Old Friends Reunited, page 6
6
Half an hour later, Audrie and I were sitting under the pleasant shade of the pergola. It was turning into a glorious afternoon, the sun high in the clear sky. In front of us the pool lapped gently, vibrant turquoise water sparkling invitingly. That was more like it.
Bijou busied herself doing self-important circuits of the pool perimeter, trotting around it like a tiny show pony, occasionally leaning in rather dangerously to snap at the water.
‘Gin seems very angry, doesn’t she?’ Audrie said. ‘Very bitter about the divorce.’
‘She does,’ I agreed, ‘and trust me, solicitors only make things worse. They make you argue over everything. The house, the kids, the crockery, and all for 500 quid an hour. I suppose that’s what will happen to you and Victor, if you go through with this silly divorce.’
Audrie looked a bit rattled. ‘Oh, I don’t know what to do. It’s madness.’
‘Then don’t do it. Talk to Victor instead; it’s much cheaper and easier.’
Audrie bristled. ‘He won’t listen to me! He is the one who has brought a divorce specialist into my home, not me.’
‘You don’t know that’s what he is; have you asked Victor?’
‘We aren’t speaking. Perhaps I should get my own advisor and bring her here, that would make him sit up and take notice!’
‘Gosh, don’t do that! I’m sure it would make things far worse!’
‘How could things be worse? We are sleeping in separate rooms.’
‘At least you have the duvet to yourself,’ I murmured, ‘that’s something.’
‘Hey, ladies! This looks like an old girls’ reunion, just like back at dear old St Martha’s!’
It was Gin, coming towards us with a swanky-looking carrier bag.
‘It’s time for presents,’ she said. ‘I found the sweetest things and I thought of you.’
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ I said.
‘But I wanted to!’
‘Come and sit down,’ Audrie said, pulling out a chair between us. ‘Have a glass of wine.’
‘Day drinking? You’d never get away with that with Mel,’ Gin said. ‘He knows the calorie count of everything and the value of nothing. He’s talking about getting a hair transplant.’
‘He’s not here,’ Audrie said, uncorking a bottle of red wine and pouring out three glassfuls. She picked up one and pushed the other two towards us. ‘Here’s to all the St Martha’s girls! Wherever they are!’
‘To St Martha’s!’ we echoed and the three of us clinked our glasses over the table.
Gin raised her glass into the air. ‘And here’s to the Baggies! Reunited at last!’
‘And here’s to the seventies,’ I added. ‘So many memories and absolutely no evidence.’
The wine was delicious, warm, fruity and comforting, tasting of raspberries and summer. We sat and chatted, admiring the pool, the gardens, catching up with each other’s news and remembering school and the people we had known. Audrie got out a photograph album and we pointed out hairstyles and fashions with incredulity.
‘I remember her,’ Gin said, stabbing at a photograph. ‘Do you remember that argument we had on the coach? It was a school trip to some castle.’
‘That must be nearly fifty years ago,’ I said.
‘Yes, but I’ve been thinking about it and I can prove she was wrong. The Woodstock festival was actually held in Bethel.’
‘I think you can let it go now,’ Audrie said. She jabbed her finger at a different picture. ‘And that teacher with the terrible perm, what was her name? She used to teach us biology. Tomkins? Tasker?’
Gin leaned over. ‘Mrs Taylor. The only sex education she ever gave us was to say she had two children and we could ask her anything after the lesson. Which of course we never did. And the whole class had to watch that black-and-white film of childbirth. Which was like a horror movie because no one knew what was going on. It’s a miracle we didn’t all become nuns.’
Bored with her fight with a deflated football on the lawn, Bijou came over to join us.
‘Oh, what a cute little thing,’ Gin said, scooping her up and snuggling her, ‘isn’t she the sweetest. Is this your lil fur baby?’
Audrie looked puzzled. ‘No, she’s my dog.’
I think Audrie and I were both waiting for Bijou’s outrage and possible retaliation at this familiarity, but nothing happened, and Bijou submitted to the adoration with a pleased expression.
I went to fetch the gifts I too had bought for the girls, and they were suitably delighted, although Gin didn’t understand the Marmite. She looked at the little travel clock with delight and wondered if the Queen might have one just like it on her bedside table. I said I thought it was highly probable.
Gin told us she had moved out of the Manhattan apartment she had shared with Mel and their son Mel Junior for many years, and into the house in the Hamptons she had received in the divorce negotiations. It didn’t seem much of a hardship to me, as I remembered that house from my last visit, but from the look on her face she might as well have been living in a derelict squat in the East End of London.
After a while, Gin leaned back in her chair with a heartfelt sigh while Bijou settled in her lap and stared at me over the table with contempt.
‘This is just about god damn perfect,’ she said. ‘Apart from my divorce, and Bea’s divorce and now your divorce, of course. They do say things happen in threes, and obviously it’s the worst news. But this is exactly what I needed. Peace and quiet, good friends and lovely weather. Do you know it was freezing cold in Manhattan when I left, and it was raining?’
‘Well, it was also raining here yesterday,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose it’s always like this.’
‘And we have the mistral winds too, which are no fun at all,’ Audrie added as she opened a second bottle. ‘They drive people mad.’
‘Too late for me,’ Gin said, taking a swig, ‘I’m already crazy. And I was fine until I took up with men. I’ve realised that’s the problem. Men are the problem.’
‘You’re right.’ Audrie nodded.
‘And why? Why do we need them? That’s what I’ve been wondering. They are high maintenance in every way. Food, cars, gadgets, jobs.’
‘Duvets,’ Audrie added.
Gin took a slurp of her wine. ‘We don’t need them, ladies. They are as much use as… a horse with a sewing machine.’
We sat and thought about this for a moment.
I bobbed my hands out in front of me, the fingers curled together.
‘They could push the material through though, if someone threaded the machine for them. And if they were sitting on a chair, I expect they could reach the foot pedal with one back hoof?’
‘You would have to move the tail before they could sit down,’ Audrie added thoughtfully. ‘Could a horse sit on a chair?’
‘If there was a hole in the back,’ I suggested.
Audrie nodded. ‘It’s possible.’
Gin looked at us, bemused. ‘Those mistral winds have really got to you, haven’t they? Listen to yourselves!’
We all burst out laughing and it felt so good to be able to lighten the atmosphere. Perhaps I hadn’t lost my class clown skills after all. Recently I had been finding it easier to make people laugh in person than to produce humorous writing. Which was very worrying indeed, as my career depended on it.
‘A horse with a sewing machine…!’ Audrie said, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes.
‘Here, you crazy kids, have your gifts. Bought in Paris,’ Gin said, lifting the bag onto the table.
Inside were two Hermès scarves which were absolutely beautiful and probably horribly expensive.
‘But you can’t give me this,’ I said unconvincingly, letting the blue silk run through my fingers.
Gin made a dismissive noise and flapped a hand.
‘I have bought myself plenty of things, don’t you worry, Bea. That divorce settlement has been burning a hole in my checking account.’
‘Well, it’s very generous,’ I told her, ‘and thank you. Now I suppose I should go and see if the girls have replied to my email. They are hopeless at communicating.’
‘They will only want you to come back to sort out their problems,’ Audrie said, wagging a finger. ‘That’s what happens when you admit to your children that you’re having fun without them.’
‘Well, I’m not ringing Junior for exactly that reason,’ Gin said. ‘He wanted to stay in Manhattan with his father, so as far as I am concerned his father and his new squeeze can sort him out for the moment.’
I sat back in my chair. ‘You sound very angry; when did the divorce go through?’
Gin took a deep breath. ‘Ten months ago.’
Audrie shook her head. ‘La meilleure vengeance est une vie bien vécue. That’s what the French say. The best revenge is a life well lived.’
‘Well let’s hope you remember that when the time comes,’ I warned.
Audrie pouted. ‘I will do fine. I was going to write another book about the chateau. And I have been approached several times by television companies asking if I want to do another programme.’
I was surprised at her change of heart. ‘Really? I thought you said you never wanted to do that again?’
Audrie frowned. ‘Oh, I don’t think…’
‘Yes, you did,’ Gin said, wagging a finger. ‘Your exact words were: it will be a cold day in hell before I let the cameras come back.’
Audrie thought about this. ‘Well, that was the day when the plumber didn’t fix the leak in the kitchen, and they had to dig up part of the new floor. And the floor specialist had gone on holiday, and he couldn’t fix it for three weeks, so we had a huge hole covered with a wooden board that wasn’t big enough. Victor fell in at least once a day, and we had no heating. Anyone would be furious.’
‘And what about when they discovered those problems in the ceiling? I remember that. You were on the phone at two in the morning in tears,’ I said.
‘But they had only just decorated the bedroom. They should have sorted it out before that. And then the paint we had chosen was out of stock and there was an eight-week wait. You would have been angry too,’ Audrie said defensively.
‘And the crack in the side of the pool? Have you forgotten that? The subsidence?’ Gin added.
Audrie looked anxiously at the pool in front of us as though she were afraid it might be listening and decide to do it again.
‘No, of course not, but don’t you think if those things went wrong in someone else’s house, I would be able to deal with them a little more calmly?’
‘Maybe,’ Gin said doubtfully. ‘Okay – the barrowloads of bird guano in the attic. Remember that? You sent pictures.’
Audrie sighed. ‘How could I forget that. What I’m saying is I don’t ever want to see the camera crew here again. That blonde girl Matheus used to flirt with. The absolute chaos. The cables all over the ground; I used to fall over them every day, sometimes twice. And then the trucks and diggers blocking the drive, and they hit the gate posts. Faustin wouldn’t speak to any of them for weeks except to use bad language, which luckily, they didn’t fully understand because his accent is so dense. And they dug a trench for the sewer pipes in the wrong place. Three times! You didn’t see that on the programme, did you? A lot of the many, many little things that drove me crazy were edited out.
‘It looked as though we decided to have a path put in and voilà, five minutes later there it was. The restoration of the staircase took half an episode. In real life it took three months. The inability to have a private conversation for days, no weeks, was maddening! There was someone there with a camera and a microphone every time I moved. Victor and I had to go out in the car when we wanted to have an argument. And Matheus, when he was here, always seemed to have something unfortunate to say. And they always recorded it. And they always broadcasted it. He was in contact with that girl who produced the show for a while afterwards. She told him they had enough spare material for a behind-the-scenes series. We would have looked ridiculous. They even filmed Victor when he was trying to dredge the lake. He fell in seven times. He was always tripping over things or falling over. He has no sense of balance.’
‘But it’s all lovely now,’ Gin said, patting Audrie on the knee.
‘What I am saying is I wouldn’t want them here, but if they wanted to pay me to look at other people’s projects, well that would be different.’
‘Fair enough,’ I said, ‘it might be fun.’
Audrie gave me a look. ‘I would think of the money rather than the fun.’
‘Very wise,’ I agreed, ‘but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’
Suddenly I could hear thumping music in the distance. The three of us looked at each other, puzzled, and the noise increased by the second until abruptly it stopped.
Bijou jumped down from Gin’s lap and stood on guard, ears up like semaphore flags.
‘What was that? I am not expecting more guests,’ Audrie said, half-rising from her chair. ‘I’d better go and see.’
Before she could, there was a ringing shout across the gardens.
‘Maman!’
And Matheus, grinning broadly and looking very pleased with himself, came around the corner of the chateau.
‘Darling boy, I wasn’t expecting you! Why didn’t you tell me?’ Audrie cried.
Matheus swooped her up into a hug, swinging her off the ground in his enthusiasm and kissing her noisily on her cheek. Bijou joined in with excited barks and yips, almost getting trampled in the melee, and then raced around the table several times, pirouetting and leaping.
‘I missed you, Maman. I thought I would come early and surprise you!’
‘How lovely, and what a wonderful surprise it is!’
‘I knew you would be pleased.’
They stood looking at each other with affection for a few seconds. Matheus had certainly grown into a good-looking chap, and he was smartly dressed, in jeans, a striped shirt with the cuffs rolled up and a red sweater knotted around his neck.
‘And what do we have here?’ he said, noticing Gin and me staring at him, ‘I didn’t know we had supermodels visiting, or I would have arrived earlier.’
‘Oh, Matheus!’ I said, laughing. ‘You are ridiculous!’
He came over to greet us, which involved a lot of fuss and cheek kissing and compliments. He was obviously still taking the charm pills and they were still working.
With the greetings over, he went to stand with his arm around his mother, a big smile on his face. Bijou sat at his feet and looked up adoringly and then barked, annoyed at being ignored.
‘I am so pleased to get here; the roads are terrible. We took a long time to get past Marseille.’
At that moment, just as I had registered the use of the word ‘we’, another young man appeared carrying a case of beer and behind him, a third, pulling two suitcases and leaving deep tracks in the gravel. Bijou nearly went apoplectic, running round in circles barking.
Matheus held out his arms. ‘Surprise, Maman! You always said my friends were welcome, so I have brought some with me. I knew you wouldn’t mind.’
Audrie, while obviously shocked, rose to the occasion beautifully, and Matheus started the introductions. Which went on for some time.
Brad – tall, blonde and an Ivy-league type – was from Boston and Franco – dark haired, sloe-eyed and devastatingly handsome – from Milan. They both apparently worked at the university too, doing something vaguely described as ‘research’.
‘I will have to put you dans La Grange – in the barn,’ Audrie said, when she got a chance to interrupt the flow of polite questioning and charisma. ‘The gîtes are all occupied. And the house isn’t really… you’d be happier in the barn, all in there together, wouldn’t you?’
They assured her this was marvellous and wonderful and exciting, and eventually Audrie persuaded the three of them to follow her with their cases and beer supplies, away to the stone barn on the other side of the pool. They laughed and chattered all the way like a trio of excited children, Bijou at their heels, barking.
‘Well, aren’t they adorable?’ Gin drawled, watching them go with a fond eye. ‘So polite and chatty. Matheus certainly has some charming acquaintances. Junior’s friends can barely string two words together. And they listen to the most awful music. It will be nice to have some sensible young people about; they seem delightful.’
‘Absolutely,’ I agreed.
Actually, I wondered if Audrie was that pleased to have the three of them arriving out of the blue when she was in such a state. Thinking about that, I wondered if perhaps Gin and I had arrived at a bad time too?
‘We’ll have to give Audrie lots of support,’ I said.
Gin nodded absentmindedly. ‘Poor Audrie. Is she really going to divorce Victor? I couldn’t believe it when she told me.’
‘I hope not.’
‘And where is he anyway?’
‘Inside with his solicitor I’m afraid,’ I replied.
Gin snorted and returned to her glass of wine.
‘Lawyers! They really are the pits, and I should know. A woman could be left with just the clothes on her back, the way they carry on.’
‘I don’t think that’s what happened with you though, Gin?’ I said, trying to be reasonable.
‘Well, no, but I had lawyers of my own and they were hot on the case. It took months to sort out. I sometimes thought I would be out on the street with barely a dime. It must have cost Mel a fortune.’
‘But you’re fine now. I mean you do have that gorgeous house in the Hamptons. That would mean something to anyone.’
Gin flapped a dismissive hand. ‘It’s only a small cottage in the grand scheme of things, only five bedrooms, barely room to swing a cat. But a nice vista over the ocean. I find it very pleasing, to have that. Mel loved that view and now I’ve got it.’
I was feeling rather exhausted with this chatter about the many evils of men and divorce, my own had been bad enough. I took the opportunity to go back to my room to freshen up.
