A Rural Affair

28



‘Yours?’ spluttered Frankie, since their mother seemed incapable of speech.

‘Yes, it’s mine. OK?’

Jennie moaned in agony again, but not so piercingly this time: it was more the cry of a defeated fighter at the very end of their strength, very much on the ropes. Dan, however, seemed imbued with a new kind of strength. He hot-footed it from one end of the kitchen to the other, and since he was no longer in imminent danger of losing his own life, he stepped over his prostrate wife to endanger his son’s. He towered over Jamie.

‘You got someone pregnant?’ he hissed, aghast.

‘No, of course not. I was testing Leila, cos I thought she might be. I think she is.’

A profound silence followed this announcement. No eyes strayed from the small boy in checked pyjamas.

‘Leila?’ his mother finally whispered, dumbfounded.

‘Yes. She was getting all fat and bosomy, like you did with Hannah, and anyway I saw her doing it with another dog. So when I saw her having a wee in the garden, I took your test and stuck it in the puddle. I had to run back upstairs to check the instructions on the packet, and then I just chucked it in the bin. I was going to tell you, only I knew how cross you’d be with her.’ His face was very pale now under his freckles.

His mother shut her eyes. ‘Oh, thank the Lord,’ she breathed. ‘Thank the Lord.’

‘You’re pleased?’ Jamie blinked. ‘I thought you’d be, like, mental. Get her to have an abortion or something.’

‘Oh, I might still do that, but – Oh no, I am so pleased, darling!’ Jennie struggled to her feet and staggered across the kitchen to take her astonished son’s face in both hands. She kissed his forehead with a resounding smack, then both his cheeks equally roundly. ‘So so pleased it’s not your father, but even more relieved it’s not you!’

‘Me!’ he gasped, but she’d already squashed him in a face-altering embrace to her breast; so much so that his mouth became a figure of eight, denying speech.

Dan, meanwhile, once his initial relief had passed, was rapidly engaged in regarding his wife with contempt. He folded his arms in an attitude of haughty disdain. His lip curled. He hadn’t stalked off, mind, as some husbands might, in high dudgeon; had remained stoically by his wife’s side. Whatever else one said about Dan, he saw these things through. But then again, such moments of lofty moral altitude were few and far between in his married life; he wouldn’t want to miss out on them, would he? Who knows how long it might be until another came along?

‘Sorry,’ Jennie muttered to him now, over her son’s head.

Dan regarded her frostily for a moment, but then his lip uncurled. He had the grace to accept this apology for what it was: a genuine one, from a woman driven to distraction by unexplained circumstances, whose imagination had galloped from a teenage pregnancy, to her husband’s love child, to underage sex, all in the space of a few hours. He inclined his head in acceptance, and although he was unable to resist a faint gleam to the eye, she stood forgiven. And Dan forgave Jennie a lot, it occurred to me; almost as much as she forgave him. Albeit for different reasons.

‘Puppies!’ breathed Hannah blissfully into the silence. She beamed up at her mother. ‘Will Leila have puppies, Mum?’

‘No doubt,’ said Jennie darkly, resting her chin squarely on Jamie’s head; he was still squirming in her tight embrace. Suddenly her face became wreathed in smiles. ‘And there’ll be no half measures for our Leila, either. She won’t pop out a modest set of twins. Oh no, it’ll be a hundred and one Dalmatians for her!” She gave a sharp laugh.

‘And can we keep one?’ implored Hannah, her eyes huge.

‘No, darling, we can’t,’ Jennie told her firmly: overjoyed, it seemed, but not completely overwhelmed by the situation before her.

Hannah’s face fell, as did Jamie’s when he was finally released.

‘Oh, Mum?’ he implored.

Dan raised enquiring eyebrows at his wife. Still in a position of power, he was keen to push home the advantage, and Jennie caught the look and hesitated, which was fatal. It was pounced on immediately.

‘Go on, Mum!’ they chorused.

She vacillated. ‘Oh God, we’ll see,’ she said finally, at which massive capitulation a whoop went up from her offspring, including Frankie. ‘I said, we’ll see!’ she cried, but everyone knew she was shot to bits.

‘Come on, you lot.’ Dan took Hannah’s shoulders and turned her about, grinning widely and propelling his family out through the open back door. ‘Back to bed for you. Sorry, Poppy.’ He turned back to me as his offspring scampered excitedly away. ‘I do apologize for intruding so brutishly on your evening, but thank God we got that one sorted out. It was only a matter of time before she accused me of harbouring a love child somewhere in the village, of leading a completely double life.’ This time he couldn’t resist a withering look at his increasingly shamefaced wife. ‘An affair,’ he said incredulously. ‘As if. Who with? And when would I have the time, or the opportunity?’ This, when his younger children were safely over the wall, Frankie in their wake.

‘Well, quite,’ muttered Jennie, looking exhausted suddenly. She ran a weary hand through her hair. ‘Or the bloody energy,’ she added ruefully.

‘And in the marital bed too. What kind of a man d’you take me for?’ He shook his head, lips pursed. ‘I worry about the way your mind works sometimes, Jennie, I really do. In fact I’m increasingly concerned for your moral compass.’ He was enjoying himself now.

‘I was severely provoked,’ replied his wife testily, not one to be contrite for long. ‘And since I’d exhausted all other possibilities – or thought I had … Of course, foolishly, it didn’t occur to me it was your bloody dog shagging around, weeing on sticks –’

‘That’s … my canine dog, I take it,’ put in Dan. ‘Only, just now you accused me of having some dog in bed with me, and I can assure you that whilst Leila and I are very fond of each other we have never crossed that –’

‘Oh, shut up, Dan,’ Jennie interrupted, irritated. ‘You might have the high ground for one split second but we all know it won’t last long. It’ll be shifting under your feet before you can say caught with your trousers down again.’

‘Which is why I’m making the most of it!’ he cried in mock outrage as they trooped off down the lawn together, taking a more conventional route than their children, via my garden gate at the end, then back through theirs. He flung his arm around her shoulders as they went. ‘Why d’you think I’m milking it for all it’s worth? Oh, good evening, Mrs Harper! Yes, the bitch is pregnant, isn’t that joyous? Doesn’t she look well?’ A grey perm scuttled inside in terror. ‘Oh, don’t go,’ Dan cried. ‘Let’s make an evening of it! Why make haste when there’s so much to celebrate? When the night is still young?’ We heard a kitchen door slam firmly. Dan grinned back at me over his shoulder. ‘Night, Poppy.’

‘Night.’ I smiled and went inside.


Jennie, however, not one to leave a drama alone for long, was through that same back door the following morning, as I was bundling my sheets into the washing machine. Clemmie, who had a cold, was playing quietly in the sitting room, and once Jennie had popped in to say hello to her, she installed herself at my kitchen table with a mug of coffee.

‘Puppies!’ she groaned.

‘Now, Jennie,’ I warned, turning round from my machine, ‘I’m not having that. It’s bloody marvellous news. You were euphoric last night. It’s yippee, puppies, remember?’

‘Oh, I know,’ she agreed. ‘And I was still in a good mood when we got in, I promise. I had a lovely hug from Frankie and we even shed a few tears together.’

‘Did you? Oh, good.’

‘Stayed up chatting for ages. She was horrified that we thought she was pregnant but understood why. She also said I’d behaved slightly better than her father, which cheered me. Said she’d had no idea her dad could go off the deep end like that. I told her it was only because he loved her so much and she agreed, grudgingly, then, being Frankie, said, “Oh, so you didn’t, because you don’t?” ’

I laughed. ‘Typical.’

‘I know, and she didn’t mean it. She was only being clever, so I didn’t react. She does that too much, of course. The clever, cynical bit.’

I shrugged. ‘It’s just a defence mechanism. She’ll grow out of it. And she is clever, Jennie. Far too clever to get herself pregnant. She’ll go far, that girl.’

‘I know she will. We talked about all that too – A levels, university. She’d like to go to Frazer House for sixth form.’

‘Oh. Can you afford it?’ Frazer House was private.

‘No. But I think we should try. She’d do so well there. I’m going to persuade Dan that we should borrow it, crawl to the bank manager.’

I was silenced. Jennie didn’t believe in borrowing, it was against all her instincts. She kept a very tight hold on the purse strings, but then again, as she always said, she had to. Dan would blow it all on the three-thirty at Kempton if he could.

‘Don’t think you’ll have any difficulty there, then,’ I grinned.

She smiled. ‘No, I know. And I do also know,’ she eyed me sheepishly, ‘that I am a controlling old bag at times, but trust me, you’d be the same with my family.’

I wouldn’t, I knew. I’d be more like Dan; but that would be hopeless, wouldn’t it? People like Dan and me frittered money until there was nothing left – like Dad, I realized, remembering too my hefty cheque to the hunt. Because it didn’t really interest me. Careful people like Jennie were crucial. But then, that’s what I’d thought I had with Phil. And look how careless he’d turned out to be? With feelings, rather than money.

‘And there is a boy,’ went on Jennie, still with Frankie. She sipped her coffee. ‘The only problem is, it’s Hugo.’

‘Hugo!’ I turned back from stuffing my sheets in. I was astonished. Hugo. Angus and Sylvia’s rather gorgeous grandson, who hunted to hounds in the holidays and was currently on his gap year before going to Cambridge. He was very much not what I’d expected, and very much the property of one of Angie’s girls, surely?

‘I thought he was joined at the hip with Clarissa?’

‘That’s what Clarissa thought too, and is mighty upset about it. She considers him to be her property – even though he’s never been out with her. She knows he’s with a friend of hers but she doesn’t know who. He wants to break it to her gently, which is why it’s a secret.’

I remembered Frankie running under cover of darkness to a car outside the pub, which of course was where he worked. Remembered too Angie telling me Clarissa was upset about a boy.

‘Oh. Good for Frankie.’ I couldn’t help it.

She grinned. ‘I know. He’s a lovely boy.’ Suddenly she looked defiant. ‘But then she’s a lovely girl. Interesting too. Not your run-of-the-mill, giggle at everything, flicky-haired type.’

‘Quite.’

‘She wants to grow it,’ she said absently. ‘Take it back a shade or two. More tawny.’

‘Good idea.’

We were silent a moment. My mind flew back to Jennie, years ago, struggling with this defiant, wilful child, whose alcoholic mother had become more and more disinterested. There’d been some good years after that, between the ages of about nine and twelve, when all that mattered had been getting in the netball team in the winter and the rounders team in the summer – Jennie had even bribed the teacher with chocolate brownies once – but then some tricky ones. Could it be that she and Frankie were entering a good phase again? And could it last, this time? Jennie had certainly put her back into it, even if at times she felt she hadn’t.

‘Dan must be pleased? That you two are back on track?’ I hazarded, closing the machine door with an effort. Too full.

‘Yes, even though it’s slightly at his expense and he’s been cast as the tyrannical Dickensian father.’

‘That was just shock talking.’

‘I know, and Frankie knows it too. Yes, Dan’s pleased. In fact I’d go so far as to say he was positively smug last night. I assumed he’d be asleep when I finally crawled upstairs after my session with Frankie, but there he was, propped up on pillows, bright-eyed and banking on me being extremely grateful.’

‘Ah.’ I laughed. ‘Bad luck.’

‘Actually I rather enjoyed it. Didn’t seem like the onerous duty it sometimes does. I joined in for a change, rather than viewing it entirely as a spectator sport.’

‘Slightly too much information, Jennie.’

‘Sorry. Just explaining the baggy eyes this morning.’ She grinned sheepishly and hid them in her coffee. They twinkled a bit. ‘Anyway, we made a sort of pact to go away on our own for a few days after Christmas. Get to know each other again, as they’re so fond of telling us to do in women’s magazines.’

‘Good idea. I’ll have the kids.’

‘Thanks, but I think Frankie will be fine if you’d just keep a weather eye. Lob some fresh fruit over the fence every now and then.’

It occurred to me that a few weeks ago Jennie would never have trusted Frankie to look after the younger ones. They must have had a very good chat.

‘And what about you?’ She eyed me speculatively. I flinched. I knew that look. Once Jennie had sorted out her own life there was nothing she liked more than getting to grips with someone else’s. I wriggled under her laser beam but was trapped, like a moth on a microscope slide. ‘I thought you were going out last night? How come you were still skulking in your dressing gown when we burst in like the Addams Family?’

‘Ah. Well.’ I told her about Luke. About Angie. Then about Peggy.

She looked thoughtful a moment. Compressed her lips. ‘Bit of a knee-jerk reaction?’

‘What, mine?’

‘Well, yes. Angie casually mentions you haven’t exactly been left destitute, and suddenly his motives are all wrong and he’s a gold-digging fortune-hunter and you drop him like a hot coal.’

‘Well –’

‘You’re not exactly Jackie Onassis, Poppy.’

I flushed, remembering I’d compared myself to the very same woman last night. ‘No, of course not.’

‘You’ve just been left enough to buy a decent house and educate your kids, which the widow of any professional man who’s built up a business might expect. Luke could have worked that out for himself. And you’ve still got two children, as he rightly observed to Angie. Still come with baggage.’

I stared at her. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying you’re leaping to conclusions, courtesy of Peggy, who only thinks in black and white. Roger was the love of her life, ergo there will never be another. End of story. So she gads about teasing the elderly bachelors but will never bring herself to land one. Is that what you want?’

I sat down slowly. ‘Well, put like that …’

‘Life is not black and white, Poppy, it’s very grey, to the point of being grimy. There’s a great deal of compromise and shading of areas – ask me and Dan. Just because you went so wildly wrong with Phil, doesn’t mean all men are shits and you’re going to go disastrously wrong again.’

I gasped. ‘Did you have a glass to the wall?’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Well, that’s what I think! What I told Peggy – that I will go wrong!’

‘I know, I can tell. And Peggy’s encouraging you to be forensic, to settle for nothing but perfection. She would. She’s all or nothing. Which is fine if you’re happy with nothing. Personally I like a little something.’ She crossed her legs.

I gulped, horribly confused. ‘Oh God. Oh God, I don’t know, Jennie!’ I wailed, shooting anguished fingers through my hair. I clutched at the roots. ‘When I talk to Peggy, I think – yes yes yes; and when I talk to you, I think – yes yes yes too! Why is that?’

‘Because you’re suggestible, like my husband,’ she said calmly. ‘Not a sheep, exactly –’

‘Oh, thanks!’

‘But very persuadable.’ She brushed an imaginary bit of fluff from her knee, warming up nicely. ‘It’s terribly simple really. Do you like him?’

‘Who, Luke?’

‘Yes of course Luke, not Dan. Although you’re more than welcome to him.’

‘Um, yes.’ I bit my thumbnail.

‘Enjoy his company? Enjoy spending time with him?’

I thought back to the pub lunch we’d shared: how he’d flipped beer mats to amuse Clemmie. Made me burst out laughing at the King’s Head.

‘Yes, I enjoy his company.’

‘Enjoyed kissing him outside your house the other day?’

I stared. ‘Bog off, Jennie,’ I muttered, blushing.

‘Do you love him?’

‘No. I mean … I don’t know.’

‘Exactly, of course you don’t! And why should you? You’ve only known him a few weeks. But give it a chance, Poppy,’ she urged. ‘You don’t have to decide tomorrow, or next week, or even next year, but how will you know if you don’t at least give it a chance? And if you’re worried about the money thing, just ask him.’

‘Oh, right, like – Luke, are you after my dosh?’

‘No, but you could happen to mention how Angie exaggerates like crazy – which she does – and has told half the village you’re rich as Croesus. Laugh it off.’

Half the village. I thought of Odd Bob propositioning me. Stalking me, even. Saintly Sue telling me she couldn’t compete with me in That Department.

‘Oh, Christ. Thanks, Angie,’ I muttered.

‘He’ll know that’s true, about Angie exaggerating, and you can even say she got it wrong and it couldn’t be further from the truth – he’ll be so confused he won’t know what to believe. Then see if he sticks around. Personally, I bet he will. I’ll bet the money’s got nothing to do with it. He’s a nice guy, Poppy. Don’t write him off entirely.’

‘Really?’ I asked anxiously. ‘You really like him, Jennie?’

‘Yes, I do, but it’s what you think that matters.’

‘But that’s just it, I don’t know!’ I yelped. ‘Don’t know my own mind any more. Not sure I have one as a matter of fact.’

‘Course you do.’ But it wasn’t said with much conviction and I slumped miserably at the table, holding my head theatrically in my hands. I knew she was being extra punchy because she’d made a fool of herself last night and was roaring back from the dog house, but still.

‘When’s Leila due?’ I asked, jerking upright, keen to plunge her back into her own domestic crisis.

‘Leila,’ she spat. ‘Who knows. Dogs are supposed to have a fourteen-week gestation period, but since she’s half devil it could be any time. She’s not fit to be a mother, Poppy. Quite aside from her mental-health issues she’s a serial shagger and that’s not nice, is it? I’d ask the vet to terminate her but the children would never forgive me. And anyway, how d’you stop a She-Devil whelping? She’d find a way to squeeze them out, just to spite me.’

I grinned. Jennie huffed and puffed a lot of hot air, but I knew very well that cometh the hour, cometh the midwife. She’d be up all night, installed in Leila’s whelping box, coaxing her along, holding her paw during contractions, and then be besotted by the litter; never leaving the house, so busy would she be mashing Weetabix and scrambling eggs. In fact there was every possibility she’d keep the lot. A rather satisfactory vision of eight, fully grown Leilas on the end of eight leads, propelling Jennie at speed through the village, sprang to mind.

‘You know, it might be the making of her,’ I mused.

‘Leila? I doubt it. She’ll probably give birth in a nasty wet bush and be off in moments, sniffing for trouser again. Looking for another Peddler to do some brisk fornicating with. Wasn’t that the name of the dog?’

‘Peddler? Oh God, of course. Mark said she’d been seen with him. They might be Peddler’s puppies! Oh, Jennie, I’d really like one if they are.’

‘Would you?’ She looked surprised. Then she brightened. ‘Okeydoke. But there might be some demand, you know.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Despite my own misgivings, Leila is well liked around here. Might be expensive too. But I’ll put you on my list.’

Typical. Really typical. She was back in control again. Imagining herself saying, ‘No, Mrs Fish, I’m not convinced your garden is big enough.’

‘She’s definitely pregnant, is she?’ I warned. ‘That test might not be accurate on a dog.’

‘My thoughts entirely so I rang the vet. He said it’ll be pretty conclusive, the hormones are much the same. And as Dan tastefully pointed out, she’s dugging up a treat.’

‘Right. Bugger. Why isn’t it starting?’ I gazed at my unlit washing machine.

‘Because you’ve put too much in.’

Annoyingly I knew she was right and I stalked to open it and pull out a sheet. It had got caught somehow and I tugged at the clod of linen but it was stuck fast, so that when I pulled really hard, the whole contents of the drum came out in rush, which had me falling on my bottom. At which point the doorbell went.

‘D’you want me to get that?’

‘Please.’

‘And then I’m going to have her spayed,’ Jennie told me decisively as she marched to the front door. ‘That’ll take the wind out of her sails.’

‘They get fat and bad-tempered,’ I warned.

‘Who doesn’t?’ she snorted. ‘Spayed or not.’

I separated a double duvet cover from the herd and stuffed the rest back in, resetting the dial. Away it went.

‘Thank you,’ I heard Jennie say to someone at the door. She came back down the hall. ‘Hey, look at this.’

I turned to see her bearing a bunch of white roses with pretty blue cornflowers tucked in between. She handed them to me. ‘For you, apparently.’

Astonished, I took the paper-wrapped bouquet. Then sat down and opened the note. It was a long time since anyone had sent me flowers. In fact … no. No one at all.

‘They’re from Luke,’ I said slowly, reading. ‘Hope you’re feeling better, lots of love.’

Jennie peered over my shoulder. ‘Oh, what a shitty thing to do,’ she said vehemently. ‘Gets stood up at a moment’s notice and then sends flowers. I ask you.’ She folded her arms.

After a moment I glanced up guiltily. ‘I’ve misjudged him, haven’t I?’

She shrugged. ‘I dunno. It depends on who you last spoke to.’

It was supposed to be a joke but it was a bit sharp and she knew it.

‘Sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘Didn’t mean that. Tell me to mind my own business, Poppy. It’s just … I really want some happiness for you.’ She swooped to give me a quick hug. ‘And thanks for everything yesterday,’ she said gruffly in my ear. ‘I couldn’t do without you, you know.’

I nodded dumbly; touched. But no wiser. As she went to the back door she turned.

‘Oh, you’ll never guess what Angie told me.’

‘What?’

‘About your solicitor chappie, Sam Hetherington. The one in the splendid red hunting coat.’

I felt my heart thump. I already knew.

‘He was once married to Hope Armitage. Years ago, apparently, but still.’

‘Really?’

‘I know, can you believe it? Why on earth did they come here in the first place, one wonders. If he was living here?’

‘Sam wasn’t here when they came,’ I said mechanically. ‘He was still in London. The Hall was rented then. Had tenants.’

‘Yes, but you don’t relocate with your new husband to your ex’s patch unless there’s some pull in that direction, surely? Why are you looking so stricken, Poppy? And when are you ever going to oil this door?’ She was struggling with my back-door latch, as everyone did.

‘Hang on,’ I said suddenly. I got up quickly and went to the dresser. Plucking the invitation, I put it in her hand. All at once everything was as clear as day. I definitely wasn’t going now. ‘Mark at the kennels sent me this. Why don’t you and Dan go? Half the county’s going, you’ll have fun.’

She looked at it doubtfully. ‘Are you sure? Don’t you want to go? Couldn’t you ask Luke?’

‘I could, and I was going to, actually. I just think that’s possibly not the right venue. I won’t write him off,’ I promised quickly, ‘but I don’t think I want to go public, as it were.’

‘OK,’ she said slowly, understanding. She nodded. Then her eyes came up from the invitation. They sparkled. ‘Well, if you’re sure … we’d love to. D’you know, this is just what Dan and I need. A bloody good knees-up. Thank you.’ She smacked the card into the palm of her hand and went off beaming, giving the back-door latch a monumental twist; never giving it a second chance.

Archie was gurgling on the baby alarm and I slowly climbed the stairs to get him, dragging my hand along the polished rail. As I came down with him in my arms, he flicked my lower lip, which ordinarily would make me smile. Odd, then, that I couldn’t raise one for him.