‘I bet she loved every minute of it,’ I said. ‘Don’t forget, Nicholas – I know just what she’s like.’
‘Does it matter if she did love it?’ Nick sighed again and drained his glass of whiskey. ‘What does matter is that it worked – I got her back up to the hotel on that first evening and kept her on course for the next two days. If she hadn’t been there as interpreter – she really is fluent in Italian, Russian and German you know – or as my lawyer – she’s amazingly on the ball with the legal jargon – I would not have been able to pull off the deal that means, my darling Harriet, we are going to be fine. OK, it’s still going to be a hell of a lot of hard work, I’m not saying it isn’t, but you really don’t have to worry any more. I promise you, Hat, it is going to be FINE!’
I wasn’t convinced. He was still speaking about Amanda with reverence.
When I didn’t say anything, just looked at him, Nick took my hand saying, ‘Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’ve done it! I’ve got the contract! David and I are going to be managing the most fabulous Italian menswear you’ve ever seen. Eventually womenswear as well. There’s a huge market for top Italian designer brands particularly in London but also in Germany and, apparently Russia, which are the places to be at the moment. The Italians want to sell it and the Germans and the Russians want to buy it. David’s company – with me in the hot seat – has the ability to bring all interested parties together. Yes, Harriet, I will have to travel back to Italy and also to Germany and probably Russia as well but it will be worth it.’
‘Russia? Are you mad? It’s all snow and The Mafia isn’t it?’
Nick laughed as he stroked my hair. ‘And vodka. And of course there’s no bloody Mafia involved, you moron. I tell you, Hat, David Henderson is not only one of the most astute business people I’ve ever come across, he’s also the most law-abiding and scrupulously honest guy I’ve ever worked with. He’s got far too much to lose to ever cosy up with any dirty dealing. Would you be happy if it was Richard Branson who was behind all this? Yes? Well, David is the Richard Branson of the North!’
‘Mmm,’ I still had my doubts, particularly where Amanda was concerned, although the time spent with David that afternoon had given him a hell of a lot of Brownie points. ‘Carry on,’ I said, ‘tell me more. Oh and keep on with the hair-stroking too!’
‘Let me put it in a nutshell,’ Nick went on. ‘Italy produces some of the most beautifully designed and manufactured clothing. Right? And people can’t get enough of it. Even China and India, now that they are on the up and up, want this stuff. David realised all this, had the money and contacts to set the ball rolling but needed someone in the textile trade to source the best stuff. That’s where I come in. David will back me to the hilt, Harriet. He’s invested a lot of time and money in this venture – he’s actually been working on it for years – and waterproof contracts have been signed.’
‘But are you sure people are still wanting these expensive clothes?’
Nick smiled. ‘Absolutely. Look, this is a global economy. There will always be people somewhere with money who are prepared to pay money for quality. Look at Mulberry handbags. Even when there’s not as much money about, people still can’t get enough of them. They’re opening factories in Turkey and China to cope with the demand. What you have to remember is that this is beautiful Italian clothing and that David had already got the contacts here, but needed me, with my knowledge of the textile trade, to be the middle man.’
‘And Amanda? Nick, you know I have to ask.’ I looked into his face, searching for anything that might confirm my suspicions that Nick’s ‘soothing’ of Amanda might have involved a lot more than just a comforting, restraining hug, but all I saw was love. Love for me.
‘Harriet, my darling, I love you.’ Nick leaned forward, simultaneously untying the scarf that was wrapped around my neck and kissing me gently on my lower lip. ‘There’s never been anyone else for me since the moment my eye caught yours in the union bar,’ he went on, his mouth still soft against mine. ‘I know you’ve had a rough time this last couple of years but you never once complained even when Mum moved in with us.’
‘Oh Nick,’ I said, ashamed. ‘I’ve done nothing but complain from the moment you signed up with David Henderson.’
‘Understandable. I know how hard it’s been for you especially with Mandy in the equation. I’d have been just the same if you’d swanned off to Italy with some hunk of a man leaving me to work full time, share the house with your mother as well as bring up three kids.’
Put like that I felt much better. Maybe I wasn’t such an old harridan after all.
‘Talking of my mother, Nick, there’s ever such a lot I need to tell you …’ I never got any further. His mouth, more insistent now, cut me off, mid-sentence.
Nick loosened his tie, his eyes never leaving mine, his fingers slowly stroking the inside of my thigh.
‘What time did you say you had to pick the kids up?’ Nick asked, unbuttoning my white shirt at the neck before kissing my collarbone.
‘Half an hour ago,’ I said, as I loosened his tie further, undid his buttons slowly and licked my way down his chest. ‘Wow,’ I whispered, as I descended further, ‘Is that a present from Italy, or are you just pleased to see me?’
An hour later, sated with sex and love, I sat up, looking round for the remains of my clothes.
‘There is something you need to know.’ We both spoke at the same time.
I knew I certainly had something that I couldn’t keep from Nick for much longer. I hadn’t quite picked my moment until then – was actually a bit nervous now about coming out with the news that he was not only going to be a daddy again but this time of twins. Blimey, five kids! But I reckoned after the mind-blowing sex we’d just had, I could get away with anything.
‘Go on, you first,’ I smiled, hoping he was going to tell me again how much he loved and adored me. I’m a sucker for declarations like that.
‘Well, I promised I wouldn’t tell you …’. Nick hesitated, not meeting my eyes.
‘Tell me what?’ I was alert now. ‘Tell me what, Nicholas!’
Nick still hesitated and then said, ‘I promised Mandy I wouldn’t tell you …’. And then, ‘Mind you, she’s probably told her herself by now.’
‘Told who what, for God’s sake?’
‘Well, you’re not going to believe this.’ Nick sighed and stopped speaking as he refilled his glass from the decanter on the nearby table.
‘Believe what? What?’
‘Well, the real reason Mandy was so desperate to get back to England and why I had to literally hang on to her or she’d have been off, was that she’s got it into her head that Grace is her half-sister. And if so, then Sebastian is having sex with his aunt!’
I just stared at Nick. Was I missing something here? Hadn’t I spent the last week getting used to the idea that I had a new half-sister? Of course Mandy would have to be told about Patricia being her half-sister too, but where the hell did Grace come into all this? Before I could tell him about Mum and Patricia, Nick went on, ‘It seems Mandy’s father, Frank Goodners, was a bit of a poet on the side. Also kept diaries. When he died, five years ago, Mandy had the job of going through all his things. She found diaries going back years. Apparently one of the entries logged that he’d been to see a play at your old school.’
‘Yes, he did,’ I interrupted, ‘I told you all about that.’
‘Well apparently he wrote something along the lines of, “I saw my beautiful Kat today. I’d no idea her daughter was at school with Amanda. She was in the play Amanda has been directing, and I suggested to Amanda that she brought the daughter and a couple of her friends back to the house for tea. I’ve never forgiven myself for not doing anything to help Kat when I heard she’d had my baby all these years ago, and I wanted to have a good look at the girl – see if she was anything like Kat.”’
‘Nick, none of this is making any sense.’ I continued staring at him, my mind reeling.
&
nbsp; ‘Mandy recalled having seen Grace’s mother talking to Frank constantly during the play’s interval and, after reading the diary entry, made some enquiries as to Grace’s mother’s name.’
‘Katherine,’ I said automatically. ‘Grace’s mum is called Katherine’
‘Exactly!’ Nick said with some degree of triumph. ‘Katherine – Kat. There you go. Sounds to me like Grace’s mum had a fling with Frank while he was married to Mandy’s mum and Grace was the result. Katherine must have got pregnant and then almost immediately married Grace’s father – presumably told him the baby was his. Bloody hell, Hat, no wonder Mandy was in such a state when she got that phone call from her friend in Italy.’ He suddenly became serious. ‘Mandy must have told Sebastian by now. Hasn’t Grace said anything to you?’
I shook my head, as much in response to Nick’s question as to try and clear my head. ‘I’ve not seen Grace all week. She’s been away on a course. And anyway, she’s not really speaking to me.’
‘Well, someone’s going to have to tell Grace, you know. I’m sure there’s a law against having sex with your nephew, half or otherwise.’
I suddenly began to laugh. Great big, almost hysterical guffaws that went on and on and then, before I realised it, turned into sobs. All this emotion was too much for me. I was tired out, exhausted by the events of the last few hours.
‘Wrong Kat, Sherlock,’ I eventually hiccupped. ‘Kat is Keturah.’
‘Your mother! Oh, my God, Frank Goodners was your father and you’re Mandy’s sister?’ Nick looked aghast and I started to cry again. Frank Goodners had known all along that my mum had had his baby and he’d done nothing about it.
‘No, Nick, I’m not and Grace certainly isn’t. But Patricia is.’
Six months on …
It’s a hot Friday afternoon and I’m stretched out on a sunbed in the garden, soaking up the late May sunshine and rubbing oil into my already tanned bump. The daffodils, planted in my little plot by Dad and his bevy of six year olds at India’s ‘garden party’, have already been doubled over and tied back with rubber bands, but the tulips are still a riot of colour.
Lying next to me, resting her nicely browning arms on a just-oiled bump of her own, is Mrs Pregnancy-Expert herself – my best friend Grace. Seems she had no problem getting pregnant after being ditched by Daniel and taking up with the lovely Sebastian.
‘Inferior swimmers, obviously,’ Grace had sniffed, referring to Daniel’s sperm. And, secure in her own fecundity, had gone even further, suggesting that had Daniel been a prize pig (which of course, in all our minds, was just what he was – the adulterous swine) then his lack of breeding ability would soon have had him on a breakfast plate together with an egg and a nice piece of fried bread!
Coming from a long line of philanderers, and being hardly more than a baby himself, one might have imagined that Sebastian, on learning the news, would have been off, roaring down the M1 on his motorbike, leaving Grace to her fate as a single parent. But no, rather than disappearing off to London to do his law course, he switched to one at Leeds University and moved both himself and his Harley-Davidson in with Grace.
As soon as Amanda had helped Nick clinch the Italian Job last November, she had flown home and (quite hysterically, I gather) told Sebastian that he must have nothing more to do with Grace, that if they’d been even thinking about it, they must certainly not attempt to – in Amanda’s words – consummate their relationship, because Grace was, in all reality, quite probably his aunt.
‘A bit late for that, Mum,’ Sebastian had said grimly and gone round to break the news to Grace. Whereupon Grace had gone straight round to her mum’s to have it out with her.
Katherine Greenwood, Grace’s mother, had (allegedly) raised herself up to her full height (she’s five foot nothing in her stockinged feet) and said, how dare she? There had only ever been one man in her life and that was Grace’s father. And, she would have Grace know, she had walked down that aisle to Grace’s father unsullied, untouched by any man, a true bride!
Grace and Sebastian are hoping that their offer on a dilapidated farmhouse with a huge overgrown garden – Sebastian apparently is itching to get his hands on it – will be accepted later on today.
Daniel is still hanging around hoping that Grace will, as he puts it, come to her senses and ‘ditch the little toe-rag’ so that he can move back home and take care of his wife and her baby. He’s assured her that he won’t hold it against her that the baby isn’t his (good of him) and he’ll bring it up as if it were his own if only she’d see sense and let them start over.
Grace reckons he’ll get the message soon that, even if she didn’t have Sebastian at home, she’s more than capable of bringing up this much-wanted babe on her own. Her parents are overjoyed that they’re going to be grandparents at last and will be happy to help her financially if needs be. Considering that Grace’s baby will have the legacy of the Henderson millions as well as the Goodners’ fortune at its fingertips, I hardly think that will be necessary.
Patricia came over from Australia last month to meet her natural mother for the first time since being given up for adoption almost sixty years earlier. She stayed with us for some of the time and also with Diana. Both Diana and I were with her when she and Mum came face to face. It was an amazingly emotional reunion and we all wept buckets.
Of course we can’t forget that Little Miss Goodness is just as much a sister to Patricia as we are. When I first broke the news to Amanda that her beloved father had seduced and impregnated my mother all those years ago she’d coloured slightly but coolly retorted that she wasn’t a bit surprised that her father might have sired other offspring. She was already aware of one half-brother in Midhope and another half-sister in London. I think the real disappointment for Amanda was that her father had had an affair with one of his mill girls – rather slumming it, after all. It also meant that there was absolutely no reason why Sebastian shouldn’t move in with Grace.
Patricia (I find it difficult to think of her as Joy) and Amanda are very alike both in looks and bearing, but Diana and I reckon she’s more like our side of the family in temperament. For a start, she has a brilliant sense of humour, and although she’s way up in her chosen field of medicine – the power thing, admittedly, must be in her Goodners’ genes – she’s seriously scatty in a lot of other ways.
I’d love to report that, once she’d been reunited with Patricia, Mum’s eccentric behaviour became a thing of the past, but unfortunately that’s not really the case. Having found her long-lost baby she doesn’t need to go looking for her anymore, but she still has blazing rows with Granny Morgan. Luckily, these appear to be confined to Mum and Dad’s kitchen rather than amongst the baked beans in Sainsbury’s. Dad is really brilliant with her, and we are hoping that the medication she’s on will help to slow down her illness.
Amanda is still doing what she does best – reigning supreme and looking a million dollars while doing so. She would like me to think, I’m sure, that Nick fell passionately in love with her in Italy but that she sent him packing. Back to the little wife in Yorkshire. And who knows? Maybe there was a bit of unconfessed dallying between the pair of them in Milan. Would I have admitted to a quick snog with George Michael had I ever found myself alone with him? (On meeting me in Milan, George, of course, would have suddenly realised just what he’d been missing all these years with regards his sexual orientation!)
Amanda had a huge rant once she was told of Grace’s pregnancy. Not only was she going to be a granny at the age of forty-four, there was every chance she’d end up as Grace’s mother-in-law. I reckon that David, whose first meeting with Grace in her German Officer get-up had left him impressed and happy to have Grace as a prospective daughter-in-law, had serious words with Amanda. After all, the new Italian Clothing Company – Luomo – would need a company lawyer and what better way of keeping it all in the family than by giving the job to Sebastian once his training was complete?
I don’t delve too deeply
into what I assume to be my brother John’s ongoing relationship with Amanda. Any time he tries to discuss her with me, I just tell him I don’t want to know – to keep me out of it. I think she’ll probably always be a part of his life and, as the song goes, ‘he’d rather live in her world than live without her in his.’ Perhaps I’m being simplistic, but she’s his drug and I guess he has to see her every now and again for a fix. It probably makes living with poor Caring Christine bearable and, while Hollie, John and Christine’s only child, is my niece, she’s a grown woman and I don’t feel the need to fight any corners on her behalf. As I said, it really isn’t my problem. I’m almost convinced that David was absolutely right about Amanda and her flirting – that it’s just that and nothing more. I say ‘almost’ convinced because, at the end of the day, the main player in these little dramas is Amanda. And who knows with Amanda?
We’re still nowhere near being millionaires – but I’m happy to say we’re getting there. I still can’t believe that Nick has managed to pull this off when this country, and much of the world, is riding such economic turbulence. But he has. He is working incredibly hard, but loving every minute. He knows he’s not alone with this company; he has David Henderson’s business expertise and money behind him this time round.
I quit work at Easter. I didn’t dare give up until then – still couldn’t believe we would be able to manage without my wage. I miss the buzz of working, and my new best friend Tony Drummond has promised me some part-time work if I want it, much to the disdain of Valerie Westwood who doesn’t believe in working mothers or part-time teachers.
Sylvia is back living in the South, her little flat being converted back to the main part of the house by bronzed-bodied lovelies as we speak. Unbeknown to Nick she’d kept in touch with his ex-girlfriend’s parents in Surrey – she probably hoped I was a flash in the pan and that once Nick had come to his senses she’d be able to orchestrate his reunion with the District Judge’s daughter.
Goodness, Grace and Me Page 31
