A Married Man Part 8

'Aw cheers, Arch, but Rose already did that. When I arrived yesterday.'

He winked broadly. 'I'll warrant she didn't show you everything though, did she? Hmm?' He lowered his voice to a gravelly growl. 'Might I, for instance, be permitted to show you my ha-ha?'

Trisha's eyes widened. 'You dirty old devil, Arch! Is that what you call it? What, because it's so small it's a joke, or something?'

'Certainly not,' he bristled. 'It's enormous! Stretches the entire length of the park.'

Trisha stared. lees, you've got some gall, Archie!' She suppressed a giggle. 'Sure it doesn't go all the way round the block?'

'No, no, not that far.' Archie looked perplexed but delighted to have clearly impressed her with his outre humour.

I smiled and left them to their cross purposes, disappointed not to witness Trisha's astonishment as Archie confided that his ha-ha also played tricks on the eye, but I'd spotted Pinkie, tripping across the terrace to greet me, resplendent in kitten heels and cropped jeans.

'Hi darling,' she squealed. 'G.o.d, I'm pleased to see you. Couldn't believe it when Mummy said you were coming back. Is this wise?'

'Time will tell,' I grinned, kissing her.

'Won't it just, but I for one am delighted. G.o.d, we simply must have a goss, I'm dying to hear all your news. And that fab barn! What d'you think?'

'Amazing,' I agreed.

'We could spend all day wallowing around on those sofas, couldn't we? Probably will.' She took my arm and lowered her voice confidentially. 'Tell you what, why don't I come down tomorrow? We'll sink a bottle of Chardonnay between us and I'll tell you all about Ludo'

'Ludo?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Heaven. Sheer, unadulterated heaven. You'll love him, Luce. Daddy will hate him, of course, call him a filthy dago and kick him out of the house or something horrible, but I don't care, he's the most terrific lover. But it's not just the bed bit, Lucy, I swear. This time it's much more than that. He's terribly talented, has the most marvellous hands''A pianist?'

'No, a plumber. He can mend anything. You'll adore him'

'I'm sure I will' I found it hard not to like Pinkie, unlike Jess, who was diverted only by her name. 'So what are you up to these days, Pinkie?' As her eyes went blank, I wished I hadn't asked.

Opening gambits of this nature were generally a mistake in this household, as I'd found out to my cost, years ago. The first time I'd met Hector, seated between him and a pink-faced buddy of his at dinner, I'd lobbed up a polite, and seemingly innocuous, 'So, what do you do?' There'd been a flummoxed silence. At length, Hector had frowned, cleared his throat and said, 'Well, I suppose I farm.' His friend had regarded him with astonishment for a moment, then blinked too, and said with some surprise, 'Yes. Yes, I suppose I do, too.'

Naive as I was, I'd imagined the pair of them astride gleaming tractors, straws in mouths, trusty sheepdogs at their sides, but as I got to know Hector I realised the reality was rather different. Occasionally he'd wander timidly into the estate office to enquire how the farm was going, which was rather like a green young officer straight out of Sandhurst asking his Sergeant of twenty years' service how the battle was coming along. I have no doubt Hector was met with a respectful response, at least until his back was turned.

'Up to?' Pinkie repeated, her eyes still fuddled with unaccustomed concentration.

'Well yes, you know. Urn, courses, or anything?' I helped.

'Oh! Oh yes, well I did do the most marvellous Pilates course a couple of months ago. Sweet local girl. I'll give you her number if you like?'

'Thanks,' I said faintly. 'I'll bear that in mind. But I thought you were living in London now, Pinkie?'

'I was, but I ran out of money,' she said cheerfully. 'Much cheaper to live here for a bit and sponge off Mummy and Daddy.'

'Right.' I blinked, taken aback by her candour. But actually, who was I to feel superior, I thought uncomfortably. We were all doing the same me, Pinkie, Hector and Lavinia too, of course, who, having almost got married, had somehow managed to confer Married Woman With At Least Three Children status on herself, which left her far too busy to even go through the motions of doing courses like Pinkie.

And where was Lavinia? I wondered. We all seemed to be drifting towards the table. Joan was bringing out plates of melon and Parma ham, which luckily, the boys loved, I thought with relief, and Archie was marshalling Ben and Max to sit either side of him, Ben shooting me a nervous glance. We'd been in our seats some minutes, when Lavinia finally appeared through the French windows. She held a large tumbler in one hand ice and lemon clinking at a dangerous angle and a rolled-up magazine in the other.

'Am I late?' she sang loudly, staggering about a bit, I noticed, as she negotiated the step.

'No darling, not a bit,' said Rose with a touch of ice in her voice. I caught her eye but she betrayed nothing.

Ah, I thought, picking up my fork. So Lavinia was better, on the whole, but the little problem still existed. Even if it only materialised in the evening.

'I'll sit next to you,' she murmured, slipping into a spare s.p.a.ce beside me. 'Because I've got something to show you.'

Her mouth drooped dramatically at one corner, and she had lipstick all over her teeth. 'I've been lying on my bed all afternoon, looking at this,' she slurred, stabbing a finger at the magazine she'd hustled under the table. 'Absolutely salivating. And I have to tell you, Lucy, there are some dreamy ones in here this month. Absolute whoppers'

My eyes popped and I swallowed a bit of Parma ham whole. 'Really?' I coughed.

'Ma.s.sive,' she trembled, breathing heavily. 'Mummy gets totally livid of course,' she confided, 'so I have to be really careful. But when I say now, glance across.'

I shot a horrified look down the other end of the table where sure enough, my mother-in-law's glacial eyes were firmly upon us.

'Urn, Lavinia, maybe later,' I said nervously. 'I really think-' 'No,' she insisted, her voice horribly loud. 'You simply must see this one. OK now!'

Against my better judgement and to shut her up, I shot terrified eyes down into her lap and found myself gazing at a double page spread of a huge, Jacobean mansion.

'Look at the gables on that one,' she purred. 'Pure Grade I Elizabethan, and with all the original features. And look look at this one!' She flipped feverishly through the pages of Country Life. 'William and Mary,' she murmured caressingly, 'listed, of course, and with 200 acres and fishing on the Test thrown in for good measure. Not as big as Netherby, nothing comes close, but still ... don't you just salivate?'

'That'll do, Lavinia. Put it away, please.' Rose's silken tones cut icily across the table. Lavinia pouted and let the magazine fall with a thud to the floor.

'I'll show you later,' she promised.

'Now why,' her mother went on smoothly, 'has poor Lucy still got a spare place on the other side of her? And - oh heavens, look over there, another one next to Ben! That wretched girl Joan's laid too many as usual. How very boring of her. Ben, be a love and hop inside and ask her to clear them, would you?'

Ben, looking understandably nervous at the prospect of hopping inside this huge house and finding someone called Joan in its depths, was saved by Archie, who put a restraining hand on his arm.

'No no, that's all right old chap, at ease.' He turned to Rose. 'I invited the aunts, my dear,' he explained. 'Saw them this morning in the village and asked them to come for supper, seeing as how it's a family do. Didn't think you'd mind, just forgot to mention it.'

Rose opened and shut her mouth. 'The aunts!' she squeaked. 'Oh good grief, Archie, you might have said! I don't think we want to subject the poor girl to that pair on her first night, do we?'

'Oh, but I've met them before,' I a.s.sured her. 'And I liked them.'

'Liked them?' She eyed me incredulously.

'Don't worry, old thing,' soothed Archie. 'They were a bit distracted at the time, so they've probably forgotten.'

'Distracted?' Rose's left eye began to twitch. 'In what way?'

I smiled into my plate. Archie's aged sisters, Cynthia and Violet, lived in a cottage on the estate. They were variously described as 'mad' by Rose, and 'eccentric' by kinder critics.

Cynthia, older by a few years and rather butch and scary, had certainly retained some of her marbles, although it was a bit hit and miss when she paraded them, whilst Violet, the younger, had surely lost most of hers years ago. She had, I believe, been regarded as a great society beauty, and as the first female jockey to ride at Ascot, been rather dashing with it. She still rode, apparently, at eighty-two, and also owned a herd of cattle, of which she was incredibly protective. I remember meeting the two women years ago with Ned and finding them hugely entertaining.

'What were they doing in the village, anyway?' Rose swooped suspiciously. 'They never go near the place if they can help it, say they're allergic to the fumes now that the traffic's so heavy.'

'Collecting their pensions, I believe,' Archie said casually. His mouth twitched. 'Had a pot of white paint with them too, which was causing a bit of a diversion.'

'White paint? Why?'

'By all accounts they couldn't get across the road to the post office. Apparently they'd written to the local council to get a Zebra crossing put there, but nothing's happened, so Cynthia told me they were going to paint the b.l.o.o.d.y thing themselves.'

Ben looked up delighted. 'What, really? Did they?'

'Had a d.a.m.n good crack at it, Ben. Violet held up the traffic in some long white evening gloves, while Cynthia set to with a paintbrush. Gathered quite a crowd, fair bit of cheering too. Seems one or two of the locals have had the same problem. But then a member of the local constabulary appeared and spoilt all the fun, I'm afraid.'

'Fun!' spat Rose. 'G.o.d, you're as bad as they are, Archie. You'll probably go the same way, too. It's all in the genes. Oh G.o.d,' she shut her eyes. 'Hear that? Talk of the devil.'

I looked around expectantly. There was nothing to see though, just the distant roar of a car travelling very fast. It appeared to be roaring up the front drive, with the speed and accompanying gear changes that one would normally a.s.sociate with Formula One racing. We waited, spellbound, as seconds later an ancient red Fiesta shot around the side of the house and careered towards the fountain below us, performing a hair-raising handbrake turn in the gravel, just short of the water. As it lurched to a halt, fumes billowing, gravel flying, we held our breath, waiting for the doors to open. Seconds later it lurched backwards though, reversing at speed, straight into an ornamental box hedge. This, apparently, was where they fully intended to park, because the doors opened as much as was possible and the sisters squeezed out through the hedge, nonchalantly brushing bits of box off themselves.

Cynthia, the elder, was looking immaculate in a silk Jacquard dress and pearls, very Knightsbridge, very elegant, until one looked down and realised she had woolly socks and slippers on. On closer inspection, it also transpired that her lipstick was spread all around the outside of her mouth. She marched purposefully towards us, a handbag in one hand, a packet of sausages in the other.

Violet, her sister, followed behind. She was much smaller, and more casually dressed; in a red and black silk jockey's cap, a shirt that had lost most of its b.u.t.tons revealing a black bra, a pair of trousers, so covered in mud, manure, blood and guts they practically stood up by themselves, and on her feet,the biggest pair of black trainers I've ever seen in my life.

As they walked up the flight of terrace steps, Archie found Ben's ear.

'Not quite like other budgerigars,' he murmured.

Poor Ben's eyes widened even more at this as, totally unfazed, the sisters sat down at the two empty places. Cynthia put the sausages in the middle of the table.

'Thought we'd make a contribution,' she said firmly.

'Thank you, my dear,' said Rose faintly. 'And how lovely to see you. I hope you don't mind, we started without you, so you've rather missed the first course. We'll move on to the duck if ah. Thank you, Joan.' Joan materialised to clear the plates and a brief silence ensued.

'Now,' Rose smiled, regaining her composure. 'Cynthia, I don't know if you remember Ned's wife, Lucy? And my grandsons, Ben and Max. They're going to live in Chandlers Barn, you know, on the other side of the lake, near the paddocks.'

'I know where the barn is, Rose,' snapped Cynthia. 'I grew up here, as I keep having to remind you, and of course I remember Ned. He was my nephew, for crying out loud. Died prematurely, as you never fail to remind me. The only one of you lot that had any sense.' She narrowed her eyes at me. 'Ned's wife, eh? I remember, you're Lucy. So that makes you Hetty's girl, doesn't it?'

'Er, well. No, I-'

'VIOLET, IT'S HETTY'S GIRL!' she yelled across the table at her sister. 'Bit deaf,' she muttered to me.

'Hetty's girl?' Violet blinked.

'THAT'S IT!' Cynthia roared, then turned back to me.

'How is that trollop of a mother of yours? Still whoring her way around Cadogan Square?'

'Oh! No! No, she-'

'Terrible business with Roddy McLean, eh? His poor wife ended up falling on a fish-knife she was so distressed. Nasty, common way to die. Incidentally, didn't I see you in the field today?' She frowned at me.

'F-field?' I gasped, trying to keep up.

'I thought it was you!' Ben piped up suddenly, cheeks pink. 'I was listening to your voice just now, and that's how you shouted at us! It sounded like a man, but it wasn't.'

'Ah, that was you, was it?' She raised her eyebrows at him. 'Sorry about that, thought you were trespa.s.sing, you see. Rose here thinks she owns the whole b.l.o.o.d.y shooting match, but she doesn't, in point of fact. Pa left us that patch of land and we put our cattle on it, de temps en temps. Resting it at the moment.'

'Oh.' Rose clutched her heart. 'Lucy, I'm so sorry. Did she-? Cynthia, you didn't . .

'Let them have it with both barrels? Of course I did. Would have blown their heads off if they'd come any closer.'

'Real bullets?' Ben was impressed. Something to tell Pietro. 'No darling, blanks,' breathed Rose quickly. 'Aunt Cynthia wouldn't fire real ones!'

'Don't bet on it,' muttered Cynthia darkly. 'Particularly in your direction.' She smiled down at Ben. 'No my sweet, not real ones, I'm afraid. And I'm sorry if I frightened you.'

'You didn't,' said Ben staunchly, earning an indulgent smile from Archie.

'Good lad,' he growled. 'Cool under fire.'

The duck appeared and was almost totally raw, arteries still pumping. No one seemed to notice though, and it was followed by some sort of livid green mousse which was inedible. The evening lurched on, and as I struggled to eat, coping with Lavinia on my right who was getting disastrously drunk and muttering on about porticos and gargoyles, simultaneously trying to keep an eye on Ben who was making a valiant effort to eat his food, whilst Max, who hadn't even bothered, was falling asleep in his plate, I was all the time aware that Violet, across the table, was eyeing me very suspiciously.

The filthy mousse finally disappeared. I was just clearing my throat to suggest that the boys were awfully tired and could I possibly hustle them away, when Cynthia roared across the table, 'DO YOUR SHIRT UP, VIOLET!'

'What?' Violet took her eyes off me for a split second.

'DO YOUR SHIRT UP! NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOUR t.i.tS!'

Rose gave a nervous little laugh. 'Cynthia dear, language. Pas devant les enfants, n'est-ce pas?'

Max sat bolt upright, eyes snapping open. 'I know what that means,' he declared. 'It means not in front of the children. And I know what t.i.ts are, too.'

'Shut up, Max,' muttered Ben, embarra.s.sed. He flushed. 'Well, I do!'

"Course you do,' said Cynthia briskly. 'Every woman's got them, for G.o.d's sake, just as every man's got b.a.l.l.s.'

'And a w.i.l.l.y,' added Max. 'And mummy's got a string.'

There was a startled silence. I stared, horrified, at my plate.

Archie frowned. 'A string ...' he said thoughtfully at length. 'Interesting. Let me have a little chat with you later, eh young fella? Set you straight on a few things.'

'Come on, Max,' I said, lowering my burning face and trying to ignore Pinkie, who was crying with laughter into her napkin. 'We'll have to go. You're falling asleep in your chair.'

'Oh, but won't you stay for coffee?'

'Oh Rose, I'd love to. But you know, first night, and everything, everyone's exhausted. Would you mind awfully excusing us?'

Rose inclined her head graciously showing rather yellow teeth. 'Of course. A demain.'

'And tomorrow,' said Lavinia, suddenly coming to from her drunken slumber and s.n.a.t.c.hing my arm, 'we'll see about those committees.'

'Well actually Lavinia, I've decided I'm not really committee material,' I said bravely, getting to my feet.

'Not?' She looked up, horrified. p.i.s.sed, but horrified.

'I don't mind helping out in some small way for the church, or-'