Chapter 3
JESS
‘This is a joke? Tell me you’re having me on.’ I stared furiously in Dean’s direction. ‘No way, Dean. Absolutely no way.’
‘Jess, come on, you know Lola’s always wanted one.’ Dean smiled winningly in my direction as Lola, squealing in ecstasy, threw herself onto the floor, simply gazing at the black-and-white mutt who now, seizing its chance, crawled onto her lap as she crooned nonsense into its ears.
‘No,’ I said. ‘No! Absolutely no way. Take it back where you got it from. It’s not staying here in my house.’
‘Our house,’ Dean said smugly. ‘It’s my coming-home present to both of you. To us. As a family.’
‘Well, go away again and take that thing with you.’ I focused on the animal, now in danger of being cuddled to death by Lola. ‘What the hell is it, anyway?’
‘It’s a dog, Mum.’ Lola giggled. ‘I think it’s a sheep dog – look, he’s got one blue and one brown eye – you know, a collier dog.’
‘Oh, great stuff, we’ll have every bloody sheep in the village rounded up, wanting bed and breakfast. And the word is collie, not collier…’
‘See, I knew you knew all about dogs.’ Lola was sycophantic, trying to get round me.
‘Collier dog?’ Dean started laughing. ‘Right, we can call him Scargill then.’
‘We’re calling him nothing because he’s not staying. And you can’t call a dog Scargill. He’ll not only be rounding us up all the time and herding us where we don’t want to go, he’ll be calling us out on strike every two minutes.’
‘I think she’s coming round to the idea, Lola.’ Dean grinned, reaching for his jacket.
‘Are you taking it back?’ I folded my arms, watching as Dean admired his good looks in the mirror above the dresser.
‘You’re not taking it back?’ Lola pleaded. ‘Dad?’
‘Come on, Jessie, let him stay. See how he goes. Look.’ Dean was at his most persuasive. ‘He’s just a couple of years old and really well behaved. The bloke who owned him has moved his girlfriend in. She’s totally allergic and says it’s either her or the dog.’
‘Well, I’d have chosen the dog,’ Lola said stoutly, her fingers rubbing the dog’s speckled tummy until he was almost moaning in delight.
‘I’m off down The Green Dragon: it’s Saturday lunchtime, a couple of glasses of wine’ – what happened to dinnertime and a couple of pints of Tetley’s? – ‘and then I’m off for a round of golf with some bloke who brought his Bentley into the garage the other day.’
‘Well, take this creature with you,’ I ordered. ‘He’s not staying, Dean. I don’t want a damned dog. D’you not think I’ve enough on with handing over the reins at Hudson House as well as…’
‘He’s fine,’ Dean soothed, kissing me on the cheek, eager to be off. ‘See how he goes; how he settles in…’ He broke off as Mum appeared in the kitchen. ‘Right, I’m definitely off now,’ he added. ‘What’s up, Lisa? Summat happened?’
‘Do I need something to happen, Dean, in order to pop round to see my daughter and only grandchild?’ While her words might not be the most welcoming, Mum, I could see, was fizzing, a huge smile on her beautiful face.
Over three months with Kamran Sattar and she really was a changed woman from the one who’d sat around waiting for our dad, Jayden, to put in an appearance.
As well as from the woman who’d spent almost as long dreading another seizure and consequent hospitalisation when the porphyria, which had first struck in her early thirties, descended once more.
Mum was watching Dean running a hand through his thick black hair and I knew exactly what she was thinking: if only I could have reciprocated the love Dr Matt Spencer, Mum’s consultant, had felt for, and offered, me. Instead of my taking back this self-important booby of a husband of mine.
‘Right,’ Mum said, noticing Scargill for the first time at Lola’s feet. ‘What on earth is that?’
‘A dog, Mum. I believe it’s what’s known in common parlance as a dog. And it’s not staying.’
‘Oh, but it’s adorable.’ Mum bent down to Lola and the dog, fondling the creature’s silky ears.
‘Lola’s always wanted a dog, Jess. Mind you, has he had all his jabs and whatever?
’ She deigned to look across at Dean, who raised an eyebrow but nodded confirmation at us.
‘It’s not just a simple matter of bringing a dog home, you know. ’
‘It’ll fight with Roger,’ I said, glaring at Mum.
‘You haven’t still got that bloody house rabbit?’ Dean gave a bark of laughter. ‘Ready for a pie by now, I’d have thought?’
‘Right,’ Mum said again, standing while deliberately turning her back on Dean. ‘I’m actually here with an invitation.’
‘To a rabbit pie supper?’ Dean guffawed, and I knew: the man had to go.
‘It’s so lovely having Dad back home,’ Lola was telling Mum. ‘I never want him to go again. He brings me presents…’
‘And unwanted livestock?’ Mum glanced across at me. ‘So,’ she went on, ‘Kamran has suggested both families get together; get to know each other.’
‘Get together?’ I stared. ‘Why?’
‘Great idea.’ Dean whistled. ‘Are the Sattars paying then? I’m up for that. Where we going?’
‘I’m not sure the invitation included you.’ Mum sniffed, turning away from Dean once more. She really couldn’t abide him, I knew.
‘Granny!’ Lola pleaded, and I threw Mum a warning glance. Leaving him out of family invitations wasn’t going to go down well with Lola.
‘When, Mum?’ A couple of weeks on a strict diet and I might just be able to get into my favourite dress if we were going somewhere upmarket.
‘This evening.’ Mum grinned. ‘Look, I know it’s—’
‘What!’ I shook my head. ‘Kamran’ll never find a table anywhere for all of us at such short notice.’
‘No, no, at his house. He’s cooking. Along with Fabian.’
‘And does Fabian know about this?’
‘He suggested it. Said he and Robyn were free this evening, but could he help with the meal as there’s going to be so many of us? I mean, he and Kamran are going into business together – they need to know what the other is capable of. According to Robyn, they’re keeping it simple.’
‘What, shepherd’s pie or something? I’ll believe that when I see it,’ I scoffed, feeling horribly left out.
The dream of a restaurant had always been mine and Fabian’s.
Until Kamran Sattar had come along with his own ideas – not to mention the Sattar millions in the bank – and not only bewitched my mother, but seemingly Fabian as well.
‘Sounds good,’ Dean said, rubbing his hands and heading for the back door. ‘What time? I’ll make sure I don’t have too many at the nineteenth hole.’
‘Mum, who’s going? But, look, I can’t go. I can’t leave Lola here by herself.’
‘Sorrel’s coming round. She’s going to babysit.’
‘Sorrel’s allergic to dogs too,’ I said mulishly, eyeing Scargill who’d fallen asleep on the rug in front of the log burner.
‘Since when?’ Mum shook her head in my direction. ‘Listen, there’s going to be quite a few of us,’ she went on in some excitement. ‘All three of Kamran’s brothers and their wives, his mother…’
‘His mother?’ I stared. For some reason one didn’t expect an exceptionally successful entrepreneur as Kamran Sattar to have an actual mother.
‘…as well as Kamran and me…’ Mum broke off, going slightly pink at the audacity of thinking herself now in a couple after so many years of singledom.
‘So, you’re hosting this do, are you?’ I asked. ‘And Fabian and Kamran are cooking, are they?’
‘That’s the plan. Fabian’s already up there, apparently.’ Seeing my face, Mum went on. ‘Look, I’m sure the pair of them wouldn’t mind if you took yourself up there to cook as well. Mind?’ Mum gave a little laugh. ‘They’d welcome you. D’you want me to ring Kamran?’
‘No, absolutely not. Don’t you dare…’ I trailed off as Lola shook my car keys at me.
‘Come on, Mum,’ she said in excitement. ‘That lovely pet shop down in the village? Arthur – I’m going to call him Arthur – is going to need a bed and bowls as well as a lead. And we need advice on the best way to look after him!’
* * *
I hadn’t been back to Kamran Sattar’s stunning house on the outskirts of Beddingfield village since January, when Kamran had first mooted his idea of converting the huge summer house standing in the grounds of the care home into a restaurant, rather than converting Hudson House itself.
I’d actually forgotten how impressive Kamran’s own manor house was, lying low in the lea of the valley in its acres of lawn and woodland and, impressively to our right, the wildflower meadow over which Mum had enthused endlessly whenever she’d been able to corner any of us to listen.
‘Native daffodils, wood anemones taking advantage of the still-leafless trees to bask in the strengthening sun, clusters of primroses, snowdrops and coltsfoot,’ I parroted as I parked my battered old van, Vera, in front of the wooden fence, keeping this seemingly never-ending, and cockily overconfident, flora at bay.
Once out of the van and taking in the sights, smells and sounds of the final few minutes of an early April dusk, there was a quite explosive sense of spring in the air with its accompanying promise of new life and potential.
Almost overcome with the pungent smell of wild garlic, I bent, crushing the leaves between my fingers, releasing even more of the fragrant aroma, while thinking only of the dishes I could concoct with the stuff.
‘How d’you know the names of all these flowers and plants?’ Dean, already breathing alcohol fumes in my direction, frowned. ‘You hate gardening.’
‘I do, but Mum has done nothing but go on about this garden ever since she saw it. I know its contents off by heart. I could take an exam on what’s in Kamran Sattar’s garden.’
‘She really is keeping in with him then, isn’t she?’ Dean nodded his approval. ‘There must be something for us in all of this…?’
‘Excuse me?’ I shot Dean a look of distaste.