Nine Ten Begin Again: A Grasshopper Lawns affair

by EJ Lamprey

  ‘He could have stayed. I shouldn’t have done that, I know you’re already twitchy. We need to get this sleeping together thing sorted out, see how that works. Especially if I’m coming down to Devon. Do you snore?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Do you?’

  ‘Absolutely not. Ask Odette. Where do I put my right arm? It’s in the way.’

  She laughed shakily. ‘Under the pillow, if you like, then I’m not resting my head directly on it. Or roll away. That’s the easiest. Anyone would think you’d never spent the night with someone before.’

  He fitted his arm under the pillow as she lifted her head. ‘Okay, that’s better. The advantage of a woman who has slept a lot with men is that she knows the ropes.’

  ‘Ouch, Donald. That was uncalled for. If anyone’s slept around it’s you.’

  ‘Don’t be so touchy, Miss Prim. I’ll reword it. You have spent a lot of time sleeping with a few very lucky men. Better? You’re right. I’ve never spent the whole night with anyone before. I couldn’t wait to get dressed and leave.’

  She half-turned in the curve of his body, surprised.

  ‘Never? It’s not very comfortable, to stay curled up all night. Back to back is nice, keeps the warmth and the contact, frees your arms. And you won’t get my hair in your face.’

  ‘What do you like? What did you do with Brian? And your husbands? I’m not jealous. Really. I would like to know. Sometime.’

  She was silent, slightly shocked, but despite his casual tone she didn’t think he’d found it easy to ask. They’d promised each other total honesty and he’d already delivered. She just hadn’t expected this.

  ‘Well—James and I had separate beds, because he was a restless sleeper and got up very early. And Brian, to be honest, I completely understand what you mean when you say you wanted to get up and go home. After a couple of broken nights that’s what I did, too. I’m used to sleeping alone.’ She went quiet and he said nothing, waiting. ‘Donald, I don’t talk about Alistair. Not to anyone, certainly not to another man.’

  ‘You told me once that he completed you, and that after he died you thought you would never feel whole again.’

  ‘Did I?’ She was genuinely taken aback.

  ‘We were outside Kirsty’s house. You were having a general weep and meltdown and still half drugged. I’m not surprised you don’t remember.’

  ‘I don’t remember telling you, but I do remember my meltdown. You were patiently dabbing at my face with that horrible chamois leather. My rescuing hero. How did I not know then?’

  She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. ‘Alistair and I did like to be touching. Not necessarily cuddling—silly things, like tangling our feet. It was a comfort thing.’

  She hesitated before continuing. ‘Comfort is the last thing that I feel with you. Since I heard your key in the door, I’ve been shaking. You ask what I like? I have no idea. You say I know the ropes, but I don’t know these ropes. I’m clueless. I was waiting for you to fall asleep so I could move away, because lying against you like this, I’m humming like a tuning fork. There’s no way I could sleep.’

  He sighed against her hair, ruffling it. ‘Then we’ll make our own ropes. But fair warning. I’m not leaving tonight.’

  ‘I know. Too cold.’

  ‘Too cold,’ he agreed and she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Back to back sounds good. When this gets uncomfortable.’

  ‘Mmm.’ She turned back onto her side and rubbed her cheek on the pillow over his arm. ‘It will, pretty soon. I can’t believe you’ve never spent the night with anyone. I won’t be surprised to wake up and find you gone—although if you stick around, there’s a way of waking up that you might enjoy.’

  He laughed in his throat. ‘I believe I would. I enjoy you very much. Now I’m worried, though. Who are you, and where’s Edge, who won’t even talk before her morning coffee?’

  ‘Oh, there’s no talking.’ She smiled into her pillow as the thrumming gentled, became a warm anticipation. ‘Are you sure you’re not just humouring me?’

  ‘No, you really are my first overnighter. A morning fuck sounds a great idea.’

  She frowned into the darkness. ‘Donald, no. Why did you have to say that?’

  ‘Oh, come on, don’t get missish with me. Your own characters don’t ‘make love’. They call a spade a spade.’ There was the slightest jeering note in his voice and she moved restlessly, shifting slightly away from him.

  ‘It’s a word that can be used, can be said, in a lot of different ways. When you told me about the women in your past, you said it with contempt. I don’t want that contempt applied to me, ever.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be.’ He was impatient. ‘With you it’s different, it’s breathless and laughing, and exciting as hell. But more to the point, I drove through the night to be with you, not because I only want to shag you. That was your idea.’ He pushed up onto his elbow and leaned over her, his free hand brushing away her tumbled hair and the trace of annoyance in his voice was gone when he went on, ‘I don’t know what we are, but there’s no contempt in it. You tell me. You’re the one for relationships. What are we?’

  She thought about it. ‘Best friends. Lovers. Lucky.’

  He was silent for a moment, then cupped her cheek in the gesture that was already becoming familiar, his thumb feather light on her lips. ‘So, no swearies. Got it. Is wake up sex back on the cards?’

  ‘Oh, Donald, you idiot.’ She laughed a bit breathlessly. ‘Yes, please.’

  He lay back and the smile was back in his voice. ‘Roll away and get your sleep, Miss Prim. I’ll be here. Wake me any way you like, in the morning.’

  Chapter 6 – Saturday November 16th

  The new groundskeeper

  She glanced up from her newspaper to find him watching her, his lean face weary still from the long overnight drive but his eyes clear and very blue, his expression patient. ‘What?’

  ‘Drink your coffee. I want to talk.’

  ‘Talk, then.’

  ‘Edge.’ He spoke slowly, as though to a child, a hint of a smile on his mouth. ‘I’ve had my coffee. Drink yours. I’m going for a second cup.’

  She drank obediently, watching him walk away. How many times had they had breakfast together before? She smiled, and took a second long draught. Everything else had changed. But she did rather hope that their peaceful breakfasts didn’t.

  She’d finished her coffee by the time he returned with two fresh cups, and he quirked a brow at her. ‘Better. You really are horrible at breakfast. I can’t think why I missed you.’

  ‘I love you too. And you’re smug because you’re a cup ahead of me. So what are we going to talk about?’

  ‘Did you tell Black-Brown-Black yet that you’re planning to invest in the show?’

  ‘No, not yet.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘I thought I’d wait until I was sure I was going ahead. Why?’

  ‘Because now I’m coming down with you, I’ve got two choices. Hang around our hotel bedroom like your personal dresser and greying sex toy, or attend at least some of the meetings as an investor. It occurred to me you could then do your planning with the potential funds in place, without personally being committed to putting them up. Might make it easier.’

  She thought about it, and nodded. ‘Yes, it would. Once I say I’m thinking of investing, there’d be a strain until I say yay or nay. If they think it’s you, no strain. That’s a really good idea, and it gets you out of the hotel bedroom. Because, of course, there’s nothing to do in Devon. The Devon authorities will lynch you if they hear you, you know.’

  ‘My dearest love, if you think I’m going surfing in November, you need another cup of coffee. And there’s not a lot else, not in that part.’

  She went slightly pink. ‘That’s a nicer name than Miss Prim.’

  ‘Ken.’ His eyes crinkled. ‘I thought I’d try it, see if I can bend you to my will when I do. I’ll be using it a lot if it works.’

  She chuckled into her cup,
then glanced up smiling as Clarissa came slightly hesitantly over to the table.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, but Edge, Vivian says you’re going away for two weeks so I think I’ll have left for Australia before you get back. You’d offered to take Maggie while I was away? I wanted to let you know Horace has asked to take her, and I said yes, if it was okay with you. When do you go?’

  ‘Oh, she’ll enjoy that. He walks for miles! Actually, Donald’s coming too, for a few days at least. I haven’t booked my flight yet. I was planning to fly down Monday week.’

  Donald shook his head. ‘We should drive down Sunday, then we’ve got the car with us for the evenings. I don’t want to be trying to book my return flight at short notice in the whole pre-Christmas rush, or, heaven forbid, end up stuck at the airport by bad weather. Also if we’ve got the car, we can take Odette. I don’t trust that Bateman woman not to switch off the kennel heating again.’

  ‘You could leave Odette with me, if you’ll be back before the end of November,’ Clarissa said wistfully and Donald smiled at her.

  ‘She’d never forgive me. Maggie may have mellowed now but Odette’s not completely forgiven or forgotten. I’m away for exercise class, I’ll see you both later?’ and he was gone.

  Clarissa sank into his chair and puffed out her cheeks.

  ‘That smile, Edge. How did you ever resist? And I’m not going to say I told you so. I’m waiting for you to tell me that I told you so.’

  ‘You told me so. Repeatedly. And I didn’t believe you, and you were right. I can’t face an exercise class this morning, but I was planning to find Vivian and join her for Buster’s walk. Have you already walked Maggie?’

  ‘Maggie’s in one of the runs waiting. I’d already arranged to meet Vivian, so that would be lovely. You do look a tiny bit tired—bad night?’

  Edge’s mouth curved and she shook her head mischievously, making Clarissa gasp with laughter. They put their trays away and walked through the hall, reaching the door as a heavily-built man in his early forties with patent leather hair, a five o’clock shadow and a general air of swarthy dissolution, swaggered through it.

  ‘Ladies!’ He birled smartly to hold the door open for them and raked them both with rather unexpectedly hot eyes.

  ‘Thank you.’ Edge followed Clarissa through, and glanced back as they walked down the stairs. He was watching them, and lifted his heavy lip to show his teeth when he saw Edge look back. She hurriedly looked forward again. ‘Who is that?’

  Clarissa’s lips were a thin line. ‘Thomas Morrison. The new groundskeeper and maintenance manager. Or will be, when Joey retires.’

  ‘Ew. He’s a bit smarmy. This isn’t Jemima’s doing, is it?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Katryn’s watching for anything like that now, isn’t she? I think Joey recommended him for the post. I can’t stand him. I came through from my conservatory to find him actually in my kitchen yesterday. Thank heavens for Maggie. He kicked her but she still chased him out the bungalow. He’s horrible.’

  ‘Good for Maggie. That must be the first time she’s gone for anyone since her accident. I wouldn’t want him in my place, either, not if I were alone. I can’t imagine anyone less like Joey, but if he recommended him he must have some good points. Definitely not a good first impression!’

  ***

  Maggie, who had briefly lived with Edge in the spring, greeted her with enthusiasm, even rearing up on her stubby hind legs to plant her heavy front paws on Edge’s woollen slacks to beam up at her. She was a bulldog cross, with formidable jaws, and Edge, rubbing her ears affectionately, smiled at the thought of the new maintenance man being chased off with those alarming teeth snapping at his heels. Buster, an aging black Labrador, pushed in for his share of attention and she brushed off her tartan slacks ruefully when they finally stopped jostling at each other.

  ‘Scotland needs a tartan in all shades of dog hair, with a fetching muddy paw-print pattern for winter wear. We should design it, we’d make a fortune. Vivian, Clarissa was telling me Maggie chased the new guy out of her bungalow. What does Buster think of him?’

  ‘Buster can’t be doing with him,’ Vivian said emphatically. ‘Neither can I. He called me Doll three times when he was driving us through to the library. I sat in the back with Horace for the return trip, and I’m simply not prepared to live like that, with a choice of being called Doll or having Horace accidentally fall against me every time the minibus goes round the slightest bend in the road.’

  Edge looked surprised. ‘Doll isn’t the worst name in the world, not when the alternative is having a series of Horace gropes.’

  ‘Six and two threes, believe me. It isn’t only the Doll thing, but he permanently looks—how can I put this politely? Leering seems to be his default expression, and he glistens with sweat. At least Horace is a straightforward letch.’

  Clarissa laughed out loud. ‘Vivian, thank heavens you kept it polite.’

  Edge shook her head. ‘All very well saying Joey recommended him but if none of us like him, and Buster has never been wrong yet about anyone, I don’t think we have to accept him, do we? Has anyone spoken to Katryn about him? I would have thought her a good judge of people.’

  ‘I think we should. Joey was always going to be a hard act to follow but this sleaze-ball wouldn’t cut it at any level. Speak to her on Monday, Edge. He’s also, by the way, the spitting image of a fairly foul loans and investments broker at Saltire Standard. I finally refused to deal with him and moved my accounts. Very dodgy indeed.’

  ‘And were you right, Miss Marple?’

  ‘Well,’ Vivian admitted slightly reluctantly, ‘I never heard anything about him being sacked. I did know I didn’t want him anywhere near my investments, so I switched banks rather than make a fuss. My previous broker phoned to ask why, and I said I hadn’t taken to Si—even his name, good grief, rhyming with slimy—and she was astonished. Said he was the most charming and delightful man on the team and customers loved him. I congratulated her on such an asset and rang off. Why do people do that? You say you don’t like someone, and instead of tactfully agreeing and, in her case, offering to take back my accounts personally, they tell you that you’re wrong? When did the customer stop being right? Anyway, I’m very happy with the service I get now so it was all for the best. Are you working today, or would you like to come shopping with us? Clarissa said she’d take me through to the Gyle to do some Christmas shopping, and I still have to get something for Donald’s birthday on Wednesday. Any ideas?’

  ‘You could try something in leather?’ Edge grinned sideways at her. ‘I am working. I’m not as bad as William but if I don’t do at least two hours every day I waste half the next day getting back into it. I found the most divine double-sided leather dressing-gown I’m thinking of getting Donald—suede one side, plonge leather the other—but it costs a fortune. I don’t mind that, but I did wonder if it was a bit over the top. I’d rather not spend all that and he wears it to be polite, and hates it.’

  ‘What does he wear now?’ Clarissa asked with interest, then coloured when both women laughed at her and said with dignity, ‘Okay, that sounded a bit groupie. But the question itself is valid.’

  ‘Well, down girl, but there’s a heavy silk job behind his bathroom door. Dark red, very Noel Coward Private Lives. I’ve not seen him wear it, though.’

  ‘Did you find the leather one on-line?’ Vivian asked with interest and Edge nodded. ‘Show me. I don’t honestly think you can go over the top with Donald and leather. Maybe I can get away with Imperial Leather aftershave. By the way, have you told Patrick about you and Donald?’

  ‘Not yet, I’ve hardly had time.’ Edge looked surprised, and Vivian chuckled.

  ‘Considering he controls all your finances, he may report your account hijacked if a very expensive man’s dressing gown appears on the statement, don’t you think?’

  ‘Damn.’ Edge coloured. ‘I don’t have time to send a cheque, the shop is in London. Can you buy it for me, and I’
ll transfer the money to you from my ISA? I don’t mind telling Patrick about us, but it’s faintly embarrassing to have to add, “oh and by the way, I just bought him a thousand pound dressing gown”. It never occurred to me. I’m glad you said it, I tend to forget that my entire financial life is an open book.’

  ‘Oh, there’s always ways round that,’ Vivian said comfortably. ‘You’re lucky with Patrick, he takes a personal interest. It’ll be interesting to see if my auditors query me suddenly buying a man’s dressing-gown, though—there’s my reputation down the drain if they notice.’ She seemed amused at the thought. ‘Perhaps I should buy William one at the same time. Completely boggle their minds?’

  Jemima looking for details

  Edge opened the door on the third knock, her silk dressing-gown wrapped around her, and was instantly annoyed by the bland way Jemima Bateman looked her up and down.

  ‘Is this a bad time, Mrs Cameron?’

  ‘I was occupied. What on earth was so urgent that you carried on chapping on the door, Jemima?’

  ‘I’m sorry to wake you, I’m sure. Are you ill?’ Her face was expressionless, and Edge felt the same surge of irritated dislike the younger woman always seemed to rouse in her.

  ‘Jemima, did you knock to play twenty questions?’

  ‘No. I’ve been checking up on Hamish Kirby’s rather badly maintained records and you’re one of the people whose file hasn’t been updated. He’s made no record of your bank details, we don’t have them on file.’

  Edge looked astonished. ‘No, you wouldn’t. All my finances are through Patrick, and he pays the rent on the apartment direct.’

  ‘But you must have bank details?’

  ‘Of course I do. I can’t see they would be any business of yours.’

  ‘The Trust keeps financial records for all the residents, or is supposed to. Hamish let these records slip very badly, so I’m bringing everything up to the standard it should be.’

  ‘Jemima, Hamish did an excellent job, and we’re all looking forward to him coming back to continue doing an excellent job. My bank details are none of the Trust’s business, and I wouldn’t have answered the door if you hadn’t kept knocking, which implied it was something urgent, which this is not. So unless there really is something urgent, I’m going back to what I was doing when I was so rudely interrupted.’