Girls, Muddy, Moody Yet Magnificent (7 page)

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13

‘Oh my God!’ I yelped, covering up my mouth. ‘Brendan told me you were a maggoty old ram!’

‘Fair point,’ said Oliver, smiling serenely. He knew he was gorgeous and would never be mistaken for a farm animal.

‘We’re going for a picnic lunch!’ I grinned.

‘I know,’ said Oliver. ‘I heard. Do you want to join me in First Class?’ He held out his hand to haul me up. Oh my God! I was actually going to
touch
him! This was progress, by anybody’s standards! I grabbed his hand (trying not to appear too desperate) and my insides turned a cute little somersault at his touch. His skin was cool and dry. I was glad. I would have had trouble with hot and sweaty. I would never wash my hand again, obviously. I clambered awkwardly up the back of the Land Rover and crashed down beside Oliver on a pile of filthy sacks.

For a split second I wished I had access to a mirror and some mascara. Three layers hardly seemed enough, now I was actually sitting right next to the love god. OK, it wasn’t exactly marriage, but it was a start.

‘It’s the only way to travel!’ I joked, as Brendan started the engine and we jolted back along the field towards the gate. I ransacked my brain for a magic sentence which would make Oliver love me for ever. Then I ransacked it again for any sentence at all. Then I tried to remember anything I had ever said. Just words. Any words. After about seven hours of howling silence, I took the plunge.

‘Has your headache gone . . .’ I blurted out suddenly, sounding disastrously like his mother, ‘. . . that you had yesterday?’

Oliver looked startled, then seemed to remember. ‘Oh yeah, I’m fine today,’ he replied.

‘Oh good,’ I said, deeply regretting ever having mentioned his headache. I waited for him to ask if my headache had gone, too, but he didn’t. Disaster! He had forgotten that I’d ever had a headache! But I had not only remembered his, but been needy and nerdy enough to ask how he was.

Oh, cow poo of the vilest kind! My campaign to appear cool, unattainable and desirable had taken a disastrous dive.

There was nothing much I could do to increase my attractiveness. I could hardly slip into high heels and a figure-hugging little cocktail dress right now, so I just tried to lurch attractively whenever the Land Rover hit a rut. Oliver was totally silent, staring out towards the woods and trees. He was lost in his thoughts, which evidently did not include my former headache.

‘Wonderful here, isn’t it?’ I sighed, and immediately regretted it.

‘Mmm,’ said Oliver. Oh God! He hadn’t even awarded me a single word, only a kind of absent-minded hum! But I loved his silence in a way. It was better than being bombarded with sleazy chat-up lines by smooth-talking bigheads like Beast.

The Land Rover stopped and we got out – this time it was Brendan who gave me a hand down.

‘So how’s the head today, Zoe?’ he asked. His concern was a startling contrast to Oliver’s dreamy forgetfulness.

‘Oh, fine, thanks, totally gone,’ I said. ‘It was just the polytunnel.’

‘Well, that’s grand.’ Brendan grinned. Such lovely quaint Irish words! ‘I happen to know that you won’t be in the polytunnel this afternoon anyway – Martin’s got something else lined up for you in the shade. I think Sarah gave him hell about you getting wet yesterday. I can tell when they’ve had a little set-to. There’s a vibe.’

It was a perfect picnic spot: woods and hills on all sides, and totally silent except for the sound of a tinkling stream and the calls of birds and animals.

‘Oh, it’s magical!’ said Chloe. Pigeons cooed from distant treetops, and the ewes and lambs bleated to one another nearby.

‘Under this rowan tree, maybe,’ said Brendan. I loved the way he knew the trees’ names. We sat down under the tree beside the stream and unpacked our sandwiches. Oliver fished out a plastic box from his rucksack and opened it with a suspicious air.

‘Who makes your packed lunch, Oliver?’ asked Brendan. ‘Your butler?’

Oliver looked faintly embarrassed. He didn’t answer, just opened up a sandwich and glared at the ham and cheese within.

‘I hate ham,’ he said, and picked it out and flung it into a hedge.

‘Hey!’ quipped Brendan. ‘I could have had that! The bottomless pit, that’s me!’

Chloe laid out the sandwiches she had made: cheese and pickle, cucumber and tuna, and some jam sandwiches for herself.

‘The tuna is for Zoe,’ she warned Brendan sternly. ‘So hands off!’

‘Thanks so much, Chloe, this is fantastic!’ I said, wondering if I could manage to take a huge bite of my sarnie while still looking moody and charismatic. ‘Sarah’s soup was kind of nice, but once I knew it had been bubbling away for months, it kind of lost its charm.’

‘Cooking’s not her strong point,’ Brendan smiled, ‘though Martin can do a mean chilli when he’s in the mood.’

‘What are Sarah and Martin like to live with?’ I asked. ‘You’re staying in their house, right?’

‘Oh, they’re fine,’ said Brendan. ‘It’s such a big old place, I’ve got most of the attic to myself and I’ve got my own TV up there and a bathroom and everything, so I just come and go as I please.’

The mention of bathrooms reminded me of the girl who had burst in yesterday while I was drying myself after the shower.

‘What’s Lily like?’ I asked. ‘I think I saw her briefly, yesterday? Petite with light brown hair in a ponytail?’

‘Oh, that’ll be Lily,’ said Brendan, laughing. ‘Trouble! She’s broken every heart in Oxford – a brain the size of a planet, and spoilt rotten by her ma.’ It sounded as if Brendan didn’t rate her. I felt relieved for Chloe’s sake.

‘Does she ever work on the farm?’

‘What! Lily! No, she’d never set foot out of doors if she could. She’s a city girl. Although she does do the farmers’ market stall sometimes – she likes to flirt with the customers.’ He pulled a playful disgusted face.

It was obvious that, to make an impression on Brendan, Chloe had to present herself as the total opposite of Lily. But how was I supposed to make an impression on Oliver? He was staring out across the valley, looking kind of switched off.

‘Do you fancy a game of pool some time, Oliver?’ asked Brendan. ‘There’s a place in town, opposite the war memorial.’

‘I don’t really play pool,’ said Oliver, looking tragic and picturesque. ‘It doesn’t really do it for me.’

‘What does do it for you, then, Oliver?’ Chloe piped up, looking cheeky. ‘What – or who?’

‘I do a bit of running now and then,’ said Oliver.

‘Round the park?’ asked Chloe, clearly trying to do a bit of research for my sake.

‘No – I’m not crazy about the park,’ he sighed, picking a stalk of grass and stroking his face with it. Lucky old stalk! I’d watch where he threw it afterwards, and if nobody was looking, I’d scoop it up into my pocket and keep it in a gold locket for ever.

‘I love the park,’ I said. OK, I adored Oliver, but I wasn’t going to diss the dear old park for anybody. ‘I met Jess Jordan and Fred Parsons there yesterday. They’re working for Major Events – you know, the hospitality company. Chloe wanted to work there, but I twisted her arm.’

‘Oh, you liked the idea of the farm?’ queried Brendan, with a naughty twinkle in his eye. ‘Why’s that, then, Zoe?’

‘I thought it sounded sweet and old-fashioned,’ I said. ‘But of course, now I realise I’m marooned with low-life yokels I’m deeply regretting my decision.’

Brendan and Chloe laughed, but Oliver only smiled slightly as if he hadn’t really been listening properly.

‘I can’t stand Fred Parsons,’ Oliver mused. ‘He thinks he’s so damn funny, but he’s really just weird and nerdy.’ I was shocked. I’ve always liked Fred immensely, but somehow I didn’t have the courage to say so now, and I hated myself for it.

‘I love Fred!’ exclaimed Chloe defiantly. Thank God. ‘I think he’s hilarious.’

‘Well, they say a sense of humour is a very personal thing,’ observed Brendan. ‘But a sense of timing is crucial, and I have to tell you guys that it’s ten to two, and if we don’t get back to work, Martin will be emitting smoke.’

We started packing up. Oliver clambered to his feet and chucked his plastic box back into his rucksack without putting the lid on properly. A bit of lettuce fell into the bottom of the bag. This disturbed me slightly for some reason.

We drove back to the farmyard, Brendan and Oliver disappeared and Martin took us into a little shed where there were buckets of eggs, a set of scales and a vast bale of egg boxes. We spent the afternoon weighing and boxing up eggs into small, medium and large categories, while discussing how we were going to persuade our parents to let us go to Newquay alone.

I arrived home to find Tam back from hospital and sorting out her room, while loud music throbbed from her speakers. When she saw me, she pulled me inside and shut the door. Then she placed her lips against my ear.

‘Thanks so much for not saying anything yesterday!’ she whispered, hugging me. ‘I owe you, big time!’

‘OK, OK.’ I frowned. I was tired and I wanted peace and quiet and my own choice of music. Tam was going through a worrying rap phase.

‘How’s work? Is it OK? What’s happening? Come out for a walk!’ demanded Tam. ‘I want to talk!’

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14

‘Let’s go out for half an hour!’ insisted Tam. ‘Twice round the park! I could do with some fresh air!’

‘But I’ve been in the fresh air all day!’ I wailed. It was no use. Tam switched off the music, grabbed me by the arm and practically frogmarched me downstairs. We peered into the sitting room. Mum and Dad were watching the news.

‘We’re going for a walk – two circuits of the park!’ announced Tam. Mum looked up with a delighted smile. I knew what she was thinking.
Isn’t it great that our beloved and distinguished older daughter, Tamsin, is such a good role model for that younger one – I forget her name – the one with the massive zit on her chin?

‘Dinner’s at seven thirty!’ she called. ‘Dad’s made aubergine parmigiana from Jamie Oliver’s Italian book!’

Once we’d got out into the road, Tam’s grip on my arm eased slightly and I was able to enjoy that underrated luxury: blood circulating freely to my fingertips.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Tell me about this Ed, then.’

‘He’s absolutely amazing!’ sighed Tam.

‘I know that already. How did you meet, again?’

‘Well, you know Daisy from school, right? Her dad plays in this club cricket team, and there was a match on the Sunday, and Daisy wanted to go, so I tagged along, and guess what! Ed was the captain!’ Tam couldn’t have looked prouder if she’d fallen for the captain of England. ‘We all had tea afterwards in the pavilion, and somehow I got talking to him, and Daisy was kind of wrapped up with some guy she’s got a thing about – he’s a radio astronomer, whatever that is – and Ed and I were kind of trapped in a corner of the pavilion together, and you know how it is, our eyes kind of met over the egg sandwiches.’

‘So, what, you pulled right there and then under everybody’s noses? Was his family there?’

‘No, no, they were at the zoo or something. And it wasn’t gross like that at all. He works with computers – so I had this brilliant excuse to ask his advice because it was Parv’s birthday coming up. I was telling him about my birthday-present crisis and how Parv is fixated on electronic gadgets, and he told me he’d meet me at this brilliant shop in town and help me choose something.’

‘Then what?’ Despite my disapproval I was becoming horribly fascinated.

‘Well, we met the next day in town and he showed me all the latest stuff, and we found a nice little thing for Parv, and then he took me out to lunch!’ Her eyes shone.

We had reached the park, and I supposed that, to Tam, it must look fabulously romantic in the slanting evening sunlight. Personally, I was struggling with severe hunger and though Tam was deep in her erotic fantasy about Ed, I was already flirting passionately with the forthcoming aubergine parmigiana.

‘By the time we’d finished our lunch I was totally under his spell, and he was, like, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever
seen
,” – and all that crap.’ At least Tam had the grace to laugh off his compliments. ‘And his foot kind of pursued my foot under the table and, well, from then on it was, like, totally magical. And the next day he took me out to lunch and drove me off into the country . . .’

‘Where you had a Heathcliff and Cathy experience, I suppose?’

‘Oh no, he’s not Heathcliffish at all. He’s totally civilised and, well, just amazing.’

‘In the film of our lives, who would he be played by?’ I demanded. The film of our lives has already been extensively cast. Tam is Kate Winslet, Dad is Simon Russell Beale, Mum is Harriet Walter or maybe Sophie Thompson, and for me it’s most likely Danny DeVito, though when Chloe or Tam are trying to get round me they say it’s Rachel Weisz.

‘Oh . . . Ed would be . . . ahhh . . . Jude Law,’ said Tam with a massive sigh.

‘Wow!’ I acknowledged, though I knew Tam’s tendency to over-estimate her boyfriends’ good looks. Ed might resemble Jude Law after a bad attack of chicken pox, for example.

‘Tell me about his family,’ I demanded. Tam winced.

‘Oh, not much to tell,’ she said hastily. ‘Just – you know – dumb wife, two kids, the usual domestic trap.’

‘She’s dumb, huh?’ I was determined to give Tam a hard time, now. I had slipped into Victorian Governess mode. ‘Dumb for trusting him? For not realising he’s messing about with you while she deals with the dirty nappies? What’s her name?’

‘Jo.’ Tam winced again. ‘The thing is, it’s not her fault, but the magic’s gone out of their marriage . . .’

‘Of course the magic’s gone out of her marriage!’ I snapped. ‘Because her lying dog of a husband is playing away!’

‘Don’t be horrid, Zoe,’ said Tam, letting go of my arm and folding her hands defensively across her chest. ‘I wish I hadn’t told you now.’

‘How old are the kids?’ I persisted. ‘What are their names?’

‘I can’t remember . . . they’ve got nicknames.’

‘What are their nicknames?’

‘Uhh . . . Little Bear and Twinkle.’

‘Little Bear and Twinkle!’ I exploded. ‘I don’t believe you! You’re trying to steal Little Bear and Twinkle’s daddy! How old are they? How old is
he
, for God’s sake?’

‘I’m not telling you any more! You’re just totally negative all the time!’

‘I’m just scared of what you’re getting into!’ I shouted. ‘A horrible mess! Big trouble! Heartbreak all round!’

‘Ed says he thinks she’d like an amicable separation, anyway,’ said Tam huffily.

‘What? Leaving her to look after two little kids all on her own? I don’t think so!’ I have babysat for the Norman twins, and I know what I’m talking about when it comes to the demands of childcare.

‘They haven’t had sex for months,’ said Tam, looking guilty.

‘So what? People with little kids never have sex, anyway.’

‘Since when did you become such an expert on all this?’

‘Jackie Norman told me – when I arrived to babysit one day and she was covered with sick. She said, “God, Zoe, having toddlers doesn’t do anything for your love life. I don’t think we’ve even kissed since Christmas.” And that was in May.’

‘Well, I don’t think Ed and his wife are suited anyway. He says she doesn’t understand him.’

‘Oh, Tam! They all say that! It’s the cheating husband’s cliché! I was reading about it in an agony column only the other day!’ I wailed in exasperation. I was so cross that Tam just couldn’t see it. ‘
My wife doesn’t understand me . . .
Utter crap!’

Suddenly we heard pounding feet behind us. The park is full of joggers and you have to be prepared to give way to them. We turned round and stood aside. But when he saw us, the jogger thundered to a halt. It was Beast.

‘Tam! And the lovely Zoe!’ He grinned. ‘Wow! Jackpot! Tam! Haven’t seen you since Easter – come here, you fabulous temptress!’ And he swept her into his arms. I stood there like a plank, staring at the daisies. Not that I wanted him to give me a hug, of course. I wouldn’t want to hug him if he was the last guy on earth. I knew what he was like. In ten years’ time he was going to be whispering to some poor deluded girl, ‘My wife doesn’t understand me.’
I’m sorry, but as far I was concerned, men like Beast and Ed were the scum of the earth.