Horatio stood off to the side of the pub hugging a woman she presumed was his wife. He then had the nerve to walk past her and not make any introductions. She watched them cross to the other side and walk off in the direction of the bridge. The woman, she could see now, was tall and slim with long, dark hair. Anna might have described her as beautiful if she hadn’t been so affronted by their behaviour. His wife cooked for her, but then couldn’t lower herself to talk to someone of a lower class. Anna raised her chin in defiance. She didn’t care. She was better than that.
However, she couldn’t help staring after them. There was something annoyingly mesmerising about that man, Horatio, and, as she watched their figures retreat, she felt a tug on her heart. But, as quickly, she grew irritated again and made to go back inside and find Diane.
Romantic Revolutionaries
They had come home to find Grandma Linda asleep on the sofa and Freddie tucked under her one arm, Antonia the other. The Sex and the City box set and a tin of Quality Street sat on the coffee table, jewel-like chocolate wrappers strewn across the floor, but Anna didn’t have the energy to be cross. Besides which, they looked so peaceful.
She gently woke her mother up, causing the twins to stir at the same time. ‘Mum, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep with Diane.’
Bleary-eyed, her mother nodded and Anna guided her up the stairs. Anna peeled back the covers and, as if she were a child, took off her mother’s shoes and clothes down to her slip, before tucking her in.
She crept from the room and her mother rolled over, whispering, ‘You should have worn the tartan dress.’
Anna gave a small shake of her head and shut the door quietly. Diane had put the twins to bed and she went up to their loft room to say goodnight and kissed their soft, flushed cheeks.
Anna and Diane made their way downstairs to the kitchen.
‘Hot chocolate?’ Diane said, getting up.
Anna nodded, miles away.
‘What’s up with you? You were really quiet on the way home.’
‘I don’t know.’ Anna shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s because of Horatio. The way he’s always so smug.’
‘He has apologised about the house.’ She looked at Anna. ‘It must be a misunderstanding.’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think something like thinking you own a house is a misunderstanding.’
‘Well, just don’t let him bother you, that’s what I say.’ Diane spooned out hot chocolate powder, her unsteady hand pouring most of it onto the counter. ‘I mean, you’re stronger than this, Anna. He has apologised.’
‘I just think he’s laughing at me, laughing at my predicament.’ She knew she was being unreasonable but there was something about his confidence around her that made her uneasy. She couldn’t put her finger on it. It was as if he had somehow, in the measly amount of time they had known each other, got under her skin.
‘What is your predicament?’ Diane interrupted her thoughts.
‘Well, I’m in a house he claims is his own. And I just don’t think he’s who he says he is…’
‘In what sense?’ Diane pushed, one brow raised.
‘I saw him with his wife or, at least, I thought it was his wife. They actually crossed to the other side of the road. I was blatantly standing there, so why wouldn’t he introduce us? His wife even made us some food when we first arrived, and yet, he doesn’t even have the decency to say hello or anything.’ She frowned. ‘Then, I thought, that’s not his wife, it’s his lover.’
‘Oh God. Anna’s letting the wine take over her brain.’
‘No, I mean, that is weird, right? Why wouldn’t he introduce us, unless I’m not meant to know about this mystery woman?’
‘Was she good-looking?’
‘No, not really,’ Anna lied, remembering the leggy brunette.
Diane passed her a mug of hot chocolate and sat down heavily. ‘God, I don’t seem to have the stamina I once had. What’s happening to me? One measly night out at a quiet pub and I’m done in. I used to be up until five in the morning. Even when we first met, we were better than this,’ she said miserably, her eyelids dropping. ‘Weren’t we?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Listen, you’re not even listening to me. Just forget about Lord Horatio. If he pisses you off that much, you either need to steer well clear of him…’
‘I’m trying to, but he keeps turning up everywhere.’
‘OK, but listen, you either steer well clear of him or you just have to acknowledge you fancy him rotten.’
Anna’s head shot up. ‘Uh, no. That is definitely not what is going on here.’
‘Whatever, Anna. You’re a funny old bean, like the children say.’ Diane sipped her drink. ‘Oh, by the way, there’s a march tomorrow.’
‘What?’ Anna looked baffled. ‘A march?’
‘Yeah, you know dreamy Larry?’
Anna giggled. ‘Yeah.’
‘Well, he’s anti-hunting and, frankly, so am I. Always have been.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, I mean I’ve never bought fur, for example.’
‘That’s because, one,’ Anna held up a finger, ‘you can’t afford it. And two, they don’t sell it in this country unless you’re wealthier than God or playing the black market.’
Diane gave her a withering look over the top of her mug. ‘Whatever. I mean, I feel very strongly about this, Anna, and therefore I’ve signed up to march tomorrow.’
‘Signed up?’ she echoed. ‘Really?’ Then a thought struck her. ‘It would make a great write-up. Good insight into country controversy.’ She was nodding. ‘I’ll march too.’
‘Your mum will probably want to go as well.’ Diane smiled. ‘She’d liven it up.’
‘What?’ Anna let out a high-pitched squeak. ‘Have I missed something? I thought Mum was going back home in the morning.’ She slapped her forehead. ‘Is my mum coming to live here too?’
‘No, no.’ Diane was firm. ‘I just told her to pack a bag for a couple of nights. Thought it would be good for the kids to have their grandma around.’
‘Good for the kids, maybe. Good for my health, probably not.’
She dropped her head into her hands and then, seconds later, brought it up, smiling. ‘Anyway, this march. Yes, let’s do it. Perfect material for A Little Cottage in the Country.’
The next morning, after a wine-induced slumber, Anna awoke to Diane’s deep, rhythmic snoring. She was perched precariously on the edge of the single bed, Diane blissfully unaware of how much space she was taking up. She slipped from the bedroom, wrapped her dressing gown around her and made her way downstairs.
A knock at the door made her jump and she glanced quickly at her watch. Who could it be at seven in the morning? She opened it to find a wiry man with white hair in a blue boiler suit standing on the doorstep.
‘Um, yes, can I help you?’
‘Arrr.’
Anna took that as pirate-speak for ‘yes’.
‘Um, who are you?’ She tried a different tack.
‘Arrr.’
This was going to be one of the longest, most arduous games she had ever played.
‘It’s quite early in the morning, would you mind coming back later?’ Not that she wanted the strange, monosyllabic man to return, but it was a temporary measure.
‘Arrr.’ He pushed a piece of paper towards her and she took it.
Reading the name at the bottom first, she gathered it was a note from Horatio. It read: ‘Anna, Have asked Tony to do any jobs you want doing outside. He’s very good but doesn’t speak much. Hope you had a good night. Certainly looked like you did. Horatio. P.S. I really am sorry for the misunderstanding. P.P.S. Don’t be proud.’
The nerve, she thought. “Don’t be proud”.
Tony leant up against the wall and, one leg tucked behind the other like a flamingo, lit a cigarette. He nodded and blew out a ring of smoke, hitting her in the face and making her eyes water.
‘Tony, it’s very kind of you to come here at
Horatio’s request, but we’ll be fine. We’ll somehow get the jobs done ourselves.’ She smiled at him, trying not breathe in the smoke. ‘I mean, how hard can it be to cut back some ivy and fix some windowpanes? Oh, and the chicken hut and the broken gate and fence…’
‘Arrr.’ He moved his hand forward slowly and took the note from her hands.
It had worked: message received, she thought, gleefully. That would show Mr Horatio who was boss around here. Only, Tony didn’t leave. Instead he turned the note over and Anna saw there was indeed more of Horatio’s scrawly, over-the-top handwriting.
‘What’s this?’
Tony offered the note to her again and she obligingly took it. Horatio had written on the other side: ‘You’ve just told Tony you’ll be fine. I’ve told him to stay put and do the jobs, no matter what you say. H.’
She drew in a sharp breath. Unbelievable. Tony had finished the cigarette and made a move to get another one from the packet. Anna saw her tactics were not working and she was on the verge of Operation Meltdown.
‘Fine, Tony, can you start with the fence?’ she said, grateful for small mercies when he put the next cigarette back so she at least wouldn’t die from passive smoking today. That had probably been part of Horatio’s orders too. She imagined the conversation being something akin to the approach of George Bush Junior.
‘Tony,’ Horatio would have said, ‘she’s stubborn, but don’t give in. If in doubt, smoke her out.’
Tony already had the first rotten piece of wood off the fence by the time she turned to see who was coming down the stairs. Her mother had changed into her best twinset, but, instead of the usual skirt, had opted for tweed plus-fours.
Anna put a hand over her mouth. ‘Where on earth did you get those?’
‘Anna, no need to be rude.’ She preened her perfectly coiffured white hair. ‘Once Diane had got off the phone to me, and that friend of yours can talk, I dashed over to Country Couture and bought these. The assistant was most helpful and told me they were in the sale. I thought it was a bargain not be missed.’
‘Can’t imagine why they were in the sale.’
Her mother looked like a cross between Mr Toad of Toad Hall and Tony Jacklin. The most puzzling part was that her mother also lived in Bath and yet had always thought of anything beyond the spa city to be foreign. When her stepsister, Aunt Flo, had been alive, she had often commented, ‘Flo, I’m not sure why you’ve decided to live where you do. The way you live so simply, it’s barbaric.’
‘Diane told me we’re all going on some organised ramble and I knew I’d been right in thinking they would be perfect.’
‘Uh, organised ramble?’
Diane appeared halfway down the stairs. ‘Yeah, um, about that, Mrs Compton… the ramble is kind of like a walk where people shout a bit and hold, um, boards. That kind of thing.’
Anna’s mother broke into a wide grin. ‘Well, it sounds totes amazeballs.’
Oh bugger, did her mother actually just quote Perez Hilton?
‘Mum,’ Anna said as kindly as she could, ‘how long are you planning on staying? It’s lovely having you here. I was just wondering really.’ She looked down at her pink slipper boots.
‘Well, for a bit.’ Her lower lip started to wobble. ‘I mean, I don’t want to get in the way.’
Anna swallowed hard. ‘No, you’re not in the way, Mum.’
The sound of hammering started up outside.
‘Who on earth?’ Diane shot out of the kitchen and over to the window, only to be greeted by Tony halfway up a ladder.
‘Anna, why is there a man’s bits in my face?’
‘That’s Tony.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘Horatio sent him round to fix it…’
‘Horatio?’ Her mother didn’t miss a trick. ‘As in Lord Spencerville’s son? The one Florence was always rabbiting on about.’
‘Horatio, huh?’ Diane looked at her pointedly.
‘Is that the one?’ her mother said, joining Diane at the window. Anna wished they would come away and stop staring at the man’s nether regions.
‘Probably the very same.’ Anna went through to the kitchen, swept up the remnants of Diane’s efforts at making hot chocolate the previous night, and set about laying the table for breakfast. The pitter-patter of feet on the floorboards above and then the gentle bumps of bottoms on the stairs told Anna her children were awake.
They padded into the kitchen and Anna hugged them. ‘Did you have a nice night, you two?’
Antonia nodded. ‘Grandma tells funny stories.’
‘Yeah, we watched girls fall over and wear funny shoes,’ said Freddie.
Anna was grateful they appeared to have gleaned nothing from watching Sex and the City.
‘Mummy,’ Antonia continued, hauling herself up onto a chair, ‘what’s sex?’
There it was: the moment every parent dreaded.
‘Yeah,’ Freddie nodded, grabbing the remains of the Sugar Puffs. ‘Tell us, Mummy.’
Diane stood at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning up against the doorjamb. ‘Yeah, Anna, what is it? Do tell.’
Anna placed some bowls on the table.
Her mother could be heard having a one-sided conversation with Tony about the merits of ivy.
‘Well…’ Anna sat down, feeling one of those moments creeping up on her. Wasn’t there meant to be a man in her life who could share this burden? ‘It’s how you two came here.’
‘Car?’ Freddie said, milk dripping down his chin.
Diane snorted.
‘No, I mean how you came to be on earth.’ Anna took a deep breath. This conversation was hard, no doubt, for any parent, but when the father hadn’t even met his children, how did you explain biology then? ‘So, once upon a time, I was with a man called Simon. Simon is your father.’
‘Simon.’ Antonia said his name like she was testing it out, to see if she liked it or not. Anna thought she might have a point.
‘Simon and I made you.’
‘How?’ Freddie’s big blue eyes were fixed on her.
‘We hugged and kissed and other stuff and, later, I found out I was pregnant with you.’
‘So, the girls in the city want a hug?’ said Freddie.
Anna’s eyes pricked with tears: had her five-year-old son just figured out women all by himself? Wasn’t that what women wanted, at the end of the day? A hug meant for them and only them?
As if reading her mind, Diane came up behind her and took her in a firm cuddle, whispering in her ear, ‘They’ll get it one day. Couldn’t have put it better myself.’
Anna was determined not to cry in front of the twins and, even more so, in front of her mother, who had just entered the kitchen, and she stood abruptly.
‘Tony’s a love, isn’t he?’ said her mother. ‘Doesn’t say much but, you know, that’s quite nice in a man.’
Anna and Diane nodded in silent agreement.
‘He’s doing a fine job too,’ her mother went on. ‘He’s already fixed the fence and two glass panes. I like a man who’s good with his hands.’
Diane grunted.
‘I mean, your father was never good with his hands. Oh, he was always fondling books, but not…’
‘Mum,’ Anna cut in. ‘Tea?’
Anna should have known that, if twenty-three-year-old Larry was organising a protest, it wouldn’t be official and nor would it cause quite the stir she’d thought it might. They were greeted by Larry in the Market Square. He had, oddly, changed in appearance overnight and had donned long dreadlocks and a holey, purple cardigan for the occasion. Diane didn’t seem to have noticed, which confirmed to Anna love really was blind.
‘He looks different,’ Anna whispered.
‘He looks great.’ Diane smiled.
‘But last night he had short hair and a check shirt and today he looks like…’ The words that went through her head were not kind and she kept quiet.
Larry caught her looking and grinned, pointing to his hair. ‘They’re extensions.’ He nodded. ‘I f
igure, if you’re going on a march, you need to look the part.’
‘Right,’ Anna said, wondering if Diane thought any of the last exchange sounded odd.
‘I love a man who appreciates the tools at our disposal,’ said Diane.
Clearly not, thought Anna. Most disturbing was the stale, biscuity, never-seen-a-washing-machine-type smell coming off the cardigan. He really had taken the whole tree-hugger trend to heart.
‘So, just out of interest, what do you do as a job?’
Diane glared at her. ‘Leave the poor boy alone.’
He shrugged. ‘I work up at Briars Farm. All the guys you met last night do.’
‘But aren’t farming types normally pro hunting?’ Anna went on.
‘A lot are, but I’m just a student at the Royal Agricultural College.’ He paused. ‘I’m still finding my way.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Diane said, unfazed. ‘I’ll help you.’
‘Richard would kill me if he knew I was here today with these guys.’ He indicated his dreadlocked clan. ‘But, I figure, I’m still young. Don’t even know if I want to go into farming, anyway. Maybe I’ll just go somewhere and…’ Failing to find a word immediately, he settled on ‘chill’.
Anna looked past Larry to see her mother entertaining the troops, her plus-fours blowing in the October wind.
‘You know what, Larry, I think it’s best if the kids aren’t involved in something like this.’ Anna searched her mind for an excuse. ‘It’s quite noisy and I think I’ll watch from that café over there.’
She needn’t have worried. Larry was already moving off, introducing Diane to the small community of unwashed do-gooders.
‘Come on,’ she said to the twins, ‘they’ll be fine without us. Let’s grab a bite to eat somewhere.’ She took their hands and they made their way across the road in the direction of Caffé Nero. The sky had turned a steely grey and she didn’t want to get caught in the rain. Moments later, the heavens opened and, looking back briefly at the anti-hunting throng of ten, she thought they might give up. Instead, they started a rain dance, moving quickly in a ring around their God: her mother.
The Little Cottage in the Country Page 7
