Good Husband Material (39 page)

‘Hi, Tish,’ he said, leaning casually against my door. ‘I thought you were going to phone me about some driving practice?’

‘Oh, I didn’t want to bother you. Nerissa told me how busy you are, and – and – it looks like snow!’

‘It’s not going to snow yet, I’ve got an hour to spare, and there’s all the park to practise in without anything to hit.’ He cocked a quizzical eyebrow as I hesitated. ‘Coming? What’s the matter? Scared?’

‘Of course not! I’ll get my coat.’

I stuffed his card in my pocket, scribbled a quick note for Mother and went out, feeling sick with terror. He drove us into the park where we changed places. The Mini has very similar controls to Mrs Blacklock’s car, but perhaps they all have? I’ve never really looked.

Knowing Fergal’s temper of old, I flinched every time I scrunched the gears or stalled, but the explosion never came and slowly I began to relax – perhaps he
had
mellowed.

Narrow little roads meandered over the estate, up and down the rolling grass and around the stands of trees. I did some three-point turns, lots of reversing, and a few emergency stops, only one involving a cow and it wasn’t hurt at all, just gave me a deeply offended look before wandering off.

‘Gosh, I’m doing thirty!’ I exclaimed, skimming along a nice straight stretch.

‘Watch the sharp bend after those trees,’ warned Fergal quietly, and I gave a galvanic start that wobbled two wheels onto the grass: I’d forgotten he wasn’t Mrs Blacklock for a minute!

‘Steady! You’re doing fine. The roads around Nutthill may be safe yet.’

‘Thank you!’

‘Carry on down here to the left, past the house, to the main road, and then you can drive us back to the cottage.’

I was highly gratified that he trusted me to drive him on the public roads, but hoped we wouldn’t meet anything, since I can’t overtake even stationary vehicles yet.

Then we came round the bend and I had my first sight of Greatness Hall.

We glided to a stop while I just stared and stared. I heard Fergal put the handbrake on.

Long, low and mellow, icy sunshine glittered from the mullioned windows, while at each end of this central seventeenth-century hall, funny little turrets had been added like incongruous ears.

‘Oh, what a gorgeous house!’

‘I think so, especially now I’ve had all the tacky later embellishments removed. But I rather liked the vulgar turrets, and I’m leaving the Victorian ballroom out the back too, because I’m turning it into a recording studio.’

‘Yes, Mrs Deakin told me,’ I replied absently: I couldn’t tear my eyes away. ‘It isn’t a bit like I imagined it – it looks so lived in and cosy.’

‘That’s what I thought the first time I saw it. And the reason I flew back from Japan midway through the tour was to exchange contracts, rather than risk losing it. I’ll show you round when I come back.’

‘Back from where?’ I blurted, then could have bitten my tongue.

‘London – family Christmas.’

‘Oh, of course.’

I’m sure Mother’s neighbours are still talking about the Christmas when the Roccos rented the house next door, and what seemed like the whole, voluble populations of Italy and Ireland had met and melded all over the house and spilled out into the garden by sheer force of numbers. I’d gone in shyly with Fergal and been instantly absorbed into the noisy warm atmosphere … rather different from Christmas with Mother.

‘I’m going as soon as I’ve dropped you off,’ he added.

‘Oh, Fergal, you shouldn’t have let me delay you.’

‘You should know by now, Angel, that I never do anything unless I want to,’ he said shortly. His mouth relaxed a bit. ‘You need the practice, and I didn’t intend starting off until later. Actually, you aren’t too bad.’

‘Thank you!’

‘Apart from that little trick you have of trying to change my right knee instead of the gear lever.’

I crunched the gears and set off again with a jerk.

‘I have to pass the test before the baby arrives,’ I told him, ‘but there’s no reason for you to feel you have to help me. I can manage fine on my own. Mrs Blacklock is a good instructor.’

‘Practice helps, and you needn’t go all stiff-lipped: what are friends for? Speaking of which, Mrs Bell says you refused her offer to get your shopping?’

‘She isn’t employed to look after me as well as you. I’m doing most of my shopping at Mrs Deakin’s now, even if it is a bit more expensive. I give Bob a list and he collects it.’ I sighed. ‘I don’t know what I did without Bob! He’s so willing once he understands what you want.’

The drive divided in front of the house and Fergal directed me left, but as I began decorously to turn the corner a familiar small red sports car shot round it and screamed to a halt in a spray of gravel with the bonnet only an inch or two from mine. Nerissa stared at me through the windscreen.

I was glad I’d been practising emergency stops.

Fergal let his breath out in a hiss, and glancing sideways I noted signs of rising temper: something about the way all the angular planes of his face tightened, and a white look about the nostrils.

It had been a bit thoughtless of Nerissa to hurtle round the bend that fast, but I didn’t want to be the cause of any argument between them, so as she got out and sauntered over to my side of the car, I wound the window down and prepared to try to smooth things over.

A breath of air almost as chill as her eyes invaded my shrinking lungs.

‘My, my! Turned instructor, Fergal honey?’ she cooed, all Southern Belle. ‘I don’t think there’s much you can teach
Tish
!’

I was taken aback by her uncalled-for venom, and felt the Incubus cringe when she turned her Gorgon smile on me. ‘You sure are enormous, darling! Is it hard getting behind the wheel, or does it all sort of flow, like an amoeba?’

I felt like a big, ugly blob, which must have been her intention, though I don’t know why she thought she needed to put me down. You can’t feel less attractive than I do at the moment and she must know that Fergal is only being sorry for me, or helping me for old times’ sake, or a combination of the two.

‘What the hell were you doing coming round the corner that fast?’ Fergal demanded stormily. ‘You could have hurt Tish if you’d crashed into us!’

Nerissa fluttered her long dark eyelashes and pouted. ‘I was in a hurry to see you, Fergal! Mom and Pop are expecting you tomorrow for dinner, but I thought you might just come back with me now and spend Christmas Eve too?’

‘No dice, Nerissa. I told you I’m spending Christmas with my family as usual.’

‘But, darling! They surely wouldn’t begrudge you one Christmas with me.’ A thought seemed to strike her and she brightened. ‘Say, I haven’t met your mom and pop yet, have I? Don’t you think it’s about time I did? I could come with you and—’

‘No,’ he said flatly.

‘But I could—’

‘No!’ he said with finality. ‘Now, will you move over and let us pass? Tish needs to get home.’

If looks could kill I’d be a big bubbling blob on the tarmac.

‘I’ll just go in and wait for you then, Fergal honey.’

‘Pointless. I’ve put my cases in the other car and I’m leaving as soon as I get back from Tish’s. Goodbye, Nerissa.’

He brutally abandoned any interest in her. ‘Right, Tish, could you edge past, do you think? Reverse a bit first.’

‘I think so, if I go partly on the grass.’

‘That’s OK, just take it easy.’

Mercifully I reversed without doing anything embarrassing and, as I began to crawl past her, Nerissa wailed despairingly: ‘But, Fergal! I’ve got a present for you!’

‘God, she must have been a limpet in her last incarnation,’ Fergal muttered.

The car rocked back onto the even gravel and we set slowly off. I concentrated hard on getting us back in one piece.

Practically the whole population of Nutthill seemed to be out and about, from Mrs D. outside her shop to Margaret, and I felt a self-conscious glow edge up from my shirt as I drove sedately past and pulled up outside the cottage.

Fergal woke from a silent reverie. I suppose it’s restful to be with a woman you know is just an old friend and clearly incapable of chasing you anywhere, even if she wanted to. (Which she doesn’t … All right,
sometimes
she does, but she isn’t going to!)

I expect he’ll make up his quarrel with Nerissa. She’s so young and pretty, and he seems to have given her the idea he wanted to marry her, so he can’t blame her for being persistent. But if not, there are more of them out there just like her.

He helped me – the Great Amoeba – out of the car (I suppose Nerissa did have a point), and I thanked him and handed over his Christmas card.

‘Will you wish your family Happy Christmas from me? If they remember me, that is.’

‘Once seen, never forgotten!’ he said lightly enough, but then gripped my shoulders rather painfully and scowled down. ‘I only hope you’re going to look after yourself and not overdo things while your mother’s staying.’

‘I certainly won’t do that. I seem to have become incredibly lazy – or selfish – I’m not sure which.’

‘You’re entitled to be lazy. Is everything all right with the baby?’

‘Yes, the doctor seems quite pleased – it’s a good size and moves about a lot.’

‘That’s good. Do everything they tell you to.’

‘I’m sorry I was the cause of you quarrelling with Nerissa.’

He shrugged. ‘She could have hurt you – and I don’t like assumptions being made about me. I never had any intention of going anywhere except London for Christmas, you know.’

‘Oh?’ (I don’t think Nerissa had quite got the hang of that!)

‘And then I’m straight off to Italy afterwards, to bring my aunt Maria back to housekeep permanently for me. What shall I bring
you
back?’

He was joking, of course, but I was glad to see he’d cheered up again. ‘Oh, bring me some nice warm sunshine!’ I said lightly.

It was starting to get dark, but it was ages before Mother came back carrying a card and a parcel from James. At least she’d missed Fergal, which was something to be thankful for.

The card was large and sentimental, neither of which applied to James, and the message said, ‘Let’s see if we can patch up our differences for the sake of the baby.’

Honestly – Mother must have been encouraging him again. She was eagerly watching me now.

‘You will see him, won’t you? It’s so sad at a time like this, and with a baby coming and everything. He’s sorry he was jealous, and he knows you aren’t the sort of girl who would have a sordid affair. Oh, and we’re invited to the Wrekins’ for drinks after dinner, and I thought you might—’

‘No,’ I said firmly.

‘No?’ She looked huffy. ‘I’m certainly going and so is James, and I can assure you that that girl Wendy won’t be there! She’s a thing of the past.’

‘I saw her coming out of the flat not a week ago.’

‘Oh, no, dear – that must have been one of Margaret’s friends. James hasn’t seen her for months.’

‘It makes no difference. You go and have a good time.’

‘I wish you would try to be a little less cold, darling – it’s only a habit you’ve got into. Now, call me Mummy like my little girl always does.’

I sighed: here we go again! ‘You go, Mummy, and tell Margaret thanks, but no thanks. She’ll understand. James may come round tomorrow afternoon for a drink, if he wants to, but definitely no reconciliation.’

She brightened. ‘Well, I suppose that’s something. Now, what’s for dinner? The walk has given me quite an appetite and the Wrekins were having lamb. I could smell it.’

‘Savoury lentil casserole and brown rice.’

When she discovered I wasn’t joking she was inclined to sulk and pick at her food. She said the brown rice hurt her teeth, and there were stones in the casserole, which there weren’t, because I picked over the lentils very carefully.

She did ample justice to the mince pies and cream, though. So did I, come to that, and felt quite bloated afterwards. There isn’t space left to put food now that the Incubus is spreading into every last crevice of my abdominal cavity. I suppose I should be grateful it lets me breathe.

After supper Mother went to change into something unsuitable (pink and blue chiffon), and came down a bit unsteadily, with flushed cheeks.

‘Look, Mother,’ I said, picking my words carefully. ‘You haven’t had too much to drink today, have you? It isn’t healthy to overdo the alcohol, especially at your age.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my age that a glass of sherry can’t cure!’ she said pompously, and then giggled. ‘Or a Martini! Ray Wrekin mixes a mean Martini. What a shame you can’t have a little drinkie – and Christmas, too!’

‘One of us has to be sober enough to cook Christmas dinner tomorrow. You look very smart, but isn’t that glittery eyeshadow a bit much?’

‘So old-fashioned, my little girl! Do brighten yourself up when you come to the midnight carol service.’

‘The carol service?’

‘Of course. The Wrekins asked me to go with them, but I said I was sure my little girlie would want to come with me. But not in those trousers – so unfeminine!’

How can you look unfeminine when you’re grossly pregnant? It’s a contradiction in terms!

‘Mother, I really don’t want to go.’

‘Nonsense! I do think you might make an effort when it means so much to me.’

Her eyes swam with maudlin tears and already her shiny red lipstick had begun to weave its way up the lines around her mouth, making it look like a muddy river estuary.

‘Don’t cry, Moth— Mummy. I’ll come if you really want me to, but I’d much rather just go to bed. Look, I’ll meet you in the church porch just before the service – how about that? You can walk there with the Wrekins.’

When she’d gone I had a leisurely bath and, as I emerged feeling rested and relaxed, I heard the sound of carol singers.

I turned out the light immediately! It’s not that I’m mean, it’s just that I didn’t want to freeze on the doorstep in my dressing gown, with my hair in wet rat-tails.

When I peeped through the window children were gathering outside, so I flattened myself against the wall … unfortunately, the wrong bit of wall, for I inadvertently clicked on the light switch with my shoulder blade, illuminating my strange stance to the singers outside. I managed a sickly grin and a wave.