20. RURAL RETREAT
TWENTY
RURAL RETREAT
Dougie Morrison was Scottish, lived near Maidenhead, and sold camping equipment for a living. He liked nice food, red wine, dogs, movies, travel and women with a good sense of humour. He also looked, from his photo, a teeny-weeny bit like Paul Newman. He was going to be in Surbiton for a camping exhibition but should be able to get away just after 5p.m., so why didn’t they meet somewhere for a drink and, perhaps, a bite to eat? Unless, he added, we really don’t like the sight of each other, but somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen, ha ha.
Tess rather liked the sight and sound of him. More so than any of the other men she’d met – with the exception of Sanjeev.
He’d be happy to pick her up from home, he said, but realised he wasn’t supposed to know where she lived, so why not meet in the Fox and Grapes, near Weybridge, at 6p.m. – rush hour permitting. He would be driving a dark blue Jaguar and he’d be standing beside it, looking out for her, until she arrived.
Tess thought he seemed endearingly normal. It was a warm, sunny July evening and she decided to wear a summer dress that she hadn’t been able to get into the previous year. Now it was, if anything, too large.
The traffic was predictably heavy, but she managed to find the pub without too much trouble, thanks to the satnav Amber had given her last Christmas. She was ten minutes late but there he was, leaning against his Jaguar, talking on his phone. When he saw her he put the phone in his pocket and came forward, hand outstretched. He was tall with greying hair which had, Tess reckoned, once been auburn, and very blue eyes. And Tess was a sucker for blue eyes. There was a definite resemblance to Paul Newman. He was wearing an open-neck short-sleeved shirt, dark trousers and a big smile.
‘Sorry I’m late!’ Tess said, shaking his hand.
Dougie grinned. ‘I’ve only just got here myself. Hellish traffic. But good to meet you, Tess. Hey, that’s a great tan! Can’t believe you got it round here. Now, I could murder a pint! What about you?’
‘A lager and lime would be lovely,’ Tess said, trying to decipher from his accent which part of Scotland he hailed from. ‘Shall we sit outside?’
‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘Grab a table and I’ll get the drinks.’
When he emerged carrying the two glasses he said, ‘You really should see inside this place; they stock just about every wine on the planet, I should think! Good place to come if you don’t have to drive. That’s if you like wine, of course.’
‘I love wine!’ Tess replied with feeling. ‘Now, tell me where you’re from as I can’t quite place the accent.’
‘Born in Aberdeen, but we moved to just north of Perth when I was about seven. And, let me guess, you’re from somewhere near Edinburgh? ’
‘Yes, a little place called Strathcoy. But I’ve spent all my adult life down here.’
‘Me too. Did you say you were divorced, Tess?’
‘I am, yes, and I assume you are too?’
He laughed. ‘I don’t think I’m very good at marriage.’
‘I don’t think I am either, but it would be good to have some nice company for occasional outings, holidays and all that.’
‘Agreed. Where do you like to go on holiday, Tess?’
‘I’ve just got back from a cruise round the Greek islands, which I loved. I love France and Italy too. I’m not keen on popular resorts heaving with Brits.’
Dougie laughed. ‘I take it I won’t be seeing you in Benidorm then?’
‘Very unlikely!’
‘Talking of holidays,’ he said, ‘have you ever been camping?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ Tess replied. ‘I know, of course, that you sell camping equipment but, to be honest, I’ve never fancied crawling in and out of a tent, probably in the rain, trying to keep dry. Or trying to light a Primus stove, or any of that stuff. I like my creature comforts too much.’
‘I couldn’t agree with you more,’ he said. ‘I like my comforts too. But camping’s not like that any more, Tess.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Tess said, smiling.
‘You must try it some time. Now, do you fancy something to eat?’
‘Yes, but something light. I’m trying to diet.’
He regarded her appraisingly. ‘ You don’t need to be on a diet, surely?’
She was liking him more and more.
‘Let’s see what’s on the menu, shall we?’ he went on. ‘There’s bound to be a salad of some kind. ’
There was. And, as they ate, they agreed to meet again the following week, somewhere near Farnborough where he was doing a sales pitch.
‘This one is so nice,’ Tess informed Orla. ‘And he has the most amazing blue eyes!’
‘Well, you’re surely due someone half decent from MMM,’ Orla retorted. ‘But can you see this camping guy escorting you up the aisle and sitting beside you at the top table, or whatever?’
‘Definitely,’ Tess said. ‘Anyway, next week we’re wining and dining at a place he knows between Farnborough and Camberley, so that’ll give me more time to decide.’
‘No word from Sanjeev yet then?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Aw, never mind. Like I said, you need more than one string to your bow. How’s Amber’s wedding dress coming along?’
‘More or less finished. Just one final fitting. And now that I’ve got my lovely dress, everything’s falling into place. Apart from the man ! It would be such a relief not to have to meet any more of these “hearts”.’
‘Yes, but for sure you won’t get your money back until you meet up with the lot, so you’ll just have to keep going a bit longer.’
Tess groaned. ‘Honestly, Orla, I’m losing the will to love.’
Tess and Dougie met the following Monday at the Bladon Bells, a not-very-picturesque pub near Camberley. It was rush hour again by the time Dougie had sold his camping stuff and got there. But it was another warm evening and his eyes appeared to be bluer than ever. Tess enjoyed his company, his humour and his enthusiasm for everything – and, as a bonus, he was also extremely fanciable. She’d get to know him a little better and then she’d bring up the subject of the wedding and the ex-husband and all that. With a bit of luck he might even say, ‘Why don’t I escort you to the wedding?’ Or he might not. She’d have to work on it.
Instead he said, ‘How do you fancy a night’s camping in a luxury tent this week, Tess? I promise you it’s quite opulent.’
The suggestion took Tess completely by surprise. As she struggled for a reply he said, ‘No funny stuff! Separate bedrooms, if you wish. Beautiful countryside. I’ll cook the steaks, and I’ll bring gallons of wine!’
Put like that, it didn’t sound such a bad idea.
‘Well, yes, why not? Only thing is, I work on Saturdays, and I guess you were thinking of the weekend?’
He grinned. ‘On the contrary. They’re forecasting rain this weekend anyway, but the outlook for the next few days is good. Would it be too soon for a couple of days away? Say, tomorrow and Wednesday or Wednesday and Thursday? Unless you’re working?’
Tess thought for a moment. Orla owed her a couple of days so, yes, she could do a short break, no problem. Tuesday and Wednesday would be fine. Was she crazy? What the hell! And she might even be able to squeeze in a visit to Slim Chance tomorrow morning before she left.
‘That might be fun, Dougie! ’
‘You’re never too old for a new experience,’ he informed her, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘And I promise you’ll enjoy it.’
‘I’m sure I will,’ Tess murmured as she tackled her seafood salad.
‘You’re kidding!’ Orla stared at Tess aghast. ‘ You? Camping? Do me a favour!’
‘You don’t understand, Orla. This is not like Girl Guides or anything. These modern tents are something else! Glamping, they call it.’
‘Call it what you like – he only wants to have you away, and on the cheap at that!’
‘You have a one-track mind, Orla. This guy is really nice. And he’s Scottish !’
‘That doesn’t make him into any kind of saint. I’ve met Irishmen who seemed to me like God’s own gift to a maiden’s prayer but, believe me, they were not .’
‘And he’s got the most amazing blue eyes. Like Paul Newman. Gorgeous!’
‘Look, Tess, if you want to have it off under canvas with your blue-eyed idol then go ahead, for goodness’ sake! You’re sixty-two – you can do what you like. You’re hardly going to end up pregnant, and I’ll do the Wednesday for you, so no problemo!’
‘Thanks, Orla. Thing is, Lisa’s due to give birth any day now, so I feel a bit guilty if I go away for long.”
‘Well, she doesn’t need you hovering over her, does she?’
‘No, of course not. But I know Matt wants me to be around, probably to look after Ellie if she goes into labour. ”
‘Well, you’re not leaving the country, are you? You’ll have your phone with you so what’s the problem?
She’d been instructed to get the train to Maidenhead, where Dougie would meet her at the station and then whisk her off to the beautiful location he had in mind. She’d only need T-shirts, shorts or jeans, and perhaps some sort of waterproof because you could never tell with the British weather, even though it was the middle of summer. So she packed her nightie again, but not the big knickers this time; she’d learnt a salutary lesson there. Besides, she didn’t need them now, being a size twelve !
Tess, with her overnight bag, arrived at Maidenhead station before Dougie did. For a few panic-filled moments she wondered if she’d been stood up, but then thought he surely wouldn’t have asked her to come all this way if he had no intention of appearing himself. What would be the point? Then, just as she was considering whether or not to phone him, he appeared in his Jaguar towing a trailer laden with equipment, which Tess presumed would be transformed into their love nest. Love? She was getting carried away with her romantic notions. Whatever was she thinking of?
He was full of apologies: an urgent phone call just as he was leaving. She wondered where he lived, imagining him in a minimalist modern bachelor pad, possibly overlooking the Thames. She hoped she’d be invited to see it sooner or later.
‘So sorry, Tess, were you getting worried? Did you think I’d stood you up? ’
‘No, of course not!’ Tess lied, watching him sling her bag into the boot. ‘Mind you, although I’d bought a return ticket I wasn’t planning on using it straight away!’
She got into the passenger seat. Another nice car. Not quite so flashy as Benedict’s Aston Martin, but very smooth nonetheless.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘Towards the Cotswolds,’ he replied. ‘Near Woodstock, Chipping Norton – that area. Do you know it?’
‘My ex and I took that road to Stratford many years ago.’ As they roared up the M40 Tess recalled that particular trip, with Amber being car-sick, and having to stop every five minutes.
‘A bit touristy this time of year,’ Dougie said, ‘but I know a nice spot off the beaten track.’
As expected, Woodstock was buzzing with tourists.
‘Have you ever been to Blenheim Palace?’ he asked. He looked at his watch. ‘We can’t stay long because I want to get the tent up before six or seven o’clock.’
Tess hadn’t been to the palace, so they decided to have a quick tour. It was expensive but there was a lot to see, if you had the time. She only knew it was a World Heritage Site, that it was the home of the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, and that Sir Winston Churchill had been born here. It was also the background for countless movies, Dougie informed her.
‘And did you know,’ he said, ‘that it’s the only stately home in Britain which belongs neither to the church nor to the royal family that bears the title of “palace”?’
For a moment, Tess was reminded of Barry and his treasure trove of knowledge .
There were some stunning collections of porcelain and furniture, and Tess was particularly interested in the Long Gallery where, apparently, Sir Winston loved to relax, and where every one of the ten thousand books had to be cleaned individually by hand. For a small fortune they could partake of an afternoon tea in the champagne bar but, as there was a tent to erect, this wasn’t a great idea, Dougie said.
‘We’ll have our humble plonk later on,’ he promised as they emerged into the glorious gardens. Tess would have liked to see lots more, and hoped that they might have time on the return journey.
They set off through the historic village with its buildings of mellow golden stone, and hadn’t gone more than a couple of miles when Dougie turned off down a single-track lane, brushed on either side by nettles and cow parsley, the trailer bumping along noisily behind them. Tess hoped they wouldn’t meet anything, as he drove fast and there were no passing places.
‘Where on earth are we going?’ she asked, holding tightly on to the armrests.
He laughed. ‘Nearly there! I found this place years ago when I first started selling camping stuff. You’ll love it!’
Tess hoped she would, if they arrived in one piece. And then, suddenly, they were in a meadow which sloped away to a panorama of miles of green, rolling countryside, with golden villages nestled in the folds. He switched off the engine. There were cows grazing in the next field, and Tess could hear them crunching the grass, along with the sound of a tractor in the distance.
‘Oh, it’s absolutely idyllic!’ she exclaimed, as she got out of the car to admire the view .
‘Parson’s Meadow, it’s called,’ Dougie said. ‘It belonged to the vicarage back in the eighteenth century, and these names stick. This land belongs to a mate of mine, Ollie Regan, up at Cresswell Farm on the main road. He said I can pitch my tent here any time, provided I don’t spread the word, otherwise he’ll be inundated with tourists and tents. I used to bring the kids here years ago, and they loved it.’
Tess loved it too. What a glorious spot! She watched Dougie lugging out the contents of the trailer. She wondered if she should offer to do something.
‘Can I help?’ she asked, knowing she hadn’t the first clue how to assemble anything.
‘Just sit and enjoy the view,’ he replied, producing a folding canvas chair. ‘It’ll take me a little time to assemble this thing, but I’m used to doing it on my own. Don’t forget, it’s my job.’
Tess sat down, glad that he’d refused her offer of assistance. Apart from a glance now and again to see how he was progressing, she concentrated on the view and taking a few photographs. She’d often dreamed of a vista like this when looking out from her sitting room window in Temple Terrace, but then wondered if she could live happily in such isolation.
‘Nearly finished!’ His voice broke into her daydreams. She turned round, amazed to see the tall canvas structure, the size of a caravan, in position.
‘Wow! It’s huge!’ she exclaimed, walking through the entrance without having to bend. Inside were two separate rooms with plastic windows.
Dougie flung a couple of large bags into each room. ‘Inflatable beds,’ he informed her. He then set up another folding chair and table outside, along with a portable barbecue, a big container of water, a large canvas box and a cool box. Inside the canvas box were cutlery, napkins, condiments and wine glasses. The cool box contained the promised steaks, salad and white wine. The red wine, he explained, was in a box in the rear seat of the car. What foresight! What a guy!
Dougie squinted at his watch. ‘Time to open some wine, I think. It’s well past six o’clock.’
They settled on the Shiraz. He even produced some anchovy-stuffed olives. How could he have known this was one of her favourite appetisers?
They chatted about their families. She told him about Amber and her fiancé, about Matt and his family, and about Gerry and Ursula. He didn’t refer to his ex-wife much but spoke at length about his two daughters, both having done well for themselves. One had snared a city broker and produced twin sons; the other was still single and a qualified nurse at Charing Cross Hospital. He was inordinately proud of them both.
Their glasses were refilled. Tess told him about Orla and Curvaceous and her dressmaking. And the larger ladies, which he found hilarious. She certainly wasn’t going to mention the disastrous set of ‘hearts’ she’d met thus far. Rejects, all of them. Then she wondered if he’d transported any other ladies to these pastoral delights. But it was too early to discuss such things; perhaps they’d compare notes later.
In the meantime the charcoal was heating up nicely, and he’d seasoned the steaks in readiness. Tess had done very little apart from setting the table and removing the lid from the Tupperware salad bowl. She felt relaxed and happy as he refilled their glasses yet again .
She permitted herself a little daydream where Dougie was accompanying her into the church, he in a smart morning suit, she in the green dress, and walking down the aisle afterwards, behind the bridal couple and Gerry and the Arse. She felt sure her worries were almost over. She might have lost her ￡150, but it would be well worth it.
The steaks, his rare and hers medium rare, were cooked to perfection. The salad was crisp, the dressing delicious, the view incredible, and his eyes bluer by the minute. He even produced his tablet and asked her what music she liked. She liked anything by Andrew Lloyd Webber, she said, or ABBA, or opera. Not too heavy, though. Verdi, Puccini, Bizet, that sort of thing. He had them all and played some of each. He opened another bottle of wine and edged his chair a little closer. She could see what he was trying to do, but she had no objections.
It didn’t get dark until fairly late, and there was still a vestige of daylight as they danced together, barefoot on the grass, to ‘The Music of the Night’. It was the perfect end to a great day. She’d sworn never to get into an alcoholic haze again and now, here she was! Well, why not? And he was looking more like Paul Newman by the sip.
‘Do we need to inflate both beds, Tess?’ he murmured into her ear.
‘No, I don’t think so, Dougie,’ she whispered back.
At the touch of a button the bed in the larger of the two rooms ballooned into life, and it was a double. Surprise, surprise! He’d really thought of everything – even a couple of sheets and pillows. He unzipped a sleeping bag to make a cover. ‘We should be warm enough with that,’ he said, ‘if we cuddle up close.’ He nibbled her ear. ‘You have such pretty ears, Tess. ’
There was no denying it. She wanted him, and desperately. And there was little doubt, as she pressed against him, that he wanted her too. As they tore off each other’s clothes, she thought for a brief moment about how surplus to requirements the nightie in her overnight bag always seemed to be.
Dougie’s lovemaking did not disappoint. It was the best she’d experienced in years. In fact, apart from a hazy recollection of Andy, it was the only lovemaking she’d experienced in years. She had no objections to be woken again, in the early morning, for more of the same.
When Tess awoke at about eight, her lover was still fast asleep. She lay still for a while, studying him, before easing herself carefully up off the mattress and wandering out into the morning sunshine. She needed to pee, so she headed for some nearby bushes, hoping the farmer wasn’t strolling around somewhere. She wondered if she could get the little stove to work so she could make a cup of tea – he had, of course, brought teabags and a couple of mugs.
While she waited for him to wake up, she fished in her bag for some wet wipes, and gave herself a perfunctory wash. After she’d donned her T-shirt and jeans she glanced again at Dougie, to see that his eyes were open but he still hadn’t moved.
‘Good morning!’ Tess said brightly, half hoping he’d command her back to bed again.
He didn’t answer for a moment, then muttered, ‘I feel really weird.’
‘What?’ Tess moved over towards him. ‘Weird? In what way?’
‘I’ve got a pain down my left arm,’ he said, ‘and I feel a bit sick.’
‘Oh, Dougie, let me get you a glass of water and see if I’ve got some paracetamol or something in my bag. ’
He tried to sit up but fell back. ‘I feel really dizzy,’ he said. ‘Give me a few minutes and I’ll probably be OK.’
Tess headed for the water container and filled up a mug.
‘Drink this,’ she said, but as he tried to sit up he fell back again onto the pillow.
‘Tess,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to worry you unduly, but I think this might be my heart. I had a similar thing a few years back and was told to take it easy.’
‘And did you?’ Tess felt panic rising in her chest. A heart attack in a tent in a field in the middle of nowhere! Dear God, what was she supposed to do now?
‘No, I didn’t,’ he replied. ‘I have pills, but I’ve forgotten to bring them with me. Oh, God…’ His voice trailed away as he clutched his chest.
Tess was now terrified. What if he died? She picked up her phone. ‘I’m going to call for an ambulance.’
He didn’t reply; just lay with his eyes closed, clutching his chest.
‘Oh shit!’ Tess realised she had no address. ‘Where do I say we are? A field near Woodstock?’ There must be hundreds of fields near Woodstock. She remembered it was called Parson’s Meadow. That wouldn’t be in the telephone book for sure. How could she describe their whereabouts?
‘Dougie?’
He groaned softly but didn’t answer.
‘Dougie! Try to tell me – the name of the farm, anything!’
He murmured something she couldn’t decipher. She knelt beside him and listened to his breathing, which sounded laboured and irregular .
This was a complete nightmare.
‘Try to tell me,’ she pleaded, close to tears. ‘We need to get help, Dougie.’
If need be, she thought, I’ll just have to say we’re on a farm a few miles past Woodstock. Down a funny little lane. What lane? What farm?
He muttered something she couldn’t understand. She put her ear near to his mouth. ‘Say again.’
Cresswell! She was sure he said Cresswell, and she seemed to remember that from the night before. And then she remembered the farmer, because his name was Regan, and Orla’s married name was Regan; she’d noted it at the time because it wasn’t a very common name.
Tess had never dialled 999 before. Once she was connected to the ambulance service, she realised her voice was shaking.
‘Take it easy.’ The guy’s voice on the other end was calm. ‘OK, so you’re in a tent in a field. Can you tell us a bit more? Like the name of the farm, perhaps? Or the owner?’
Tess told them everything she knew. ‘How about if I walk up to the main road and look out for you?’ That meant, of course, leaving Dougie on his own – but what choice did she have?
‘We’ll find you,’ he said. ‘Stay with him, keep talking to him, keep him calm. Any problems and we’ll call you back.’
Tess stared down at her phone, which was still half charged, and thanked her lucky stars she’d remembered to charge it up fully before she left home. But how could they possibly be found? What if he died ? He seemed to be asleep, but he was breathing and there was little she could do but sit beside him and wait for her phone to ring .
Nearly half an hour passed before she heard footsteps approaching. Almost weeping with relief, she jumped up and leapt outside to find a tall, bespectacled man in work clothes and wellington boots. He held out his hand. ‘Ollie Regan,’ he said. ‘I’ve been contacted by the police and ambulance service, and they’re on their way. Let me have a look at the poor bugger.’
Tess felt relief wash over her. Thank God she’d remembered this man’s surname. She sat outside for a moment and studied the view, which hadn’t changed a bit and looked just as beautiful as it had the previous day. Then she turned away and looked at the rings on the table surface, made by their overfilled wine glasses last night. But oh, how everything else had changed! Then she heard the sirens.
Ollie Regan emerged from the tent, put a hand on her shoulder and said, ‘Stay here. I’ll go to guide them down – they may decide to stretcher him up to the main road.’
With that he galloped away, and a few minutes passed before she heard the noise of the ambulance making its way down the lane and suddenly appearing in Parson’s Meadow.
The two young paramedics were out of the front in a flash and into the tent, carrying a selection of equipment. Ollie Regan came out and said, ‘They’ll take him to hospital, and I imagine you’ll want to accompany him?’
‘Well, of course,’ Tess replied. She indicated the tent. ‘And what on earth am I supposed to do about dismantling all this, and loading up the trailer?’
‘Don’t worry about all that,’ he said. ‘I’ll see to it. I know where he lives.’ He sighed. ‘He never learns, that guy. ’
Tess wasn’t sure what he meant, but was only relieved that he’d take over the dismantling of the tent and getting everything back to Dougie’s home.
They took about ten minutes to stabilise him, inserting a drip and stretchering him out into the ambulance. Scott, the younger paramedic, held open the door for her. ‘In you come!’ he said. ‘Bob’s doing the driving.’
And off they went, sirens screaming, back through Woodstock, past Blenheim Palace and straight to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford.
‘He’s OK,’ Scott reassured her. ‘He’s stable. They’ll sort him out, don’t you worry.’
They were both so kind and lovely, which made Tess feel more fragile than ever. She wiped away a tear and followed them into the accident and emergency unit. No, she didn’t know his next of kin, only that he lived in Maidenhead and sold tents. She didn’t know the name of the company either. She wasn’t to worry, they said, because the farmer had given them an address. Then Tess wondered at the likelihood of anyone being there, as both his daughters were in London.
‘Do you want to stay?’ a nurse asked Tess, who was now sitting in a small, crowded waiting room while they sorted him out.
‘Well, of course I do!’ Tess exclaimed. She could hardly go heading off for the station and leave him there all alone. She’d called for the ambulance after all, and he might have died otherwise. She needed to know he was well on the road to recovery before she left. She’d phone Orla and tell her of her plight, and that she possibly wouldn’t be back for a few days. Then she’d try to find a phone charger and top up her phone. Hopefully she’d be allowed to see Dougie before too long, and he’d give her his daughters’ addresses. He presumably had a history of heart problems. Had they made love once too often, and could that bring on a heart attack?
The nurse reappeared. ‘Mrs Templar? No need for you to worry. He’s going to be OK. We’ve contacted his wife, and she’s on her way now.’
Tess felt faint. ‘His wife ? Do you mean his ex- wife?’
‘No, no, we rang up his home number and spoke to her. She was nearly sick with worry, as you can imagine. She couldn’t understand what he was doing in Oxford – thought he was at some sales conference in Halifax.’
Tess stood up. ‘There’s no need for me to wait then,’ she said as calmly as she could.
‘She’ll probably want to thank you for calling the ambulance and getting him here. Apparently you found him in a field or something?’
‘Or something,’ Tess muttered. ‘Don’t think I’ll wait though.’
She picked up her overnight bag and went off to find the station. She couldn’t believe she’d been duped again. Were there no decent men left on the planet?