‘Ian! I... I…’ She was flabbergasted, shocked and angry all rolled into one.
He ended the call with a swipe of his thumb and, as he slammed the front door behind him and loaded up his boot for his trip to London, he laughed. He laughed out loud.
11
Ian descended the basement steps and found the front door ajar. He walked the length of the hall, inhaling the familiar scent of the place and marvelling at the beautiful objects, things he didn’t know he remembered from his childhood until the sight of them hurtled him back through time and space. There was a pen pot on the bureau that he distinctly recalled turning upside down and driving a toy car around. It brought a lump to his throat.
Tina stepped from the kitchen and into the hallway.
‘I’m Ian.’
‘Oh! Miss Potterton’s nephew!’
‘Yes, that’s me. The GP from Tunbridge Wells,’ he replied, rocking on his loafers, knowing this was how his aunt would have described him.
‘How lovely!’ Tina grinned.
‘Oh, do you know it?’ Ian was delighted to have found something in common with the attractive, bubbly woman standing in front of him, someone he wouldn’t have immediately placed in his aunt’s circle. They would have plenty to talk about; she was bound to have an opinion on the controversial opening of a Poundland on the high street, when most residents had been praying for a Waitrose.
‘No... I’ve never been.’
‘Oh.’ He stared at her, a little flummoxed.
‘But it sounds very nice. I was more saying lovely about your job, you being a doctor.’ She pointed at him, as though this might be news to him. ‘I’ve never met one before – well, apart from my doctor and a couple of other doctors. And Dr Kahn, who is my mum’s doctor. And my son, who has made that his ambition, to be one, a doctor.’
‘So you’ve met quite a few?’ He squinted as he followed her over to the beautifully set table.
‘Yes. But never one here. At your aunt’s house.’ She rearranged a pretty white linen napkin that had flopped open and twisted the crystal salt and pepper pot for no particular reason.
‘So how do you know Cordelia?’
‘Miss Potterton? I’m her cleaner. I’ve only known her for a few months. I think she’s hilarious,’ she whispered, tucking her white T-shirt into her jeans.
Ian gave a small laugh. ‘I’ve heard her described as many things, but never that,’ he whispered in return.
‘I don’t think she means to be funny, and I’m not laughing at her!’ Tina raised her palms, keen to assert this. ‘But I just find her way, and her words, so... I don’t know, it’s like she’s from another time and she has absolutely no idea how things work nowadays. It’s nice.’
‘Refreshing,’ he surmised.
‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘Refreshing.’
‘It’s funny, isn’t it,’ Ian said, ‘how people who are fond of saying it “like it is” or who enjoy “being truthful” actually only ever say nasty things. Have you noticed that? Whoever heard, “I like to say it how it is and that food was amazing!”’
Tina laughed. ‘Yeah, or, “I’m only being truthful, but she looked fantastic!”’
And just like that, the two were laughing, like they knew each other.
‘What are you two scheming about?’ Miss Potterton’s voice boomed out as she made her way along the corridor to the sitting room.
Ian and Tina both stepped backwards, emphasising the conspiratorial nature of their chat.
‘Nothing, Cordelia. We were just talking about Tunbridge Wells,’ Ian offered cheerily.
‘Urgh! I’m afraid the furthest outside of London I’m prepared to venture is Chiswick.’
Ian and Tina exchanged a glance, neither of them willing to introduce the idea that Chiswick was in London.
‘Lovely to see you, Ian.’
‘You too.’ He presented his aunt with a wrapped book, which she set to one side.
Miss Potterton took a seat at the elaborately set table.
‘This looks absolutely wonderful!’ Ian placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the vintage china and silver cake stands, the ornate sugar bowl with matching tongs, the sparkling crystal champagne glasses and the purple and cream tulips that had been artfully arranged in slender bud vases. He noted the nine place settings. ‘Who’s joining us today?’
‘We have a select and refined group of interesting minds, including some very high-profile local residents, who will provide witty repartee over tea.’ His aunt nodded, a stern expression on her face.
‘Oh gosh, don’t know how witty I’m feeling!’ He pulled a wide-mouthed face at Tina.
‘Don’t fret, dear. You were only invited to make up the numbers.’ Miss Potterton smiled at her nephew. ‘And talking of making up the numbers, where is that wife of yours?’
‘Helen?’
‘I am intrigued by your need to qualify. Is there another?’ She tilted her head towards him to better hear the response.
‘Ha! No, no! No other, erm…’ He swallowed. ‘She’s busy. She’s working, on her Spanish thing, so she can’t make it, but she did send her very best regards and many happy returns of the day.’
‘I bet she did.’ His aunt spoke loudly but with her head turned, as though she were whispering.
‘I’ll remove her place setting and wiggle everything around a bit.’ Tina smiled as she piled up the redundant side plate, cup and saucer. Holding the cutlery and napkin in her other hand, she whipped the lot into the kitchen, where Marley had the kettle full, the sandwiches wrapped and the cakes chilling, all ready for the nod from his mother.
‘One down, I’m afraid.’ She kept her voice low.
‘Did they die?’ Marley asked.
She stood in front of her son. ‘What do you mean, did they die? Of course not! They’re just stuck in Tunbridge Wells! What a thing to say, Marl!’
‘What? Don’t look at me like that! I just thought, you know, she’s really old and her friends are all really old and so maybe one of them had died, which is sad, but also good.’
‘In what way could it possibly be good?’
‘Cos I can have their chocolate eclair!’ He laughed.
Tina tutted. ‘You can have one anyway, cheeky boy, and what about your healthy eating?’
‘One eclair won’t hurt, Mum. I’ll just have to train a bit harder tomorrow.’ He patted his flat, hard stomach.
‘Ah, love, you might think you’re chips and gravy now, but your dad used to be built like you and now he’s got a proper belly. You want to watch that!’ She winked.
‘Tina! Tina!’ Miss Potterton called from the sitting room.
‘Yes?’ Tina always bobbed a little when she stood in front of Miss Potterton. Think I need to stop watching Downton. She smiled at the thought.
‘I think maybe we should set a pot to steep. People will be arriving any second and I would like to offer them tea the moment they sit down, plus I’m rather thirsty myself. And don’t forget it’s the Darjeeling.’
‘Certainly, and I’ll grab the door when they arrive.’ She made her way back to the kitchen.
‘Right, Marl, action stations. First pot of tea of the day.’
‘Is she having a nice time?’ Marley couldn’t begin to imagine how it was possible to have fun when you were ninety-four.
‘I think so, love, yes. She’ll get more into the swing of it when her other guests arrive.’
‘The Right Honourable Muir Tyson-Blaine!’ He snickered.
‘Ssshhh!’ Tina placed her finger on her lips. ‘Don’t be rude, Marley. You are in Miss Potterton’s home and these people are her friends and it is her birthday party.’ She spoke solemnly.
‘It’s must be odd having friends with titles. I can’t imagine Digsy will ever have one,’ Marley said as he fiddled with a teaspoon.
‘You never know, love. I’ll just pop back through, see if they need anything.’
Miss Potterton was in full swing. ‘Well, that was the trouble wit
h your mother, she was afraid of her own shadow! I’d have made myself quite clear, and that frightful man wouldn’t have got a penny out of me.’ She nodded, mid conversation with Ian.
‘Funny, I was thinking about her only the other day, as I do on occasion. Thinking how I would really like a cup of tea with her and a bit of a chinwag,’ he admitted.
‘Oh, absolutely! I miss her dreadfully.’ Miss Potterton placed her handkerchief at the corner of her eye. ‘That’s the thing about surviving the longest; you have to say so many wretched goodbyes. And doubly unfair when she was so much younger than me.’ She sniffed. ‘Ah, Tina, what’s the time, dear?’
Tina looked at the clock and then her phone. ‘I think my phone’s running a little bit fast. It says ten past three.’
Miss Potterton sat forward in her chair and gripped the arms. ‘Ten past three? Are you sure? That’s utterly ridiculous. They’re all late! I can’t bear tardiness, I really can’t! Tom always used to say, “Why do people consider their time more valuable than mine? How little must people think of me to make me wait.” And I rather agree. Ten past, are you certain?’ She craned her neck and then squinted at her watch face.
‘I expect parking round here is a bit of a nightmare. Maybe they’re struggling to find a space?’ Ian offered kindly. Both he and Tina were wondering who Tom was.
‘Well, no, Ian, that can’t be right. Everyone is within walking distance or has a resident’s pass. I don’t understand it. I specifically said three o’clock. Didn’t I, Tina?’
‘Yes. Yes, you did.’ She nodded. ‘Tell you what, how about a nice cup of tea while you’re waiting. I’m sure Dr Ian would like one – you must be gasping!’ She smiled at him.
‘That would be lovely. Yes, please.’ He looked like a happy schoolboy who’d been offered seconds.
‘No! Absolutely not!’ Miss Potterton banged the arm of her chair. ‘Can you imagine the embarrassment of Mr and Mrs Govington-Holmes or the Right Honourable Muir Tyson-Blaine if they arrived and we were merrily drinking tea, with festivities well and truly launched without them? How would that look? No.’ She shook her head. ‘We shall wait.’
She turned her head towards the hallway, her fingers fidgeting on the chair.
The expectation, as they listened for the reassuring ping of the bell or the light rapping of knuckles on the glass, gave the room a physical weight that bore down on them like a leaden cloak.
‘Do you drive, Tina?’ Ian made small talk.
‘Only my son round the bend.’ She smiled.
‘Ha! Very good!’ He laughed too loudly and for too long.
‘No, never seen the point, really. Buses are good as gold from where I live and I wouldn’t know where to start with a car, even if I could drive. I mean, it’s not like I could get a car, so learning to drive always felt a bit pointless. My dad had a van. He was a delivery driver for Addison Lee back in the day.’
Ian nodded. ‘I think it’s admirable not driving a car. I hate to think what my gas-guzzling tractor does to the environment.’
‘Oh God! Don’t tell me Helen is encouraging you to go green and start riding a bike everywhere!’ Miss Potterton tutted and ran her tongue over her lips, clearly parched.
‘No! No, quite the opposite. I’d like a bike, in fact, but she was very keen we got the four-by-four – good for off-roading and narrow country lanes.’ He looked at the floor.
‘Do you do a lot of off-roading?’ Tina wasn’t exactly sure what that was, but she also wanted to make conversation.
‘No, never.’ He stared at her.
‘But you live in a narrow country lane?’
Ian shook his head. ‘Again, no.’ He pictured the top-of-the-range monstrosity that Helen had convinced him was necessary, when all he really wanted was a bike, and a little Mini with cup holders for his lunchtime coffee and a good sun visor. ‘In fact, I don’t know why we got the bloody thing. Something else she talked me into.’
‘Language, young man!’ Miss Potterton remonstrated.
Tina felt the giggle rise in her throat and turned on her heel, making a hasty exit to the kitchen. She felt his eyes following her as she left the room.
‘Mum, I’m getting bored.’ Marley threw a sugared almond into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth. When he missed, he caught it in his hand and tried again.
‘Not too much longer. What’s the bloody time?’ She pulled her phone from her back pocket and slid the screen. ‘God, it’s nearly half past! Please don’t say they’re not coming.’
She ran her palm over her face, wishing she’d never suggested the birthday party in the first place. Then she bent over the countertop and buried her head in her hands.
‘Knock, knock!’ Ian alerted her to his presence.
‘Oh God! Hi! I was just having a think.’ She was flustered and could feel two spots of colour rising on her cheeks.
‘This is my son, Marley. Marley, this is Dr Ian.’
Ian walked forward and shook hands with Tina’s son, silently admiring the boy’s impressive Afro. ‘Just Ian – don’t worry about the doctor bit.’ He smiled.
Marley nodded.
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking – that we might be a bit light on guests?’ Ian held Tina’s gaze.
‘Don’t! I’m hoping they’ve just got held up.’ She blinked.
‘Yes, possibly.’ He nodded. ‘But what do we do if they’re no-shows?’
‘We…’ She looked around the kitchen for inspiration, staring at the beautiful iced fruitcake with the ivory bow and pearl detail. ‘I don’t know!’ she squealed, dreading the thought.
‘Who are we waiting on?’ Ian asked.
‘Oh, Gawd.’ Tina hated having to recite the names, as if it was some kind of memory test. ‘We’ve got Mr and Mrs Govington-Thingy, and Mr Tyson-Blaine, and the three ladies from the Residents Association, whose names, I’m embarrassed to say, I can’t recall, because in my head I’ve been referring to them as Huey, Dewey and Louie.’
He stared at her as if she was bonkers. ‘Right, do you have numbers for any of them?’
‘Oh yes!’ Her face lit up as she remembered. ‘I’ve got Dewey’s!’ She rushed to a drawer and pulled out a circular from the Residents Association. ‘Can I borrow your phone, Marl?’
He handed it over slowly, thinking of his depleting credit.
Tina turned away from them both; she didn’t want to be watched while she made the call.
‘Oh, hello, it’s Tina here. I’m Miss Potterton’s cleaner... Yes, cleaner. Anyway, the reason for my call is to see if you are able to come to her birthday tea today. We were expecting you at three and so…’ She turned and looked at Ian and frowned. ‘Oh, I see!’ She listened some more. ‘Oh really? Well, that’s a shame. But thank you and sorry to have bothered you. Yes, I will. Thanks.’
She handed the phone back to Marley. ‘Apparently Dewey had already called to say that she and her two mates were unable to attend. And she happened to know that the Govington-Doo-Dahs are on holiday. They also phoned, apparently.’
‘And spoke to Cordelia?’ Ian asked.
She nodded. The two stared at each other for a second or two. Then Tina clapped her hands together.
‘Okay, this is what we do. Marley, you make a pot of the finest Darjeeling. I’ll bring the sandwiches and cakes through. Dr Ian, you go and remove the plates and bits and bobs we don’t need, and we will try and dazzle your aunt with our lovely food and distract her with our great company. Come on, Marley, shake a leg!’ she urged. ‘And we shall just have to hope that Mr Tyson-Thingy shows up as a kind of last-minute gift!’
‘Right, so I’m on distraction and plate removal, got it! And yes, do hurry up, Marley. I’m bloody starving!’ Ian spoke with gusto, as if he was having fun.
Tina laughed, noting his emphasis of the swear word. He was great.
She approached the table carrying a three-tiered cake stand crammed with delicate, crustless sandwiches.
‘Good God, this is all rathe
r lame! I’ve been to more atmospheric wakes.’ Miss Potterton sighed.
‘Okay, well, apparently, Mr and Mrs Govington—’
‘Govington-Holmes!’ Miss Potterton snapped in irritation.
‘Yep, them. Well, they are on holiday.’
Miss Potterton sniffed.
‘And the three ladies from the Residents Association are also now unavailable.’
‘Unavailable? What does that mean? Makes it sound like I’ve missed my appointment.’ She tutted again and then adjusted the pearls at her neck. ‘Maybe it’s time I admitted that I am just not as popular as I thought!’
‘Oh, bless…’ Tina whispered, feeling her heart twist, wishing that Miss Potterton was the type of woman who liked a hug, knowing it would make them both feel a lot better.
‘The good news is…’ Tina smiled brightly. ‘That you get to enjoy the company of me and Dr Ian and Marley. And the good news for us is... there’s more cake and sandwiches to go round. And I for one can’t wait!’
Without waiting to be asked, she took a seat at the table and laid the napkin on her lap. She watched as Miss Potterton dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. Disappointment was shitty, whether you were nine or ninety-four.
‘Come on, Marley, where’s that tea?’ she called towards the kitchen.
‘Does he know to add one for the pot?’ Miss Potterton asked.
‘Oh, don’t you worry. He might not have attended many tea parties, but that boy knows about making tea!’ She beamed.
‘I would very much like to see your mother too.’ Miss Potterton turned to her nephew as though they were mid conversation. ‘She was such a kind soul.’ Her voice was soft.
‘Yes, she was.’ Ian looked up at Tina. ‘We were saying earlier how much we both miss her.’
‘Oh.’ Tina smiled as Marley arrived with the large silver teapot on a tray. His expression spoke volumes and it said, I’m so glad my mates can’t see me now…
12
‘Champagne, Cordelia?’ Ian held the bottle over the empty flute.
‘I’m not sure I should – damned pills and whatnot.’ She placed her gnarled hand at her neck.
Stories From The Heart Page 28
