had felt part of an elite when she commuted; now, breakfasting on the terrace with nothing but birdsong in her ears, and with only a few steps to take to her place of work, she wondered how she had ever stood it.

Kitty left her at the big table in the library, where the computer also lived, with a heap of books, photo albums, journals, diaries and other papers, to start making out a simple timeline on the house, to be filled in later with the most interesting details. It was tremendously absorbing, and she hadn't even got beyond the building of the house (there were original letters between the owner and the builder, early sketches and plans, and invoices for materials and labour that gave a wonderful insight into what people earned and how hard it was to transport goods in those horse-drawn days) when Fatty, who was cleaning that morning, stuck her head round the door to say she was making coffee and did Jenna want a cup.

When she brought the coffee she said, ‘You should go outside for a bit, while the sun shine. Too nice to be indoor.' And when Jenna hesitated, she added, as if it were her primary concern, ‘While you out I dust library.'

So Jenna drank her coffee (Fatty's was even better than Mrs Phillips's) and went out through the open front door. The dogs were hanging around looking bored, and were only too glad to accompany her. She went to the first walled garden, wanting another look at the fabulously ordered vegetables and perhaps a poke around in those marvellous old greenhouses, and found Bill Bennett there, tying in his espaliered fruit trees.

‘Hello,' he said, instantly putting down his twine and scissors, evidently ready for a chat. ‘How are you getting on?'

‘Very badly,' Jenna said. ‘I've only done a couple of hours work, and here I am skiving off again.'

‘You'll work better for a breath of fresh air,' he said comfortably.

‘Fatty said she wanted to dust the library. I don't know how long that gives me.'

‘As long as you like,' he said, laughing. ‘She just wanted to get you out of doors. She thinks you're too pale.'

‘But I'm not supposed to be here for a rest cure,' Jenna said.

‘I thought that was exactly what you were here for. But don't worry – you'll get the work done. Every job has its rhythm. Once you find it, it'll romp away.'

It was a nice philosophy, which office life in the great metropolis had entirely failed to mention to her. ‘What are these?' she asked of his trees, taking a reciprocal interest.

‘Plums,' he said. ‘This one is Czar. He's an old variety, good for pollinating others. I grow him among the greengages. Plums and gages can be tricky if they're not self-fertile, like Blue-tit over there, or good old Victoria. They only have a window of about ten days when they can be pollinated, and if they don't get fertilized in that time, that's it.'

‘I know how they feel,' Jenna said.

He looked amused. ‘But you're so young!'

‘Maybe, but you've got to meet a man first, which is hard enough, then go on dates, get to know him, build a relationship and wait for him to ask you to marry him, and all that takes years. It took me four years to get to where I was with Patrick, and now I've got to start all over again from scratch. Not even a suitable man on the horizon, and the biological clock ticking away like a metronome on speed. I'd sooner be a plum any day! I wish I was self-fertile.'

‘Oh, poor girl!' He laughed, but kindly. ‘Don't despair. The thing about life is that everything can change in an instant.'

‘I know that. A couple of weeks ago I thought I was sitting pretty.'

‘Yes, but it can change for the better just as quickly. I thought my love life was over when Gill, my first wife, died. I thought no woman would ever look at me again. And then I went with a friend – just to please him – into the last place I would ever think of looking for a bride, and met Fatty. Six weeks later we were married.'

‘Really? Six weeks?'

‘Well, it was dark in that club, so she probably didn't realize what I looked like,' he said. ‘And by the time she saw me in daylight, she was too kind-hearted to say she'd made a mistake.'

Now Jenna laughed. ‘You don't fool me! You're bloody good-looking and I bet you've had women falling over you all your life. I even thought—' She caught herself up and blushed to her hair roots.

He eyed her knowingly. ‘Thought what?'

‘Nothing,' she said. ‘Golly, look at the size of that bumblebee.'

‘Come on, what did you think?' he insisted. ‘That Kitty and I had something going?'