‘I thought you were asleep. Cup of tea?’
‘Please. Where’s Dad?’
‘Finishing his home brew in the pub. They’ve had an impromptu welcome party for the Barclays, and Dad insisted we went.’
‘Right. I’ve been up at the Big House.’
‘You have?’ Harriet turned away so she wouldn’t betray what she’d just found out.
‘Seeing Chris.’
‘Ah. Right. Nice man.’
‘You approve?’
‘It’s not for me to approve or disapprove.’
‘Come on, Mum, tell the truth.’
Harriet placed a mug of tea on the worktop and nodded to Fran that this was for her. ‘Yours.’
‘What are you having?’
‘A whisky.’
‘You never drink whisky.’
‘I can do as I like.’ Harriet took a sip of her medicinal whisky.
‘Like I do, you mean?’
‘Apparently.’ Harriet turned to face her. ‘Let’s stop fooling around. He’s too old, too smart, and he’ll soon tire of you.’
‘Mum!’
‘I’m right and you know I am, and that’s why you didn’t want to tell us who you were seeing.’
‘He isn’t. He’s lovely. He’s kind and considerate and amusing, and interesting, with an unusual slant on life. He finds the English absolutely hysterical.’
‘Hysterical? That’s not very good manners on his part.’
‘You’re being stuffy, just like he says we all are. It’s time we all relaxed, he says, and see the funny side of ourselves. And he thinks that class distinction, no matter how much we deny it, is still present in every level of English society and that it’s hilarious. And come to that, I think so too.’
The front door slammed shut and Fran knew her dad was about to find out the most precious, most important secret she had ever kept from him. Damn it, she wasn’t ready for it.
Jimbo strolled into the kitchen, looked from one to the other of them both and asked, ‘What’s the matter?’
Fran decided to go for it. ‘I’ve just been telling Mum.’
‘What?’
‘Who it is I’m going out with.’
Very casually Jimbo replied, ‘Oh. That. I’ve known for a while.’
‘You have?’ Harriet was shocked. ‘You never told me.’
‘She’s old enough to know what she’s doing.’
Fran, who’d been expecting him to explode into one of his notorious tempers, was at a loss to know what to say. ‘You don’t mind then?’
‘He is the most unsuitable man for you to be consorting with that I could ever have imagined you would find time for. But you’re a young woman now and it’s time for you to make your own choices.’
‘Thanks, Dad, for treating me as a grown-up for the first time ever. Thanks, I appreciate that. So that’s all right then. If Dad’s all right about him, you don’t mind, Mum, do you?’
Harriet, staggered by Jimbo’s calm and the fact he’d known for weeks, answered, ‘Apparently not. I’m off to bed. See you in the morning.’ In fact Harriet was completely nonplussed. She and Jimbo never had secrets from each other. It was one of their golden rules and yet here he was, calm as you please, when Fran was cavorting with a man so unsuitable that if Harriet had made a list of unsuitable characteristics for a boyfriend of Fran’s, he’d match up to every unsuitability. Was there such a word? If there wasn’t, Harriet Charter-Plackett had just invented it.
Harriet brushed her teeth with such vigour that any lingering bacteria would have fled in haste halfway through the process. She flung her clothes on the carpet, careless of where they fell, and leapt into bed still infuriated by Jimbo’s attitude. Not for one moment did she imagine that a man of Chris’s temperament had not wanted to go the whole way with Fran. Well, at least she knew Fran was bang up to date on contraception and so hopefully no worries on that score.
Harriet caught the sound of Jimbo’s footsteps on the wooden floor of the hall as he crossed from the kitchen to the stairs, and she hurriedly pulled the duvet right the way up to her chin and pretended to be asleep. On the other hand she couldn’t have fallen asleep in such a short space of time, so that trick wouldn’t work.
When he came in from the bathroom a few minutes later, she said, ‘Shut the door, Jimbo, please. Now tell me how long you’ve known about Chris and Fran.’
‘I found out quite by chance really. Remember that time about six weeks ago when I went to that committee meeting of the Rotary Club in the pub the other side of Culworth, when they wanted to ask me about having a big dinner party and entertainment afterwards at the Old Barn? Well, I saw Fran and Chris coming out of there. I was so surprised I hid in the gents until they had time to drive away.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because.’ Jimbo got into bed.
‘I said, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because I knew what your reaction would be, and while I was hiding in the gents I decided the more we opposed him the more her resolve would harden and that she’d never listen to common sense. But it’s gone on far longer than I’d anticipated, I imagined it would be short lived. You have to admit he is a very attractive man.’
Harriet studied his last sentence and admitted that she found Chris attractive too. ‘He is, but she isn’t his type. Too young, too inexperienced, she’s a child by comparison.’
Jimbo groaned. ‘I know that, but if we oppose her seeing him . . .’
They lay in bed side by side, each with their own thoughts. Finally it was Jimbo who broke the silence. ‘You’ll have to have a word with her.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. It’s a mother and daughter job, is this.’
‘Oh, is it? And what is her father going to do about it?
‘Best if I stay out of it, and then if things get really serious I’ll have to come in with the heavy guns. With him. Man to man.’
Despite her anger over the situation Harriet had to laugh. ‘Heavy guns! Chris Templeton would make mincemeat of you.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ Jimbo paused for a moment and then said, ‘I can’t think what he sees in her.’
‘The only thing I am grateful about is that Fran knows about contraception. I saw to that. And the school did too of course.’
‘That’s not quite the point though, is it? Him having his way with my daughter. Sounds old-fashioned, but I don’t like the man any better for it. Coming in here and pretending he barely knows who she is.’
Harriet remembered the day Alice’s baby was born and the flowers Chris bought, and the way he kissed Fran for making them into a respectable bouquet. ‘Kissing her as though he scarcely recognised her when all the time . . . That was deceitful and not half. He’s not nearly so pleasing as Johnny.’
‘You’re in the mood for crossing people off your visiting list, aren’t you? That’s three just tonight.’ Jimbo reached over to turn off the bedside light. ‘Merc and Ford Barclay, and now Chris.’
‘He’s taking advantage of her, that’s what I don’t like. I mean, what does a sophisticated wealthy man like him want with her? Only one thing. I’m going to tell her right now, in fact. I’ll go wake her and tell her. She needs to know.’
Harriet flung the duvet off, dropped her feet to the floor and was about to set off for Fran’s bedroom when Jimbo caught hold of her wrist. ‘Get back in bed and let’s have another think.’
‘I’m going. Let go.’
‘Please, Harriet, not now. Tomorrow. It’s her day off, do it then, not when you’re already furious. Talk to her when you’re calm. You could do more harm then good right now. Please.’
Some of the anger went out of Harriet at that moment. ‘Of course tomorrow would be more sensible.’ She got back into bed saying, ‘I’ll never sleep a wink all night. We’ve a right to be angry, haven’t we? Oh, Jimbo!’
‘Don’t worry, darling. She has to learn about life somehow, hasn’t she?’
‘But with him? You see, he knows at bottom it isn’t right. Otherwise he’d be more open with us about his feelings, wouldn’t he?’
Fran always stayed in bed at least until eleven or even twelve o’clock if her day off was during the week, and this was no exception. She lingered in the bath instead of showering and then she rolled downstairs just in time for her lunch.
‘Mum? Oh, there you are.’
‘Thought we’d have lunch here in the kitchen, because I need to work this afternoon and I’ve no time for sitting around. Big bowl of extra-nourishing home-made soup, with rolls, then cheese and biscuits and some lovely fresh fruit, all neatly chopped into a salad. Sound OK? Cream?’
‘Lovely. Thanks.’
Harriet didn’t mention their conversation last night, hoping Fran would do so first. And she did. ‘You know, Mum, Chris is lovely, really lovely. I wish you knew him better.’
‘Invite him here this weekend. Why not? There’s no one else here. The others aren’t coming home.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Sunday. For lunch. Is he vegetarian or anything?’
‘No, he’s easy to please.’
‘Is he?’
This loaded question halted Fran in her tracks. ‘Don’t pry.’
‘Can I say something, and then I won’t utter another word about him until he arrives on Sunday.’
Fran nodded.
‘To begin with, he’s too old for you, too adult, too experienced in the ways of the world, too smooth. But he is gloriously good-looking, I can’t deny that, no one can.’
‘He is, isn’t he? A perfectly splendid specimen of a man.’
‘But, Fran—’
‘I can’t help myself, Mum. He’s so interesting, such fun. Please like him for my sake. Please, Mum.’ Fran looked her mother straight in the eye, begging her approval; and Harriet found she couldn’t deny her daughter the pleasure of knowing her mother approved.
‘I’ll reserve my judgement until Sunday. If he remembers his manners and knows how to eat peas nicely I might begin to like him.’ Harriet grinned to ensure Fran knew she was joking.
Fran smiled her appreciation. ‘He’s done such fantastic things. He nearly got killed in an avalanche, you know.’
Harriet, ashamed of herself because at that moment she heartily wished he had, smiled. ‘He’s lived dangerously then.’
‘That’s what makes him so exciting. I wish I’d done dangerous things, I’ve done nothing at all really. Absolutely nothing.’
‘You could have gone to university, done some dangerous things there.’
‘Yes, but I’m doing what I want to do at the store.’
‘In that case you are very lucky. Loads of people your age haven’t even got a job, never mind one they like.’
‘You’ll like him, I know you will.’ Fran stared into the far distance, lost in her thoughts, and briefly Harriet envied her.
Then Fran said, ‘He’s just delicious.’
Harriet knew from the way she said ‘delicious’ that Fran had been far closer to Chris than she would have wished, and Harriet hated him for this. He wasn’t such a fool as not to know how inexperienced Fran was. She’d kill him with one of her own kitchen knives. She would. Ten years in prison would be a small price to pay. With her qualifications she’d inveigle herself into the prison kitchens, transform the food, write a recipe book and be thanked for her sterling work in the interests of the prison population. In fact they might even find there was a sudden desire on the part of the prison population to turn over a new leaf, entirely due to the improvement in their diet, and they’d all strive to become first-class citizens. She glanced at Fran and was tempted to let her in on the secret just for a joke, but decided no. Not right now.
‘Mum!’
‘Mmm?’
‘Chris isn’t keen on shellfish, or curries. Just thought I’d tell you.’
‘Right. Thanks. More fruit salad?’
‘No, thanks. I won’t be in tonight, by the way.’
‘OK. Going somewhere nice?’ But Harriet didn’t get an answer.
Sunday came round all too quickly, for both Harriet and Jimbo, and also for Fran who, although delighted that Chris was coming to lunch, had unexpectedly now got serious misgivings about it. She was sure it wasn’t, but could it possibly be a ploy on her mother’s part to let Chris know how much her parents disliked the idea of the two of them together? But he was wonderful, absolutely wonderful, and the idea of going to Brazil to live with him was monstrously tempting to someone like herself who’d led such a sheltered life. Chris had never said those exact words, but how else could they continue their relationship if she didn’t go back with him to Brazil? Chris had mentioned several times about ‘when he went back to Brazil’, as though getting her to warm to the idea. He did have a flat of his own, though he didn’t seem to spend much time in it because he was always talking about the meals he ate at his mother’s, and how his laundry was done by a maid who worked for his mother.
At twelve exactly the doorbell rang, the door opened and a voice called out, ‘It’s me, Chris Templeton, shall I come in?’
He looked completely and absolutely perfect. It was a winter’s day, but even so, the sun was shining brightly on his fair hair. He wore a kind of tweed suit that looked superb, a far cry from the ones Sir Ronald Bissett wore for Sheila’s sake. It was both very smart and casual at the same time, and Harriet and Jimbo knew for certain it would have cost the earth. Harriet liked his strong grip as they shook hands. Jimbo shook his hand too, but Fran got a discreet kiss on her cheek nearer her ear than her mouth, as though Chris was trying to impress on them that Fran and he were not intimate, although Harriet knew differently.
Jimbo, being the suave host that he was, wandered off with Chris to the drinks cabinet so he could choose what he would prefer. ‘Take your pick. Fran has gin with whatever, and so does Harriet.’
‘I’ll have whisky, neat, if that’s all right with you.’
Jimbo chose the same purposely. ‘Glenfiddich?’
‘Yes, please.’ Chris took an appreciative look around the dining room. ‘Lovely house you’ve got here. I’m slowly getting used to Johnny’s old house. We’ve nothing like it back in Brazil as you can imagine. The architecture is exactly right for Johnny though. Wonderful solid old woodwork. Frankly I’m more keen on the modern stuff, but there we are. It wasn’t me who inherited, so it’s all worked out for the best. I’m amazed that though he owns the house he can’t just tear it all out and modernise it. Still I suppose if you don’t have rules about what you can and can’t do with an ancient house, you wouldn’t have any old houses left. But would that be a bad thing, I ask?’
‘We like our old houses, and we don’t want to lose them.’
‘But we have to advance into the twenty-first century, and keeping the old perhaps means we allow ourselves to be held back.’
‘What’s wrong with being held back? The old houses are perfectly splendid and very comfortable to live in. The house Alice used to live in has an inglenook fireplace in the kitchen, and everyone naturally gravitates there.’
‘Like the one Johnny has in the hall?’
‘Exactly, but not as big of course. They have an inglenook fireplace in the pub; have you seen that?’
‘No, I can’t say I’ve noticed.’ Chris offered to carry the tray. ‘I’ve a good steady hand, even when I’m drunk.’
‘We’ll take the drinks into the sitting room, OK?’ Chris followed Jimbo, carefully balancing the tray so as not to spill anything on Harriet’s immaculate cream carpet.
‘How’s business? Given the current downturn?’ Chris asked. In the absence of Harriet and Fran they chatted about the store and the old barn, and the variety of events he held there until Harriet called out, ‘Lunch is ready.’
Harriet’s food immediately drew flattering remarks from their guest. Even Harriet felt it was nice of him to make such pleasing comments when she’d slaved in the kitchen to make it all as app
ealing as possible. But after a while his compliments ceased to ring true, and Harriet began to wish he would stop. His brother Johnny, who during his bachelor days had been a frequent guest at their table, genuinely complimented her food beautifully, but he didn’t overdo it. Where as Chris bordered on gushing with his compliments, as though she was the little woman who, for once rather surprisingly, had excelled herself.
Fran was very quiet and Chris almost entirely ignored her. After lunch Chris suggested a walk, an idea that Jimbo and Harriet declined, thinking Fran would enjoy a walk with him and that she certainly wouldn’t want both her parents with them. So the two of them went off in Chris’s sports car to a destination known only to themselves.
Jimbo gave Harriet some very useful help in the kitchen, and almost before they knew it they were seated in their favourite chairs, free to have a post-mortem of the lunch over coffee.
‘Well, I’m sorry, I may be biased, but he is a pain in the proverbial. Honestly, the way he complimented me about the food, it was insulting.’
‘I don’t think he meant it to be. It’s just his way.’
‘Do you like him?’
‘Not especially, no. Condescending, you know, about our business.’
‘Jimbo, it is small compared to theirs. Let’s be honest.’
‘It is, but we don’t half make a lot of money considering our size. You know, as a father, I don’t see what Fran sees in him.’
‘Neither do I. She’s dazzled by his good looks and his lifestyle. He is very attractive to a young woman like Fran.’
‘Can’t see it, but there you are. I’m not happy about it. He comes across as less than truthful.’
‘Can’t you have a word with Johnny? He’ll feel the same as us, I’m sure.’
‘I might.’
‘Not might. You must, Jimbo. For Fran’s sake. Before we know where we are she’ll be off to Brazil with him.’
‘All right, all right. I will then. But what the heck I’ll say I do not know.’
Village Fortunes (Turnham Malpas 17) Page 6
