by Jo Carnegie
‘The tall, blond and mysterious Benedict Towey? He is like, HOT,’ said Calypso.
‘No.’
‘Not fit-but-fat Peter, the one who works for the brewery and is always in the Boot pissed out of his head?’
‘No way!’
Calypso screwed up her face in frustration. ‘But there isn’t anyone else, unless you count the farming lot, and Angus seems to have put you off them for life. Urgh, you’re not having an affair with a married man like Freddie Fox-Titt are you? Ma and Pa will go off their rockers!’
‘Sometimes you are too much,’ Camilla scolded. She looked at her sister warily. ‘If you must know, it’s Jed Bantry.’
There was a pause. ‘As in Jed Bantry, the Frasers’ gardener?’ exclaimed Calypso.
‘Yes, why so shocked?’ asked Camilla defensively.
Calypso studied her. ‘Well he’s hardly landed gentry is he? He’s not going to give you the big house in the country you’ve always banged on about.’
‘Well, maybe I don’t want that any more,’ Camilla told her huffily. ‘Don’t be such an awful snob.’
Calypso lay back on the bed and laughed. ‘I’m not! I’m just surprised, that’s all. He’s not your usual type. His teeth are normal-sized, for a start.’
Camilla threw a cushion at her head. ‘Watch it!’
‘I’m only joking,’ protested Calypso. ‘He is really fit y’know.’ She sat up. ‘Omigod, are you going to let him shag your brains out tonight? First date’s always a bit tricky, do you put out or not?’ Giggling, she put her arms up defensively as another cushion narrowly missed her.
As it happened, the most Jed and Camilla did that night was have a brief, lingering kiss outside her house after he had walked her home. Heart thudding and knees weak, Camilla promised she would see him again soon.
The evening had taken her totally by surprise. She had been worried she wouldn’t know what to say to the enigmatic Jed, and she’d had awful visions of them sitting in the bar in stone-cold silence. But he showed a side Camilla never dreamt existed; a dry sense of humour, an interest in what she had to say, and most importantly, he didn’t try to be anything he wasn’t. Camilla had never met anyone like him before, and she liked that a lot.
As Jed started the walk home afterwards, the delicate scent of her lip gloss still on his lips, his heart was beating as hard as hers, but for entirely different reasons. Tonight had been one of the best nights of his life. But it still hadn’t been the right time to tell Camilla he’d been in love with her since he had first clapped eyes on her, aged eleven, riding her bicycle across the green. That would surely have scared her off, and now Jed had her in his sights he never wanted to let her out of them again. He wasn’t religious, but as he looked up at the moon shining benevolently down over Churchminster, Jed Bantry prayed that, after all these years, his feelings would finally be reciprocated.
Chapter 54
AMIDST A FLURRY of hugs and kisses Johnnie and Tink arrived home for their traditional month-long stay over the Christmas period. They’d come back a few days earlier than normal, for the ball, and were filling a table with much-missed friends and family. Party animal that she was, Tink was beside herself with excitement at the thought of a good night out, especially as her hero Mick Jagger would be playing.
On their first night back, the whole family sat down to a welcome dinner at Fairoaks.
‘You both look so well!’ Caro said enviously to her parents. ‘I feel half-dead in comparison.’
‘Nonsense, darling!’ her mother cried, but it was true. With their tans and the glow that came from outdoor living in an agreeable climate, the couple had brought back with them a much-needed waft of Barbados colour and glamour.
Johnnie, tall, grey, and distinguished – but with a frequent boyish grin that made him look all of twelve again – looked round the table and sighed contentedly.
‘All my girls together in one room. I feel on top of the world,’ he said.
‘Hear hear!’ echoed Clementine.
Johnnie raised his glass of 1995 vintage Taittinger in a toast: ‘To us and a bloody good Christmas!’
‘And to the ball!’ added Calypso, and they all raised their glasses in unison.
Just then, Brenda bustled in with steaming hot bowls of asparagus soup. She’d forgotten to buy fresh asparagus and had had to rush out and get cartons of Covent Garden soup instead, but to her relief no one seemed to notice. In fact, it went down a storm, and when she received several surprised-sounding compliments afterwards, Brenda didn’t think it prudent to tell the truth. It makes my life a lot easier, she thought, wondering if she could get away with giving Clementine M&S microwave meals for one now and again.
The main course was served as everyone filled Johnnie and Tink in on the village gossip. Tink’s eyes widened like saucers as Clementine relayed Freddie’s inadvertent brush with the law and Archie’s subsequent grounding. ‘I know I shouldn’t laugh, but oh!’ said Tink, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘Poor old Fred!’
Clementine nodded. ‘Goodness, I have never seen him so angry.’ She let a smile cross her face. ‘I can’t imagine Archie will have a very merry Christmas, he’s only being allowed out to go to college and the library.’
The conversation took on a more serious note. ‘Still no word about Hatty, then?’ Tink asked Camilla tentatively. Camilla gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
‘Nothing, Mummy, it’s awful.’ Her eyes filled up, but as her family offered consoling remarks, she fended them off. ‘I’m not to get upset tonight, not when you’ve just got back,’ she told her parents stoically.
‘It must be so awful for Frances and Ambrose,’ Tink said. She shivered. ‘The thought of the murderer still being at large is quite unsettling!’
Tink had an extremely fertile imagination, and the rest of the family had decided not to tell her about the recent sighting outside the Merryweathers’.
‘I agree with Camilla, let’s move on to cheerier things. Are you all set for the ball, Ma?’ asked Johnnie. He forked a potato into his mouth and winced as the rock-hard root vegetable almost broke one of his teeth. ‘Christ! I’d forgotten about the delights of Brenda’s cooking.’ Everyone giggled as Clementine looked at him indulgently. Johnnie was her only son, and she adored him.
‘It’s all going very well,’ she replied. ‘We’ve got people in tomorrow to set up the stage. All the tables and chairs are in already; it’s going to look wonderful.’ She gave a fatalistic sigh. ‘It’s all running so smoothly, one keeps thinking that any minute now it’s all going to go horribly wrong!’
‘Oh, it won’t be like that,’ said Tink. She had a habit of making people feel better. A vibrant, youthful blonde, her appearance was made even more delightful by dancing hazel eyes, the exact colour of Camilla and Calypso’s. ‘You’ve done the most incredible job – everyone has – and it will run like clockwork. I’m sure of it!’ She looked at Clementine. ‘Is it true Devon Cornwall is really playing? I used to have such a crush on him when I was younger!’
Her husband shot her a mock-hurt look. Tink laughed. ‘Other than you, my Prince Charming!’ Johnnie clasped his hand over his heart theatrically as Tink blew a kiss over the table at him.
Watching her parents flirt like a pair of love-struck teenagers, Caro could only think about her own desperate situation. Sebastian was conspicuously absent tonight: he’d cried-off the night before. It had been a very tense phone call.
‘Sorry, darling,’ he had drawled, sounding anything but. ‘A frightfully important business meeting has just come up. I really need to stay in town for it. I’m still at work now, you know. Hell of a day.’
The background noise had sounded more like a busy bar than the office, but Caro hadn’t had the energy to give him a rollicking. ‘Fine,’ she’d said wearily. Then, to her dismay, she had distinctly heard a woman’s voice asking Sebastian something in the background.
Mouth dry, Caro demanded to know who was with him. Sebastian ha
d told her she was being paranoid, it was just his secretary staying late to work on some figures. Caro had angrily reminded him he’d told her Bethany was in hospital having liposuction on her love-handles.
‘Oh, darling, calm down!’ Sebastian had responded patronizingly. ‘Look, it’s just voices from the street, I was joking with you.’
Sick of his excuses, Caro had hung up. Unfortunately her suspicions were justified. Far from being in the office, her husband had been dining at an intimate Italian restaurant off Sloane Square. His dinner companion, looking innocently ravishing in a simple black dress, had been Luciana, the waitress he had met in Italy.
When Luciana had asked hesitantly who had called, he had smoothly told her it was no one important, and refilled her wine glass. Then, putting on his most sympathetic voice, he had asked to hear all about her family’s escape from Croatia. Luciana’s eyes had filled with tears. He was such a gentleman, so kind and interested in her family.
‘A bit more of this sensitive shit and I’ll be in her knickers in no time,’ Sebastian had thought triumphantly.
Now, at dinner with her family, Caro was still dwelling on their argument. She’d known what a flirt her husband was from day one, but had always tried to laugh it off or give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘Oh, you know Seb,’ she’d say, in an over-cheery manner to anyone who hinted that he was behaving inappropriately. Now, as she passed Calypso the salt, she thought, with despair, that it was becoming increasingly impossible to write off anything he did as harmless.
Her mother seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Where did you say Sebastian was again, darling?’ she asked.
‘He’s got a meeting,’ Caro said shortly.
Across the table, her father raised one eyebrow. ‘He can’t make it down here for one night to see his wife and gorgeous son?’
‘Oh, leave it, Daddy!’ Caro snapped. The table went quiet; it was so unlike her.
Johnnie threw his wife a questioning look. ‘Sorry, sausage, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he told Caro. Aware of everyone’s eyes on her, Caro attempted a smile.
‘No, it’s me who should be sorry. I don’t mean to be a grump. I’m just tired, that’s all. Milo hasn’t been sleeping well again.’
Tactfully, her mother changed the subject. ‘Well, I’m home now, and I am dying to spend more time with my handsome grandson,’ she informed Caro. ‘I can take him whenever you want a break.’
Caro flashed her a grateful smile, and not just for the babysitting offer. ‘Thanks, Mummy.’
Johnnie looked more closely at Caro, properly scrutinizing her appearance for the first time since they’d arrived. He was worried. Caro had always been the curviest of his three daughters, but now she was as slim as a rake. Her cheekbones looked elegantly prominent, but her face was pale and wan. He opened his mouth to ask if she was eating properly, but his wife, who had an uncanny knack of knowing what her husband was going to say next, gently kicked his leg under the table.
Tink moved on to slightly safer ground and turned to Camilla. ‘How are you feeling at the moment, Bills? Have you seen Angus at all?’
Camilla put her knife and fork down. ‘Not once, Mummy. I get the feeling he’s staying out of the way at the moment. Which is good, I suppose. It puts some distance between us.’
Johnnie looked at his second-eldest daughter, this time admiringly. ‘I must say, heartbreak suits you, Billy Goat Gruff. You’re looking positively radiant!’
‘Darling!’ Tink admonished her husband.
‘It’s true,’ he protested. ‘Isn’t she looking a million dollars?’ Camilla was looking radiant and alive at the moment, and this was even more obvious because she was sitting next to poor tired, flat Caro. Camilla blushed slightly.
‘Oh, stop it, Daddy! I’m just happy. It was an awful shock breaking up with Angus, but, oh, I don’t know, I feel like me again. Does that sound odd?’
Her mother nodded wisely. ‘Not at all. Angus was an awful sweetie, and I would never have said this if you had ended up marrying him but . . .’
‘Pleased to hear it,’ Johnnie told his wife in trepidation of what was coming next.
‘Oh, shush!’ she said. ‘I’m not going to say anything dreadful! No, Angus was a good old stick really, but he wasn’t quite – how does one say this . . . the most sensitive or inspirational of souls, was he? Oh, poor Angus!’ She smiled ruefully at Camilla.
‘She’s a woman in love. . .’ Calypso chose this moment to introduce her own version of the Barbra Streisand classic.
Camilla looked at her sister in horror. ‘Shut up, you!’
‘Ooh, is there someone new on the scene?’ Tink asked excitedly. ‘How romantic!’
Camilla blushed again. ‘Not really. Well I mean sort of, but it’s early days. We’ve only been on a few dates.’
Camilla and Jed had met up twice already since the Jolly Boot night, both times for long walks in the surrounding countryside, well muffled-up against the winter weather. It was a new experience for both of them, and Camilla couldn’t believe how easily she could talk to him about everything and anything. As for Jed, this was the first girl he didn’t just want to have sex with and leave. Admittedly, the thought of taking Camilla to bed made him dizzy with desire, but it went a lot deeper than that. For the first time, he didn’t just want to ask her what position she’d like to get into next, but silly stuff like what she’d had for lunch and whether she said, ‘Hello, Mr Magpie, how’s your wife?’ whenever she saw one of the black and white birds, too. These feelings were alien. They both excited and scared him.
‘Will we meet him at the ball?’ asked Tink. Camilla nodded, and her mother clapped her hands. ‘How thrilling!’
Johnnie looked at his wife in despair: she was worse than all three of his daughters put together, sometimes. ‘For goodness’ sake, darling, you are so childish,’ he told her fondly.
Still blushing, but this time at the sudden thought of Jed doing something positively indecent to her, Camilla decided to get her own back on Calypso.
‘Why don’t you tell Mummy and Daddy about Sam?’ she suggested sweetly. Calypso shot her sister a deathly look, but it was too late, her father had swivelled round in his chair to face her, and become the Spanish Inquisition.
‘Yes, what did happen there, Muffin? I know one shouldn’t really pry, but I must confess I was looking forward to meeting this Sam. Sounded like a thoroughly decent chap.’
For once lost for words, Calypso opened her mouth like a goldfish, and then shut it again. Camilla, quickly feeling guilty, was about to intervene when Clementine stepped in from where she was sitting at the head of the table.
‘It just didn’t work out, did it?’ she said, looking directly at Calypso. Stunned, her granddaughter managed to shake her head weakly in agreement. Clementine continued, ‘What with Calypso living here and doing such a marvellous job on the committee, and Sam down in Brighton, I think it just got a bit too much. Heaven knows, these long-distance relationships can be a blasted nuisance.’ She looked around briskly at her family, signifying an end to the subject.
Her intervention worked. Johnnie shrugged in a ‘that’s life’ way, and sat back in his chair.
‘Anyone for pudding?’ Clementine asked. ‘Brenda’s made a brandy and mincemeat tart. I can’t vouch for its safety but we can give it a go.’ She rang the silver bell on the wall beside her, and several moments later Brenda fussed in to clear away the main course. Camilla and Tink started chattering about what they were going to wear to the ball, and Caro went upstairs to check on Milo.
Amongst the hubbub, Calypso caught her grandmother’s eye. ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed gratefully. Clementine winked and gave her a conspiratorial smile.
She might be ancient, but my gran is seriously cool, thought Calypso as she went to bed that night.
Chapter 55
SATURDAY, 1 DECEMBER dawned. It was show time. Clementine, who had spent half the night awake worrying, was fully dressed at six o’clock and drinking litr
es of Earl Grey tea in the kitchen. By 7.15 a.m., as the first milky white streaks of dawn started to filter across the dark sky, she had decided to don her wellies and Barbour and take Errol Flynn for a walk up and around the Meadows.
Outside, the air was crystal clear and cold. Clementine crunched her way across the frost-covered grass and out through a side gate on to Bramble Lane. Around her the birds were starting their morning wake-up calls, their chirps cutting across the silence enveloping the village.
Errol Flynn, seemingly unperturbed by the prospect of skidding along the ice on his well-covered bottom, bounded ahead of Clementine, tail wagging furiously. ‘Don’t run off too far!’ she instructed, and the Labrador obediently sat and waited until his mistress had caught up. By the time they had cut through the stile and walked up the grassy path to the edge of the wood, dawn had broken. Clementine’s prayers had been answered: they were going to have one of those gloriously clear, crisp winter days. The sun was rising steadily in the pale blue sky as she and Errol made their way through a field. Long grasses were bowing down under the weight of the frost and bare tree branches glittered in the weak morning rays. It looked like someone had flown overhead and let off a bomb made of fairy dust. Pausing to look around, Clementine thought the place had never looked so beautiful. Or vulnerable.
How fitting, she thought, that her day should start here, where it all began. It was like the calm before the storm, a chance to reflect and galvanize herself for the battle ahead. Clementine closed her eyes for a moment. Oh please, let us raise enough money to keep the Meadows, she prayed. Then she heard a familiar voice next to her ear, as clear as day.
‘You can do it, Clemmie old girl, chin up!’
Bertie! Clementine opened her eyes and looked round. There was no one there. Had she just imagined her husband’s voice? But it had sounded so real . . . A firm, resolute look came into her eye. ‘We are going to do this!’ she said aloud. Errol Flynn trotted over and shoved his huge wet nose in her hand. She looked down at her pet: dear loyal old Errol, who had been her constant companion in recent years. ‘Come on boy, let’s go get ’em!’ she said fervently.
