Authors: Jane Lovering
Slightly Foxed (13 page)
check that he hadn't already downloaded last night's Whiskas
onto Florrie's duvet, I put my head around the door, only to
pull it back so fast that I nearly got friction burns from the air
molecules.
Piers. His T-shirt and jeans were neatly folded on the floor,
the boots he'd worn were propped up near the door. He was
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sprawled face down, and very obviously naked, across
Florence's bed.
Oh bloody hell.
Now I remembered what I'd done. Piers
and I had been laughing hysterically coming up the stairs,
recreating a scene from an old TV sketch show that we'd both
treasured. He'd asked if he could stay over to save himself
the drive home, and I, desperate for the loo and the comfort
of my duvet, had agreed.
I peered cautiously into the bedroom again. I was so used
to seeing Florrie, duvet tucked up to her chin, that seeing
Piers angled, arms above his head, one leg bent and the
duvet—well, it certainly wasn't covering much of his body, put
it that way—was very strange. As I watched he stirred, one
hand twitched and he made to roll over, at which I withdrew
very smartly and went and had a very noisy shower. With
singing. There was going to be absolutely
no chance
of him
still being spread-eagled nude when I came out of that
bathroom.
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I sat on the Exeter train opposite a man who was clearly
very fond of cheese and onion crisps, and next to a woman
who seemed to be going for the world record in marathon
mobile conversations. I really hoped that both of them were
only going as far as Bristol, because I'd rather be left alone to
imagine Leo with his shirt off. But my mind was being
squeezed into far more workaday lines. Such as—Jacinta's
face when Piers had dropped me off at work that morning,
and her comical outrage when I insisted there was absolutely
nothing going on between us, other than his staying over so
as not to have to drive all the way to Thirsk very late and
ever-so-slightly over the limit.
"He stay in your home and you are not even
kissing
?" Jace
had shaken her head. "Alys, you are disgracing women."
"Look, for the last time, it's
Piers
, he's so much too young
for me that he might as well be in playgroup, he is not
interested in me nor I in him. And anyway, how come you're
always in so early? If you came in at the proper time, you
wouldn't even have seen him drop me off."
"I am aroused at six by my alarm."
I'd gone "hur hur" in a childish way. Jacinta had given me
a very arch look and I'd been quite glad when five o'clock
came and I had been able to head home and pack far too
many clothes for my weekend away.
It
had
been quite nice though, I had to admit, having Piers
over. When I'd finished my entire repertoire of shower songs
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and emerged fully dressed, he'd been sitting at the table
drinking tea, eating toast and reading Florence's
Cosmo Girl
.
We'd indulged in a brief exchange on not taking Agony Aunt's
advice too seriously, I'd pinched a piece of his toast and he'd
given me a lift to work. All in all it had been a lot nicer start
to the day than my accustomed grunt from Florrie. No wonder
I'd arrived at Webbe's with a grin on my face and, I suppose,
no wonder Jacinta had misinterpreted said grin.
Exeter station was sweltering under a copper-gold sky
when I disembarked. This came as a shock to the system. In
York the weather had broken, grey rain was tipping out of
bleak chilly skies, and I was dressed accordingly in a sweater
and long skirt. Once I'd steamed onto the platform, it was
obvious I was as ridiculously overdressed as a pantomime
horse at a lap-dancing club. I was wondering if I'd have time
to sneak into the Ladies and change, when Leo came charging
onto Platform One, leaving assorted stunned-looking women
staring over their shoulders, as though the Milk Tray Man had
gone Express Delivery. "Alys! God, I was afraid I'd missed
you."
He looked both better, and worse, than last time I'd seen
him. Better in that he'd had a haircut and a decent shave.
Worse in that he was wearing a T-shirt stained with what
looked like creosote, the most horrific pair of shorts outside
an Eric Morecambe tribute show and a pair of rubber ankle
boots which made him look a bit like a kinky pixie. "Sorry
about the get-up. I was down on the yard, completely lost
track of time—had to come blasting over without changing."
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"It's good to see you again." Inadequate maybe, but what
else can you say when you're only on your second meeting?
So much hung on this.
"And you, Alys." I found myself enfolded in a tentative hug
which gave me the maximum opportunity to ascertain that,
yes, the substance on his T-shirt
was
creosote. "Gosh. You've
certainly come well wrapped-up."
"Well, it's grim up north." It was a bit tricky to balance in
the top-only hug, and my legs were beginning to give out. I
performed a little shuffle and Leo took this as a hint to let go
and step back.
"Let's go, shall we?" He picked up my bag, gave a tiny
grimace at the weight, and we went outside to where the
Land Rover was triple-parked on a taxi rank. "If you like you
can come and take a look at the new arrivals. Would you like
to?"
As opposed to, say, shagging you senseless round the
back of the feed bins? "Mmmmm," I said, with what I hoped
was the right note of enthusiasm.
He started the engine, shot me a look over his glasses and
gave a little half-grin. "I didn't tell Isabelle that you were
coming down again." He hauled the big vehicle out into the
traffic. "I wanted to keep you a secret, just for now. Since
Sabine died, there hasn't been anyone, because I couldn't
let
there be anyone, if you understand. And now, well, I'm not
sure that I know how it all works any more, the whole
relationship thing. I'm terribly out of practice, Alys, and really
rather scared you see." He was keeping his eyes on the road.
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I looked at him. A sudden line of poetry came into my
head and I muttered it, without realising. "
All my life, a
wrapping round the gift.
"
Green, green eyes met mine. Unblinking. "That is so like
something I wrote once. I don't remember exactly how it
went, but it was along those lines."
I was proud of myself, I didn't flinch or look away, just
looked into those jaded pools. "Spooky."
"Yes. Uncanny. Perhaps that's why I feel this—attraction to
you, because we have a similar outlook on things."
Damn, and I was hoping it was my sexy smile and my
delicious bottom that had won the day. "Maybe."
He focussed on the road with a fierce kind of expression,
his thoughts clearly a million miles away from the automatic
act of driving. I found it strangely attractive to watch. He was
here and yet not here—physically present but his soul was
sunk somewhere in the poetic depths which held him. I
wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but that seemed a
little presumptuous. After all we really didn't know each other
that well.
"Better get some Stud Nuts."
"I'm sorry?"
"Oh. Sorry, Alys, I forgot it was you there for a minute.
Usually the only person I'm driving is Jay."
"Your stud manager, yes?"
He beamed a brilliant smile at me. "Yes. Jay is, well, she's
my right-hand man."
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She?
This
I've been on my own and unsullied since my
wife died
, and all the time he'd been knocking around on a
day-to-day basis with a
woman
?
"Couldn't get by without her, she's a wonder with the
ponies."
We drove towards Charlton Hawsell, down the narrow,
banked lanes. The air smelled of singed dust, but the heat
had lifted as darkness sank over us. A pleasant stroke of
anticipation passed down my spine as I looked at the man
driving next to me. In this half-light, he was even more
attractive. Blurred edges made him a silhouette of perfection,
with his glasses gleaming now and then in the headlights of
passing cars. I wanted to reach out and touch him but didn't
dare.
"Here we go." The Land Rover bucked and rolled as we
turned up the driveway and I saw the chiselled angles of
Charlton Hawsell House in front of us. Its chiselled owner
swung the wheel to the right and we passed by the house
proper and down the gravelled pathway which led to the
stable yard. My heart sank somewhat. I was tired, grubby and
hungry after my journey, sweat was still trickling down my
back under the jumper and I was developing the bumps of
prickly heat. If Leo decided to take the plunge and sweep me
off to bed tonight, it would be like sleeping with a newly
plucked turkey. One which smelled of grimly hard-working
twenty-four-hour deodorant at that. But I remembered from
Florrie's days of pony owning, horses seemingly required
more care and attention than your average newborn.
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The yard was full of activity and completely floodlit. What
was going on, it appeared, was horse care on an industrial
scale. It was Teenage Girl Central. I could feel the angst and
acne from here.
"Some of the girls come up from town, especially in the
school holidays to help around the place." Leo killed the
engine outside the gate.
Some of the girls?
It looked to me like the whole of the
underage female contingent of Charlton Hawsell. The teenage
boys round here probably had to date each other.
"Hi, Leo." As soon as we walked within range of the
floodlights the greetings went off.
"Hello, girls." Leo seemed oblivious to the hero worship
which crackled in the air. "Alys and I are just going to take a
look at the foals, then I'll give you a hand." I felt every pair of
eyes swivel away from the four-legged beasties and towards
me. The air thickened like hormone soup. If Leo left me alone
for a second, I'd probably be bludgeoned to death with cherry
lip gloss and copies of
Mizz
. "Through here, Alys."
The foaling boxes were in blessed semidarkness. Two
mares were quietly eating hay in a determined way, one had
a foal suckling beneath her and the other foal was lying by its
mother, sprawled untidily in the careless way of the very
young. He indicated the shape like a badly made sock puppet
spread over the straw in front of us. "I thought we might call
her Alys. Would you mind?"
Charlton Alys.
Sounds a bit like a football team.
But I was
absurdly touched. "I wouldn't mind at all." I watched my
namesake wave a dreaming leg briefly.
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"Good." Slowly Leo turned me around until I was facing
him, lowered his face to mine and gave me a kiss, a brief
stroke of the lips. I was glad he hadn't gone for the full face-
eating scenario, what with all the rampant adolescence going
on outside. Puberty might not be fatal, but being submerged
under a jealous heap of it could be. "Why don't you go on up
to the house and make yourself at home. I'll lend a hand here
then come and join you. You know where the wine is. Leave
your bag in the wagon, I'll bring it on with me."
I wandered on up and into the dark hallway where I found
some light switches. These lights revealed that I was at the
front of the house, in a wooden-floored area with doors
leading off to left and right, and the big staircase I had
ascended on my previous visit behind me. I opened a door at
random, it gave onto a huge room with a moulded ceiling and
an impressive array of mismatched armchairs. Another door
led into a room lined with bookshelves, and another into what
seemed to be an office with a computer screen eerily lighting
a semicircle around itself.
I giggled to myself, but the giggle was magnified, thrown
along distant corridors, rattling off into the shrinking distance,
growing more and more indistinct as it vanished around
unseen corners. No wonder people who lived in houses like
this tended towards keeping mad women in attics as a
recreational activity.
"Alys?" Leo was calling me from somewhere, it sounded
like several corridors away.
"I'm here!" I called back.
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"I've got your bag! Do you want to come to the kitchen