by Anna Bell
Chapter Nineteen
Time since last Internet usage: 6 days, 48 minutes and 30 seconds
‘Rupert, hi,’ I say, opening the door and planting my most friendly smile on my face.
He does a double take as he clocks me.
‘Daisy! I can’t believe you’re actually here,’ he says, breaking out into a smile and warmly kissing me on both cheeks.
‘I could say the same. Rosie’s not here.’
‘Ah, well, I couldn’t reach her on her phone. Signal around here’s dreadful. How anyone copes with living here is beyond me,’ he says with a hint of a laugh and a shake of the head.
‘Her phone’s off. We’re on a digital detox. I thought she told you about it?’
I’m sure I remember her saying she had.
‘She said you were up here working on the house with her, but I don’t remember anything about a detox. Maybe I wasn’t listening properly.’
I’m pretty sure he’d remember that. It makes me wonder how much they’re actually speaking when she goes to the village phone box.
‘Come on in, anyway,’ I say ushering him in. ‘So you’ve been here before, right?’
‘Briefly. When Rosie ambushed me with the idea. But I’m sure that she told you all about that.’ He looks around the kitchen and winces. I get the impression that he wanted to like it more second time around, but it still doesn’t seem to be winning him over.
‘You know Rosie will be so glad you’re here. I think she’s really missed you,’ I say.
‘And I’ve missed her. I just wish she’d told me about this place before she bought it. I love your sister, but she can be so bloody headstrong at times. She really pushes my buttons. Not that I need to tell you about that,’ he says, giving me a knowing look.
Rupert’s spent enough Christmases with us to witness our sibling rivalry first-hand.
He walks around the kitchen, knocking at the plastered walls and pulling out old wires that I’ve avoided touching, fearing electrocution.
‘I actually thought she was joking that you were here. I knew she was meeting up with you for lunch in London.’
‘Well, it was only supposed to be lunch, but I was going through . . . well, I needed to get away and Rosie suggested . . . here.’
Talk about the edited highlights.
‘You voluntarily came, then?’ He raises an eyebrow of doubt. ‘And you haven’t yet killed each other? That’s progress. Bet your mum’s pleased.’
‘The night before we came, I rang her from your flat to tell her and she was pretty surprised.’
‘Well, I’m relieved that Rosie hasn’t been here on her own. I half imagined that she’d pretended you were with her to stop me worrying. Not that it has done. It’s still an isolated place for you two to be, especially with the house being in such a state.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about us, the two of us are coping just fine.’
I don’t tell him that we have our nice, big, burly Frenchman to look after us.
‘So, has she roped you into doing work on this place?’ he says, still evidently searching for something positive in the room.
‘Uh-huh. We’ve started upstairs in the bathroom. Want to see?’
He stops prodding a wall and looks at me. ‘Why not. You know, in the other places Rosie’s done up, the work in the bathroom’s been pretty good. Did she tell you she tiles them herself?’
‘She did. She’s full of surprises.’
‘Lead on, then.’
I give Rupert the full tour of the bathroom, pointing out where I’d painstakingly stripped all the wallpaper and where the old tiling’s been ripped off.
‘You two have been busy. How many days have you been here? Four? Five?’
‘Five,’ I say, feeling relieved as I hear the front door slam. ‘That’ll be Rosie back.’
We both go back down the rickety stairs, and I’m pleased I’m about to witness a great reunion.
‘Look who came to visit,’ I say, as I make it down to the kitchen, only to see Alexis standing over the sink and drinking a pint of water.
‘Oh, I had to go out for a walk to clear my ’ead,’ he says, filling up another glass of water and downing it. ‘You are a bad influence.’
I laugh a little coquettishly and I hear Rupert cough behind me. I’ve realised I’ve blocked his descent.
‘Oh, sorry.’ I continue walking into the kitchen allowing Rupert to follow me. ‘This is Rosie’s husband, Rupert. Rupert, this is Alexis . . .’ I know that Rosie had a problem with him knowing we have a male help-ex worker living with us, and things are so rocky between them at the moment, and I don’t want to be the one who makes things worse. ‘Alexis is my boyfriend.’
I curse myself. Why couldn’t I have come up with something better than that?
Alexis narrows his eyes in that way that he does when he can’t understand a word we’ve used.
‘That’s exciting,’ says Rupert, going over and slapping Alexis on the back and shaking his hand. ‘So how did you two meet, then?’
He perches up against a sideboard and helps himself to some crisps out of a large packet that’s open on the side. He’s grinning at us, and waiting for us to elaborate as if he’s tuned into his favourite show to watch.
‘Well, um . . .’
‘I answered the ad,’ says Alexis.
‘The ad? Oh, online. I guess that’s how it’s all done these days. Very good, very good.’
‘It was very easy,’ replies Alexis. ‘I fit the criteria of what she wanted.’
‘That’s brilliant. Criteria, right, that’s the key to curing your fussiness.’
Alexis looks momentarily lost.
‘I’m not that fussy,’ I say through gritted teeth, in a low voice.
‘Ha, ha, good one,’ he says whispering back.
Mum and Rosie are always saying that the problem with me and my love life is that I’m too picky. Is it so wrong that I want to actually like the person I date? I mean, why would I settle with someone like Dickhead Dominic just to have a boyfriend? I shudder at the thought.
‘So you’re from France, is it?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Excellent, excellent. So you speak the language of lurve.’
Alexis looks at me, as if he’s wondering what Rupert is on about, and I pin an inane grin on my face.
‘We certainly do,’ I say, slipping my arm around Alexis’s back and giving him a squeeze. ‘Don’t we, mon chéri?’ I raise an eyebrow, which, in my head, telepathically says play along.
Luckily for me, he seems to speak the international language of eyebrows and responds to my laughing by giving me an enthusiastic slap on the bottom. Easy there, Tiger.
He gives me a cheeky smile and a wink, and for a second he’s convinced me, as well as Rupert, that we are actually love’s young dream.
‘Fantastic. Rosie will be pleased. She worries about you being lonely, you know. I think she thinks you’ll end up an old maid.’
‘Does she now?’ I feel slightly touched that she at least worried about me, even if she did think I was going to die a spinster.
‘Yes, but you have Alexis now,’ he says in a mock French accent.
Alexis seems to be getting right into this whole boyfriend thing, as he’s rubbing my arm for good measure, and it’s actually a little too nice for my liking.
‘You’re looking a bit pale,’ I say, turning to my fake boyfriend. ‘Did you want to go and lie down for a bit?’
‘With you?’ he says, a little hopefully.
My brother-in-law gives us a wink. ‘Don’t let me being here stop you. I can wait for Rosie in the living room.’
‘Ha, ha, ha,’ I say, a little too enthusiastically, and wanting to get him out of the kitchen before Rupert has us consummating our relationship right here, right now. ‘No, no. Alexis looks like he needs to sleep off his hangover. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
‘You are sure?’ says Alexis, raising an eyebrow of his own
.
‘Quite. Off you go,’ I say dismissing him.
Alexis slinks off upstairs, but he doesn’t miss an opportunity to plant a kiss on my lips as he goes.
I can’t help blushing, probably adding to the appearance that we’re in those early honeymoon days.
‘So, by you coming here, does that mean you’ve forgiven Rosie?’ I ask, desperate to steer the conversation away from my fake boyfriend.
‘I’m pretty cross at what she did,’ he says, sitting down as I put the kettle on. ‘Mostly as it feels as if she went behind my back.’
‘Wasn’t she trying to surprise you?’
‘She wanted me to quit my job to move up here. I would have liked a discussion about it first. Can you imagine if I’d have come home one day when she was working and said, “Hi, honey, just to say I’ve got us a job down South so you’ll have to quit your job and come”? I’m pretty sure there’d be outrage.’
When he puts it like that.
‘I know she was only doing it for us, but something this big, and this life changing should have been a joint decision.’
I nod.
‘I’m sure if you sit down and talk about things you’ll get everything out in the open. Rosie shouldn’t be too much longer.’
‘Where is she anyway?’ he asks, picking up some of the leaflets I’d collected from the shop and flicking through them.
The kettle boils and I hunt around the cupboards for the best-looking cups we’ve got, pulling out one with the least ingrained tea stains to impress our guest.
‘She wanted to pop to a builders’ merchant on the edge of Penrith to pick up something for the bathroom. I’m sure she won’t be too much longer.’
I faff around trying to make the perfect cup of tea, making sure the colour looks just right – not too weak, not too strong, in the hope that the taste makes up for how scrappy it looks.
Happy that my tea could please the most discerning of critics, I turn round to pop it on the table, just as Rupert jumps up.
‘Everything, OK?’ I ask, as I watch him pick up his car keys and head to the door.
‘I’ve got to go,’ he says.
‘What? But Rosie will be back any minute and she’d love to see you.’
‘I can’t stay,’ he says, before practically sprinting to his car.
I pop the hot tea on the table and go after him, but he’s already pulling out of the drive, albeit very slowly because of the bumps. Maybe I can run and catch up with him and plead with him to stay.
‘Wait, wait!’ I shout as I run down the drive after him.
But even with the milk-float speed of the Audi, I still can’t catch up as he’s had too much of a head start.
I watch the car disappear out towards the main road, and I catch my breath as I try to process what happened. One minute he’s there, all cheery and looking as if he’s going to sweep Rosie off her feet, and the next minute he’s gone tearing off in a hurry.
I’m just about to turn back to the farm when I notice a petite woman with long brown hair walking up the drive, and for a minute I’m taken aback.
‘Hi there,’ shouts the woman, with a friendly wave.
‘Ah, hello.’
‘Sorry if I startled you.’
‘You didn’t, not really; it’s just that you don’t get many people walking up here.’
‘That you don’t, but I own a crappy Fiesta and it doesn’t make the journey well. I park it at the mailboxes and walk down. I’m Jenny. According to Liz and Gerry, you must be either Rosie or Daisy.’
‘Daisy,’ I say, laughing at the village gossips.
‘Ah, pleased to meet you. I’m the village mobile hairdresser, in case you need a trim or anything while you’re here.’
‘Oh, great to know,’ I say smiling.
‘I’m just here to see Jack,’ she says.
‘Oh, right, you’ll need thick scissors to tame that mop,’ I say laughing, before I look down and realise that Jenny doesn’t have anything on her but her car keys in her hand.
‘Yes, um.’ She smiles and gives a quick laugh.
We stand there awkwardly for a second before I see Rosie’s Land Rover coming into view and Jenny sees it as her opportunity to escape.
‘I’ll see you around the village,’ she says. ‘It’s not very big, so I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.’
She gives me a friendly wave as she bounds off, and I can’t help but feel a little sad that Jack really does have other female options.
‘Hiya. You haven’t got far on your walk,’ says Rosie as she rolls down her window and draws up next to me.
‘Actually, I’ve just walked back out. Did you not see Rupert driving out of the village?’
‘Ru was here?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Well, why didn’t you keep him here? What did he say?’
She’s looking round as if she’s about to tear off after him.
‘He came to talk to you. I thought he was going to sort things out. One minute he was sitting there waiting for me to give him a cup of tea, and the next he was off.’
I walk around the car and get into the passenger seat where Rosie’s sitting, looking confused.
‘He was here to sort it out and then he left? But why?’
‘I’m not sure. He was looking through the leaflets I’d picked up on the table and he took off.’
‘But that doesn’t make sense,’ she says, blinking rapidly as if she’s struggling to process everything.
‘I know. Maybe he remembered that he had an appointment?’
Rosie starts to drive back to the farm in a hurry, and when we arrive she rushes into the kitchen as if to retrace his steps.
She picks up the top leaflet on the pile, one for a luxury country hotel and spa.
‘He was looking at these?’
‘Uh-huh. Hey, maybe he thought taking you somewhere like that would be a better place to sort things out. Maybe he’s decided to plan something bigger.’
‘Maybe,’ says Rosie. I can tell she’s not convinced.
‘If only you could phone him. Why don’t you go to the payphone and give him a try?’
‘I guess. But now he’ll be driving and he never pairs his phone with his car’s bluetooth, no matter how many times I tell him to.’
‘Well, maybe you should wait, then. Give him a call in a couple of hours when he’ll be back at the flat.’
She looks so sad, I just wish I’d been able to keep him here.
‘He came once, that shows that he seems willing to work things out.’
‘I guess so,’ says Rosie.
Alexis walks down the stairs and swoops me up in a big hug.
‘Ah, my lover,’ he says.
‘What the –?’ exclaims Rosie. ‘I only went to the builders’ merchant.’
I push him away firmly. ‘Alexis turned up when Rupert was here and he kindly acted as my boyfriend. Thank you for playing along,’ I say turning to Alexis.
‘Anytime,’ he says. ‘You know, playing or actual boyfriend, I am available.’
I can’t help but snigger as Rosie rolls her eyes.
‘Thank you for that, Alexis, but I’m sure Rosie will be the first to tell you that there’ll be none of that under her roof.’
He shrugs and makes himself a sandwich from the fridge.
‘Right, so are we going to get any work done today?’ asks Rosie, sighing and running her fingers through her hands.
I look up at Alexis and he looks as pale as I feel, but I know we’ve got a schedule to follow.
‘Of course we are, but first off, why don’t we make a round of crumpets?’
Comfort food is exactly what we need, for the hangover and, in Rosie’s case, the heartbreak.
‘And then we’ll get cracking?’ she asks hopefully.
‘And then we will, promise, and we’ll work our arses off.’
Dear Jack,
Thank you once again for rescuing me. I have got to stop making a habit out of t
hat, or do you have some sort of knight-in-shining-armour complex and you seek out damsels in distress at any opportunity? As much as I’m desperate to use the Internet, I’ve vowed not to go into the homes of strange men, and I’m also going on a shopping expedition this morning to get kitted out – the next time you see me you won’t recognise me, as I’ll blend in with the locals in my scruffy fleece and hiking trousers.
That’s right, Rosie is letting me off the farm and we’re hitting Carlisle – whoop, whoop! The builders are doing something dusty today and we’ve been told to vacate. Anyway, I’ll see you around soon, if I don’t get seduced by the bright lights of the city . . .
Daisy
P.S. John Major and The Price is Right – the mind boggles. Don’t tell me – he guest presented it once? He was on it for a Christmas special?
DAISY,
I’M SAD THAT I’VE GOT TO HANG UP MY SHIELD AND RETIRE MY STEED. I WAS JUST GETTING INTO THE WHOLE RESCUING THING. I’LL HAVE TO GO BACK TO THE DAY JOB. BUSTER IS ALSO WONDERING IF HE HAS FULL SKINNY-DIPPING RIGHTS BACK TO THE STREAM YET? AS AM I, AS HE ROLLED IN DEER POO YESTERDAY AND HE NEEDS A WASH. THE LAST TIME I TRIED TO BATH HIM INSIDE, HE ESCAPED WHEN I WAS TOWEL DRYING HIM AND HE WENT RAMPAGING THROUGH THE HOUSE, ROLLING ON ALL THE CARPETS AND RUGS. IT SMELT LIKE WET DOG FOR WEEKS.
HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE GIDDY HEIGHTS OF CARLISLE. I SAW THE LAND ROVER RATTLE DOWN THE ROAD LAST NIGHT, SO I TAKE IT YOU MADE IT BACK OK.
JACK
P.S. NO! GUESS AGAIN. IT INVOLVES JOHN MAJOR’S SON . . .
Chapter Twenty
Time since last Internet usage: 1 week, 3 days, 19 hours, 25 minutes and 1 second.
‘And if there are any problems, Rosie, the owner, is going to be back from the builders’ merchants in half an hour or so, and she’ll be working in the bathroom all day,’ I say confidently to one of the carpenters, who have finally come to install the windows and doors.
‘Great. Thanks, Daisy. I’ll crack on, then.’
The past week, I’ve gone from never having spoken to a workman, to getting quite good at organising them. Clearly, all the years of watching Grand Designs has paid off.
I turn my attention back to my Gantt Chart on the kitchen table, and I highlight carpenters on site. I can’t help but smile that, now the project has been whipped into shape, it’s coming along nicely. I might not be able to organise my own life, but it seems that I have no problem project managing a major renovation.
