A Married Man, page 8
‘Is this still their road, then?’ asked Max, at length.
‘Their drive,’ muttered Ben.
‘Still?’ Max repeated in awe, a few minutes later.
‘Still.’
‘So … where’s the house?’
‘Hang on, my darling, hold your horses,’ I tinkled merrily. ‘It’s right around this bend, I think.’
Except it wasn’t.
‘It goes on for ever,’ said Ben. ‘We’ll never escape.’
‘And why should you want to, silly? Ah – here it is!’
As we turned a corner, Netherby finally unfurled itself, rearing up at us out of the manicured green in all its Palladian glory. Banks of windows glinted in the sunlight from the golden, sandstone façade, and balustrades and porticoes frowned down. Halfway up, a front door loomed, and from it, a huge bank of steps swept down, and then divided into two, to meet the sweep of gravel below. Beyond the house, beyond the parterres, the lavender walks and the rose gardens, immaculate parkland rolled to a glassy lake, then up again to wooded hills in the distance.
‘Oh! It’s like a castle!’ breathed Max, suddenly excited.
‘Isn’t it,’ I agreed, crunching to a halt on the gravel. And there, I thought with a gathering sense of dread, was the Queen.
Rose, who’d clearly been waiting, came, not from one of the many side doors I knew the house boasted, but out of the front door, which was rarely used, except for very formal occasions. She threw it wide and tripped dramatically down the hundreds of steps to meet us. Halfway down, she was overtaken by a pair of bounding lurchers, who raised their heads, baying out a welcome. Behind her, slowly, came her eldest son, Hector; gangly and blond, corduroys billowing in the breeze, blinking away like billyo behind his glasses, clearly under orders to attend.
I glanced at my watch as I got out. We were over an hour late. They must have been waiting for ages, poised in the morning room perhaps, at the table in the window, sipping coffee together silently, waiting for our car. Rose muttering, ‘Where is the wretched girl?’ and then finally, as we came into view, putting her cup down abruptly. ‘Here they are, Hector. Right, action stations. Come on, quickly now, out we go, and don’t forget to smile, for heaven’s sake.’
Skipping lightly down the last few steps she came towards us across the gravel, arms outstretched, beaming; a tiny spry, energetic figure, neat in a lovat-green twinset and smart trousers. Her navy shoes had horse bits on the front, and her immaculate grey hair was swept back and curled neatly round her ears.
‘Darlings! You’re here!’ she called, still from some distance.
‘Hello, Rose.’
As I helped Max out of his seat, I glanced up at the house and caught a glimpse of Lavinia’s pale face at an upstairs window. She quickly shot back behind the heavy drapes, clearly wanting to spy, but not wanting to be seen.
I clutched my two boys by their hands, one on either side and steeled myself. Then I strode confidently towards the welcoming committee, a smile fixed firmly in position.
‘Hello there.’
‘Lucy! Ben! Max!’ Rose called lightly. Her hands lit briefly on my shoulders and she gave me a swift kiss. ‘Isn’t this wonderful? Isn’t it just marvellous?’ She crouched down between the boys. ‘And let me look at you both. My goodness, you’ve grown. Look at the pair of you – huge!’
She straightened up, smiling. As she did, her pale blue eyes travelled comprehensively over my jeans and T-shirt, and finally came to rest on my face. They glittered intently.
‘So! Lucy, what a treat. Isn’t this perfect? Here we all are, together again. At long last. All present and correct!’
Chapter Six
‘Come in, come in!’ she cried, turning on her heel and leading the way towards the steps. She was, as ever, I noticed, dauntingly thin. ‘I’m sure you’ll want a cup of something after your journey,’ she said, striding on, ‘and then I’ll show you Chandlers Barn. But first, come and say hello to everyone. Lavinia! Lav-in-ia! Yoo-hoo, they’re he-re! Follow me, Lucy.’
I would, of course, but first I thought I might just pause to greet Hector, whom she’d brushed past rather dismissively.
‘Hi Hector, how are you?’ I reached up and bestowed a quick kiss on his cheek. He blushed predictably.
‘I’m well, thank you, Lucy,’ he muttered, spectacles flashing in the sunlight as he glanced nervously at his mother’s back. ‘Shall we …?’
I took the point and we obediently fell in behind the great lady, speedily following her up the mountain of steps, the boys, nimble as goats behind us.
As we crossed the threshold and went through into the vast, vaulted, black and white flagstone hall, heavy with the scent of orchids which rose from urns poised on columns, Rose paused – for effect, I couldn’t help thinking. We dutifully gazed about us, adjusting our eyes to the gloom, silently succumbing to the hushed opulence of our surroundings. Above the magnificent stone fireplace a stag’s head bore down with dead eyes, and from the walls, yellowing, faded faces gazed out from the ancestral oils. Dotted about sparingly was the sort of furniture one normally only views from behind a rope, and in the distance, I heard the familiar stately ticking of a large and ancient clock. The faded rose drapes at the windows, like everything else, bore the pall of antiquity and, more importantly, the touch of generations of Fellowes.
‘Wow,’ said Ben, shortly.
Rose said nothing but smiled and raised her chin in appreciation. There was a proud gleam in her eye, a certain dihedral to her nose. Timing it to a nicety, her daughter chose that moment to trip lightly down the grand staircase. One hand brushed the rail and her dark, straight hair bobbed and shone behind her, held back still, I noticed, by an eighties velvet hairband. She was wearing a sensible Liberty print shirt and skirt I knew of old. What was new, however, was the broad, bright smile, and the light in her eyes.
‘Lucy! You’re here at last!’ she cried. ‘How marvellous, we’ve been absolutely dying for you to come.’
‘Have you?’ I said, wrongfooted slightly and trying to keep the surprise from my voice. ‘Gosh, how sweet of you, Lavinia.’
And what a cow I was for thinking she was spying on us up there. She was probably just waiting at the window. I hid my embarrassment in her hair as she pecked me on the cheek.
‘And you’re going to just love the barn,’ she gushed. ‘Everyone who’s seen it is so impressed. I can’t wait to show you round. I have to say, Mummy and I have worked jolly hard in there, and now it’s finished, I’m even just a teeny bit jealous. Quite tempted to live in it myself!’
‘Don’t be silly, Lavinia, it’s much too big for a single person,’ said her mother crushingly, comprehensively taking the wind out of her sails.
‘Oh well, Mummy, I didn’t really mean –’ She turned anxiously.
‘I’m sure it’s wonderful,’ I assured her quickly, ‘and I can’t wait to see it. As for you …’ I looked her up and down approvingly. ‘Am I allowed to say …’
‘That I’ve put on some weight?’ She laughed. ‘You are. Two stone actually, although admittedly most of it’s up here.’ She indicated her huge bosom. ‘But I feel marvellous. Loads better.’
‘You look it,’ I smiled, relieved.
Poor Lavinia, jilted two years ago by Piers, the fiancé whose feet had frozen solid just as the invitations were going out and the presents were rolling in. She’d never quite got over it, and whilst not exactly Miss Havisham-esque in her grief, had nevertheless gone into a steep decline. White as a sheet, she’d wandered this house like a ghost, quite unable to eat or sleep for months, poor girl. Her whole life had been a preamble to getting married to the right man, living in the right house, and in the right county, like some throwback from a Victorian novel, but having snared her totally harmless and charmless suitor – he’d glimpsed the future and done a runner. Never mind that he brayed like an idiot, wore his trousers under his armpits and had all the pre-possession of a duck, he was also in possession of a pile which, whilst not comparable to Netherby, was still ‘a house one wouldn’t be ashamed to entertain in,’ she’d once confided breathlessly to me. Lavinia was devastated by her loss.
I remember being lost in secret, grudging admiration for Piers at the time. I wouldn’t have thought he’d had it in him, to snub the Fellowes like that, but I was also deeply sorry for her. She’d suffered the most unimaginable indignity of her tribe; a huge wedding had been planned, the tiara was out of the vault, half the county were ready to assemble, and then – total, naked humiliation. I wondered, then, if she’d ever get over it, but looking at her now, her hazel eyes shining in a face that was still a bit pale – but then that was her particular pallor – I thought with relief that she had. She looked better than I’d seen her for years.
‘And look at you, you great big boys!’ She bent down to greet them. ‘My, you’ve grown – haven’t they grown, Hec?’
‘They certainly have,’ said Hector, straightening up. ‘Little men, now.’ He cleared his throat importantly. ‘And may I say, Lucy, how pleased we all are that you decided to come and live here. We couldn’t be more delighted to have you and the boys amongst us, and we hope you’ll be very happy.’
This was quite a speech for Hector, and his glasses all but steamed up with the effort. His mother and sister gazed at him in astonishment.
‘You sound like an alderman, Hec,’ giggled Lavinia. ‘You’ll be growing a paunch next!’
Hector palpitated a bit behind his glasses, but I was touched. And, suddenly, thoroughly ashamed of all my doubts and misgivings. I looked at the three faces smiling anxiously at me and realized that actually, they were all perfectly sweet and it was all going to be fine. In my mind I’d stupidly let them balloon into grotesque, pompous caricatures, blue-blooded ogres, which they weren’t at all, just simple, country people who couldn’t be more welcoming.
‘Thank you, Hector,’ I smiled. ‘That’s so sweet of you. I’m sure we’re going to be really happy here.’ I squeezed his arm, knowing anything more effusive would send a rush of blood to the cheeks again.
‘So.’ Rose clapped her hands happily. ‘Come on then, let’s take you boys through to the sitting room for some juice and a biscuit, and we’ll get Mummy a cup of coffee. Oh. Where’s Max?’
I swung about. God, where was Max? He was here just a moment ago, but it would be just like him to disappear to the furthest turret and stone the peacocks the moment we arrived.
‘Here,’ said a little voice behind us as he appeared from down a long corridor. ‘I went to the toilet.’
‘Loo, darling,’ I breathed nervously. ‘They say that at school,’ I muttered.
‘Well, clever boy for finding the right place,’ said Rose, which made me quake again. God, what exactly had he found to pee in? A priceless commode? Archie’s gun cabinet?
‘And did you wash your hands?’ she tinkled merrily, leading him off down the corridor.
He gazed at her solemnly. ‘No, but I licked them.’
Rose dropped his hand hastily.
‘Max!’ I squealed.
‘Ah, well,’ Rose purred, ‘you’ll soon get used to our funny little ways. I’ll introduce you to the delights of Wright’s Coal Tar tomorrow.’
‘But Rose, he –’
‘But for the moment,’ she swept on, ignoring me, ‘refreshment! Here we are,’ she hung a left down the panelled corridor. ‘In here I thought, it’s cosier. And let’s hope the dogs haven’t scoffed all the Jaffa Cakes!’
Still smarting with embarrassment I followed her into the sitting room. A long stool in front of the fireplace was laden with coffee, juice and biscuits which the boys fell on instantly.
‘Steady.’ I gripped Max’s wrist just a little too tightly as it flew to the plate.
‘Ow!’ He turned on me. ‘That hurt!’
‘Just behave,’ I breathed, fixing him firmly with my eyes, then adding brightly for Rose’s benefit, ‘Oooh, Jaffa Cakes, Max. How lovely.’
I perched apprehensively beside him on the club fender. Rose had indeed chosen one of the few cosy rooms in this vast mausoleum of a house for our induction, and Jaffa Cakes out of a packet with the boys kneeling on a rug and patting the dogs whilst they ate, would never have been allowed when I’d first met Ned. I had a feeling Rose had planned the consciously casual ambience rather meticulously, even down to the newspapers strewn about on the floor, but so what? That in itself was considerate, designed to make us comfortable. And perhaps, too, I was being cynical and they really had relaxed a bit. They certainly looked less tucked up, I thought, watching Lavinia laugh with Ben. I glanced about the room. Family photos as usual abounded, but it seemed to me that the serried ranks featuring Ned had gone. I peered. Yes, just one or two. Rose caught my eye.
‘I put them away,’ she murmured. ‘Can’t live in the past for ever, can we? Time to move on.’
She regarded me over her coffee cup and I smiled gratefully back. I made a mental note to check out the fossil collection and the cricket bats tomorrow and phone Jess triumphantly if they too had disappeared.
‘What’s this one called?’ asked Ben, hugging a huge shaggy lurcher and sharing his biscuit with him.
‘That’s Hoover, and you can see why,’ remarked Rose as he slavishly licked the carpet clean of crumbs.
Ben laughed. ‘Better than a hoover!’
‘And that,’ said Rose pointing to the one sitting in front of Max, quivering with excitement as she watched him for tit-bits, ‘is his daughter. So guess what she’s called?’
‘What?’
‘Dyson.’
The boys were delighted with this. ‘And is she going to have puppies?’
‘Yes, if we can find a suitable mate.’
Ben instantly ransacked his memory bank for more household suction appliances to cover this eventuality.
‘Electrolux! If she had puppies you could call one Electrolux! Or – or just Vacuum, that’d be good.’
‘Or Dildo,’ said Max thoughtfully.
‘Max!’ I gasped, horrified. ‘Where did you hear that word!’
‘Pietro told me. Rozanna’s got one in her flat. He went in one day and saw it by her bed. You turn it on and it shakes.’
‘Well, that’s not a hoover then is it?’ demanded Ben. ‘That’s no good, it’s got to be a sucky thing.’
‘More Ribena, boys?’ murmured Lavinia, getting up to pour and shooting me a faintly hysterical look. Hector gazed, puce-faced, at his shoes, whilst Rose looked thoughtful.
‘Hmm, Dildo. Pretty name. Why not? I’ll put it to Archie.’
‘How – how is Archie?’ I managed, hoping to God she’d forget, or that finding a suitable mate for Dyson would prove as difficult as it was for her children.
‘Fine,’ she beamed, ‘in peak condition, as he would say. Fishing, naturally, at the moment, or supervising the restocking of the river, but longing to see you. He sends his regards and you’ll see him at supper. I thought we’d have an early supper, incidentally, so that the boys could join us. Or,’ she added anxiously, ‘or maybe you’d prefer to be on your own the first night?’
‘An early supper would be fine,’ I soothed. ‘Thank you for including us.’
‘Excellent.’ She looked relieved. ‘So, let’s go and see the barn.’ She rose abruptly and stood before me, sovereign and motionless.
‘Oh! Right.’ I startled. Threw a cup of hot coffee down my throat.
The others jumped up too, quite skippy with excitement, and it dawned on me that this was quite an event. Even Hector was hopping about a bit and I prayed the boys would react well, enthuse madly, that we could all come up with some kind of reciprocity of scale.
I needn’t have worried. As we trooped out of a side door, followed a gravel path past a number of formal beds, skirted the old kitchen garden and Orangery and headed for the most park-like fringes of the place, I suddenly spied it across the lake.
‘Oh!’ I stopped in my tracks. Shaded my eyes. ‘Is that it?’
I was genuinely surprised. Where once had stood a fairly grotty, dilapidated barn on the far bank, now stood a very smart, timbered and whitewashed affair, complete with a reclaimed slate roof, a weather vane on top, and surrounded by a riotous jumble of cottage garden.
‘Oh, but it’s gorgeous. Look, boys, isn’t it heaven!’
But they were off already, running down to the water’s edge, thundering across the wooden bridge that crossed the narrowest part of the lake, and up the bank towards the little picket fence that surrounded it. It was closer to the main house than I’d remembered, I thought, glancing back at Netherby with a secret qualm, but at least we were separated by the water, I consoled myself rather guiltily.
By the time we’d got there, the boys were already thundering up the path and throwing back the front door.
‘Look, Mum, it’s huge!’
I peered inside. Blinked. It was. Because true to the natural aesthetics of a barn, it had been left open and cavernous inside with no obvious partitions. I walked into the most magical room I had ever seen. The floor was of seasoned wood, the walls, whitewashed and beamed, but hung with Navajo-style stripy blankets, and the sitting area, a square of colourful, squashy sofas and armchairs covered in Kelim tapestry; all flowed effortlessly into a dining area with a robust wooden table that faced the garden, and beyond it, a small wooden kitchen. Up above, and running all around, was a gallery, and up higher still, exposed rafters supported the roof, huge ones, that had been stripped back to their natural pale pine. It looked like the ultimate log cabin, where a person could snuggle down in one of the deep, cushion-strewn sofas and not emerge for days.
‘Oh Rose, it’s wonderful,’ I breathed, meaning it, and delighted I could mean it, too.
‘Do you like it? Do you really like it!’ Lavinia was beside herself with excitement, rushing to the windows to fling them open. ‘Look at the view, Lucy. You can see all the way up through the meadow to the old folly, and then right up to the woods!’
I went across to admire. Outside, a sillful of wisteria snaked about. I smiled with pleasure. ‘It’s fab, Lavinia. Really fab.’
