Hens Reunited

by Lucy Diamond

  ‘Phew, it’s a scorcher,’ Mags put in, fanning herself with a copy of Hello! magazine. ‘Who fancies a glass of vino plonko, then? I brought along my plastic wine glasses specially.’

  ‘Count me in,’ Jen said at once, spreading out a huge red blanket next to Cathy’s. She unfastened her little daughter – Poppy, was it? – from a buggy and started unpacking boxes full of sandwiches. ‘Pops, why don’t you go and play while Mummy sorts out lunch?’ she suggested. ‘Look, I can see Sophia and Aunty Tasha over there.’

  Aunty Tasha? Alice thought. Did that mean … Ahh yes. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed the resemblance before. Jen had the same colouring as Natasha, although she didn’t have quite the same forbidding glare.

  Mags was sloshing straw-coloured wine into glasses and handing them around. ‘Here, Alice, one for you, get it down you while it’s still cold,’ she instructed, and Alice found herself raising the glass to her lips obediently. From Mother’s Pride to Mother’s Ruin in one single movement, she thought. Ahh well.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. Clearly she wasn’t going to be able to ask Cathy about the exchange she’d just had with Natasha – not now the cavalry had rocked up with their provisions and gossip-radars.

  ‘Cheers, everyone!’ Mags said, knocking back a huge gulp.

  Alice looked at Cathy, who was still staring in Natasha’s direction with a scowl on her face. ‘Cheers,’ she replied weakly. Life in this village just got more and more complicated. She was starting to think things would be more comfortable living in a nest of vipers.

  Thankfully, Sophia kept Natasha busy for much of the afternoon, fighting with the boys, then falling out of a tree and screaming blue murder. Alice wasn’t at all sorry when Natasha eventually packed up her (largely untouched) picnic spread and dragged her daughter off home. ‘Wanna go to McDonald’s!’ Sophia screamed at the top of her voice and Alice had to stifle a giggle at the look of fury that appeared on Natasha’s face.

  ‘Ding dong, the witch has gone,’ Cathy sang under her breath, joggling little Joe on her knee as they watched them go.

  ‘She’s horrible,’ Alice agreed in a low voice, casting furtive glances around for Mags and Jen. Luckily both were attending to their children, well out of earshot. She nibbled on her second Bakewell tart, dabbing a wet finger to pick up the pastry crumbs at the bottom of the silver foil dish. ‘So what was all that about when we got here, anyway? Why was she so bitchy about Dom?’

  Cathy turned in surprise at the question and Joe let out a squawk at the sudden movement. ‘I didn’t realize you knew him?’ she said, and Alice blushed, immediately regretting asking. That was daytime drinking for you – it made you blurt out all sorts of things you were meant to be keeping shtum about.

  ‘I don’t really,’ she confessed. ‘He popped round the day I moved in. Then, next I heard, he’d told the whole village he’d been up in my bedroom and I had Mags and Jen over there giving me knowing looks, as if …’

  Cathy looked hurt and Alice closed her mouth hurriedly. Oh my God. She could have kicked herself. What was she saying? This was the last thing on earth Cathy wanted to hear, what with Dom having previously dumped all over her.

  ‘I mean …’ Alice tried to backtrack quickly. ‘I don’t know the guy from Adam, so …’ Thankfully, Iris chose that moment to stir, having slept through the entire picnic thus far, and let out a wail. Saved by the yell. ‘Ahh. Are you hungry, pickle?’ Alice got to her feet (rather woozily) and located the pot of veggie mush for her daughter’s lunch. Perfect timing, Iris, she thought, turning away from Cathy and hoping that their awkward conversation about Dom would now judder to an abrupt halt and die of natural causes.

  Cathy had other intentions, though. ‘Well, take it from me, he’s lovely,’ she said defensively. ‘Natasha did her damnedest to ruin his life but he got away from her, thank God. She just can’t bear it that he wised up to her and told her where to go.’

  Alice bit her lip. She really really wished she’d kept her mouth shut now. Dom was clearly too painful a subject, judging by the jut of Cathy’s chin and the drawn look on her face. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just … I just didn’t know why she was being so frosty.’

  ‘I think Natasha was born with an icicle up her bum,’ Cathy said with a small smile. ‘She’s trouble. Stay away from her.’

  ‘I will, don’t worry,’ Alice said truthfully. She had no wish ever to meet Natasha again after this first encounter. She put a bib on Iris and spooned some food into her mouth. There – subject closed, she hoped. Next time she’d know better. Cathy was obviously still very loyal about her ex and blind to all his faults. Alice did not want to make her new friend feel any worse by talking about him. All the same, she couldn’t help feeling intrigued. What on earth had happened between Cathy, Natasha and Dom?

  Later that evening, the heat became oppressive. The sky, which had been a bright, cloudless blue the entire day, was now invaded by dense, dark clouds which blotted out the sinking sun. There wasn’t a breath of wind in the air any more, just rising heat from the baked earth.

  Iris was tired and grouchy and took a while to settle when it was her bedtime. Alice felt drained too after drinking wine in the sun, and found herself leaning on the side of the cot, willing her daughter’s eyes to close. She’d often wished Jake could be there to help out at times like this, when she was already dog-tired and ready to crash out herself. Imagine if she could kiss Iris’s warm upturned face, then creep out and ask her husband to do the bedtime honours for a change. Or better still, imagine if he were to come into the room at this very moment and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Here, you look knackered,’ he’d say. ‘Go and pour yourself a glass of wine. I’ll take over now.’

  Imagine!

  ‘It’s not going to happen, is it?’ she murmured to Iris, who was chewing sleepily on her cuddly bear’s ear. ‘It’s just us two, soldiering along together. But don’t you worry. Everything will be all right.’

  Iris’s round peachy face lit up with one of her sudden beaming smiles as if she’d only just noticed Alice there, and the rush of love that surged up inside Alice swamped all wishes of husbandly help and glasses of wine. Maybe it was better this way, anyway. You only had to look at the women of the village to know that Happy-Ever-Afters were few and far between – her, Cathy, Natasha – they’d all been dumped on by various men. And even Capable Katie, who was always so together about everything in life, had recently stumbled on the relationship front. Maybe it was better just to wash your hands of it and make do the best you could alone.

  As if to prove a point, Iris’s eyelids suddenly drooped shut, like blinds being pulled down, and her breathing deepened. The soggy bear fell out of her fingers and lay face-down on the sheet.

  There. Jake wasn’t needed after all. Alice stood for a moment gazing at the way Iris’s eyelashes fell in such a perfect sweep across her plump cheeks, at her rosebud lips slightly apart, at the soft dark hair that was just starting to curl at the ends. ‘Sleep well, sweetheart,’ she whispered into the semi-darkness.

  Then she went to pour her own wine, all by herself.

  Curled up on the sofa an hour or so later, with a paper bag full of raspberries leaking slightly on her lap, Alice was so engrossed in a fat romantic novel, it took her a moment or two to hear the gentle tapping at the door. She jumped up in surprise, knocking over the glass of wine balanced next to her, and sending the raspberries scattering all over the carpet.

  ‘Bollocks,’ she muttered, putting the book down and picking her way through the squashed fruit to answer the door. She caught sight of the clock on the mantelpiece as she went – eight thirty. Who would be coming round at this time of the evening? She had a sudden yearning for the safety chain and fish-eye spyhole she and Jake had had in their front door in London, feeling vulnerable on her own here now.

  She hesitated before opening the door. ‘Who is it?’ she called through the wood, her fingers around the handle.

  ‘It’s Dom,’ ca
me the unexpected reply, and she twisted her mouth in a helpless grimace. What did he want? She hadn’t seen him since she’d snapped at him in the lane for gossiping about her. He was persistent, you had to give him that.

  She pulled open the door, conscious that she still had her grubby vest top on, and that she hadn’t plucked her eyebrows for about a year. If Dom liked his women to be as flawless as Natasha, or as pretty as Cathy, he was really lowering his standards to be calling on her.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, feeling disconcerted as a memory of the catfight there’d been over him at the picnic earlier flashed into her mind. She paused, wondering what he was doing there. Should she shoo him off the premises before any more rumours sprang into life?

  ‘Hi,’ he said. He had a bottle of red wine in one hand and a bunch of wilting sweet peas in the other. He took a step forward, thrusting his offerings towards her, and she caught the flowers’ sweet heady fragrance with the movement. ‘Look – I come in peace,’ he said baldly. ‘I feel like we’ve got off to a bad start. May I?’

  Oh Christ. Now what? Was this how he’d collected his other bedpost notches, charm and perseverance, doorstepping unsuspecting victims and plying them with booze and posies? Well, she could see through his tricks! She wouldn’t be impressed by such niceties. She drew herself up taller and looked him in the eye. ‘Sure,’ she replied coolly, with a dismissive shrug. If you must, was the subtext. ‘Come on through.’

  Her heart thumped uncomfortably as he walked into the cottage and shut the front door behind him. His fingers brushed hers as he handed her the flowers and she stepped into the kitchen away from him to get a vase so that he wouldn’t see her blush. Stupid Alice! The blood was rushing to her face – all that wine, presumably. Village life was turning her into a right old lush.

  He followed her into the kitchen and the room felt absurdly small with him in there, leaning against the worktop while she found a glass stem vase and filled it with water. The scent of the sweet peas was intoxicating but she felt determined to keep a cool head. He probably didn’t realize she knew all about him and his former conquests. Decided he’d try it on before the word had spread to her – well, too late for that, sunshine, she thought.

  ‘Have you got a corkscrew?’ he asked, and she felt herself flush a deeper pink. Impatient or what? What was wrong with the man, why was he so desperate for a drink?

  ‘Sure,’ she said, pulling one out of the utensil drawer and getting down a single glass for him. She remembered, just then, her fallen glass in the living room – oh, and all those raspberries that had spilled everywhere like blood spatters after a murder. Great. It would look as if she’d been having a food fight all on her own in there. ‘Can I leave that with you?’ she asked, handing it over, along with the corkscrew. ‘I’ll just get my glass from the other room.’

  She went quickly past him before he could reply and darted through to the living room where she got down on all fours and began gathering raspberries as if fruit-picking in a field. They were soggy and battered now, staining the old carpet with scarlet juice. Bloody hell! She was so clumsy! Her wine had seeped into her rug too, so that would stink of alcohol now for the rest of its days and …

  ‘Everything all right?’

  Oh, great. There was Dom in the room – and there she was, bottom in the air, trying to gather the last few runaway raspberries from under the sofa. She straightened up, accidentally putting her hand on a stray berry and squishing it, feeling mortified that he’d caught her in such a position. What would he think? Knowing his Casanova ways, he’d probably take it as some kind of come-on.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, forcing a smile and trying to ignore the pulped fruit between her fingers. She picked up her glass and the bag of carpet-hairy raspberries and bustled out to the kitchen. Sod worrying about becoming a lush. She definitely needed a top-up now. ‘Do have a seat,’ she called through, rinsing the scarlet juice from her hand and sloshing wine into her glass. Can anything else go wrong? she wondered, rolling her eyes and feeling flustered. Maybe she’d fall over when she went back into the living room and splash her drink in his face. Oh, and land in his lap or something equally embarrassing. Or maybe …

  A sudden cool breeze whipped through the window and she glanced outside. And then, all at once, the rain started to pour – pattering down like silver needles, noisy and rushing, spattering the dusty patio slabs. A jagged scribble of light flashed in the sky and she found herself counting beats, waiting for the rumble of thunder.

  One … two … three … four … five …

  There it went – a low, warning growl in the distance. She shivered with pleasure. She’d always liked thunderstorms – there was something so primitive and dramatic about them.

  She returned to the living room and pushed open the small cottage windows to let in the fresh air. Water was already running down the panes, dripping from the wooden frame. ‘I love the smell of rain,’ she told Dom conversationally and then cursed herself for sounding like a flake. ‘I mean,’ she added, trying to explain, ‘I mean, I like the way the plants smell when they’ve been rained on. And the earth. You know.’

  Worse and worse. She wanted to giggle suddenly at the stupid things that were coming out of her mouth. Dom would be out of the house in a flash, storm or no storm, if she kept up such a stream of inane wittering. ‘Anyway.’ She tried to pull herself together. Being giggly might be construed as flirtatious, and that would never do. ‘Anyway,’ she repeated feebly, not knowing what else to say.

  He took up the cue, thankfully. ‘Anyway, yes,’ he said as she sat on the sofa, taking a demure sip of wine so as to shut herself up. ‘I came here to make peace. This village is a small place and …’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Well, frankly, Christ knows I’ve got enough enemies already here so … it would be a shame for us not to get on, seeing as we’re almost neighbours and are going to be bumping into each other everywhere.’

  Alice stiffened at the mention of his enemies – was he referring to Natasha and Cathy? – and she was just trying to think of something suitably cool and dismissive when he added, rather disarmingly, ‘I love the smell of rain too.’

  She narrowed her eyes. Was he teasing her?

  ‘It’s great, that freshness you get from the soil, I mean,’ he said. He waved his hands expressively when he spoke, she noticed. ‘So pure and earthy. They should bottle it – I’d wear it.’

  Oh, of course. He was a farmhand or something, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he? God, Alice had drunk far too much for one day, her thoughts were starting to slur into one another.

  He was looking at her oddly and she felt alarmed. Had she just said that out loud, the bit about him being a farmhand?

  ‘So …’ he said, his voice earnest and steady. ‘I know you were angry because you thought I’d been gossiping about you, but I swear I hadn’t. I’m not like that – in fact, that’s why I left the village in the first place, because I couldn’t stand everyone talking about everyone else’s business.’ He shook his head. ‘It still does my head in, to be honest, but you know, sometimes you have to put up with it, don’t you? Anyway. What do you think? Can we be friends?’

  She felt slightly as if he’d taken the wind from her sails with this information. And there she’d been, wrongly accusing him of rumour-mongering about her, too, all but shrieking at him in the lane. Good one, Alice. How to win friends and influence people – not. Then her thoughts slid to Cathy. ‘Well,’ she said, stalling for an answer. How was she going to explain this to her? Sorry, Cath, but I’ve only gone and chummed up with your ex, you know, that git who left you holding the baby … She frowned. ‘The thing is, Dom, I’m friends with Cathy, so …’

  ‘Oh!’ His eyebrows shot up into that mop of hair. ‘Oh, I didn’t realize you’d met her.’

  No, I bet you didn’t, she felt like retorting. She put her nose in the air, trying to carry off her best Narnia queen impression. She hadn’t been married to an actor for four and a half years without picking up a few tricks he
rself. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘She’s really nice. And so …’ This wasn’t easy. Was it a bit teenage of her to say no, she couldn’t be friends with him because he’d upset her new mate?

  Well … possibly. Probably. But …

  ‘Yeah, she’s fab, isn’t she?’ he said warmly. ‘And Joe is such a cutie. Oh well, that’s good, then – you’re getting to know people round here.’

  She eyed him suspiciously. Did the man have no guilt, no conscience? How could he sit there and say Joe was cute when he’d all but abandoned the little tot? The wine made her impulsive all of a sudden. ‘Don’t you think you should sort things out with her, then? Help her a bit more? It must be really tough for her being on her own.’

  He seemed baffled at the remark. ‘Well – that’s why I came back to the village,’ he said slowly. He was staring at her in a defensive sort of way. ‘I know it’s hard for her and I’m helping out as much as I can but … well, you know …’

  She waited for him to finish but he left the words hanging in the air. Then he scratched his head and said, ‘You’ve lost me, Alice. I’m not sure what you’re getting at. You’re looking all accusatory and I don’t know why.’

  ‘Look,’ Alice said. Sod it, she might as well just come out with it now. ‘I don’t want to upset Cathy – especially after what happened today with Natasha. It’s not like I’m taking sides but – oh well, all right, then. I am taking sides. Us single mums have to show a bit of solidarity. And I don’t know what happened between you two but until you’ve sorted it out …’

  ‘What happened between me and Natasha?’ He still looked somewhat bewildered.

  ‘No! Between you and Cathy!’ Did she have to spell it out to him?

  He stared at her, a small frown creasing his forehead. And then his expression changed, like a light being switched on, and he smiled. ‘Nothing’s happened between me and Cathy,’ he said slowly. ‘Apart from that time she grassed me up to our mum about scrumping apples from Mr Daley’s orchards and I pushed her in the river. But somehow I doubt that’s what you’re referring to?’