Chapter 9 #2
‘I think you’re amazing,’ Edie had said, meaning it. ‘You’re so brave. Much braver than I would be. You must be kind to yourself, though. You’ve had a big shock. It might come back and hit you again when you’re least expecting it.’
Jessica had touched Edie’s arm and given a sympathetic sort of smile, rather as if she were doing the comforting, instead of the other way round.
‘Now, I want to meet your friends,’ she’d said. ‘And Dilly, of course.’
Right on cue, they’d heard a volley of barks and the sound of Dilly’s claws scratching ferociously at the door.
Edie had made to let her out, but Jessica had stopped her.
‘I’ll do it. She’s in here, right?’
Without waiting for a reply, she’d marched towards the kitchen and Dilly had soon hurtled out, leaping up Jessica’s legs, yipping wildly.
‘She’s gorgeous.’
Jessica had bent down to pick up the little dog and stroke her back and ears before picking her up and carrying her purposefully into the sitting room, while Edie followed behind.
‘Hello! I’m Jessica!’
The others had paused their conversations to look at the newcomer.
‘Right, that’s sorted!’ Jessica had gone on cheerfully. ‘No more introductions needed for me! Now, what about you?’
Her bold, confident manner had seemed to put everyone at ease and soon they were all sitting down, glasses in hand, talking and laughing.
Even Mac had lightened up and he forgot to have sly digs at Hannah, who’d settled beside Jessica and Ralph on the rusty-coloured sofa. Mac had chosen the armchair opposite.
While the chatter flowed, Edie had popped into the kitchen to check on the food.
She’d been thinking Jessica was a revelation; she could be nerdy, scary, bossy, quiet, grief-stricken or, as it turned out, the life and soul of the party.
At least Edie hadn’t needed to worry her guest would find today’s company boring.
The meat was cooked, so Edie had removed it from the oven and left it to rest on the side.
The peas were almost done, too, and she’d used some of the boiling water to make gravy, adding the reserved meat juices, along with flour, stock, salt, pepper, herbs and a splash of her secret ingredient – sweet Madeira wine.
When everything was ready, she’d summoned in the visitors, who’d settled round the big circular table, which she’d already laid, leaving Ralph to sort out the drinks.
Jessica, who’d already removed her baggy sweatshirt, had pushed up the sleeves of her slim black polo neck and launched into a discussion about her next sporting challenge – a triathlon involving running, open-water swimming and cycling.
‘I’m not a particularly strong swimmer, so I need to focus on that,’ she’d said, unfolding her napkin and placing it on her lap. ‘I did thirty lengths in the pool this morning and I was a limp rag by the end. Exhausted!’
She’d pulled a face and everyone had laughed.
Ralph had moved round the table, filling up the glasses with red wine.
‘How far do you run each week when you’re training for an ordinary marathon?’ he’d asked, pausing momentarily over Jessica’s shoulder to listen to her answer.
‘Ooh, between thirty and forty miles, maybe, spread over three or four days. For a half-marathon, twenty-five should be enough. It all depends on your fitness to start with, of course. Obviously, you need to start slowly or you might get injured.’
Ralph had nodded. ‘There’s a half-marathon in June I’m quite keen on doing. It looks like a lovely route round West Sussex and the South Downs.’
Jessica had sipped some wine before responding. ‘Go for it! You won’t regret it, so long as you put in the work first.’
While Ralph had been carving the meat, Edie had gone backwards and forwards fetching the dishes of vegetables. Hannah had offered to help but Edie had said no.
The final item was a jug of piping-hot gravy, which she’d placed carefully on the table before sitting down herself.
‘Won’t Ralph have to give up booze? And live on dry chicken and lentils?’ she’d asked, picking up rather late in the day on the marathon conversation. ‘I don’t want to be stuck with an old misery for months on end.’
She’d only been joking, but Jessica had taken her question at face value.
‘Oh no, well, not for the whole lead-up, anyway. It’s best to avoid drinking forty-eight hours before a race because you don’t sleep as well. Alcohol’s terribly dehydrating, too. Before that, though, you can drink in moderation. It depends what you want to achieve.’
‘What exactly does moderation mean?’ Edie had asked, passing Hannah a plate of perfectly carved roast beef and signalling to her to help herself to vegetables. ‘A thimbleful of wine once a week – or half a bottle every night with supper?’
Jessica had looked shocked. ‘Oh! Half a bottle’s too much. I’d say a small glass or two, maximum, and definitely not the night before a long run.’
‘Hm,’ Ralph had said doubtfully. He’d passed a plate of meat to Hannah, who’d picked up a juicy-looking sliver in her fingers and popped it in her mouth. ‘One glass hardly seems worth it.’
‘Hear, hear!’ Hannah had agreed, raising her own glass. Unfortunately, she’d been too quick and splashed red wine on her front, which trickled down her cleavage.
‘Whoops!’ She’d wiped herself with a napkin. ‘Silly me!’
Edie had stared down at her lap to hide her smile. There was nothing wrong with Hannah’s manners in general, but she invariably managed to spill food or drink down herself or someone else at mealtimes. It was quite endearing, so long as you weren’t on the receiving end.
Half expecting Mac to make another sarky comment, Edie remembered glancing in his direction. To her surprise, though, he didn’t seem to have noticed. He’d been in another world, staring into space.
‘Here you go, mate,’ Ralph had said, extending a plate in Mac’s direction. When Mac failed to respond, Jessica, to his right, had given him a nudge and he’d quickly come to.
‘Thanks,’ he’d said, taking the food. ‘Sorry, I was miles away for a minute.’
‘He’s probably dreaming about next weekend,’ Hannah had piped up, seemingly unfazed by the dark red wine now staining her bosom. ‘He’s going to climb Ben Nevis – on his own.’
Ralph, who was still standing over the roast meat, had looked surprised. ‘Are you? That sounds adventurous. What’s brought this on?’
Mac had shrugged. ‘I just fancied doing something different, I guess. One of my clients climbed it recently and said he really enjoyed it. It wasn’t as hard as he thought.’
Ralph had turned to put what was left of the beef on the sideboard. ‘Fair enough.’
Sitting down at last, he’d helped himself to roast potatoes.
‘But doesn’t Jude want to come with you? Or Charlotte?’
They were Mac and Hannah’s children, aged eighteen and twenty.
‘I haven’t asked them,’ Mac had replied.
‘What about Hannah?’
Ralph glanced in her direction and she’d grimaced.
‘No way would he want me! He’d find me a terrible drag.’
Mac had frowned. ‘Not true. Why would you say that? You know you’d hate it.’
‘Not necessarily.’ Hannah had cocked her head on one side. ‘How would I know if I’ve never tried?’
‘You can’t stand being cold. It’ll be freezing at this time of year – probably wet and windy, too. Plus, I’m sleeping in a tent. You’ve never liked camping.’
Hannah had shrugged, before turning her attention to Ralph. ‘You see? I told you. He doesn’t want me!’
Ralph had laughed. ‘I don’t blame him, actually. Sometimes it’s easier doing things on your own.’
He’d looked at Edie. ‘Fancy climbing Ben Nevis with me in the wind and rain?’
‘Absolutely no way. I’d moan and groan the entire time. Camping in winter’s my idea of hell.’
‘Case closed,’ Ralph had muttered through a mouthful of food, his eyes crinkling in amusement. ‘Mac, you’re quite safe. You can battle the elements solo.’
The room had gone quiet for few moments, the only sounds being the clatter of cutlery and the odd whimper from Dilly, sitting hopefully at Ralph’s feet.
It was Jessica who’d broken the silence.
‘You should go in the spring or summer,’ she’d said suddenly, looking straight at Hannah. ‘When the weather’s better. I’ll come with you if you like? I’ve done quite a few of the Munros but never Ben Nevis. It’s on my list.’
Hannah had paused, her fork in mid-air. She’d seemed taken aback but soon rallied.
‘Do you know, I might just take you up on that, thank you. It would certainly force me to get fit. I could do with a goal. I’d be so proud of myself if I managed it.’
Mac had remained schtum, cutting his beef into tiny, bite-size pieces with almost forensic precision, and Edie had jumped in to fill the gap.
‘There are plenty of mountains to climb in Crete if you want to get some practice. Hopefully it won’t be wet and windy either.’
‘Where is it you’re staying?’ Jessica had asked next, spearing a small Brussels sprout with her fork. When Edie told her, she’d nodded knowingly.
‘Ah, yes. I remember now, Porto Liakáda was the site of the ancient city of Phoenix, I believe. It was an important harbour in Hellenistic and Roman times. Crete was also the birthplace of Zeus, you know. And King Minos’ daughter, Ariadne, who saved Theseus from the Minotaur.’
‘Ariadne. Isn’t that the name of the villa we’re staying in?’ Hannah had asked. ‘What happened to her?’
‘The myth has lots of variations,’ Jessica had explained. ‘According to most accounts, Theseus promised to marry her then abandoned her on Naxos. She may or may not have gone on to marry Dionysus, the Greek god of wine and pleasure.’ She’d smiled. ‘Let’s hope she did.’
‘Wow! How on earth do you know all that?’ Hannah had asked, her eyes sparkling in wonder.
Jessica had glanced down, looking slightly embarrassed, so Edie had answered on her behalf. ‘She’s a classicist. She read Ancient Greek and Latin at Oxford. That’s what she teaches.’
‘Wow!’ Hannah had repeated.