Slightly Foxed

by Jane Lovering

  “Use your mobile.” Behind the safety of my bedroom door, I flopped onto the bed and dialled Piers’s mobile.

  “Hey, Flo.” Piers sounded bright, not conscience-stricken at all. Neither did he seem reluctant to talk, or as though he’d been dragged from the arms of his beloved to answer. “What’s up?”

  “It’s me,” I said, in low tones. “Alys.”

  “Hey, Alys, then.” A little of the brightness died, a guarded edge creeping in. “Did you want something?”

  “Just wondered why you didn’t want to come over tonight.” I tried to keep the worry out of my voice, but even I could tell there was a tremble in it. “You can bring Sarah. Obviously we quite understand if you’d rather have a quiet night with her, but Florrie would so like to see you—”

  “I’ll see her tomorrow at Ma’s.”

  “Is everything all right?” A telling pause. “Piers? Have I done something to—”

  “No.” I heard him sigh. “Look, it’s okay. I’m not going to say anything to anyone about the other night, you can trust me on that one.”

  “Then?”

  He sighed again. “I just thought—a bit of space, you know? I mean, I’ve got things. You know, like, things.”

  “Yes. Yes, you’re right, of course.” I listened to the background at his end for a moment. It was almost silent, no sounds of anyone drinking or talking. If he was with Sarah, she must have no bodily functions at all. “So, you’ll see her tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Guess so.”

  “All right. Well, thanks, Piers.”

  A bit more of a pause. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

  I smiled down the phone. “Yes. I will. See you soon, Piers.”

  “Sure.” He hung up. I still wasn’t certain whether he’d been with anyone or not.

  The next morning Florence repacked most of her London clothes and set off to visit her father. We said our goodbyes at the bus stop, then she headed west, making me promise to update her on the Grainger situation, as soon as I got in touch with the vet. I journeyed into town, arriving at Webbe’s exactly the same time as Jacinta. This morning she was dressed like a wallpaper sample book, in huge clashing floral patterns. She was touchingly pleased to see me.

  “Alys! You are being here! This is most early time for you. Have you come from more partying with Piers? I am telling you, Alys, Piers is big hot. Verrrry sexy boy.”

  “Yes, you do keep telling me that, don’t you? But I notice you turned down the party invite. You should have come, Jace. All those very young men—it was a bit like a sixth-form nightclub. Anyway, Piers and I had a bit of a disagreement so I think we might not be seeing so much of him for a bit.”

  Jace just snorted and hustled off behind the curtain to put the kettle on.

  “Good morning, Alys. Is Jacinta here yet?” Somehow Simon had managed to get into the shop unheard by either Jace or me. Presumably he’d come in the back way whilst we’d been talking on the step. Either that or he had his spartan bedroll laid out in Biography and never actually went home.

  “She’s making tea.” I followed Simon as he went round, which meant both of us caught Jace in the guilty act of shoving a chocolate HobNob between her deep red lips.

  “Simon,” she mumbled around the crumbs. “You are early also.”

  “So I am,” he said dryly. “Look, Jacinta, I need to have a word with you.” He turned to me, standing in the doorway. “In private, Alys, if you don’t mind.”

  I felt myself blush as though I’d already been eavesdropping. “Oh. Right.” I began to shuffle my way over to the counter as slowly as was compatible with retreating behaviour. I fired up the till and wondered was Simon really going to sack Jace?

  A customer came in, and I stopped pacing back and forth beyond the curtain, trying to overhear. There hadn’t been any tears so far, nor shouting, and they’d been in there nearly fifteen minutes. How long does it take to sack someone anyway? A couple of minutes should do it, surely? I sold a book absent-mindedly, still straining my ears for the sound of sobbing. On either part since, if riled, Jace could have done Simon some serious damage.

  Then the telephone rang and took my mind off things. I hoped it wasn’t for Simon, since I didn’t fancy putting my head round the curtain after the no-nonsense way he’d already told me to butt out, but it wasn’t. It was Leo, for me.

  “Good morning, Alys.” He sounded bright and breezy. “How are you today?”

  “I’m fine, I think. How about you?” I was still uncertain about the whole me-and-him thing, but I was having little waves of good feeling towards him, and that was a start.

  “Yes, I’m fine too. Look, I’m ringing”—he dropped his voice and I wondered who was listening—“to ask if it would be possible for me to come and see you tomorrow. At your flat? I can be there by, oh, sevenish, I should think. Would that be all right?”

  Oh God, was he going to give me the final talk? “I’m sorry but this just isn’t working.” Followed by an excuse picked from the Man’s Get-Out Clause list? Just as I was beginning to get my head around the idea of a relationship? My heart pounded as I switched from being offhand to concerned. “I think that would be very nice,” I said inadequately. “Will Jay not mind being left in charge?”

  There was a short pause and I hoped he wasn’t going to ask if he could bring her too. “Jay—” He broke off and restarted. “Jay is having a few days off. She’s considering taking up another position.”

  It might not be the Dear Alys talk after all. Leo sounded too happy. Unless he considered he’d be well rid of me and couldn’t wait to move on to someone who knew a fetlock from a crupper.

  Leo was hesitant again and my heart took a dive. “I’ve written a poem I think I’d like you to read.”

  Behind the curtain to my left there was a sudden movement. Something poked the fabric until it bulged, then swiftly subsided like a cheap erection. Half my mind was on this, while the rest crept around the implications of what Leo had said. “You want me to read something you’ve written?” I sidled around trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on, but the curtain was tightly pulled across the cubby hole. Not so much as a sock was visible.

  “Er, yes. I think so. Well, don’t be disappointed if I change my mind, will you? I mean, I’ll still come to see you, the poem isn’t—I mean—it’s not just—” Mr. Diffident had clearly taken control of Leo’s body again. “About sevenish,” and he was gone, leaving the phone to feel the heat of his embarrassment.

  “Gosh.” I stared down at the replaced handset, my mind ringing like a bell.

  “You are looking serious.” Jace popped up at my elbow like an economy-sized Jack-in-the-Box. “Is it that you are having some news?”

  I stared at her. She was smiling, her mascara was unimpeachable, her lipstick unsmudged, evidently neither sacked nor rogered. “Leo’s coming visiting tomorrow night.” I followed this bald statement with a quick update on the events of his previous visit.

  “Ah.” Jace sat on the stool next to me. “So.”

  “So? What did Simon want with you?”

  “It is nothing. Just wishing to talk about my privates, you understand? Personal.”

  I felt momentarily hurt that Jace expected me to give her the down-and-dirty on my life while she kept her own locked away, but then I thought of all the things about me which I’d never told her, and forgave her. “Leo’s such a nice guy, Jace.”

  “And you are not knowing what to do with nice, are you, Alys? The men you are having, you are always choosing because they are not wishing to have relationships with you. They are wishing only for quick sexing.”

  “No,” I said indignantly. “It’s just that that’s how it’s always turned out.”

  Jace looked at me sternly. “Alys. I am seeing for myself. You are not wanting men to be close to you, so you are picking men who are not wanting to be close with anybody. Then you are saying ‘Boo hoo, he is not staying with me.’”

  “I couldn’t really have
any kind of full-time relationship though, Jace. It wouldn’t be fair on Florrie.”

  “But, Alys, this is always being your excuse. You are not seeing properly. Florence, she is a woman now, soon she will be going away into this big world and you are needing someone to show you that you can be a sexy woman again. Is like you are afraid to be loving a man.”

  I sighed. “But is Leo that man? Is he the big IT?”

  Jace inclined her head towards me. “Only you can know these things. I hope that you will let me be meeting with him tomorrow.”

  “Oh yes. Look, come over about eight. I’ll get Florrie to come over too. Maybe Mrs. Treadgold would like to pop in as well. It might be time to break it to the group that I’m not really dating Piers. I’ve got a book to drop off for her. I’ll ask her while I’m there.”

  “Hmm. I will come.” Jace stood up and the heels of her shoes squeaked as they took the strain. “You are needing my vision of this man.” She sauntered off into Science Fiction with Neil Gaiman under one arm, leaving me to wonder what she was going to make of Leo and what he would think of her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mrs. Treadgold had been baking and her wig was coated in flour. It made her look a little like a Christmas-tree ornament. “Hello, dear. Would you like some cake?”

  “No thanks. I’ve just dropped by to let you have the new Mills and Boon book you were wanting. Oh, and to ask if you’d like to come over to my flat tomorrow night.”

  Mrs. T shuffled backwards over her doorstep to allow me into her tiny house. It always reminded me of an illustration in a children’s book, a four-square building with a wiggly path up to the front door. “Is it a special occasion, dear? Or just a get-together?”

  “I’m having a visitor.” I eased my way along the narrow hall into the brightly lit kitchen. “I’d like everyone to meet him. Oh.” Under the fluorescent tube which illuminated her surprisingly modern kitchen, Mrs. Treadgold looked pale. Even her bright blue eyes had a faded look to them. “Are you all right?”

  She turned to the scrubbed table in the middle of the kitchen and began parcelling up slices of cake into greaseproof packets. “Old age, my dear. Comes to us all. Is this visitor something to do with your young man?”

  “I—” I sat down on one of the pine chairs. “I think I really want some advice.”

  A cup of tea materialised, poured from the stoneware pot which hid under the cat-shaped tea cosy. A slice of cake joined it.

  “What sort of advice?” Mrs. Treadgold sat next to me, on the chair with the embroidered cushion. That had cats on too. She was a woman in the grip of a serious feline obsession. “And is it advice you really want, my dear, or someone to agree with something you’ve already decided? I mean, I can give you all the advice in the world, but if you don’t want to do something, you’re not going to, are you?”

  I slumped even deeper into the chair and thought of Jacinta’s opinion. That I was too afraid to take a chance and deliberately chose men who just weren’t that into me to prevent myself from ever having to work at a relationship.

  “If you fall in love with someone,” I said slowly, “do you think it happens all at once? Or can you, for example, quite like someone for a long time, then find that it’s turned into something else? Or do you just look at someone for the first time and go—yep, he’s the one?”

  “Eat your cake, dear. Philosophy always goes down better with a cup of PG Tips and a slice of banana loaf.”

  Obediently I ate. “So I suppose what I’m really asking is, do you believe in love at first sight?”

  Mrs. Treadgold sighed. “When I met Mr. Treadgold, I didn’t fall in love with him. Not at first. He was wearing a slaughterman’s apron and the most ridiculous hat I ever saw. But. The first time I looked into his eyes, I knew.”

  “Knew? What, that you were in love?”

  The teapot clanged against the side of her cup, as though her hands were shaking. “I can’t say that it was love, not exactly. But it was something. I just felt—different. As though he knew me from the inside out. Oh, I can’t explain, not really, but to answer your question, no. I don’t believe in love at first sight. And anyone who does, in my opinion, is getting love and lust mixed up. I believe that when you’re with your true love, you don’t feel you have to hide any more. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.” It was true. I didn’t have to hide with Leo. He let me be who I was, without question. My heart gave a little skip. We could make it work, Leo and I. Maybe this confusion I felt about him was the first part of falling in love? Perhaps I should stop worrying and just go for it, let myself fall.

  At precisely seven the next evening, I was showered, dressed in a form-fitting sweater and embroidered trousers. The flat was tidy and had been hoovered so thoroughly that most of the remaining thread had left the carpet. I’d put the roses in vases, borrowed from Mr. Roberts-next-door, around the living room. With the few tea-light candles I possessed lit under tinted glass shades, the place looked inviting and slightly romantic.

  At seven thirty-seven, there was a knock. I left a long enough pause to indicate I wasn’t standing right inside the doorway, but was instead pursuing any one of my varied, fascinating hobbies, then hurried to answer the door. Leo stood on the step wearing a sexy grey top and faded denim jeans, and with his hair rumpled attractively as though he’d just got out of bed. My heart did a little double-thump at the sight of him and I smiled into his green eyes. This was it. Did I feel different? I felt—yes, something. Was this love? It was warm and enveloping, and sent a little row of tingles down my spine, a burning press through my body. I knew I wanted him.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” I said.

  “Oh, Alys.” Leo stepped forward, and for a moment I thought he was going to hug me. I moved towards him, anticipating the hug, but his arms didn’t move from his sides and I ended up standing almost under his chin. “It—you—I’m glad to see you.”

  I led him in to the living room as he chatted slightly shakily about how badly the journey had gone, then rolled his eyes like a nervous pony at the table of food I’d set out.

  “Florrie’s coming over from her Dad’s later,” I explained. “I thought this would be a good chance for you to meet her.”

  “I’d love to meet your daughter.”

  “Oh, and my best friend, Jace, might drop by.”

  “That’s nice,” he said hesitantly.

  “And Mrs. Treadgold from my book group. She might pop in too.”

  “Um. There’s not anyone else, is there?”

  “Anyone else?” Immediately I thought that he was calling my fidelity into question. Why did that image of Piers in the summerhouse keep floating through my head?

  “Coming over. Tonight.” Leo shifted from foot to foot. “I mean, you’re not having a party or anything? I know it was short notice and everything, so I wouldn’t expect you to cancel your arrangements but—”

  “Oh! Oh no, they’re coming over to meet you.”

  “That’s nice,” Leo repeated. “Look, Alys. I wanted to—”

  He was interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock and Florrie calling, “Mum!”

  “In here,” I called back. Florence’s head appeared cautiously around the door.

  “Are you…oh good, you’re not,” she said ambiguously. “Hello. You’re Leo. I’m Florence.” More of her arrived in the room, and there was quite a lot of her on display in a little cropped top and low-waisted Capri pants. I wondered quickly whether she’d dressed like that deliberately to flirt with my boyfriend, then dismissed that as overly paranoid. Florence thought everyone over thirty was completely past sex and was staggering rapidly towards the grave.

  “And I’m Piers.” Piers walked in behind her and stood with one arm draped across her nearly bare shoulders. “Sorry to invite myself over, Alys, but Flo wanted to cadge a lift back later. Alasdair’s taking her and Ma to Harrogate tomorrow.”

  I waved an airy doesn’t-matter hand whilst staring at hi
m. His Sarah must have had a word with him about his terrible taste in clothes because today he looked all-out gorgeous.

  “I got your text, Mum. About Grainger.” Florence shrugged herself away from Piers. “Are they sure he’s okay?”

  “Doing as well as can be expected. They haven’t said when we can fetch him home. And they’ve said not to visit in case he gets upset. Or, more upset than he already is. Apparently he tried to eat someone yesterday.”

  “That means he’s getting better. Doesn’t it?”

  I fixed a reassuring smile. “Yes.” I couldn’t look at Piers. He had, according to the vet, already paid two hundred pounds for the consultation, drugs and accommodation fees. I squirmed at the thought of how much overtime I was going to have to work for Simon to pay it back. I’d probably be shelving until I was seventy.

  “And are you Florence’s boyfriend?” Leo shook Piers’s extended hand, clearly baffled by this unexpected person.

  “I’m her stepbrother,” Piers said rather unhelpfully.

  “My ex’s wife’s son,” I filled in quickly as Leo glanced at me. “He’s driven Florrie over from Thirsk for the evening.” I allowed my gaze to meet Piers’s and was disconcerted when he gave me a tiny wink. “I, er, I—look, everyone grab something to eat and ummm…mingle.”

  The three of them, bless them, did their best to mingle while I went into the kitchen and took some deep breaths. When I came out armed with two bottles of wine, Florence was talking to Leo about ponies. Piers had vanished.

  “You didn’t tell me Leo owned the Charlton Stud.” Florrie turned accusing eyes on me. “Dylan was by Charlton Thistle. His mother was a thoroughbred mare.” She lapsed back into horse talk, Leo hanging on her every word, interjecting now and again with even more jargon about straight pasterns and cow hocks. I was glad they were hitting it off so well and ate a sandwich to celebrate.

  “The door is open.” Jacinta sashayed her way into the living room. “I am hoping you have food, Alys, I am most hungry.” Her eyes fell on Leo. “You must be man.”

  I introduced Jacinta to Leo, who shook her hand and winced. Jace had obviously given him her no-nonsense handshake, which could have brought tears to a docker. She fixed him with eyes carrying enough makeup to have rendered a corpse presentable in society.