Bobbie straightened her legs from under her and groaned.
‘Oh my God. When do we lose the ability to do that without being stiffer than an ironing board?’ Bobbie grimaced.
‘I’m a bit stiff myself,’ Janey said.
She’d been sitting so long, her paintings resting on the window sill to get the maximum light. She’d done four. Quite small. More impressionistic than photographic. All of them a different aspect of the seaside. They’d need a bit of refining but the essence of them was there, the feel of the place. She couldn’t quite believe she’d hardly ever come here, and certainly never as far around the coast as Hollacombe, but she hadn’t. She was here now, though, and loving it like she’d never have believed she could just forty-eight hours earlier. Her stomach rumbled. ‘I think I’ve missed lunch.’
‘Me too,’ Bobbie said. ‘Although mine was by design rather than accident. I’m going to have to do some serious dieting when I leave here.’
‘I’m not!’ Janey laughed. ‘Lissy’s been teaching me, albeit unknowingly, to love my food again.’
‘Yeah, I can understand that.’ Bobbie rubbed her bare feet to get some life back into them. ‘Fear robs us of an appetite. Been there, done that over the years. For me now, it’s fear there won’t ever be another job that makes me watch what I eat and tell myself I do not like pastries filled with chocolate shards and cranberries, or chocolate brownie.’
‘Except you do!’ Janey laughed.
‘Too much! Thank goodness this Christmas lark is only a few days long. My work is my ongoing pension … well, not that I’m pension age yet, of course.’
As she spoke she looked away from Janey and Janey wondered what untruth she was covering up because Stuart had never been able to look her in the eye when he’d been lying about something. And now she was looking at Bobbie, really looking at her, she could see there were rather a lot of crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes, and her hands had a few freckles … age spots her old granny had always called them.
‘No, of course you’re not,’ Janey said. ‘Anyway, thanks for loaning me this stuff. It was far comfier to work in than my jeans would have been.’
‘Keep it,’ Bobbie said. ‘It looks better on you. I’m aware sometimes that I go too far down the mutton-dressed-as-lamb road.’
Janey couldn’t think how to answer that so she didn’t.
‘Thank you.’
‘And I’ve got a dress you might like to wear for dinner later. If we get some.’
Janey laughed.
‘I thought they’d have been back by now,’ she said.
‘I didn’t!’ Bobbie said. She tapped the side of her nose with a finger.
‘You’ve lost me,’ Janey told her. ‘I realise they got on quite well …’
‘Very well, I’d say.’
Bobbie stood up and did some sideways stretches, then bent down to touch her toes with the tips of her fingers. Stretching again she tipped her head from side to side. Then she raised each knee in turn hugging it hard. Six on each leg. That was followed by swinging her arms like a windmill, and she took deep breaths in and out as she did it.
‘Claire made an exercise plan for me. That was part of the daily routine. I’ve got to keep supple for my job, even though it looks as though models have been wired up stiffly in very unnatural poses sometimes. The camera lies because it takes an awful lot of core strength to do all that.’
Janey was still feeling a bit fragile, weak, but she wasn’t going to be starting a fitness regime any time soon. Her mind needed nurturing first. Her soul. And painting was doing that for her.
She walked over to the window and looked out. It had clouded over and everything had taken on a greyish hue, like old-fashioned mens’ flannel trousers. Could she replicate that shade from the small box of watercolours she had upstairs? When might she be able to go over to Annie’s and Fred’s to collect all her things? Lissy had said she could stay on at Strand House and she hoped that offer still stood. She’d ask again tomorrow. Just so she knew where she stood and if she’d need to think again or not.
‘Can you see them yet?’ Bobbie asked from behind her.
Janey could tell she was still doing some sort of exercises and could only think it was jolly hard work staying as slim and as fit and as glamorous as Bobbie was.
‘Not yet.’
Bobbie came over to stand beside her.
‘This is an odd sort of Christmas Day, Janey, don’t you think?’
‘Hmm. Yes. Different. Breakfast was rather wonderful. Christmas Day breakfast was never special for me before.’
‘Nor me.’
‘That’s going on the list of things to make my life better – fabulous Christmas Day breakfasts from now on.’
‘Good for you,’ Bobbie said.
‘And then we’ve been doing our own thing here, you and me, while Lissy and Xander have gone out walking, but it’s been with the promise of wonderful things to come … the food and the company and the conversation. I don’t want it to end if I’m honest.’
Bobbie put an arm around Janey’s shoulder.
‘If there’s something to upset the plans and Lissy changes her mind about you stopping on, you can come back to London with me if you’d like to.’
‘Really?’ Janey said, twisting around to look at her.
‘Really. London’s heaven for artists. You see them all over the place with their easels or their sketchpads, and the place is awash with art galleries. And don’t forget, when you get around to fetching your art stuff from your neighbours there’s a painting that’s got my name on it. I’d pay serious money for that in a London art gallery.’
‘Consider it yours,’ Janey said. ‘For, you know, being so kind.’ There was a lump in her throat now. She didn’t think for a moment she’d take Bobbie up on her offer because, well, their worlds were just so different, but it was nice to have it all the same. ‘Oh, look! There they are.’ She pointed to the top of the steps where Lissy and Xander had just appeared, like a jack-in-a-box popping up. ‘Oh, they’ve got their arms around one another.’
‘I should flipping well hope so!’ Bobbie said. ‘Or all my pep talks have been for nought!’
‘You matchmaker!’ Janey said.
‘But lovely with it,’ Bobbie laughed. She linked her arm through Janey’s. ‘Come on. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be all hands to the pump to get this meal on the table for four o’clock.’
Janey saw Lissy and Xander – who had something in a big black bag dangling from his free hand – stop to share a kiss. And then another. And then another.
‘I think,’ she said, ‘you might be right.’
‘Come on,’ Bobbie said. ‘Let’s make ourselves scarce. We don’t want them to think we’ve been spying on them, do we?’
‘Try this for size, Janey,’ Bobbie said, standing in the open doorway of Janey’s room.
She was dangling a black dress, with Chinese-style pink strands of blossom randomly printed on it, on its hanger at her. It had a scoop neck and slashed shoulders, and an asymmetric handkerchief hem.
‘I wore this once for a shoot for one of the bigger high street chains. Some idiot got cream from a bun they shouldn’t have been eating on the shoot over it so I was told to keep it. It wasn’t worth the maker’s while to get the thing dry-cleaned and they wouldn’t be able to sell it on afterwards if they had.’
Janey couldn’t imagine wearing something only once.
‘More you than me, this one, I think,’ Bobbie said. ‘Comes into the mutton-dressed-as-lamb category for me but it’ll be perfect on you. I’ve got some hair product you can use as well if you want. A wash-in, wash-out thing. Won’t take you long. But it’ll, you know, brighten it. If you blow dry it afterwards and then brush it slightly forward over your shoulders instead of … oh God, listen to me. Bossy boots is at it again.’
‘A bit,’ Janey said, standing up. She noticed that as well as having the dress on its hanger in one hand, Bobbie was also clutch
ing a bottle of something in the other. ‘But I really don’t mind. It’s great that, well, you care. Come on in.’
‘Only for a moment,’ Bobbie said. ‘As you’ve probably worked out by now I take more time than the average woman getting ready. Can’t let the catwalk go, really. As Xander told me, I’m high-maintenance.’
‘He never did!’ Janey laughed taking the dress from Bobbie and holding it against herself. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wardrobe door. Not something she’d have chosen for herself but she liked it. She would wear it.
‘He did so! Cheeky blighter. Said it was a compliment, so I took it as one. Anyway, do you want a bit of help with your hair?’
‘Not if it’s self-explanatory on the bottle, no,’ Janey said. She’d use that as well. She was beginning to feel like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis in this house, sloughing off her old, dark, clothes. ‘But have I got time before we eat?’
She was starting to feel really hungry now.
‘Plenty. Those two down there probably don’t want us on board for a moment. I’ve been hearing lots of chat and then silence for a few minutes. Kissing time, I’d say.’
‘Good for them.’ Janey wasn’t remotely jealous but she hoped there might be someone new for her some day. Someone like Xander who was funny and kind. And very easy on the eye as well.
‘You’ve just blushed,’ Bobbie said, wagging a playful finger at her. ‘What naughty thought were you thinking?’
‘Not going to tell!’ Janey laughed.
‘Stash your naughty little secret away, then,’ Bobbie said. ‘Most of us have got them.’
‘I’m slowly revealing mine,’ Janey said. She’d told them more about how things had been with her and Stuart and her mother and sister than she’d ever told anyone. It had felt raw to do it, but also cleansing somehow, as though her soul had been scrubbed with a bath brush.
‘Oooh, listen,’ Bobbie said. She cupped a hand, shell like, to one ear. ‘I can hear silence. They’re at it again. I don’t know about you but I’m beginning to feel a tad wallflower around those two.’
‘I honestly don’t think they meant that to happen, or even thought that it would. I think it’s come as a lovely surprise to them both, don’t you?’
Bobbie shrugged.
‘Picking up where they left off.’
‘Really? Has Lissy said?’
Janey didn’t want to think that there might have been something going on between Lissy and Xander when Claire had been alive but also knew they wouldn’t be the first to go down that road if there had been.
‘No,’ Bobbie said, sharply, which told Janey that Bobbie did know something but wasn’t going to trade a secret. And she wasn’t going to try and prise it from her. ‘But don’t worry your pretty little head about anything. Go and do the deed with this bottle of magic and then get into that dress. We need to keep up appearances because I’ve got a sneaky feeling that bag Xander was holding in the hand that wasn’t tenderly clutching Lissy, had a dinner suit in it.’
‘Dinner suit?’
‘You know, black with a satin trim to the jacket. Bow tie. Pristine white shirt.’
‘Oh, that,’ Janey said. ‘I know.’
She’d been to a black-tie event at a school do with Stuart once. He’d started to drink too much, slurring his words, being aggressive. She’d managed to get him out and into a taxi before he embarrassed himself. They’d not been to another since.
Bobbie left the room and Janey wondered just how long it would take to get Stuart out of her mind. She had a feeling getting him out of her life was the easier part.
Heading for the bathroom she decided she was going to make more of a concerted effort to do just that. Her friends here deserved more of her mind to be in the room with them, and not elsewhere.
Chapter 29
Lissy
‘Can you give them a shout, Xand?’ Lissy asked.
She’d toasted the sourdough, put the bruschetta toppings on and had only to put them under the grill and that was the canapés ready. The boned and rolled, stuffed turkey breast was in the oven and browning nicely. Trays of roots – sea-salt crusted potatoes, parsnips with a honey and thyme rub, and carrots tossed in balsamic vinegar and olive oil were on a tray roasting in the fast, top oven. The obligatory Christmas pigs in blankets also had a Lissy twist – she’d added apple to the pork and wrapped them in pancetta with a sage leaf inside. Chocolate mousse – made with the very best Green and Black’s and locally sourced double cream – with raspberries was waiting in the fridge for dessert.
‘Anything for you, madam,’ Xander said.
That, I think, will have to wait, Lissy thought but didn’t say. It had been the right decision not to make love in Xander’s cottage, although that was what had been their intention in going there and they both knew it. She had a feeling that when Xander turned up shortly in his dinner suit she’d get those intentions all over again. There was something about a man in one of those, wasn’t there?
‘You’ve already done loads,’ Lissy said.
Xander had set the table in the hall, lit the candles, laid out the crackers, and selected music to play gently in the background while they ate. He’d played sous chef stirring gravy – with a dash of balsamic vinegar and cranberry juice for pep – and uncorked a couple of bottles of red so they could breathe should anyone want red wine with the six varieties of cheese Lissy had bought if anyone had room for it after they’d eaten their way through everything else.
‘All that remains, then, is for me to turn the pig’s ear that is my usual self into the silk purse you lovely ladies deserve for the occasion. Back in a jif.’
And then Xander was gone, shouting out to Janey and Bobbie that dinner was all but ready and where the heck were they, they were already perfect enough and their lilies didn’t need over-gilding.
Lissy chuckled to herself. She’d already nipped upstairs while Xander had been polishing glasses with a tea towel and setting them out ready for the meal – red wine, white wine, water – and changed. Nothing fancy, just a plain royal blue jersey wrap dress, beige heels, and a thick rope chain gold necklace that had been Vonny’s.
Practising, that’s what she was doing with the setting out of things just so, Lissy told herself, for when … for when she’d no longer be making lots and lots of money being an accountant, risking everything in a new venture. A risk she had to take. She had to be true to herself and she knew it now, more than helped by the fact her friends were so encouraging and complimentary about her culinary efforts. Strand House and everything in it, Lissy couldn’t claim any credit for because that had all been Vonny’s taste. Good as it was, it wasn’t Lissy’s entirely. While she’d been putting veg ready to roast, Xander had sat on the end of the kitchen counter with a couple of sheets of paper Lissy had fetched from her printer when he’d asked for some, making some architect’s drawings of how a conservatory might look, how a snug might look, for when Lissy moved in to Strand House full time.
He was more than good at it, and Lissy had asked if he’d ever fancied retraining, studying to take his building to the next level. He might, he’d said, and then he’d put down his pencil, got up from the bar stool, and gone over to Lissy. Turning her round to face him, he’d kissed her gently. ‘Thanks for asking. I’ll sleep on it.’
Lissy could hear movement upstairs now, and then footsteps on the wooden treads of the stairs. She put the tray with the bruschettas on it under the grill to heat through.
Janey and Bobbie were laughing about something. Good. And then, there they were, framed in the kitchen doorway.
‘Oh, my! Janey!’ Lissy said. ‘You look wonderful.’
Janey’s hair seemed a few shades lighter than it had been when she’d gone upstairs earlier. She’d combed one long curtain of hair over her left shoulder and the other was behind her right one. She was wearing lipstick – Bobbie’s at a guess because this was the first time Lissy had ever seen Janey wear any. She was also weari
ng the nude heels Lissy had loaned her and leaned against a door jamb crossing one leg behind the other in a slightly nervous way. This was all so new to her, wasn’t it? Lissy couldn’t help but notice how slender Janey’s ankles were. How beautifully shaped her legs were too. And her shoulders. She looked as much a model in that moment as Bobbie – who actually was – did. Not, Lissy knew, that it was looks that mattered to Janey. But surely, looking good in herself would make her feel better too?
‘Scrubbed up well, hasn’t she?’ Bobbie said, putting an affectionate arm around Janey’s shoulder.
Bobbie was making a joke of it, in a bid to make Janey feel less self-conscious perhaps, but Lissy hoped it wasn’t having the opposite effect and making her feel as though she needed to improve her look.
‘Oh!’ Lissy said. She could smell toast just beginning to catch. The already-cooked edges of the bruschetta had been rubbed in olive oil. In the moment of taking in the vision that was now Janey she’d forgotten them for a moment. She rushed to rescue them just in time, dropping the hot tray with a clang on the granite work top.
‘Come and get it, girls,’ Lissy said. ‘Help yourselves to drinks.’
It was a second or two before Janey was able to move, but Bobbie propelled her on. And Lissy was glad they were forming a stronger bond, albeit having been thrown together by her invitation.
‘You can take them through to the sitting room if you want,’ she said after Bobbie had poured all three of them a glass of white wine.
‘We’ll wait for Xander,’ Bobbie said. ‘Ah, I hear footsteps. I think we might all be in for a visual treat if what was in the black bag he was carrying is what I think it was. An improvement on last night’s waiter look – although, that said, I’ve seen more badly-dressed maître D’s. You might need to hold on to your breath, girls, ‘cos I’ve got a feeling he’s going to take it clean away.’
And then there he was, looking – Lissy thought – very Pierce Brosnan in his younger day. Bobbie was right, the sight of him had taken her breath clean away.
Christmas at Strand House Page 16
