Difficult Husbands

by Mary de Laszlo

  But even as she said this she knew she’d be there with them too, for love was crafty, it bound you in, and you never quite escaped. Even if your husband no longer loved you and had left you for someone else, and your children were grown, invisible strings still held you, never letting you go.

  8

  Plans For Ravenscourt

  Gloria, Lorna and Rosalind drove down to Ravenscourt together. The sun glowed with a syrupy, golden light, intensifying the colours of the changing leaves. There was a carefree atmosphere among them, a feeling of playing truant from their usual routine.

  Lorna was the most subdued of the three. Last time she’d done this drive, it was to Fergus’s funeral. It was a sad occasion but she was glad she’d been there at his end. She understood how he must have hated being so infirm and hoped he was now at peace. She wished she had someone to go with her. The children were at university, her elder sister Felicity was in America with her husband, and her brother Andrew, who lived near Inverness, was snowed under with work. None of her friends knew him.

  ‘I haven’t seen him for years,’ her brother said, ‘anyway he was your godfather and has left you that great house.’ He sounded envious. ‘If you don’t want it, you can give it to me. Stella’s always grumbling we haven’t enough room now the boys are bigger.’

  Lorna assured him that Stella would hate the house and it would bankrupt him to put it right. Her sister in law was obsessively tidy, fighting a daily, losing battle with three boys who scattered their belongings around as if determined to mark their territory.

  She did not tell Stephen of Fergus’s death, he hadn’t seen him for some time and the last thing she wanted was him coming with her. He was so unpredictable now, possibly he would even bring the girl and even if he didn’t she’d be there in spirit, as large as a blow-up sex toy sitting between them.

  The sombre hearse waited outside the church, the coffin still in it, before being carried in. There were a few stiffly wired flower arrangements stacked by the path. She’d been hit with grief at the sight of the props that represented that final leave-taking. She grieved for Fergus as he used to be; so full of life that he seemed immortal. This grief spilled over to the loss of her parents, both gone within a year of each other, and the death of her marriage. Stephen should be here beside her, her soul mate, kind and supportive, as he used to be. A surge of anger and sorrow at his absence surprised and slightly unnerved her, mourning the loss of the man he used to be. She was going to have to get used to going to such events alone.

  Clara’s face was pale and pinched in her black coat. She’d loved Fergus and now he’d gone he’d taken so much of her life with him. Lorna blew her nose and wished she’d brought her dark glasses with her. She went over to Clara and hugged her, putting her own feelings on hold; Clara was the one who needed comfort now.

  ‘So, what plans have we made?’ Gloria, who was driving them all to Ravenscourt in her battle-worn Volvo, glanced at Lorna who was sitting beside her.

  ‘Go to Ravenscourt, have lunch at a pub. Clara says she’s there all day, she offered to cook us lunch but she’s got enough to do and a pub’s more fun.’

  ‘We’ve also got to go to Nathan, remember, he’s not far away. I’ve looked it all up on the internet. He’s there all day too and about five miles further on from Ravenscourt. Shall we do him first or last?’

  Christmas was six weeks away and Lorna remarked that surely it was too early to buy fresh stuff, but she’d been persuaded by Gloria’s explanations that Nathan sold many things that would keep until Christmas and they could put in their orders for ham and pâtés.

  Lorna hoped that Gloria would go off the idea of visiting Nathan after spending time at Ravenscourt with her and Rosalind, all vying with each other over ideas of what to do with the house, followed by a long lunch at a nearby pub, where she could tell them about Flora’s baby. She was not sure why she was reluctant to see him. He’d been in her thoughts recently, perhaps because Gloria occasionally mentioned him if she’d seen him at a fair or was praising his food. There’d been something about him that stirred her heart, something tangible she couldn’t explain. But her heart had been upset enough by Stephen not to mention the prospect of becoming a grandmother to an unfortunate baby whose arrival would cause such havoc. Anyway, by then it would be dark and surely Gloria would want to get home in case Adrian needed her.

  ‘Let’s do Nathan first. Chores first, fun later,’ Rosalind said cheerfully. ‘Once we’ve been to him we can go on and enjoy ourselves without watching the clock.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Gloria said, ‘OK with you, Lorna?’

  ‘Fine,’ she said, though it wasn’t.

  Nathan’s house was near Climping. It was a farmhouse, smaller than Lorna had envisaged, having imagined fields and barns and even stables scattered over the Downs. Its name, Mulberry Farm, was on a painted plaque beside the gate.

  ‘That sign’s new,’ Gloria remarked as she swept in, coming to a sudden halt, spraying the gravel about. ‘I suppose people kept getting lost coming to see him.’

  Beside the square, flint house with its yellow front door and window frames, was a huge barn also flint, with a tiled roof, part of which had been hastily patched. It was here that Gloria led her troops.

  ‘Nathan, it’s us, are you there?’ Gloria called out as she approached the slightly open barn door. A woman with short curly hair and a flustered expression conveying that she had so much to do she hardly had a moment to see to anything else, came out to greet them.

  ‘Hi, Gloria, good to see you.’ She greeted her with a vague kiss somewhere in the air near Gloria’s left ear.

  Was she Nathan’s wife? Lorna studied her with interest, ignoring the curdled ooze of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. She was younger than them, slim and pretty, and no doubt a canonized saint as well. What a relief she was not wearing the raspberry pink jersey. It would look marvellous on her with that dark hair and slightly tanned skin, and make Lorna feel a fool to have ever thought of buying it for herself.

  ‘This is Beth; Lorna and Rosalind.’ Gloria gestured at them. ‘How’s his lordship?’ she laughed, following Beth into the barn.

  ‘Pretty frantic,’ Beth said.

  Inside, the barn was buzzing. Vast ovens stood at one end and a young man was basting a load of hams, the sweet, tangy aroma of their glaze escaping from the air filters into the room. A young woman whose hair was covered with a white cap, was ladling red chutney into jars and another older woman with crisp white hair, no cap, full make-up and chunky gold earrings was labelling them, her hands encrusted with rings. She wore the same overall as the other workers but it was pulled on anyhow as if she was only wearing it under sufferance. She glanced up as they entered.

  ‘Gloria, thank goodness you’ve come and I can stop putting on these pesky labels. One of the helpers is ill so I’ve had to step in.’ She sounded like someone who had never seen a jam jar and who, if she ate chutney at all, kept it in a silver pot.

  ‘I’m sure you’re enjoying it really, Sonia.’ Gloria laughed. ‘This is Rosalind Copeland and Lorna Sanderson. Sonia Harwood, Nathan’s mother.’

  His mother. Now that Lorna studied her, she did see a resemblance to Nathan in her strong lean face and those large topaz-flecked eyes.

  ‘Don’t let us stop you! You must have so much to do.’ Gloria picked up one of the labelled jars. ‘Mmm, spiced cranberry and orange relish, sounds delicious.’

  ‘I never eat them; seeing them and smelling them day after day,’ Sonia went on, ‘but now you are here, I’ll stop and have a rest. Come into the house and have some coffee.’

  Gloria, quickly refused, knowing that having coffee with Sonia would eat up the whole morning. ‘No thanks, Sonia; we’ve a lot to do today. We’ve come down to see Ravenscourt, the house Lorna has inherited, it’s not far from here.’

  ‘Ravenscourt?’ Sonia regarded Gloria as if a description of the place was written on her face. ‘Who lived there? Do I know them?’
/>   ‘Fergus Barnes, he was Lorna’s godfather.’

  Sonia began to interrogate Lorna as if it were of vital importance to know every detail about Fergus and his family. It would not have surprised Lorna if she’d asked what school he’d been to – or, knowing Fergus – probably expelled from.

  ‘Was he that man who lived rather a shocking life, had girls all over the place? Not that I was shocked of course, but people in the country can have very prim ideas.' A glow of excitement sparkled in Sonia’s eyes. ‘He was very rich wasn’t he? Made his money in food.’ Sonia was in danger of sneering until she remembered that her son, her only son, made his living the same way.

  ‘Chocolate bars, crisps or something,’ she finished lamely making it sound as if Fergus’s food was vastly inferior to Nathan’s.

  ‘Biscuits, the Barnes Company,’ Lorna turned away, pretending to be interested in some jars of pâtè. She was not going into the fact that Fergus had sold his share in the business, spent the money on a riotous life and had ended up virtually broke.

  ‘Where’s Nathan? We want to order some things,’ Gloria broke in. ‘If he’s not here I’m sure Beth can do it.’ She smiled at Beth who was busy counting the filled jars. ‘After all,’ she went on, ‘you know as much about the business as he does, even more, probably.’

  ‘He’s in the office, we’ve had a crisis. We were going to do a publicity shoot for next year’s Christmas brochure. You know, country house, log fires, swathes of greenery, the whole works, to show off our produce, but the place we were going to use has been flooded. Burst boiler, I think.’ Beth sighed, underlining something on her clipboard with fierce, decisive strokes.

  ‘How dreadful,’ Gloria answered mechanically, her mind on the food she wanted to order.

  ‘Of course we could do it later in the year, well next year really, but he’d rather do it now, because we don’t need to pay for expensive effects as it is the right season – it is planned to come out next Christmas, not this one, and we’re cooking all the Christmas food anyway. We’re trying some new lines; sweet chestnut vacherins, Christmas puddings with a crystallized orange in the centre, things we’ve been working flat out on to get ready for the shoot and produce for next year.’

  ‘Can’t you use this house?’ Rosalind asked.

  ‘No, we need a house with period rooms, sort of sumptuous,’ Beth said quietly, as if she didn’t want to offend anyone by implying that Mulberry Farm’s house was less than sumptuous.

  ‘Oh, Gloria, you came.’ Nathan strode into the barn looking grim and harassed. He glanced rather impatiently at them, as if they were the last people he needed to deal with. Lorna turned away and pretended to read some leaflets listing his produce. She felt strangely agitated. She prayed he wouldn’t remember her and say something derogatory about her eating all his ham samples, expecting her to be on the scrounge again. She wished she’d brought a box of her cakes as a sweetener.

  ‘Sorry, I’m rather tied up,’ he continued. ‘Would you mind if Beth dealt with your orders? I wasn’t expecting you so early.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Gloria appeared disappointed but she smiled bravely. ‘Is there anything we can do to help?’

  ‘No, I doubt it.’ He looked despairing, ‘unless you have a county house you could lend me for our publicity shoot.’

  ‘You can borrow our house in Wimbledon, though it’s hardly grand enough,’ Gloria offered. ‘What bad luck, what happened?’

  He sighed. ‘It’s far worse for the people who own the house, I mustn’t lose sight of that, but I was going to borrow a friend’s house and avoid having to pay the huge rent these places charge. I’d pay for the decorations, tree, food and everything and photograph it as a country house with wonderful ambiance all enhanced by our Christmas produce. It may sound old fashioned but it still stirs something deep in people; an illusion of old-time Christmas cheer, with everyone happy and sharing delicious food.’

  Lorna knew exactly what he meant. She didn’t say she’d been part of such a shoot herself, but done in the middle of summer with fake snow and possibly fake food. She had a feeling it would irritate him if she mentioned it.

  He smiled ruefully. ‘Simon rang me in a panic last night, they’d been away and came back to a leaking water tank; water gushing everywhere flooding the place, bringing down part of the ceiling. We can’t possibly use it now.’

  ‘Sounds horrendous,’ Gloria said.

  ‘So, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to see what else we can come up with, though I think I’ve exhausted all avenues now. It’s all I need when we are so overstretched here.’ He waved his hand at the lines of filled jars and the empty ones waiting their turn. There were rows of Christmas puddings waiting to be packed, fruitcakes waiting to be iced . . . Perhaps, Lorna wondered, she could persuade him to take some of Martha’s Christmas cupcakes. She’d made some delicious spicy ones decorated with sugar robins and Santas, on white, red or holly green icing, but perhaps now was not the time to launch into a sales pitch.

  Suddenly Gloria shrieked, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘I know, Lorna’s house! That’s a big country house isn’t it, with massive rooms? Nathan can borrow that, can’t he Lorna? You said it’s empty and no one but the housekeeper is living there?’

  Nathan spun round and studied Lorna, his expression half-hopeful, half-incredulous. She saw that he recognised her but she suspected he was racking his brains to try and recall where he’d seen her before.

  ‘The slice of ham and the chocolate cake,’ he said musingly, as if a person who only wanted one slice of ham, even though it was traded for a rather good cake, couldn’t own a country house worth using for his upmarket food brochure.

  Lorna, taken aback by Gloria’s preposterous idea, managed to say at the same time, ‘No, I’m afraid it wouldn’t do at all Gloria. Most of it hasn’t been lived in for ages and it’s in a very bad state ...’ Looking round, she saw them all staring at her with such interest, Beth and Sonia almost open-mouthed with astonishment that she owned such a house. She felt fiercely protective of Fergus, she couldn’t bear them to sneer at it, blame him for letting it get in such a state.

  Gloria, on a roll with her idea, was unstoppable. ‘But you described Ravenscourt as a large, period house set in rural land, so surely it would be perfect … you must see that, Lorna. Surely we can drape decorations around and just photograph the good bits?’ She had a tendency to take charge, no doubt admirable in some situations, but not in this one.

  ‘It is quite unsuitable, however many glittery trees and garlands draped around – it won’t hide the bad bits,’ Lorna felt cornered by them all. She’d been so upset by Fergus’s death the last time she’d been there she hadn’t really taken it all in, though she couldn’t forget the ravages of damp and decay.

  She caught sight of Nathan’s face. It had been taut with strain when they’d first seen him; Gloria’s suggestion had lifted it, making his eyes shine, a half-smile of relief on his face. Now it had fallen again and, to her annoyance, she felt as if she had let him down, was even perhaps, in some sinister way, responsible for the flood in the house he’d been planning to use. If only she could deal with him on his own without Sonia and Beth and even Gloria with her sometimes extravagant ideas, they might get it to work. She felt a glimmer of excitement; she’d been in enough photo shoots to see how bleak, soulless places could be transformed into places of beauty… surely there was no harm in him seeing it? She was about to suggest this when Beth jumped in.

  ‘I know Ravenscourt. I went to an art exhibition there – years ago. The rooms were lovely, great proportions, wonderful fireplaces – everything a dream country house should be. I’m sure we could do something with it, even if it is run down.’ She turned eagerly to everyone, describing various tricks used to transform a place; camera angles, lighting and suchlike. She talked as if it had already been decided and that she, and she alone, could make it possible by her skills and so was the obvious person to be in charge of it all.

>   Lorna decided that she had taken an instant dislike to Beth, which had nothing at all to do with being jealous that she was married to Nathan and that the raspberry pink cashmere was tucked neatly away in a drawer somewhere in her bedroom.

  Rosalind, always the peacemaker, added her bit. ‘We haven’t seen the house yet and Lorna has said that nothing’s been done to the main rooms for years. It may be completely derelict; creeping damp, ceilings down.’ She caught Lorna’s grateful glance. ‘Bats, rats …’ she embellished further.

  ‘How can we know until we’ve seen it?’ Beth said bossily. Having got her teeth into this, she was determined not to let go.

  They were all looking at Lorna expectantly and she felt too outnumbered to think up any more excuses as to why she didn’t want them there, picking over the remnants of a once sumptuous house like scavengers. Nathan was watching her, his eyes gentle on her face and she felt a spark of warmth, wishing it were just him who would come to Ravenscourt. Surely he would understand her feelings of protecting Fergus’s memory from their scorn. She felt overwhelmed by being the owner of such a house, cowed by the impact it seemed to be having on her life and her friends. Gloria, without even consulting her was handing it to Nathan as a backdrop for his Christmas brochure and worse, what about that crazy idea to put their errant husbands there for Christmas?

  She hoped that Gloria, who was now bursting to speak again, would not embarrass them by mentioning that.

  Nathan raked his fingers through his hair as if he might pull it out in handfuls.

  Seeing this, Beth began to describe again how she would disguise the house with decorations and special lighting, until Lorna felt she’d scream. Nathan put up his hand to staunch Beth’s outpouring, saying, ‘I’m sorry that this was thrown at you, Lorna. Gloria is so impulsive,’ he threw her a smile, lightening her heart. ‘It just seems that you have an empty country house and we’ve just been let down with the one we were going to use. Your imagination is probably running riot imagining all sorts of horrors. Maybe if I explain exactly what we’ll do…’