‘I’m longing to catch up on everything you’ve been up to. It’s ages since we’ve seen each other - at least five years, isn’t it?’ she said, once we were settled down to her satisfaction. ‘I don’t even know if you’re married. You aren’t, are you?’
I shook my head, wondering if she’d come down for a probing session on how well I’d known Robert. But I needn’t have worried; he seemed to have been as offhand about me as I’d been about him and she appeared to think he was merely a casual university acquaintance. Obviously he wasn’t one of the subjects I’d touched on during indiscretion sessions at the flat. I blessed my previously unknown talent for keeping my mouth closed, since it seemed to me that Venetia deserved being likened to an elephant far more than I did. Not for figure reasons of course, but for her memory which was truly prodigious. I had forgotten the details about my encounter with the drunk who was visiting the lady of the night opposite and the imaginative proposition he made me, but she hadn’t. I’d rather not have had that particular story aired in front of Charlie and Phil, who began to regard me with an entirely new look in their eyes. Those two gentlemen, drawn like moths to a lamp by the amount of Venetia on display, had decided that they too were having too much sun and had pulled up chairs under the umbrella. They were showing none of the usual disdain that men have for female gossip sessions. I suppose they were also hoping to hear another story of the type usually only told in hushed voices in the safety of the ladies’ loos. Much to their pleasure, Venetia didn’t appear to be in any hurry to get back to the château. Robert was still in bed and I got the feeling she was afraid she might be pressganged into performing domestic tasks if she was seen hanging around up there with nothing obvious to do. Or she might have been worried about getting an earful from Janey for not closing the gate properly.
We had an exhaustive update on everyone we knew in common - and on quite a few we didn’t - but who Venetia thought I’d be interested in hearing about. I was, about some of them, anyway. We then moved on to her working life, which seemed to have been as varied as the places she’d lived in, including stints at several firms where she was the decorative element on the front desk, and a short spell as an estate agent, although as the weekend shifts interfered with going away for house-parties she chucked it in after a few weeks. Sadly, she had much the same problem in her next job as a greeter in a fashionable new restaurant: the management was unreasonable about allowing her evenings off. She’d joined up with a friend selling luxury yachts on commission until she belatedly realised that her friend was implying to prospective clients that if they were prepared to shell out several million on a floating gin palace they might well find Venetia came with the fixtures and fittings. Venetia had been quite amused, and I gathered prepared to at least take a preparatory look at the buyer before she definitely said, ‘No,’ (there was a lot of commission at stake), until her friend almost made a sale - to a woman.
She was currently working with another friend who had just opened a shop in Soho selling expensive costume jewellery. It was the sort of place where having a mere gold card puts you firmly at the back of the queue to be served, but it didn’t seem as if the working hours were too onerous since she had already been staying with Tom and Janey for a week, and was thinking of drifting off to Cannes for a few days sometime near the end of the month, and maybe going to Italy afterwards.
‘Is Robert going with you to Cannes?’ I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. The men appeared to be fascinated by the effect on her brief shirt which looked to be so insecurely tied that it might burst asunder at any moment. It would have been mean to inform them that she was undoubtedly wearing a sturdy sports bra underneath, rather than the wisp of satin and lace they were probably fantasising about.
‘Good heavens, no!’ she said in a sulky voice. ‘I was lucky to get him to agree to spend even a few days down here. He’s a positive workaholic.’ He was? He must really have changed. ‘He says he’ll have to leave tomorrow or the day after.’ That was a relief, then the others wouldn’t have to wait too long for dinner at the château. ‘He doesn’t like to be away from the gallery for too long. I can’t see why not. He’s got a partner and an assistant, and it’s not as if he was doing something in the City which means he misses out on loads of commission if he’s away from his desk.’
‘Maybe he doesn’t like to be away from it for too long,’ Charlie said mildly. ‘Owning your own business tends to take you that way.’
‘But it isn’t much fun for me,’ she protested. ‘I’d like to be able to go out with him a bit more.’
Phil looked perfectly prepared to jump into the breach and help her occupy any spare time she might have. ‘But perhaps once he’s gone we could all get together for a day out somewhere,’ she suggested. Phil nodded enthusiastically, and she looked around. ‘Where’s everyone else? Surely they aren’t still in bed?’
‘You must be kidding. No one got a chance to lie in this morning,’ Phil grunted and filled Venetia in on the morning’s dramas.
Much to my annoyance she seemed to take the view that I had been grossly careless, in which precise way was left unstated. I had to resist a strong impulse to stamp my foot and say, ‘You can jolly well go and get your own croissants in future, so there!’ They were probably going to anyway. Maggie had been muttering about the necessity of making up a proper rota for all the chores; it was just too chaotic leaving everything to whoever felt like doing it, and I sensed I wasn’t going to be allowed to have anything so responsible as croissant-fetching duty for some time, though I’d probably get plenty of putting out the rubbish.
‘I’m surprised you didn’t meet Jed as you came down here,’ said Charlie. ‘He left to walk up to the château about five minutes before you turned up. Said something about Janey promising to show him around the local town before he goes off to interview some eminent writer who spends his summers in a farmhouse near here.’
‘There won’t be much to show on a Monday morning. Nearly everything is shut,’ Venetia retorted. Oh dear, that wasn’t going to please the shopping-party. She sniffed slightly. ‘Honestly, it’s a good thing my father isn’t the jealous type. Most husbands wouldn’t be too thrilled about their wife giving an old flame a private guided tour of the countryside like that.’
‘Is Jed an old flame?’ I asked. ‘He doesn’t seem like one.’
‘Anybody with eyes can see he and Janey have got a history,’ she said in a pitying tone. ‘Haven’t you seen the way he looks at her?’ Actually, after an hour of listening to Jed last night I’d got the impression the thing he looked at most was his reflection in the mirror; so when was he going to find the time to look at anyone else? ‘And you might wonder why Jed’s been parked down here out of the way too.’
We stared at her in faint surprise, then Charlie chuckled. ‘I’m sure that if Janey was planning something clandestine with Jed she’d be able to find a slightly more discreet location than a sofa bed in full view of six paying guests!’ To do Venetia credit, she laughed at having her guns so thoroughly spiked, though with a slight delay, and she swiftly moved the conversation onto another topic. A few minutes later she looked at her watch and announced that she ought to be getting back. ‘I’ll walk a little of the way with you,’ I said, reminded by the super-fit being alongside me that maybe it was time I stopped using my recent illness as an excuse for taking it easy.
We strolled up to the avenue of chestnut trees chatting companionably about various topics, most of them including Venetia, until a chance remark of hers prompted me to ask ultra-casually, ‘So how long have you and Robert been going out?’
She pushed her glasses up her nose and asked sweetly, ‘Digging for information, Nella?’
I shrugged. ‘Of course! Wouldn’t you, if you discovered I’d become an item with someone you used to know ages ago?’
She nodded, showing no interest in finding out exactly how I’d known Robert or why I had such a keen interest in him, but then I shouldn
’t think it had ever occurred to Venetia that I might lead the sort of life which could give rise to juicy gossip. Mercifully.
Anyway she was too busy telling me how she’d been taken to Robert’s gallery for a viewing by her then boyfriend; it had been a case of eyes meeting across a crowded room and pee-yow! The boyfriend had been dumped, she didn’t appear to know whether Robert had had a girlfriend to discard, and they’d both motored off into the sunset. Any slight feelings of chagrin I might have had over the fact that I certainly hadn’t had that sort of effect on Robert were tempered by the reflection that from what I could remember, Venetia had nearly always made first contact with the man of the moment in this way. The only difference about this affair was, it was still going on six months later, her instant attractions usually fizzled out within a month or so.
‘So is there a future in this?’
She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Might be, I suppose. He gets on with Daddy, which is good. You might say that it shouldn’t count but it makes life a lot easier if your man isn’t constantly at loggerheads with your father. Daddy likes Robbie because he doesn’t suck up to him as the great château-owner,’ she added with surprising shrewdness. She wrinkled her nose up. ‘I just wish he’d get a proper job. That art gallery of his hardly earns him a thing - well, not what I’d call proper money - and if you suggest that he should branch out into doing something more commercial, he climbs on a very high horse. Still,’ she said briskly, ‘if we get married he’ll have to come down to earth and stop being quite so principled about earning his money.’
‘Married?’ I exclaimed.
‘It’s about time I settled down. You really ought to get married before your thirtieth birthday, you know,’ she said seriously. ‘It looks pretty stupid having a really big wedding with bridesmaids and loads of white veiling when everybody knows that you’re past the halfway mark for a bus pass.’
I must admit this aspect had never occurred to me before and wondered if I should inform my sister who was getting married in a couple of months that she ought to hold the veil. ‘So how long have you been engaged?’
‘We aren’t actually.’ She smiled at me in a conspiratorial woman-to-woman fashion. ‘We haven’t got around to discussing it yet, but come on, you know it’s the woman who has to make up the man’s mind in most cases like this.’
I looked at her fascinated, thinking that if she could make Robert’s mind up for him he must have changed beyond all recognition, and wondering how the hell she reckoned she was going to do it. But before I could ask, a car came over the brow of the hill in a cloud of dust, and drew up alongside us. It was the shopping party back with enough carrier bags to indicate that the expedition hadn’t been a complete disaster though there was a certain amount of irritation about the really good patisserie being closed.
They chatted for a couple of minutes, then as Oscar was about to move off again, Maggie leaned out of the window and said cheerily, ‘We’ll see you this evening, Venetia.’
‘Er, um, you won’t actually,’ I began and was promptly skewered by several accusing looks. I used the cover story Janey had whipped up on the spot - that she and Tom had to go out with a visiting wine merchant (it had the advantage of containing a certain element of the truth; well, it did after she had rung him and fixed it up) and that she was checking her diary to see what other evening we should come.
‘You might have told me before I went out shopping. I’ll have to go out again after lunch for food for dinner tonight,’ Maggie began crossly and with a certain amount of justice. Then to my horror she brightened and said to Venetia, ‘Why don’t you and Robert come and have supper with us at the cottage?’
‘That would be really nice,’ Venetia said, pleased. I doubted her enthusiasm would be matched by Robert. For both our sakes it might be better if I had a migraine. The migraine was put on hold when her face fell and she said regretfully, ‘Oh, but Camilla’s ringing me tonight about Cannes so I’d better stay in.’ Then, ‘But just because Janey and Daddy aren’t going to be there doesn’t mean that I can’t have you all for supper anyway. It’s my home too! Otherwise it’ll be just me and Robert, and it’ll be much more fun to have company.’ Since this was his next to last evening with his girlfriend for a while, I doubted that Robert would agree with that statement, especially if I came along. I heard a chorus of grateful acceptances and decided the migraine would have to be reinstated.
CHAPTER 6
Unfortunately, the best laid plans of mice, men and ex-girlfriends gang aft a-gley. Mine did so right from the start. Since the weather was so gorgeous, I hadn’t wanted to spend the whole afternoon shut up in my bedroom with the curtains drawn so I’d waited until Maggie was handing around glasses of iced tea (very nice too) before announcing that I thought I could feel the familiar tightness across my forehead which usually presaged the onset of one of my migraines. This meant, I said, that I wouldn’t be able to go out tonight. I can’t say Maggie looked particularly sorry about the prospect of me missing out on socialising, but my dearest friend turned over on his long chair, propped himself up on one elbow and looked at me in surprise, saying, ‘But you’ve never had a migraine, Nella. I remember you saying so.’ At this everyone else also looked suspiciously at me, as if I was up to something.
‘So I did, but that was some time ago, unfortunately,’ I said quickly, deciding that if Oscar said it was only last week, I’d kick him - hard. ‘It must be something to do with having been so ill. When I’m better, I’ll probably never have another. I’ll see how I feel later on,’ I temporised. The problem was, I realised when I went inside and glanced at my reflection in the little mirror in the downstairs loo, I didn’t look as if I was just about to come down with a migraine. I didn’t know what that did look like, but I had the impression that it made you appear pretty cheesy, and, due to sneaking an illicit half-hour in the sun after Venetia had gone, I had a healthier colour than I’d had for months. I might not have been a glowing picture of health, but I no longer looked like an instant candidate for a sickbed either. Damn! I wondered if there was a convenient bag of flour in the kitchen.
I went back outside and lay down in a shady corner, covering my eyes with my arm in what I hoped was a suitably weak and fluttering gesture indicative of worse to come. Maggie said in a solicitous voice that if I was really feeling ill I’d better stay at home. I nodded feebly, trying my hardest not to let the others see what deep pain I was in, when to my dismay I heard Oscar saying, ‘Nella doesn’t normally make a fuss. If she’s feeling bad enough to cancel an evening out I’d better stay behind and make sure she’s all right.’
Oh bugger it! I thought crossly. If Oscar insisted on playing Florian Nightingale I was going to end up confined to a darkened room and at the very most being allowed to have one cup of weak tea. Oscar doesn’t believe in feeding the sick. And I was starving too. I opened one eye to see him standing over me, hands on hips.
‘Feeling better already?’ he enquired sarcastically. So much for my acting abilities. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, is there, so what’s all this about?’ he asked, sitting down on the end of my chair. When I said there was nothing for it to be about, he merely shrugged and said, ‘OK, if you don’t want to tell me I’m sure Venetia - or Robert,’ the emphasis was unmistakable, ‘can give me all the low-down.’
He bloody well would ask them too. I’d once been unwise enough to tell him about the love affair at university that had ended so badly, though I’d been vague about details and names. All the same I had no doubt Oscar had already sussed out whom my lost love had to be. Since Oscar’s passion for gossip comes only a narrow second to his enthusiasm for interfering in people’s lives, I sighed and gave in. Afterwards I threatened to tear him limb from limb if he did anything to try and promote diplomatic relations between me and Robert. Oscar’s a great believer in being friends with your exes, not, I’ve noticed, that he’s exactly on pally terms with all of his ex-boyfriends, but he doesn’t reckon his own rules a
pply to himself.
‘I’ve never known someone for getting into messes like you do, Nella,’ he said, once I’d explained why I thought the wisest course of action was to lie low and keep out of trouble. ‘You don’t want Robert to think you’re too scared to be in the same room as him, do you?’ he asked reproachfully. Not really, though it was preferable to getting within Robert’s reach. Unfortunately Oscar didn’t agree with me. Sometime I wonder if, contrary to his general appearance, manner and dress, Oscar was a Roundhead in his last incarnation. He takes an almost puritanical delight in insisting you face up to your problems, which is probably quite sound reasoning in many cases but not when it comes to facing enraged ex-boyfriends. There’s nothing Oscar enjoys more than a good confrontation and clearing of the air - especially at second-hand.
Actually the evening was nothing like so bad as I’d feared, not the beginning of it anyway. Oscar had offered to help me choose something to wear so I’d look absolutely stunning, which was sweet of him but not quite as much help as you might think. He is one of those people who thinks all his friends are automatically gorgeous, which says a lot about the niceness of his character but not a lot for his dispassionate judgement over whether a dress really does make your bum look elephantine or if the hairdresser’s latest attempt to put a bit of life in my straight thick hair had made me bear a disturbing resemblance to Worzel Gummidge.
When we arrived at the château, Jed and Robert were already into the first of the staggering number of bottles that Venetia had liberated from her father’s cellar, and Jed was in full flow on journalistic mishaps around the world. He barely broke off to say hello to all of us and wait for us to sit down before picking up where he’d left off. I was pretty sure that nobody could have had quite that number of misadventures and remain alive; judging by his slightly cynical expression so was Robert, but Jed was an excellent raconteur, even if a critical listener might have wondered how he always came to have the starring role, and his stories made an easy topic of conversation for the first half hour or so.
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