by Maeve Haran
Laura found that tears were coursing down her face. Would she ever be cooking for cheerful family gatherings again?
The casserole seemed a symbol of her marriage. Interesting once, exciting even, but now old-fashioned and discarded. Who cooked a carbonnade now?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill chimes of the doorbell.
‘Shall I go?’ enquired Mrs Lal.
‘No, it’s fine.’ Laura smiled as she opened the door to find Calum standing on the doorstep with a large bunch of pink hydrangeas in his arms. It was a flower she particularly disliked.
‘Hello, stranger,’ Laura replied sardonically. ‘What brings you here after all this time?’ She didn’t ask him in. She noticed for the first time that his hair was expensively cut in that style ageing men adopt because they think it makes them look younger. And were those highlights?
‘Laura, I . . .’ He tailed off miserably.
‘You’re going back to your wife,’ Laura completed his sentence for him.
Calum looked at her as if she had the miraculous powers of a seer or early Christian saint.
‘How did you know? We’ve only just decided ourselves.’
‘Oh well,’ Laura replied, without looking behind her at Mrs Lal, ‘someone with a lot of experience of marriage warned me that was what you were likely to do.’
‘I see. Well, good luck, Laura. You deserve it. You’re a very nice woman.’
‘So everyone tells me,’ Laura replied crisply. ‘I hope you’re both very happy.’ She paused tellingly. ‘This time.’
And she shut the door before he’d had the chance to say any more.
For a moment Laura wished she could rush upstairs and not face the ‘I told you so’ expression her guest would undoubtedly be exhibiting.
But Mrs Lal’s smile was all innocence. ‘Come and sit down, Mrs Minchin. We have both worked very hard.’ She pointed at the wall of boxes and black bin liners. ‘As a matter of fact, I purchased a bottle of Dom Perignon from your corner shop. I think this is the time for us to open it.’
Laura looked at her in amazement. Mrs Lal must have concealed it in the fridge under the spring greens and the pitta bread. And to think the corner shop sold Dom Perignon! They must be over the moon.
The pop of the bottle opening was infinitely reassuring. Mrs Lal poured it into two champagne flutes.
‘To the future. And do not concern yourself further. I will find you a man who is worthy of your kind and loving nature!’
They clinked glasses.
‘As a matter of fact, Mrs Lal,’ Laura stated, sipping her Dom Perignon, ‘I wouldn’t mind if I never encountered a member of the male sex ever again. Apart from my son, that is.’
The reality came to her that when she moved out her unexpected guest would have to move too. ‘What are your immediate plans, Mrs Lal?’
Mrs Lal beamed. ‘Your kind son has found me a temporary apartment to rent in Kensington.’ Laura smiled indulgently. To think she’d never thought of that herself. She had two wonderful children.
As they would soon be parting, Laura finally dared the question that had often occurred to her. She paused.
‘Yes?’ said Mrs Lal, reading her mind. ‘You are thinking if I am such a famous lady in India, why am I not going back there? Do I just want to stay in order to torture my son-in-law?’
Laura almost blushed.
‘The truth is, Mrs Minchin, I did not leave my husband. My husband left me. Me, the celebrated matchmaker who appears on TV and in gossip columns! You can imagine how humiliating it would be if that got out!’ Her voice rose in indignation at such treachery. ‘So I decided to come here and start again.’
Laura, touched that her terrifying guest had trusted her with this delicate revelation, raised her glass. ‘To both our new beginnings!’
Claudia stood discreetly behind a herbaceous border at Igden Manor and studied the rough plans her son-in-law Douglas had drawn for her. To her utter amazement Rose McGill was quite keen! That magician Lou Maynard had brought her here for lunch and the chef had apparently done the rest. Rose had even asked if the chef was going to be staying on, a thought that filled Claudia with sudden panic. Sal, too, was considering joining them, since Lou was so keen. Claudia suspected Sal had hoped for the bright lights of Brooklyn, but Lou seemed to have been seduced by Surrey.
Suddenly her crazy dream was becoming a reality. Now Laura was coming to stay and Claudia could try and win her over to life in Little Minsley. The only one still needing to be persuaded was Ella.
And her parents. And Don.
She put away the plans, grateful that at least it was a lovely time of year and the countryside was looking its best.
Laura arrived the next day in a large self-drive van. Claudia had expected her to be in pieces at having to leave her beloved home but Laura was surprisingly jaunty.
She even negotiated the narrow space between the gateposts into Claudia’s drive as if she were a Formula One driver judging a difficult gap between two rivals.
Don, who had hoped to direct her, looked stunned.
‘I was just thinking that for once I didn’t have Simon with me to tell me what a bad driver I am,’ Laura announced. ‘Shall I leave everything in the van for now or would you rather I started decanting?’
‘Lunch first,’ insisted Don, who had just got a nice bottle of Burgundy, which he wasn’t normally allowed at lunchtime, out of the garage in her honour. The fact that Laura’s stuff, now much reduced with Mrs Lal’s help, was all going in there had been a source of some irritation to him, since it served as his unofficial wine cellar.
‘You never leave anything in there long enough to need a wine cellar anyway,’ had been Claudia’s acid reply. Fortunately Don liked Laura the best of all the Coven. She was pretty and feminine and didn’t seem to hold a universal grudge against men despite that shit Simon’s treatment of her.
He liked her even more when she produced a bottle of single malt for him and a ripe Brie that would be perfect with the Burgundy. Cheese was another thing Claudia didn’t really approve of and never bought except on special occasions.
She handed the bunch of hydrangeas to Claudia. ‘Just for now. I’ll buy you some proper flowers next time we’re out.’
‘Thank you,’ Claudia smiled, not pointing out that the front garden was full of pink hydrangeas which she loathed and was always too lazy to get round to replacing. ‘They’re lovely.’
‘No they’re not. Calum brought them round as compensation for telling me he’s going back to his wife.’
‘Oh Laura! He seemed so nice!’
‘Especially that time he took a swing at Simon,’ endorsed Don, remembering the time Simon had dared to turn up at their daughter’s wedding just after dumping Laura.
But secretly Claudia was delighted. Laura was far more likely to join her scheme without the encumbrance of a man.
‘Lunch,’ announced Claudia and led her friend through the house to a shady table in the back garden.
‘So how’s it all going with Twilight Towers?’ Laura asked gaily after her second glass of wine.
‘Surprisingly well. I mean, I’m not saying it’s happening . . .’
‘Thank God,’ muttered Don mutinously.
‘There’s my parents to sort out. And the money. And a proper working agreement.’
‘And a way of me staying here,’ Don added.
Claudia ignored him. ‘Actually, I’m finding it all a bit much,’ she confessed. ‘I’m big on ideas, but organizing’s never been my forte.’
‘A fine time to realize that when you’ve started this bloody thing going,’ snapped Don.
‘I know!’ Laura smiled at them both, delighted at her inspiration. ‘You need Bella!’
‘What, your daughter Bella? Bella the goth with spider tattoos all over her hands?’ Don demanded.
‘Bella is brilliant. She’s even living down here. Nigel’s teaching at some posh private school. I’m sure she’d help you – especi
ally if there’s a chance of cheap accommodation. Didn’t you say you wanted all ages, not just a bunch of wrinklies?’
‘I think I’m going down to the pub.’ Don stood up. With Laura here, Claudia would probably want to have a heart-to-heart about what shits men were. ‘Your dad and Hiro will probably be there.’
‘Make sure you don’t get too pissed to help empty the van,’ Claudia commented.
‘Who the hell’s Hiro?’ asked Laura.
Claudia giggled. ‘You’ll meet him soon. Everyone loves Hiro.’
Laura raised a sceptical eyebrow. She hoped Claudia wasn’t trying to fix her up with this Hiro just because Calum had gone back to his wife.
Two days later Bella arrived with baby Noah slung round her neck in one of her colourful slings to discuss the idea of getting involved at the manor. The spiders’ web tattoos were still with her, but she had started to abandon her Hammer House of Horror outfits and wear colours. Maybe, Laura thought with a smile, it was because the slings looked better against colour and Bella knew she was her own best advert.
‘Hi, Mum. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you with the big move. How was it?’
The tender concern in Bella’s voice almost made Laura cry. She might have failed at marriage but she’d produced these amazing children. ‘Not as bad as I expected. Mrs Lal helped me.’
Bella looked at her in surprise. ‘I thought she was supposed to be Kali the goddess of vengeance who eats men, or possibly sons-in-law, for breakfast!’
‘I’m not a man or son-in-law. She was actually very helpful.’ Laura grinned. ‘Apart from her threat to fix me up with a partner worthy of me.’ She saw Claudia’s quizzical look. ‘Mrs Lal is a famous matchmaker back home in India.’
‘Right. Now, what is it that you think I can help with?’ Bella asked. Laura had explained about the cheap rent for Bella and Nigel if it all came off.
Claudia got out the plans and outlined to Bella exactly how far they’d got with the scheme.
Bella pulled out her iPad. ‘The first thing I’d do is find out what kind of accommodation everyone needs. Will the cottages be big enough or do you need to convert any of the outlying buildings? Plus how will you use the main hotel and also the coach house? And of course you’ll have to work out how much everyone can pay and get them all together so you can discuss how it’ll all work.’
‘Bella, you’re a genius!’
‘Not really. I’m hoping to start my own business so I’m having to get down to basics myself.’
With a sigh of relief, Claudia gave Bella her son-in-law Douglas’s details and suggested she talk straight to him.
There was now absolutely no excuse, Claudia concluded, not to try and persuade her mother that living at Igden Manor was just what she and her father needed.
Claudia could hear Mrs O’Brien’s strident tones – apparently pointing out the many shortcomings of Mr O’Brien – as soon as she went through the garden gate. But once she opened the door of the kitchen Claudia sensed a subtle change of atmosphere. Her mother was not sitting opposite the carer at the kitchen table entering into the spirit of the discussion but busying herself with unnecessary tidying of the already immaculately tidy spice shelf. When Claudia arrived she looked round and smiled.
Ah-ha, thought Claudia, Ma is getting bored with Mrs O’Brien’s overpowering personality. No doubt her mother felt there was only room for one overpowering personality – and that was her own.
‘So where do you imagine your father and I would live in this wild scheme of yours?’ Olivia enquired irritably.
This was more promising than Claudia had expected.
‘Igden Manor is a lovely place as you know, more like a medieval hamlet than a hotel, and Gaby’s husband Douglas has been doing some terrific plans, rough at the moment admittedly. I rather thought you and Dad might like to be in the main building. The rooms are lovely there and of course there’s already a lift.’
‘For when we’re too gaga to even walk?’ Olivia sniffed.
‘Do you think you’d like to live in a hotel after having your own lovely home?’ enquired Mrs O’Brien maliciously.
‘It won’t be a hotel,’ corrected Claudia acidly. ‘We’ll be converting it into luxury accommodation suited to everyone.’
‘And will the planners let you?’ Mrs O’Brien asked innocently. ‘They wouldn’t even let my daughter put up a garage.’
‘The buildings aren’t listed and in a situation like this, where we will be providing our own social care, they may well,’ snapped Claudia.
‘Funny kind of a care home,’ commented the woman.
‘It isn’t intended to be a care home.’ Claudia tried to keep her temper. ‘More an experiment in growing old differently.’
‘I’m not sure I’d want to be part of an experiment, like a lot of those poor rats in laboratories. It’s terrible what they do to them.’
Claudia was about to respond when her mother cut in. ‘You’re perfectly entitled to your view, Mrs O’Brien, but possibly you should keep it to yourself. I think you’ll find the dishwasher needs unloading. As a matter of fact,’ Olivia addressed her daughter frostily, ‘I don’t care where I live as long as it’s not with that damn robot!’
Claudia took herself discreetly off to the shed.
She stopped on the threshold, listening. Her father never bothered with anything but sports channels, and at this time of year the cricket. Instead the soothing notes of Vaughan Williams filled the entire shed.
‘Hello, Dad.’ She put her arms round Len and kissed the top of his head. ‘Is that “The Lark Ascending”?’
‘“Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis.” Lovely, isn’t it?’
‘I didn’t know you were into classical music.’
‘Hiro’s trying to educate me. We’ve been listening to Debussy and Elgar.’
Claudia glanced in amazement at the white manikin with the huge blue painted eyes. He actually seemed to be smiling. It ought to be creepy, but somehow it was sweet instead.
‘Poor Hiro. He loves Madame Butterfly, but being Japanese, it makes him cry.’
‘Time for your blood pressure tablets, Leonard,’ pointed out Hiro.
Len meekly accepted the pills.
Without meaning to, Claudia sniffed the air. It smelt sweet in that artificial fabric-conditioner sort of way.
Len saw the gesture and laughed. ‘Hiro’s obsessed with air freshener. Better than shit, I suppose, which reminds me, Hiro. Time for the toilet before we go to the pub.’ He disappeared into the outdoor privy which had been there ever since Claudia was a child.
The little robot seemed to feel the need to make polite conversation. ‘Why did the traffic light turn red?’ he enquired suddenly.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Claudia, taken aback.
‘Because it had to change in the middle of the street.’
Claudia collapsed with laughter, partly because it was sweet and funny but mostly due to the bizarre experience of being told a joke by a robot.
‘Right.’ Len reappeared. ‘Are you ready, Hiro?’
‘Yes, I am, Leonard, ready when you are,’ was the solemn reply. As he opened the door with his articulated metal hand, Hiro turned to Claudia. ‘Happy to meet you again, Claudia. I hope that your dreams come true.’
Claudia stood watching them make their bumpy way down the front path, her father with his stick, Hiro on his silent wheels, and felt a lump rising in her throat.
Her father had made a genuine friend. And her all-powerful mother had no idea what to do about it.
Fourteen
Claudia couldn’t believe the impact having Bella involved was having.
It was as if a touchpaper had been lit under her mad scheme which would result in the whole thing actually happening.
Bella, with Noah slung round her neck in one of his colourful slings, had busily been drawing up lists of the practicalities. The key thing was how they would get the money together. Something Claudia herself realized she’d
been avoiding. Could the accommodation work and what planning permission would be needed? And the biggest question of all: who was actually ready to sign up?
As if that weren’t enough, Bella had rounded up a couple of young lads and emptied the hired van of all Laura’s furniture which was now neatly stacked in Claudia’s garage. She was a marvel. Someone really ought to give her a country to run.
And today – Claudia could hardly believe it – Bella had organized everyone to come and discuss it all in Claudia’s sunny kitchen.
‘Mum, could you take Noah?’ Bella handed the baby over to his beaming grandmother as she put out coffee cups and a big pile of croissants from the bakery in the village.
Somehow Bella had managed to persuade Olivia and Len, Claudia’s mother and father, Sal and Lou Maynard, who had brought Rose McGill from her convalescent home, plus a rather sulky and unconvinced Don, as well as Claudia herself and their son-in-law Douglas with a sheaf of plans.
‘Douglas and I have been looking at Igden Manor in a lot of detail,’ Bella began. ‘Sneaking round in the undergrowth. I think the chef thinks we’re having outdoor assignations.’ She grinned mischievously at Douglas. ‘Anyway, Douglas is the architect, so over to you.’
‘I’d like you all to take a look at this.’ He indicated his sketches which were propped up on Claudia’s cookbook stand in the middle of the table. ‘We’re lucky for two reasons. Although the hotel and the cottages look old, they’re actually entirely fake and aren’t listed. Secondly, all the cottages are joined together in a three-sided arrangement with the main building in the middle, rather like a medieval monastery. That makes it a lot easier to knock down internal walls and create accommodation of differing sizes, depending on what you need, without radically altering the look of the place. You could actually create one-, two- or even three-bedroom houses.’
‘But can you do that? Will the planners let you?’ asked Don.
Claudia noted that he was using the word ‘you’ rather than ‘we’.
‘And more to the point,’ Rose put in pithily, ‘can we find out before we commit our cash to the scheme?’
‘As I understand it’ – Lou looked at Douglas for confirmation – ‘the planners in this country will sometimes give you an opinion in advance?’
