20. Not Joseph Norton Again
Chapter 20
Not Joseph Norton Again
A fter a night sharing a bed with Harry, who thrashed about in his sleep and kept laughing at something in his dreams, Amy was pleased to find that she had managed to sleep for a few hours before dawn. She was awoken by the sound of someone putting the kettle on the AGA downstairs, and, hoping that it was Matt, she headed down.
It wasn’t Matt, it was Diane, in a pink silk dressing gown with her hair already neatly styled and her makeup on. She must’ve been awake for ages.
‘Good morning. Are you enjoying an early start?’ Amy asked politely, acutely conscious that her own hair was untidy and her pyjamas crumpled.
‘I don’t sleep much,’ Diane said. ‘I’ve put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of coffee?’
‘Thank you,’ said Amy, conscious that this was probably the first time since Diane had arrived that they had been alone together. That meant there was something she had to say to Diane even if Matt wasn’t there. She couldn’t bear the stress of waiting any longer .
‘Diane, I need to talk to you,’ she said as Diane made a cup of instant coffee for them both.
‘Yes. I know.’ Diane put the two mugs on the work top in front of her and stirred them at some length.
‘You know?’ she echoed, surprised.
‘It’s James, isn’t it?’ she said as she placed a mug of coffee on the kitchen table near where Amy stood. ‘Come along now, sit down, and we’ll have a little chat.’
Obediently, Amy sat, hands cupped around her mug as if she could draw strength as well as heat from its contents.
‘James isn’t coming for Christmas, is he?’ Diane said as she lowered herself elegantly into the chair opposite Amy.
‘No. No, he’s not,’ she said, feeling at once as if a weight had lifted, but at the same time the walls were closing in.
‘And what’s more, he never was. I’m right, aren’t I?’ Diane said.
Amy nodded. ‘I wanted Matt to tell you the night before we left and we both tried yesterday, but we just couldn’t find the right opportunity. I couldn’t let it go on any longer.’
‘I see. Well, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised, I mean, it’s none of my business but I saw something.’
‘Go on,’ Amy said when the older woman paused.
‘It was the day of the school Christmas play.’
What might Diane have seen? Had she spotted her and Matt come into the hall arm-in-arm before Matt had dragged her back? Perhaps she’d caught a romantic glance between the two of them, or one of them had reached for the other’s hand without thinking. If she had spotted something, and knew that they had feelings for each other, why hadn’t she said anything?
‘You’d better tell me what you saw.’ She took a fortifying gulp of coffee and pushed her hair back out of her eyes.
‘I saw James kissing another woman. I’m afraid it must’ve been your friend Laura. I realised then that something was wrong and you are facing … marital difficulties.’ She pursed her lips as if she found it hard to say.
‘Terminal marital difficulties, I’m afraid. I’m sorry Diane, I should have been honest about this from the start. James and I have been divorced for over a year now, and James is getting married again, on New Year’s Day, to the woman you saw him kissing. Laurie.’
‘Divorced?’ she said. ‘You’re divorced.’ She made it sound as if Amy had admitted to murder. ‘Well. Well, deary me. Divorced. Does Matt know?’
‘I think perhaps you should talk to him, and –’ Before she could finish, there was the sound of a door being flung open upstairs and a clatter of feet on the stairs.
‘Mam? Mam, where are you? I need breakfast, Mam!’
‘I’m in the kitchen,’ she called back.
‘We’ll talk later,’ said Diane quietly as Harry thundered down the stairs. ‘Now is not the time. But I haven’t finished what I need to say to you, not by a long way.’
‘ Why can’t we play hippopotamuses for Christmas?’ asked Oliver, plaintively. Everyone had eaten their breakfast, and Oliver clearly felt no ill effects after the stomach-ache of last night.
‘Because it’s noisy, and you might break something,’ Matt answered. ‘And I don’t think your granny would like it.’
‘We could play Swallows and Amazons outside.’ Harry looked hopefully at the window, which was so heavily covered in condensation he couldn’t see out. He went over and rubbed a circular hole to peep through .
It was a dull, grey, cold morning; the air was still, and the remains of the summer bracken drooped soggy and brown where the fields gave way to the fells behind the cottage. It was as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for Christmas to come, like the boys but with slightly more patience.
‘What a miserable day,’ Diane said, with a sidelong glance at Amy that seemed to imply the weather was entirely her fault. ‘You don’t really want to go out there and play, do you, boys?’
‘No,’ Oliver agreed, and Harry’s face fell.
‘If we can’t play inside and we can’t play outside, what can we do?’ he demanded. ‘I’m bored. I can’t wait for it to be Christmas Day. I know. Mam, why don’t we have some more story. We know how much you love Dick!’
There was a stony silence. Diane gaped as if someone had punched her in the stomach and her cheeks were flushed.
‘Harry, that’s an extremely rude thing to say,’ she snapped. ‘Shouldn’t he be sent to his room for that? A punishment, surely?’
‘That’s unnecessary, it’s not what he meant,’ Amy explained hurriedly. ‘There’s a character in the book called Dick.’
‘Why, what did you think I meant?’ Harry said innocently. Way too innocently. She suspected the influence of Joseph Norton again.
‘I’ll tell you what, let’s go down to the farm and see the dogs. Maybe Jess has had her puppies,’ Matt suggested, before Oliver and Harry could say anything else.
‘I’ll come too. Boys, go and get your boots and coats on,’ Amy said, without looking at either the boys or Matt. She had to get out of the house, and she had to talk to Matt and tell him that Diane knew about James.
‘We’ll leave you to have a bit of peace and quiet.’ Matt said.
‘Oh no, I think perhaps I’ll come with you. I’d like to see the farmhouse,’ said Diane. ‘Just give me a couple of minutes to powder my nose, will you?’
It wasn’t a euphemism; Diane went upstairs to her bedroom to fix her makeup. The minute she was out of the room, Amy turned to Matt, as the two boys chased around the house throwing their gloves at each other. They didn’t have long.
‘She knows about James.’ She drew him into the utility room with the twin aims of putting on their coats and getting as far away from Diane’s bedroom as possible so that they couldn’t be overheard.
‘Is that what you were talking about down there in the kitchen?’
‘Yes. She’d seen James and Laurie at the school fair, so she knew all along.’
‘That’s one less thing to worry about, then. What did she say?’ He had taken both their coats off the hooks, and handed Amy’s to her.
‘She asked if you knew, then Harry came down the stairs.’ She wriggled her arms into the padded sleeves.
‘At least she’s got enough decency not to talk in front of Oliver and Harry.’ They came out of the utility room and moved to the front doormat to put on their boots.
A stray glove, thrown by one of the boys, caught Amy on the side of the head, and Matt bustled the boys into their boots and out of the front door to do their glove battle outside .
‘I dread telling her the whole truth,’ Amy whispered to him as she bent down to tie up her boots.
‘Maybe we should just leave it for now. Until after Christmas.’ Matt pulled on an extra pair of socks as if he wanted to put his feet through the bottom of them.
‘No, we can’t possibly put it off any longer, not now she knows about James. She’s not stupid, and we can’t spend the rest of today and all tomorrow pretending to be nothing but friends. I can’t do it, Matt.’ She finished off the bow on her walking boots with an extra hard tug of the laces and looked up at him.
‘I can’t tell her. Not on Christmas Eve.’ He had picked up his boots and now stood with them in one hand. Outside the window the boys were still messing about with their gloves. He looked past them as if he saw something else in the distance.
‘Why not? I don’t understand why we can’t be honest with her.’
‘Because … because … I just can’t do it, I’m sorry, Amy.’ He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded stressed.
‘We have to tell her the truth .’ Her voice was rising, and Matt shushed her.
‘We will. Just not yet,’ he said. ‘I promise, as soon as I feel like it’s the right moment I’ll tell her myself. God, what a holiday this is turning into.’ He turned his attention back to his boots and placed them on the floor in front of him. ‘It was meant to be the perfect romantic getaway, and now it’s just one thing after another. We’re going to need a holiday to get over this one. A holiday without an extra guest.’
‘It feels as if it’s her holiday and it was us who had invited ourselves along. Has she even offered you anything towards the cost, now she’s not providing the Christmas dinner?’
‘I don’t want to talk about money right now,’ Matt said heavily. He shoved his foot into his boot.
‘I know it must’ve been a struggle since you’ve lent me so much for my business. I’ll be able to pay you most of it back as soon as all the Christmas craft fair payments have gone through.’ Amy reached out to touch his arm. ‘And you got your Christmas bonus in time to pay for Oliver’s presents, didn’t you?’
‘I don’t want to talk about any of this. Not now. Not now! ’ He shook her hand off, and turned his back on her as he put his second walking boot on. He had snapped at her, and he never did that.
She was shocked. ‘Matt … I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to –’
‘I’m ready,’ said Diane, as she stepped through the living room door, attired in a camel wool coat and a pair of matching fur-lined boots, with an enormous white fluffy fur hat on her head.
‘Let’s go, then.’ Matt turned to open the door without looking at Amy.
Matt might not be looking at her, but Diane was positively glaring. ‘Wait a moment. Aren’t you going to do the shopping? The shops will probably close early on Christmas Eve.’
‘It’ll be manic this morning. Quieter this afternoon, probably, and the Shepherds’ Rest has more time to take a cancellation,’ Amy said to Diane’s obvious displeasure, as she locked the door. The boys raced away down the track and the adults followed more slowly and sedately. Stilted conversation was made about the weather, though once they’d finished with “it’s cold, isn’t it?” there wasn’t much else to be said.
They passed old Mr Thompson going out of the yard with a sheepdog at his heels, as they came down the lane.
‘Morning.’ He touched his cap to Diane, who seemed enchanted by his polite gesture.
‘Have the puppies come yet?’ Harry demanded.
‘Nay lad. Not yet.’
‘Can we take Jen for a walk, please?’ Oliver asked.
‘Have to ask our Peter. Jen’s his. He’s ower there.’ He gestured in the direction of one of the stone outbuildings, from which the sound of hammering could be heard.
‘Can we go ask?’ Harry said to Amy.
‘Yes, off you go. Perhaps one of us should go with them,’ she said to Matt.
‘I’ll go. Can’t have them getting lost again, and I could do with a bit of fresh air. Clear my head.’ He shook his head as if trying to shake fog out of it. Amy hoped that he’d feel better for a walk with the boys. A bit of time away from his ex-mother-in-law was exactly what he must need.
‘That’s a good idea,’ Amy said. ‘Diane and me’ll go and see Mrs Thompson.’ At least with Mrs Thompson around Diane wouldn’t be able to talk about James. She didn’t want to face continuing that conversation without Matt.
‘So, are you going for a nice country walk?’ Diane asked old Mr Thompson as the boys and Matt headed off to find Peter.
‘Country walk? Nay. Work never stops.’
‘Have you never thought of retiring?’ she asked.
‘Wouldn’t know how,’ he said. ‘A sheep farmer I was born, and that’s how I’ll die. Take me away from the fells and I’d have nowt.’
‘That’s commendable.’
Mr Thompson nodded, whistled to the dog, raised his cap to the two women, and headed out of the gate before Diane could finish what she had been about to say.
‘Not terribly talkative, is he?’ said Diane, as they watched him go, a small grey figure in a huge grey landscape.
‘Not really. But Mrs Thompson does all his talking for him.’ Amy knocked on the farmhouse door.
‘Amy, my dear. And this must be Oliver’s granny. Pleased to meet you, do come in. Tea and mince pies? I’ve a batch fresh out of the oven.’
Amy took her coat off and went to sit at the kitchen table as usual. Mrs Thompson didn’t seem to know what to make of Diane. She looked at her very carefully before she made up her mind.
‘Tell you what, come through to the front room, where it’s all neat for guests.’ She opened the door at the far side of the kitchen that led through into the old-fashioned parlour. It was the first time Amy could ever remember being in the room the Thompsons kept for best. Unlike the kitchen it was cold, and the smell took her straight back to her grandmother’s house thirty years ago; starch mixed with the gas fire which obviously didn’t get lit unless they had visitors. Amy and Matt had always drunk tea in the kitchen, but today as she’d brought Diane, they’d become ‘company’ with china cups and doilies in the saucers.
‘This is quaint, isn’t it? It quite reminds me of Christmases back in Lincolnshire when I was a girl.’ Diane sat on the edge of Mrs Thompson’s overstuffed floral chintz sofa. She’d placed the fur hat beside her, like a beloved pet, so Amy was relegated to a low, avocado green armchair with curved wooden arms.
There was a little old green Christmas tree on a table beside the fireplace hung with delicate glass ornaments in shades of mint green and cherry-blossom pink, though the glitter patterns on them which must have once sparkled had dulled to a lead-grey. The occasional snatch of Christmas carols from King’s College came from the radio in the kitchen, until Mrs Thompson brought through a plate of mince pies and shut the door behind her.
‘Would you like a mince pie?’ Mrs Thompson held out the plate to Diane.
‘That’s very kind of you.’ Diane pored over them to choose the nicest one, which she proceeded to nibble fastidiously. Mrs Thompson put the plate down and then sat on an armchair, uncomfortably like a guest in her own house.
All three women tried hard to smile at each other.
There was a long, polite silence.