by Jilly Cooper
‘We can’t quite believe you’re here either,’ said Jack. ‘We’re going to need at least four bottles, Ace.’
‘Such a relief going into a restaurant where I’m not known,’ said Berenice. ‘In the States I can’t cross the street without being mobbed.’
She’s utterly poisonous, I thought.
‘Cheer up, darling,’ whispered Jimmy Batten in my ear. ‘How’s Pendle?’
‘He’s coming up on Saturday to collect me,’ I said.
‘Not going very well?’
I shook my head.
‘Thought as much.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Still after Maggie? Poor old you. I should have warned you when we met in London. Maggie looks terrible too. I’ve never seen such a deterioration in anyone. She used to be so pretty.’
The dinner seemed to go on for ever. I had to force myself to get any food down, taking frequent gulps of wine. Ace was talking to Jimmy Batten about delinquency in New York. Berenice was going on and on about Jack’s unimaginative life style. ‘You ought to cut out that nine to five shit,’ she said, waving a cauliflower floweret in the air, ‘and get in touch with the universe.’
‘I can’t really cut it out,’ protested Jack. ‘I’ve got two households to support.’
Now Berenice was rabbiting on about her last husband. ‘I wanted an open living relationship based on trust and growth, and all he wanted was his jockey shorts ironed. I mean we weren’t coming from the same place at all.’
‘And Ace doesn’t expect you to do his ironing?’ said Jack. Suddenly I felt his ankle rubbing up and down against mine.
‘Oh, starp. Don’t make comparisons,’ said Berenice, putting one of her lovely sunburned hands on Jack’s arm. ‘Ivan is just terrific. He gives off this incredible togetherness, it’s beautiful. We have these terrifically productive dialogues, sitting around for hours rapping.’
‘Surprised you don’t find him too forceful,’ said Jack.
‘Well he’s a Leo of course,’ admitted Berenice. ‘They’re very big on macho tripping, but he’s trying to overcome it.’
For a second I met Ace’s eye, found myself blushing and looked away.
‘I was a big star, of course, when I met Ivan,’ Berenice went on. ‘But my life was empty. I needed a whole, loving, caring environment, where I could be totally committed. You’ve no idea the creases he’s taken out of my mind.’
‘So Ace is the one who’s doing the ironing,’ said Jack, gravely.
Berenice didn’t flicker. She was not to be deflected. She was in such full flood she didn’t even notice when Jack rolled a tonic bottle across the table towards me. Inside on a bit of paper he’d written ‘Help’.
I took it out, and wrote ‘I love you’ on the back, and rolled it back again. It was a comfort that he thought her as silly as I did. But she was certainly mad for Ace. She’d reached the stage now when she couldn’t bear not to touch him. Her free hand strayed now to his hair, now to the nape of his neck, now to his thigh.
Then she decided I needed bringing in and asked me what I thought of Northern Ireland, but my mouth was still full of dry, unswallowable chicken, so I just shook my head, and she said she thought people’s capacity for outrage in this country was amazingly dulled.
Then it was Maggie’s turn. She was wearing the shirt Ace had brought her from the States.
‘I’m so glad you’re wearing that shirt, Margaret. Ivan and I must have gone to a dozen shops to find the right colour.’ Then she turned to Ace, licking him on the ear. ‘And you’ve no idea the free gift I’ve got for you later darling,’ she said huskily.
I couldn’t bear any more. I could feel the sweat rising on my forehead, it was so hot.
‘Must go to the loo,’ I muttered, wriggling round the table, and scuttling across the restaurant.
When I came out I found Jimmy Batten.
‘I’ll take you home,’ he said.
‘Oh, please.’ I felt sick and giddy, very near to tears.
‘I’ll just go and tell everyone.’
‘Could you just get a waiter to tell them after we’ve gone?’
I couldn’t face Ace at the moment.
The snow was thickening as we drove home, settling in the arms of trees and on the tops of walls and gates. As we reached the end of the village, and started on the road up to the Mulhollands’ house we passed a large notice, saying: ‘Unfenced Road, beware of animals.’
‘It’s not the animals you have to beware of round here,’ I said bitterly.
‘It’s not Pendle any more, is it?’ said Jimmy Batten.
‘Oh God, is it that obvious?’
‘Only to me. I could never understand what a larky girl like you could see in Pendle. He’s like a synopsis. Ace is a whole book.’
‘Is it a very big thing, him and Berenice?’
‘’Tis for her. She talks a lot of crap about L.T.R. — Living Together Relationships as she calls them — but she’d do anything to get him up the aisle. I guess he’s the one who’s putting up the sandbags. He’s not ready to marry anyone yet.’
‘What’s so marvellous about her?’ I said dismally.
‘Superior muscle tone, darling. She’s a very ballsy lady. She’s terrific in the sack. She used to be a girlfriend of mine. I couldn’t cope with the neurotics, but maybe Ace can handle her.’
‘I see,’ I said listlessly.
‘Poor little Pru.’ Jimmy put out a hand and touched my cheek. ‘You haven’t had much luck with the Mulhollands, have you?’
After he’d seen me upstairs he said, ‘I’m leaving at crack of dawn tomorrow. I’ve got a case in Birmingham. Ring me when you get back to London. I’ll buy you dinner.’
I got into bed and read the same page over and over again. Then I got Pendle’s photograph out of my top drawer. It was tattered and creased from being hawked around in my bag for so long. It was as though I was looking at a total stranger. How could I have ever loved him? Beside Ace he seemed a complete shadow.
It was after midnight when I heard them coming home. The snow was six inches deep on the windowsill. There was a knock on my door. It was Ace. He came and sat down on the bed.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you felt bad? I’d have brought you home.’
‘You were otherwise engaged,’ I said bleakly.
He looked at me in silence, the tassels of the bedside lamp fretting a shadow across his left cheekbone.
‘You looked miserable all evening. I was watching you.’
‘I hope you learnt something,’ I snapped, shifting my legs irritably. Next moment Pendle’s photograph had fluttered down on to the floor. Ace picked it up and looked at it for a minute.
‘I see. Have you been talking to Jimmy?’
‘Yes,’ I said tonelessly. What did a thumping lie matter now? ‘Seeing him brought the whole Pendle thing back.’
‘You’ve had a long day. One doesn’t get over these things all at once, and they always seem worse when you’re tired.’
I felt my chin trembling. It was the onset of tears again. Ace put his hand out, but I flinched away. If he touched me, I knew I was lost.
‘Don’t. I can’t bear it.’
He sighed, took my book from me and switched off the bedroom lamp. ‘Try and get some sleep.’
I heard his bedroom door open and shut. My body seemed to burn as I tossed and turned. I must forget about him. I must stop imagining all the things he and Berenice would be doing in a minute. I wondered if he’d removed Elizabeth’s picture before he got to work. Large tears rolled out of the corners of my eyes. The night seemed to go on and on. One thing could be said in favour of falling in love with Ace, it was going to make dying a whole lot of fun.
Chapter Thirteen
When I woke next morning, I could see dirty flakes of snow falling outside the window. I had only half-drawn the curtains. The snow was coming down sideways now, slanting to the left. If I stared at it long enough, I felt giddy. I closed my eyes, but knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep again.
Gradually I pieced together yesterday’s events and groaned. Really they ought to find a Pre-Marriage Guidance Council for people like me. Pendle was due in two days. Perhaps if it kept on snowing the roads would get blocked up and he’d never arrive.
There was a knock on the door and Mrs Braddock came in with a red nose and a breakfast tray, followed by Coleridge, the kitten swinging on his back legs.
‘Lovely weather,’ said Mrs Braddock. ‘The snow came over my ankles when I opened the back door. Someone will have to shovel it away, but it won’t be me.’
‘You shouldn’t have bothered,’ I said, wriggling into a sitting position. ‘I was going to come down.’
‘Mr Ace insisted. He said you’re to eat it all, as you didn’t touch your dinner last night, and to remember your medicine.’
‘You are kind,’ I said, valiantly trying to work up some enthusiasm for bacon and eggs. ‘Is he having breakfast?’
‘Gone down to mill with Mr Jack. Mr Batten’s left. He’s a nice gentleman, and she’s up already, poking around the kitchen, giving orders, asking questions.’
‘Who?’ I said.
Mrs Braddock was suddenly a picture of outraged dignity.
‘Berenice or whatever she calls herself. Waited until Mr Ace had gone, then down she came poking into my larder, saying we were all poisoning ourselves with chemicals, and threw all my packets of cake mix in the dustbin. I’ve cooked for this family for thirty years, hardly a day of sickness. Never known such a healthy lot.’
‘Nor have I. They must have constitutions like oxen to survive all that booze.’
‘She’s even given me a shopping list,’ puffed Mrs Braddock. ‘Where can I find soya beans and brown rice and courgettes and bran in the village in the middle of winter?’
I giggled. ‘Get Mr Braddock to make her up a bran mash down at the stables.’
‘Well I must get back to my kitchen. The washing machine’s acting very strange and Miss Maggie left the Professor’s hat in the hall and Antonia Fraser slept on it last night and squashed it flat as a pancake.’
‘The cat sat on the ’at,’ I said, feeling slightly better. I got up, gave the bacon and eggs to Coleridge, who already had long trails of saliva hanging from either side of his mouth, and waved at Lucasta who was building a snowman in the garden.
In the drawing-room I found Berenice looking like something out of Country Life, wearing an olive green cashmere twinset, a brown tweed skirt, beautiful casual shoes with stacked heels, and listening to Vivaldi. She was obviously being thwarted in her attempts to spend a morning en famille.
‘Doesn’t anyone ever get up here? That poor old woman who’s quite past it is having to do everything. I’ve never seen anything like the dirt in this house, dog hair everywhere, and I’ve just spent half an hour cleaning the john.’
‘The what? Oh, the loo,’ I said.
She took a bottle of brown tablets out of her bag. ‘Here are the multi-vitamin tablets I promised you. I’d take four if I were you, three times a day.’
‘Gosh thanks,’ I said, feeling perhaps I’d misjudged her.
‘Are you into yoga, Prudence?’ she said, flexing her neck gracefully. ‘Whenever I get tense, I sit down and meditate. I’ve got a book on the subject. I’ll lend it to you. I’m sure it would help you get it together with Pendle.’
Interfering old busybody. I wondered how much Ace had told her.
Now she was walking around the room examining everything.
‘This room could be so charming if only someone bothered. In my apartment in New York I’ve gone back to natural fibres and earthy colours. I mean, environment is terrifically important to one’s inner serenity.’
She’d have that red wallpaper out in a flash. I wondered, if I really tried, if I could ever be as beautiful as she was and decided not. Standing by the window, with her glowing suntan, and the snowy mountains behind, she was rather like a winter sports poster. Perhaps Mrs Braddock would come in yodelling and bearing Gluwein.
‘What does Rose-Mary do all day, apart from squandering Ivan’s inheritance?’ asked Berenice.
‘Well, it’s a good question. She’s got lots of friends, plays bridge, looks beautiful, and — er — has fun.’
‘And Margaret? She’s really out of shape; her derrière follows her upstairs.’
‘Well, the same really,’ I said lamely, ‘but she seems to have less fun.’
‘I got very negative vibes from her last night. I guess she and Jack aren’t getting it together. I must have a good rap with her later, about redefining the parameters of their relationship.’
She got up and turned Vivaldi over to the flip side.
‘This is the only record that hasn’t got scratches.’
‘I don’t expect anyone’s ever played it,’ I said. ‘I suppose we’d better start thinking about Lucasta’s party.’
‘I’m an expert on kids’ parties,’ said Berenice smugly. ‘Last summer I gave an all night party for my son Che. He’s the same age as Lucasta, but super intelligent.’
‘How on earth did you keep them all amused all that time?’
‘Oh we didn’t bother with games. I provided a running buffet, soya bean canapés, carrot cake and my lentil loaf, and the kids wrote their own scenario as the party went along.’
At that moment Lucasta barged in, emitting Tarzan howls and leaving the door open.
‘Will you come and see my snowman?’ she said, kneeling down by the fire and holding her hands to the flames. ‘D’you think the lake’s going to freeze over? Can I have a biscuit?’
‘May I have a biscuit,’ corrected Berenice with a charming smile. ‘A raw carrot would be much better for you.’
‘I’m not a donkey. Are you coming, Pru?’
‘Is your Mummy up yet?’ said Berenice, ignoring her rudeness.
‘She’s not my Mummy,’ hissed Lucasta. ‘She’s my father’s wife.’
Almost on cue Maggie came through the door. She shot a venomous look at Lucasta but didn’t say anything. She looked very pale.
‘Are you all right?’ I said.
‘So, so. Look, Jack’s on the telephone; you wouldn’t like to have a word with him?’
I went into the hall and picked up the receiver.
‘Baby!’ said Jack. ‘Are you better? How’s the Great American disaster?’
‘Heavy.’
He laughed. ‘You wouldn’t like to have lunch with me? Then afterwards we can choose Lucasta’s presents, and get the things for the party.’
‘Oh, I’d love to. What about Maggie? She looks rotten,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t she want to come with us?’
‘Not in the least. I’ll pick you up about one o’clock.’
Back in the drawing-room Berenice was starting her Ancient Mariner act on Maggie.
‘I exercise every morning,’ she was saying. ‘Exercises aimed at the stomach, the tarps of the legs and whole pelvic area that one uses for sex. Start using those internal muscles and everything improves, and I mean everything, Margaret.’ She smiled warmly at Maggie. ‘I’m sure you and Jack can work it through.’
Ace came back at lunchtime with Jack, who said he’d just flip through his mail and we’d be off. Maggie was still in her dressing-gown. Rose hadn’t surfaced. Berenice was flapping around about going on television in Manchester that evening.
‘The producer has said don’t bother to dress up.’
Would her French jeans and Hermes belt be too casual? What time did Ace think they ought to start? Would the roads be bad? I saw Ace stifle a yawn. He looked absolutely knackered. Too much of Berenice’s superior muscle tone, I thought sourly. Having been so crochety with him last night, I found it very difficult to act normally now. We were acidly polite to each other. I still couldn’t look him straight in the eye.
The telephone rang. Maggie shot out of the room to answer it. Normally Jack wouldn’t be home at this time of day. I wondered idly if it was Pendle ringing.
Berenice turned to Ace. ‘Shall I mak
e an egg plant lasagne for this evening, sweetest? We could heat it up when we get back.’
Ace said that he’d much rather eat out.
Maggie poked her head round the door. ‘It’s for you, Ace,’ she said. ‘It’s Penelope Blake.’
‘You look a bit uptight, sweetest,’ said Berenice, when Ace came back five minutes later. ‘Shall I massage your neck?’
‘I am not uptight,’ snapped Ace. ‘That was Elizabeth’s mother confirming lunch tomorrow. I’m sorry,’ he added to Jack, ‘it was arranged before I knew about Lucasta’s party. I can’t really stand them up.’
‘Course you can’t,’ said Jack, throwing a pile of envelopes into the wastepaper basket.
‘You’ll miss my party,’ wailed Lucasta.
Ace pulled her on to his knee. ‘No I won’t lovie. It’s only forty miles away. I should get back by five if the snow doesn’t get any worse.’
‘I’m so much looking forward to meeting Elizabeth’s folks tomorrow,’ said Berenice. ‘I’m sure we can be very supportive.’
‘I’m afraid I’ve got to go on my own,’ said Ace bluntly. ‘I haven’t seen them since the funeral. It wouldn’t be very tactful to barge in with someone else.’
Berenice shook back her dark hair angrily. Suddenly there was a muscle going in her cheek.
‘And what am I supposed to do while you’re away?’
‘You can help Pru organize the party.’
Lunch with Jack was a blissful relief. We both drank too much and I told Jack about Berenice’s plans for revamping the drawing-room.
‘She’ll have my mother jogging in a track suit and Mrs Braddock in an old people’s home by Christmas. We’ll all be out at the rate she’s going.’
‘She believes in clearing the decks,’ I said gloomily, ‘and she isn’t too choosy who she sweeps into the sea.’
‘She’s certainly put the kibosh on Ace. He could hardly walk this morning. Never actually came near the mill at all. Just sloped off to see an osteopath about his bad back.’
I giggled. Jack always had the ability to make things seem less awful.
