The Trouble with Great Aunt Milly

by Alice Ross

‘Right,’ she puffed on the exhalation. ‘Well, thanks for telling me how you feel. But you should know that I wasn’t expecting- That is, I didn’t think- Oh, well anyway. As long as we both know where we stand.’

  ‘Great.’ James rose from the table. ‘Well, I think we do. Don’t you?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Thank goodness that’s sorted, he mused as he marched home. It was a weight off his mind. He’d been right to tackle it head on, right to clear the air. He honestly didn’t think he could’ve handled it better.

  So why then, did he feel like his guts had been wrenched from his stomach?

  *

  Matt needed cash. He considered his options:

  1. Sell the flat. Conclusion – no cash in it. More likely negative equity.

  2. Find another job. Conclusion – mission impossible. He was a no-go area. No

  one wanted to know.

  3. Ask his parents. Conclusion – not a good move. If he mentioned struggling financially, his dad would offer him fifty quid. And if he revealed the true extent of his debt they’d totally freak.

  He had consequently had the most brilliant idea: he would carry out the terms of Great Aunt Milly’s will. Of course to do so, he’d need to find a wife. Quickly. And the most efficient way of doing things quickly these days was via the internet.

  The exercise had proved a revelation.

  There were thousands of women out there looking for a husband. Women buried away in parts of the world he’d never even heard of. Women so desperate to escape, they advertised themselves like commodities, placing themselves at risk of perverts, rapists and those blokes you hear about on telly who lock women in basements for years on end. But Matt wasn’t a pervert or a rapist and he didn’t have a basement. He was a decent guy. And it wasn’t as if he’d be exploiting the woman. It would be a mutually beneficial deal. He’d help her escape from whatever/whoever/wherever she wanted to escape from, and she’d help him get his mitts on Great Aunt Milly’s share portfolio. It didn’t have to be an unpleasant experience either. There were bound to be decent girls out there. Girls he’d rub along well with, who’d be happy to provide him with a child. He’d warmed to the idea of becoming a dad. He imagined he’d be good at it: taking the kid to the park, taking the stabilisers off its first bike. All the kind of stuff dads did. He’d never given it much thought in the past – there’d been little point given Francesca’s negative views on the subject. But now that he had thought about it, it was becoming more appealing by the day.

  But he jumped ahead. First he needed to find a compatible woman. One he could imagine bringing a child into the world with. He’d spent hours trawling the plethora of websites, drawing up list after list. Then he’d whittled it down. Eventually, at three in the morning, deciding upon the perfect candidate: twenty-six-year-old Yanina from Krivoy Rog (wherever the hell that was) in Russia. She was working in London as a waitress and was, so the ad informed, looking for a kind, considerate, sporty man, who loved animals. Well, he could be all those things. And, with the exception of Mimi, he didn’t mind animals at all. Her hobbies included jogging, yoga and English literature. She sounded perfect. In fact, the only potential stumbling block he could see was that of his mother’s approval. But surely a girl who liked yoga and animals would be approved by Marjorie Pinkerton. Wouldn’t she?

  *

  Arriving home, Anya von Hutterhausen flopped down on the bed and kicked off her sling-backs. Staring at the ceiling she mentally recapped the events of the last couple of days.

  After much deliberation, and for reasons she couldn’t begin to comprehend, she’d accepted Jakov’s drink invitation and arranged to meet him in a cocktail bar in town. She’d specified the venue suspecting that if she left it to him they’d end up in a back-street pub with a ridiculously large TV showing some hideous football match.

  She’d spent hours deciding what to wear. She didn’t want to look … pregnant. Not that her body showed any outward signs yet. Still, she wanted something she felt comfortable in, something not too revealing - completely ironic given the nature of their relationship to-date. In the end she’d chosen charcoal tailored trousers, a white silk vest and a long grey cardigan.

  He’d been waiting for her when she arrived. She’d been surprised how different he looked in proper clothes – navy chinos and striped shirt. She’d also been amazed at how at ease he’d appeared in the upmarket environment. She’d ordered orange juice. She was suffering from a sore throat for which she’d been prescribed antibiotics, she lied. Jakov ordered a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Anya had been quietly impressed. She didn’t think he’d know his Sauvignon from his shandy. But his choice of wine had proved one of many surprising revelations throughout the evening. It was the first time he’d mentioned his degree in biology, or that he had three sisters, all of whom were doctors. She also learned that he liked sushi, and that he played the guitar – classical as well as rock. He’d related several amusing tales of his youth and had even made her laugh – not an activity in which she engaged much.

  Then, at the end of the evening, he’d walked her to her car and kissed her on the cheek.

  Chapter 19

  Since Mandy and Eric’s wedding, James had spent a huge amount of time thinking about Olivia, the consequence of which was an overpowering urge to feel close to her. Thankfully, he knew the perfect way to do just that …

  James had liked Olivia’s parents, David and Rosemary, the moment he’d met them sixteen years ago. His inaugural visit to their home had been during his and Olivia’s first summer break from university. They’d welcomed him with open arms and had continued to do so ever since, at no time more so than during Olivia’s illness and the weeks following her death.

  David and Rosemary lived in a Georgian cottage in Wiltshire. James hadn’t phoned ahead to warn them of his impending visit. He hadn’t dared, in case he changed his mind. His head being all over the place at the minute, he didn’t want to let them down if he’d had a sudden change of heart.

  He parked at the front of the house and was clambering out of the car when Rosemary’s petite form appeared round the corner, attired in gardening garb.

  Her face lit up. ‘James!’ she exclaimed, running towards him. ‘How lovely. We were just talking about you the other day.’ She enveloped him in a hug, before stepping back and clasping his hands in hers. She looked a little older than the last time he’d seen her six months ago but, with her sleek blonde bob and smooth skin, still nowhere near her sixty-four years.

  ‘Come on in,’ she instructed, linking her arm through his and steering him towards the house. ‘David’s making scones. He’ll be over the moon to see you.’

  David was over the moon to see him. And as they all sat chatting around the old battered kitchen table where they’d spent many an hour with Olivia, James felt as though he’d come home.

  ‘We were just talking about you the other day,’ said David, selecting a warm scone from the plate in the centre of the table.

  ‘Really?’ James raised his cup of coffee to his lips. ‘I hope you weren’t taking my name in vain again.’

  ‘As if,’ giggled Rosemary, cutting her scone in two. ‘No. We were talking about you because we were planning on phoning you this week. To tell you our exciting news.’

  James’ brows shot to his hairline. There was something in her tone – a hint of wariness – that immediately put him on his guard. Whatever this news was, he doubted very much he’d like it.

  ‘We’re … moving.’

  All colour drained from his face. He gaped first at Rosemary, then at David, then back at Rosemary. ‘Moving? From here?’

  ‘Of course from here,’ she replied with a diffident smile. ‘We’re moving to Dorset.’

  A brief silence ensued while he absorbed the news. ‘But you can’t,’ he heard himself murmuring. ‘You can’t move from here. What about Olivia? This was her home. She grew up here. All her-’

  ‘Oh, James, we’ll never forget Olivia,�
� assured Rosemary, reaching across the table and taking his hand. ‘We don’t need bricks and mortar and things to remind us of her. The whole world reminds us of her – every day. But neither of us is getting any younger so we thought it’d be nice if we moved nearer my sister in Poole. We’ve bought a little bungalow there, right by the sea. You must come and stay once we’re settled.’

  James winced. ‘Wh-when are you-?’

  ‘Four weeks,’ confirmed David.

  ‘Right.’

  Another uncomfortable silence followed, with James staring dumbfounded at the scones.

  ‘Would you like one last look around?’ asked Rosemary gently.

  ‘Yes,’ he muttered. ‘I think I would.’

  James floated dreamlike round the house reaching the living room first, with its chintzy curtains and flowery cushions. Every possible surface was crammed with photos of Olivia - as a baby, on her first pony ride, at the seaside, birthday parties, balls, graduation ... Next he drifted into the drawing room with the grand piano, on which she could never resist tinkling a tune. The dining room followed with its polished table around which they’d shared many family celebrations. Each room held its own nest of memories. Everything in this house reminded him of Olivia. How would he feel when he wasn’t able to visit it again? Weighted down with sadness, he dragged himself upstairs to her bedroom. Plopping down on the bed, he looked around him. Nothing had changed since she’d been there, including her pile of alphabetically arranged CD’s. He smiled as he recalled her dilemma about whether to file The Who under T or W. He picked up a pillow and held it to his nose, convinced he could still make out the faint scent of her peachy perfume. Clasping it to his chest, he lay down and closed his eyes.

  Rosemary woke him three hours later. James had been racked with embarrassment. Yet despite his impromptu snooze, the wrenching pain was just as severe as when they’d made their announcement. He’d barely been able to look at them as he bid them goodbye, dredging up a few words to wish them well in their new venture. He’d said nothing about visiting them in Dorset. He wouldn’t be able to face it. Not for a long while. First he’d have to conquer the feeling of being betrayed. But would he ever conquer it? He honestly didn’t know.

  Evidently, without him saying much, David and Rosemary had picked up on his sentiments.

  ‘Things change,’ David had said. ‘And sometimes it’s for the better. Like us with this move. We’re very excited about it. We hoped you’d be happy for us.’

  James hadn’t replied. He’d had no idea what to say.

  *

  Matt had arranged to meet Yanina outside the Cow & Coffee Bean in Regent’s Park. He was ridiculously nervous as he prepared for the meeting. He wanted to create a good impression. So, after much deliberating, he dressed in cream chinos and a navy polo shirt – casual but with a hint of affluence. Affluence? Ha! If only. Still, if his plan succeeded, he would be affluent. Not immediately, of course, but the reward would be worth waiting for. He’d even considered using some of Great Aunt Milly’s dough to set up his own advertising company. Then he could really stick two fingers up at Wiltshire & Harrison. But he was jumping the gun again. Before he’d see so much as a penny of the legacy, he needed a wife. And he’d a strong inkling he might just be about to meet her.

  Matt arrived at the park with five minutes to spare and sat down on a bench outside the café. Shaking with nerves he wondered if this was such a good idea after all. What if she turned out to be a complete nutter? She’d looked all right in the photos - long raven hair, porcelain skin, legs up to her neck - but that didn’t mean she wasn’t some kind of psycho. And what if that hadn’t been her? What if it was a scam to-?

  ‘You are Matt?’

  Matt jerked up his head to find a gorgeous girl with long raven hair, porcelain skin and legs up to her neck smiling down at him. She wore tight faded jeans and a yellow handkerchief top.

  His fears immediately evaporated.

  ‘I Yanina,’ she said. ‘And this is Ivor and Trevor.’

  Matt looked down. At two Dobermans.

  ‘They are twins,’ she announced triumphantly.

  ‘Um, right,’ he muttered.

  ‘You said you are liking the animals, yes?’

  ‘Er, yes, of course.’

  ‘Then you will be liking my boys. They are my babies.’

  ‘Right. How, um, old are they?’

  ‘One-year-and-half. You are thinking they are very handsome, no?’

  ‘No. I mean yes.’

  ‘You can stroke if you like.’

  Did she mean her or the dogs? Deciding it must be the latter, Matt hunkered down. ‘Hello, boys. Lovely to meet you.’

  The dogs growled, baring pointed teeth. Matt toppled backwards.

  Yanina giggled.

  ‘They are protecting me. They are needing to know you better before they are trusting you. You want to walk them?’

  Matt did not want to walk them. Nor, by the way they glowered at him, did the dogs want Matt to walk them. ‘Great. Love to,’ he gushed, rising to his feet.

  If Matt had thought walking Mimi was a challenge, it was nothing compared to Yanina’s dogs. A lead in each hand, he struggled to control them. He wondered how she managed it when she weighed all of eight-stone. Obviously she had them to a word and they adored her. He hoped he might soon adore her, too. She was gorgeous. But he had no idea what she thought of him. So busy was he with the dogs that he’d hardly uttered a word. He suspected his handling of the animals may be some kind of test. And if he passed, who knew what the rewards might be.

  ‘You are wanting ice-cream?’ she asked. ‘Then we can be sitting down on the grass, yes?’

  ‘Great,’ he replied, welcoming any suggestion whereby he could relinquish the hounds.

  ‘You wait here. I go get,’ she announced, before skipping over to the stall.

  Matt watched in dismay. So did the dogs. In a scarily synchronised motion, they tilted up their heads at him and growled. Shit. Maybe he should follow her. He was about to do just that when a Jack Russell appeared from nowhere, barked ferociously at Ivor and Trevor, then scurried off. The message it relayed did evidently not impress the twins. In a flash they chased after the terrier - dragging a screaming Matt along with them.

  ‘Ha! Dogs taking you for a walk, mister?’ cackled a couple of spotty teenagers as he flew past.

  The Jack Russell hared down a flight of steps.

  Trevor, Ivor and Matt followed …

  ‘It’s broken,’ announced the doctor. ‘Here.’ He pointed to Matt’s luminous bones on the X-ray screen. ‘That line there indicates a break in your fibula. Fortunately it’s a clean break so we won’t need to operate, but you will need a cast.’

  Matt couldn’t take it in. He was still in shock from his painful – and humiliating - ordeal. Yanina hadn’t accompanied him to hospital. She had, however, been beside herself with concern - for the dogs. What was it with women and their bloody mutts? Mimi had been bad enough but apart from taking a chunk out of his toe, she’d never-

  ‘So you’ll need to keep the cast on for around six months.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Six months,’ repeated the doctor. ‘An unavoidable inconvenience I’m afraid. Now, one of my colleagues will be along shortly to sort you out and, all being well, we’ll have you home in time for dinner.’

  *

  Anya couldn’t stop thinking about it. Ever since the evening in the cocktail bar with Jakov, her analysis had been incessant. Which was ridiculous. And a complete waste of time. Yet the more she analysed, the more she arrived at the same conclusion: that going out for a drink together was an activity engaged in by couples having A Proper Relationship. That did not apply to her and Jakov. He was having A Proper Relationship with Imogen, the Pilates instructor. What he and Anya shared was sex. But even that had now lost its appeal. It seemed … shallow somehow. Thankfully he hadn’t mentioned her recent lack of gym attendance. She hoped he’d attribute it to the sore throat sh
e’d invented. Not that she owed him any explanations. She owed him nothing. Or at least nothing he was aware of. Yet, despite having already served his purpose, Anya had no wish to blank Jakov from her life. For some inexplicable reason she wanted him in it.

  Chapter 20

  Paradoxically, James had been both weary and antsy of late, with no idea what to do with himself. His usual contentment with life had packed up, jumped on a plane, and disappeared without trace.

  Since Anya’s performance at the wedding, work proved particularly awkward. They did their best to avoid one another but it wasn’t easy in such a confined space. On the uncomfortable occasions they did coincide, the atmosphere could be cut with a blunt knitting needle.

  But Anya wasn’t the main cause of his restlessness. Since his “clearing the air” chat with Alex, he couldn’t sit still. Not helped by the incident this morning. He’d been out for a run when he’d spotted her and Piers deep in conversation on the roundabout in the park. His stomach had flipped and he’d immediately executed a nifty turn to avoid them. No doubt they were planning their Canadian adventure. Well, he might just undertake an adventure of his own. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more appealing that idea became. Australia! He could go back there and spend some time sorting out his head. He wouldn’t have to make any decision regarding the practice. He could organise a locum. And, by the time, he came back Anya might also have moved on. Yes, that sounded like the perfect plan. He’d get on to it right away.

  *

  Matt had no previous experience of a broken limb. Unlike the majority of his rugby-playing mates, he’d avoided such pain. But boy was he making up for it now. Or he would’ve been, were it not for the mountain of painkillers that had accompanied him home from hospital.

  Like most people whose skeletons had remained intact for some thirty-plus years, he’d never before considered how difficult life might be with a cast. Difficult, he’d discovered, was an understatement. And to make matters worse, he’d received a text from Yanina, saying it had been lovely to meet him but the dogs obviously didn’t think they were compatible. Huh! And this from a girl who described herself as “caring and compassionate”. She had neither apologised for her mad dogs’ behaviour, nor enquired after his health. Were all women selfish bitches or just the ones he had the misfortune to meet?