Chapter Two #4
Nine years ago I would have agreed with Trace’s opinion, although not her way of expressing it.
Now, with practised ease, I sidestepped memories of my teenage crush and merely said, ‘I was thinking more of Terry, or Philip. They dress smartly, talk intelligently, behave impeccably. So does Mark, except—’
I was going to say ‘he’s out of your league’, when she cut in with, ‘Yeah, but Terry’s so old, forty-five at least.’ She pulled a face.
‘Well then, what about Philip? He’s young, handsome, attentive — look how often he’s in here, offering to assist a pair of helpless little females.
’ I lowered my voice to a yearning whisper.
‘And there’s a sort of gentleness about him that women find very appealing. He’s not overbearing, like Mark.’
Her face lit up. ‘Oh, Mark isn’t like that with me .
On my first day, he came to find me after the Board meeting and he looked at me with those sexy blue eyes, same colour as mine, spooky!
’ She smiled dreamily. ‘He said he hoped I’d enjoy working here and Mary was the ideal person to help me settle in.
Isn’t that a nice thing for someone like him to say? ’
‘If you think that’s nice, just listen to this.
After the very same Board meeting, when Jon Marshall was so rude about your Victoria Beckham suggestion, Philip told me he would have rushed to your defence if I hadn’t got there first.’ I shook my head knowingly.
‘You have no idea how much that man fancies you. The other day, when I said how lovely your hair looked — remember you tied it back, as I told you? — he went into ecstasies, I couldn’t shut him up for about ten minutes. ’
‘Did he really?’ She paused. ‘Are you going out with anyone?’
I laughed. ‘No, thank God. My last boyfriend became a real pain in the butt so I’ve given men up for the time being.’
‘Don’t you fancy anyone?’
‘No.’ I hesitated. ‘At least, no one round here. So, when’s my meeting with Philip?’
‘Thursday lunchtime, at The Ploughman. That’s why we were talking about it, he thought it would be—’
‘The Ploughman? You must’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Harriet, you’re the only person he wants to take to The Ploughman. We’ll have the meeting here, then you can sit in as well. And tell him not to worry about lunch, I’ll order some sandwiches.’
* * *
~~MARK~~
With Father and Saffron off on their cruise and Tao in kennels, I had Donwell Abbey to myself.
Mrs Burn came in most weekdays, but our paths rarely crossed.
And it looked as though my solitude would continue for several weeks; Tamara emailed me to say she couldn’t come any earlier than the date we’d already arranged, 19th October, my birthday.
I felt I owed it to Henry to kick off the mentoring as soon as possible. It proved easier said than done; whenever I phoned to speak to Emma I was told, usually by a giggling Harriet, that she was in a meeting.
Three days after my first call, she rang me back. ‘Sorry I haven’t been in touch until now, I’m having a busy week.’
‘Glad to hear it, we’ll have lots to discuss at our first mentoring meeting.’
‘Can’t wait. Things should calm down in a fortnight or so, what about week commencing—’
‘If you’re so busy at work,’ I put in, sensing stalling tactics, ‘why don’t I come over to Hartfield this weekend? Your father’s very keen for us to get started.’
There was a pause. Then she said coolly, ‘If you must. Saturday afternoon, about four?’
‘Perfect. I’m meeting Steve Chapman — my mate from school, remember? — at six thirty, so our meeting will have to finish by six, but that should give us enough time. No need to bring anything from the office, it’ll just be an informal chat.’
At twenty to four on Saturday afternoon, I set off for Hartfield along the bridle path.
Small white clouds scudded across an azure sky, the air was crisp and invigorating and the leaves were starting to turn.
I was in no mood to appreciate the beauty of an English autumn, however.
As I walked, I rehearsed how the meeting would go.
I would be business-like, objective, professional.
In short, I would pretend I was dealing with anyone except Emma Woodhouse.
I reached Hartfield at four o’clock prompt. An elderly and unfamiliar Vauxhall Nova was parked on the drive, but I was absorbed in my thoughts and didn’t pay much attention.
Emma came to the front door, in a green V-necked jumper that brought out the colour of her eyes.
‘Hi there, would you believe I’ve got some unexpected visitors.
’ She grinned like a Cheshire cat. ‘I’ll get rid of them as quickly as I can, then we can get on with the mentoring. I know you need to get away by six.’
To my surprise, I found Harriet in the drawing room.
Apparently she was the model for Emma’s marketing campaign and had dropped by to find a suitable outfit.
Kate was there too, just returned from honeymoon.
Somehow I knew that neither visit was unexpected; everything had been planned with military precision.
‘Harriet and I’ll be upstairs looking at clothes,’ Emma said airily. ‘I’m sure you two have plenty of catching up to do, help yourselves to tea.’ As they went out of the room, I turned to Kate with a smile.
‘Do you mind if I make a quick phone call?’
‘Not at all.’
I sat down and called Steve to put our meeting back an hour. It was just a local pub crawl with some of our crowd; it didn’t really matter if I was delayed, as long as I knew where to find them later in the evening.
When I’d finished, Kate handed me a cup of tea. ‘It’s great to see you.’
‘And you. I don’t need to ask if you’ve had a good honeymoon, it’s obvious. Congratulations, by the way. I’m sure you and Tom will be very happy.’
‘We should be, we’ve had four whole years to get to know each other.’
Her words made me think. How well did I know Tamara? In theory we’d had the time, but maybe not the inclination.
I changed the subject. ‘What do you think about Emma’s latest fixation? By that I mean Harriet.’
‘It’s good for her to see someone her own age, she’s lost touch with most of her old friends from round here.’
This namby-pamby reply was only to be expected from Kate Weston; in her eyes, Emma was perfect. And since Emma went through a pretence of consulting Kate before doing exactly as she liked, they were always in complete harmony.
‘Sorry, I have to disagree with you, as usual where Emma’s concerned.
I don’t think it’s good for her, it’s a very unequal relationship.
She’s treating Harriet like some sort of giant doll — for God’s sake, she’s even dressing her up as we speak!
’ I glared at Kate, but she just smiled and carried on drinking her tea.
I took a gulp of mine, then added, ‘The trouble with Emma is that she thinks she’s got nothing to learn. ’
Kate laughed. ‘Actually, Emma’s learnt an awful lot over the last few years. About economics and business administration, for a start. And men.’
I nearly choked on my next mouthful of tea. ‘Men? She knows as much about men as I do about leg waxing. Know what? She needs a man who won’t let her wind him round her little finger, that might waken her ideas up a bit.’
‘She doesn’t seem to go for men like that. Have you ever met any of her boyfriends?’
‘No,’ I said shortly. ‘I get the occasional update from John and Izzy, I seem to remember she’s had two serious relationships to date and isn’t seeing anyone at the moment.’
‘That’s right, and both those boys were much keener than she was.
She met Piers in her first year at LSE, he was heartbroken when she went to the States.
Then for most of her time at Harvard she lived with Scott and he even followed her back here.
But she wasn’t that interested. Just as well, I didn’t rate either of them as good enough.
Neither did Tom, he thinks the world of her of course, she’s like a daughter to him. ’ Another little smile.
I put my cup carefully down on its saucer. ‘Got plans in that direction, have you?’
She went pink. ‘You mean Emma and Flynn? Not plans exactly, Tom and I just think they’ll hit it off extremely well. They were due to meet at our wedding of course, then Stella wangled Flynn a TV chat show appearance and he had to drop everything and stay in Australia.’
‘I see.’
And I did; the man I believed Churchill to be would always choose fame over family.
He’d never yet been to England to see his father and it wasn’t for lack of funds.
When his mother died giving birth to him, her sister Stella, a Sydney-based property tycoon with more money than sense, adopted him and brought him up.
Tom was obliged to go along with this arrangement; he had never married Flynn’s mother and his career in the Merchant Navy wasn’t conducive to childrearing.
He visited Flynn whenever Stella allowed, which wasn’t often, and kept in contact by phone and email; which meant he’d been able to give detailed and regular updates about his son to everyone in Highbury for the last twenty odd years.
I’d always suspected these glowing accounts were wildly exaggerated, but I seemed to be in the minority.
Kate seemed to think I needed convincing. ‘He’s quite a celebrity over there, you know. Has his own TV series, Flynn’s Cook-in.’
‘I didn’t realise cooking was one of his many talents.’
‘Neither did I, but apparently he’s amazing at it.
And anyway, being a TV chef is as much about personality as skill, isn’t it?
Each week he has to turn up unexpectedly at someone’s house, with the TV crew obviously, and make a three-course meal out of whatever they’ve got in their kitchen.
Can you imagine what it takes to do that? ’ She paused to sip her tea.
‘Sheer balls or crass stupidity,’ I thought. ‘If not both.’