Rosie Meadows Regrets...

by Catherine Alliott

  Spluttering into his parsnips he went on, ‘This guy, okay, the one on the loo, he can’t believe it, right, and Tarquin said his face literally changed before him. First he’s incredulous, then furious and finally he looks murderous, at which point old Tarquers, sensing a smack in the mouth is more or less due, has the presence of mind to punch him first, before turning round and legging it!’ Tears fled down Miles’s face. ‘God, just imagine!’ he gasped. ‘There you are, just popping in for a quiet dump and a read of the Sun and the next minute – puke – wallop!’

  My father paused in his carving, head to one side in a bemused fashion, genuinely willing to accept there was humour in this tale but struggling to deduce where it lay.

  ‘But not funny from his point of view, surely, dear boy? The bald enthroned one? Vomit on head? Punch in the face?’

  Mummy laughed politely. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She didn’t, actually. Hadn’t the faintest idea what Miles was talking about and rarely did, but anyone who owned a thousand acres of prime Gloucestershire farmland deserved to have their jokes laughed at in her book. ‘How very amusing. Mint sauce, anyone?’

  ‘Well, no, all right, Gordon,’ spluttered Miles, ‘perhaps not funny from his point of view, but certainly –’

  ‘Ah! Dear friends.’ A voice cut through the proceedings.

  We swung round as one to behold – Harry. He was standing in the open doorway, as I suspect he had been for some time, beaming benignly and swaying ominously. I swallowed hard. I’d rather assumed that Harry’s tortured state had precluded his joining us, that he was still languishing grief-stricken in a woodshed somewhere, but I’d reckoned without his keen sense of smell and his ever demanding stomach. His hair was wet and neatly combed to one side like a small boy’s, and underneath his jumper I noticed he’d even bothered to put a tie on, but that didn’t disguise the fact that his cheeks were unnaturally flushed and his eyes over-bright. As he passed slowly round the table, he caught the back of my father’s chair to steady himself. He was dangerously drunk.

  ‘Or should I say,’ he said quietly, ‘dear family.’ He paused unsteadily behind a vacant chair. ‘I see I’m just in time. Elizabeth, may I?’

  ‘Of course!’ She pulled the chair out for him. ‘Philly, lay a place for Harry, quick, and a napkin. No, not that one, darling, a pink one, with a nice lacy edge … well, in the drawer, of course!’

  Harry lowered himself cautiously into his seat as Philly bustled around him with knives and forks.

  ‘Now.’ He beamed round the table. ‘Where were we? Ah yes,’ he raised a deliberate finger. ‘Miles, you were in full flow, I believe, recounting a humorous tale in your own inimitable, rugger-bugger style. Pray continue, it sounded unmissable. Finally managed to get a lavatory, some vomit and a punch-up all in one story, eh? Congratulations, old man. Surprised you didn’t manage to sneak in some anal sex too.’

  There was a nasty silence. My mother cleared her throat. Smiled brightly. ‘Lot of silly fuss made about that, if you ask me. Gordon and I do it at least once a year, if not more, don’t we, darling?’

  A horrified silence followed this little revelation.

  ‘Mum!’ gasped Philly, who’d gone very pale.

  Daddy laid down his carving knife carefully. ‘I think, my love, that you mean annual sex. I’m afraid what Harry suggested is rather different.’

  Miles gave a Neanderthal snort. ‘Just a bit! Oh God, poor old you, Gordon – annual sex! High days and holidays, eh? Oh, Elizabeth, you are priceless – ha ha! No, no, anal sex is completely different, it’s when –’

  ‘MILES!’ Philly and I both shrieked together.

  Miles stopped. ‘I wasn’t going to say,’ he said in an injured tone. ‘I was just going to explain that –’

  ‘Yes, well, just don’t explain, okay?’ cried Philly, rising to her feet. ‘Don’t you lot ever know when to stop!’ She turned furiously to the hotplate behind her on the pretext of getting more vegetables. There was a silence.

  ‘Oh Lord,’ said Harry in a low but perfectly audible voice, winking at Miles behind her stiff back, ‘you’ve done it now, old chap. Got her in a right little tizzy.’

  When Philly sat down again, Harry inclined his head towards her solicitously. ‘Good evening, fair Philippa. Let’s begin again. Please accept my sincere apologies for all lewd and vulgar behaviour, the blame for which must surely be laid at my door. I’m quite sure I speak for all of us here when I say that from now on we will all endeavour to behave in accordance with your own saintly code of conduct. Such an example to us all.’

  ‘Just eat your supper, Harry, and bloody well shut up,’ said Philly between clenched teeth.

  ‘Ooh, language, dear girl, the old halo slipped a bit then, I think. Prop it up a bit, eh, give it a shine … that’s it. What, no smile, fair Philippa? Do I detect a shimmer of frost from our favourite head girl? I’m not in for a spanking, am I? Or are you saving that for Miles? Lucky man!’

  ‘Harry,’ I said warningly.

  He spun round to me like a machine gun, hand cupped to ear. ‘Sorry?’ He craned his neck. ‘Was that a little mouse squeaking? Was that my own little wifelet I heard, muttering something?’ He dropped his hand and opened his eyes wide. ‘Ah, yes! It’s dear little Rosie mouse! What a delight. I didn’t spot you lurking over there in the corner, nibbling your cheese. Such a shy little thing usually, but perhaps not so shy these days, eh? Almost, dare one say it – yes, almost bold! Oh, incidentally,’ he turned back to the table and went on in hushed, confidential tones, ‘speaking of dear little wifelets, some of you gathered here this evening may be under the mistaken impression that there be trouble afoot in the house of Meadows. That our marriage,’ he looked around furtively as if others might be listening, ‘is no more. Is deceased!’ His eyes were wide with shock. Then he shook his head vehemently. ‘Not so, dear friends, not so. May I be the first to reassure you that any reports of its death are greatly exaggerated. Isn’t that right, Rosie?’

  ‘Harry, this is neither the time nor the –’

  ‘Oh, I know, I know, I’m a difficult bastard to live with, but shit, who isn’t, eh, Miles? I bet you’ve been known to pick your nose in public, fart under the duvet and commit other heinous, bottom-spanking offences, and all, no doubt, incurring appropriate punishments at the hand of fair Philippa.’ He winked. ‘And I hold my hand up with you – yes, I too am a sinner, mea culpa! But now that I’m enlightened, now that Rosie mouse has come out of her hole and wagged her little claw at me, well, I stand corrected, and I can assure you that from now on, all will be well. I’ve seen the light, I’ll take my punishment like a man, and my dear little wifelet can get back to preening her whiskers, isn’t that right, my love?’

  ‘No, Harry, it isn’t, and I certainly don’t wish to discuss it now.’

  ‘Oh, come, come,’ he insisted, ‘we’re all family here! A little kiss and make up over the roast lamb isn’t going to embarrass anyone, is it, Elizabeth?’

  ‘Of course not, Harry,’ said Mummy warmly, her eyes shining. ‘Oh, Harry, I’m so delighted, I was so afraid that you and Rosie were going to go your separate ways and that we’d never see you again!’

  Harry’s jaw dropped. He let his knife and fork clatter noisily on to his plate. ‘Never see me again? Good Lord, what an idea! How on earth could I leave this happy fold? How on earth could I leave you, dear Elizabeth? Why, there’s so much I’d miss! Do you really think I could give up our cosy little fireside chats?’

  ‘Well, no, I can quite see that would be hard …’ Mummy demurred.

  ‘Hard? It would be impossible! Good heavens, dear lady, if I couldn’t hear just one more time how Mrs Parker-Bowles came to the Cancer Relief Bring and Buy Sale and bought not just one but two of your very own dried-flower arrangements, why, I think I’d go insane! If I couldn’t hear you speculate on whose royal eyes must have feasted on those very same arrangements – and I think you and I both know who I mean – why, I think I’d go into a terminal decline
! Oh, no, no, to be expunged from your exclusive salon, no longer to be a party to your witty, razor-sharp repartee would be much too much to bear.’ He shuddered.

  ‘Harry,’ I said warningly.

  ‘Imagine,’ he went on with wide eyes, ‘if I could no longer hear about the day Lady Fairclough came trolleying round the aisle in Waitrose and knocked you flying into the Kit Kat display? About how you sprained your ankle – remember, Elizabeth? And how she couldn’t have been nicer? Bringing fresh flowers round in the Daimler the very next day and being so kind as to Step Inside For A Coffee and, wait for it, admire your dried-flower displays? Imagine not hearing that quaint little anecdote again, or, for that matter, any other of your wild social successes. Why, I think I’d just faint clean away.’ He shook his head mournfully. ‘And then the salon itself.’ He looked around wistfully, lovingly even. ‘Ah, yes,’ he sighed, ‘this delightful house, and the charming way you’ve disguised the fact that it isn’t – well, it isn’t exactly period, is it, Elizabeth? More, shall we say, fin de siècle? The glorious abundance of onyx ashtrays on dainty nests of tables, the doilies on every conceivable plate, the way you rest your pretty pale blue head back on the antimacassars and the charming way you make all your visitors so welcome, always so pleesto meecho, the –’

  ‘Harry, that will do!’ I snapped. Philly was also looking furious. She may be a joke but she was our mother. Mummy, of course, was looking enchanted, patting her lavender locks delightedly.

  ‘What?’ Harry raised his eyebrows innocently. ‘Can’t I compliment your dear mama?’

  ‘Of course you can, Harry,’ Mummy purred.

  ‘Just keep your compliments to yourself, there’s a good chap.’ Daddy spoke softly but he looked strangely pale. For a man who at his most antagonistic was little short of benign, these were strong words. He pushed his half-eaten plate of food aside, propped his leather-clad elbows on the table and began to fill his pipe, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Harry the while.

  ‘Ah, Gordon.’ Harry smiled. ‘I was just coming to you. Last, but by no means least. Solid, dependable Gordon. No skeletons lurking in your cupboard, are there, old chap? Shall we take a peek? Just in case? No, no, just as I thought, just the golf clubs and the Rotary tie, jolly, jolly good. Nothing grubby, nothing sinister, and heavens, why should there be? You have, after all, led a blameless, honest-to-goodness Home Counties life, haven’t you? You’ve mown the lawn, you’ve cleaned the car, you’ve worked your little socks off and come home night after night to dear Elizabeth’s girlish chatter, loyally ploughing your way through her chicken cordon bleu – maybe just helping yourself to an extra thimbleful of wine when she disappears to the kitchen to get the trifle, you old dog! And then there’s the splendid way you look after your grandson so handsomely at the weekends. Yes, my goodness, you’ve fixed that little car up a treat for him, haven’t you?’ Suddenly he paused. Frowned as if a thought had just struck him.

  ‘I say, you’ll miss him, Gordon, won’t you? Young Ivo? Did Rosie tell you that if she goes ahead with all this nonsense, I’m going to fight her for custody? No? Oh yes, yes I will.’ He nodded soberly. ‘Stand a damn good chance, too, I’m afraid, bearing in mind – well, you know. Or perhaps you don’t?’ He raised his eyebrows. Sighed. ‘Not that I blame Rosie, of course. I mean, hell, who wouldn’t have a short fuse with a truculent two-year-old at one’s feet all day, eh? And I certainly don’t relish having to spill the beans either, but then, why should I have to? After all, it doesn’t have to be like that, does it? If you, Gordon, could just persuade young mousy-poo here to change her mind, tell her what a splendid chap I am – not as splendid as you of course, I’m but a student at your knee – but tell her how determined I am to mend my dissolute ways, well, then I really think she might listen. She’s got a lot of time for you, Gordon old boy.’ He looked around at the silent, shocked assembly. Suddenly he clapped his hand to his forehead. ‘Good God, I nearly forgot the best bit! What an ass I am!’ He smiled exultantly. ‘Hold on to your hats, good people, I forgot to tell you – I intend to get a job!’

  ‘Oh Harry!’ Mummy’s face cleared and she clasped her hands with delight. ‘What a marvellous idea!’

  He swung round to her. ‘Isn’t it just, Elizabeth? Or may I call you Lizzie? Like Gordon does? I’ve always wanted to.’

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘Yes, a job. I say, would you be able to help with that, Gordon? Put the word about the City for me? See if there’s a spot of banking or stockbroking in the offing? Nothing too serious, just a bit of tinkering about on a computer screen all day, hmmm? How about that, Rosie? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like to see me go off to the station every morning in a pinstriped suit, briefcase in hand, straighten my tie at the door, brush a few flecks from my collar, trill, “Toodle-oo, my darling!” just like your dear mama?’

  ‘Harry, whether or not you get a job is a matter of complete indifference to me,’ I said in a barely controlled voice.

  ‘Oh, come now, I might earn a few pennies, and a little extra housekeeping never goes amiss, does it? Got to stock up on those silky undies for your young friend, don’t forget, and I gather they don’t come cheap these days, do they?’

  Philly was on her feet. ‘Harry, this is obscene! How dare you speak to Rosie like that!’

  Harry cringed back in mock terror. ‘Ooh, I say, look out, it’s fair Phil on the warpath! Being a bit spunky now, sticking up for little sis – take a house point, that girl! And might I say, incidentally,’ he leaned forward, ‘how marvellously attractive you look with a touch of fire in your belly, my dear? I know your looks are much admired but personally I’ve always found them a little insipid, but that’s probably got more to do with your Madonna-like disposition than your actual physiognomy. Yes, a bit of righteous indignation suits you down to the ground, puts some colour in your cheeks, some fire in your eyes, and I wouldn’t mind betting those plucky little breasts of yours are heaving around like nobody’s business in your M&S undies, eh? Getting a bit hot and monkeyish in there, is it? D’you know, I wouldn’t mind stretching across the table right here and now and giving them –’

  Whatever it was that Harry had in mind was lost, as a fist came flying out of nowhere, catching him hard and square on the jaw, and sending him and his chair flying backwards. He hit the floor with a crash. Miles stood over him, panting.

  ‘Sorry, folks, should have let him stand up first.’

  ‘Not at all, dear boy,’ murmured my father. ‘Marquess of Queensberry rules went out with the Ark. Anyway, long overdue. Had half a mind to do it myself.’

  Dad got up and went round the table. He stooped, peering down at Harry, who was lying like a huge starfish, arms and legs akimbo, mouth open, eyes firmly shut.

  ‘Good shot,’ he murmured. ‘Looks like he’s out cold. Of course, the alcohol gave him a head start. Give me a hand, Miles, and we’ll lug him upstairs, then with any luck we can finish our supper in peace. I’ve been looking forward to my apple crumble.’

  ‘But shouldn’t we get a doctor?’ twittered Mummy, standing over him, twisting her hanky about in dismay. ‘Suppose he’s concussed?’

  ‘Of course we shouldn’t,’ snapped Daddy. ‘Now for heaven’s sake, stand clear while we pick him up, and when I come back downstairs, Elizabeth, I want my bloody pudding!’

  Mummy’s jaw dropped in shock. Then it shut. To my amazement she turned and began hurriedly clearing the plates. The men picked up Harry, put his arms round their shoulders and between them lugged him heavily upstairs. I looked at Philly beside me. For a moment I thought I was about to burst into tears, but then I saw her face twitch. I could have gone either way, but as the waves of laughter came tearing up my throat, I was powerless to stop them, and clutching my sister I broke into helpless, hysterical giggles.

  Chapter Eight

  Sadly, Harry’s concussion couldn’t run to days, just a mere fourteen hours of heavy sleep, and he graced us with his presence at around ten thirty the follow
ing morning. I was alone in the kitchen making Yorkshire puddings for lunch when he staggered in, his Paisley dressing gown seductively agape to the navel, scratching his tousled head, blinking sleep from his eyes and yawning widely. There was a large blue bruise on the underside of his chin which he touched gingerly as he approached.

  ‘Damn great bruise on my chin,’ he said in surprise. ‘Know anything about that, Rosie? Didn’t get up to any horseplay last night, did we? Can’t help thinking I must have been a bit too blitzed for all that malarkey.’ He frowned. ‘You didn’t suck my face, did you?’

  I ground my teeth. ‘Why, in God’s name, would I want to do that?’

  ‘Well, you know, to practise love bites or something. Now that you’re consorting with adolescents again and all that.’

  ‘No, Harry, I did not. You earned that bruise after a series of character assassination attempts on various members of my family. Miles socked you in the jaw during supper last night.’

  His eyes cleared. Memory flooded in. ‘Ah, yes, right. It’s all coming back now. Had a few too many bevvies, didn’t I? Got a bad attack of the frankies. Imagine I’m in disgrace. Sorry about that.’

  ‘It’s not a problem,’ I muttered into the batter, whisking hard. It’s not a problem, Harry, because in precisely twenty-four hours from now I shall be leaving you. Packing my bags and loading them, Ivo, the gerbils and the black and white guinea pig into the Volvo just as soon as you’ve piled into your Monday morning taxi and trundled off to the club for lunch with Boffy.

  ‘I really am sorry, Rosie posy.’

  I turned. He hadn’t called me Rosie posy for ages. In his eyes I noticed something else I hadn’t seen for ages either. A drop of humility. A smidgen of contrition. A very small plea for forgiveness even. I swallowed.

  ‘It’s okay, Harry. You really were over the top, though, you know.’

  ‘I know.’