It's Raining Men Part 22

'What's in the bag?' He kicked at it with his toe.

'Victims of my spells people who asked too many questions.'

Val Hathersage held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. 'Then I'll stop asking.'

'Good.' Clare didn't stop walking. She imagined that was what Colleen Landers would have done. Treat them mean, keep them keen.

'When are you going to let me kiss you again?' he called after her.

How about now, she wanted to shout. G.o.d, she was brazen.

'Who knows?' she said, over her shoulder.

She waited for him to call to her again but he didn't and she then cursed herself for not standing and talking to him. Colleen Landers would have walked away and not given a hoot. If he didn't come crawling after her, so what? But then Colleen knew he would because she had a confidence in herself that Clare didn't.

Clare turned to see him walking down the hill, hands in his pockets.

'Tomorrow at twelve?' she called, aware that her voice was too eager, but not caring.

'Maybe,' came the reply.

Chapter 47.

As Clare opened the door to the cottage from the outside, Lara was just opening it from the inside.

'Ah, it's the scrubber,' she said.

Clare felt herself blushing slightly.

'We're going for something to eat. Coming?' asked May.

'Has all your cleaning made you hungry?' added Lara.

Clare nodded. 'Yep. I think I could eat something.'

It was market day in the village centre. They bought lavender bags and pressed them to their noses, remembering schooldays when they made them at their desks to bring home as Christmas presents. Apart from a couple of older ladies, they were the only females in the bustling square.

'It's weird, isn't it?' May said.

'The ratio of men to women, do you mean?' replied Lara.

'Maybe there's a mermaid living here,' May speculated.

'What?' the others said in unison.

'My granny was from Cornwall. She was always full of mermaid tales, if you'll excuse the pun.'

'Like what?' asked Clare.

'Like it was good luck for sailors to see one.'

'I thought it was supposed to be bad luck,' said Lara.

'My granny said they were good luck. They had a soft spot for sailors and would guide them away from the rocks. She said that if there was a run of boy births it was because a mermaid was in nearby waters they get jealous that girl babies will be more beautiful than they are and take all the boys' attention, so girls aren't born.'

'What a load of b.o.l.l.o.c.ks,' Lara scoffed. 'Tell that to Carole, my aunt. She had six boys on the trot and the three of them who had kids all had boys as well. Can't remember hearing of any mermaids living in p.e.n.i.stone.'

A lean youth with chiselled features and a Hugh Grant-style floppy hairdo pa.s.sed by. He was going to be a very handsome creature one day, May decided.

'It's raining men here. It should be a paradise for young women. There are some G.o.ds walking around,' she said.

'Aren't there just?' Clare agreed, thinking of Val Hathersage and his s.e.xy grin.

'Oh, lookee,' said Lara with faux joy as she spotted Gene Hathersage buying a coffee at the conical kiosk. 'It's one of those handsome G.o.ds you were talking about our helpful and kind landlord buying a coffee from the second rudest man in the world.'

As if hearing her, Gene's head swivelled and he spotted Lara pointing at him. She had no need to worry that he might come over and indulge in jolly conversation, though. 'What a Grinch,' she said with a low growl.

May nodded in faithful agreement but watched him as he bought his coffee. He had a gorgeous body: long legs and big thighs, strong arms and wide shoulders. He would be only slightly dwarfed by Frank if they stood side by side, she reckoned. With his wild hair and mean expression under that beard he looked rather like a monster from a Grimms' fairy tale having a civilized day off. Funny and she wouldn't dare say this to Lara but May could easily see her feisty friend with a man like Gene Hathersage. They'd spark off each other and have fun doing it. She had never met James but instinct told her that he would be too smooth, too clever and far too serious for Lara. She needed someone who would make her eyes twinkle. She hoped James appreciated Lara and that Lara wasn't forced to take second place to his achievements.

'I wish I could get my hands on this place,' said Lara, her voice bordering on l.u.s.t.

May knew what she meant. This was the sort of village that would really excite her professionally too. She could easily visualize those old abandoned buildings as new businesses, serving tourists. They were too lovely to be allowed to crumble. Ren Dullem was a diamond that needed a lot of polishing but nevertheless it was a diamond.

Lara turned in a slow circle to really take in the vista of Ren Dullem: the heart-shaped harbour, the sandy beach below, dotted with stripy deckchairs. She saw the main village with its miscellany of old cottage designs, sweet little shops and tiny intriguing roads twisting up the hillsides. She saw the pretty church with its large bra.s.s bell waiting to summon attention, to call the people to prayer on Sundays, and to weddings. And she saw the village square with an ancient maypole at its centre, bustling with market traders selling proper wares not tat. Lastly she saw Gene Hathersage's b.u.m, and the unconscious smile dropped from her face as she found herself unwittingly appraising it. From the back he looked normal: jeans, shirt, nothing to intimate he was the most impolite, sullen creature on the planet. Artistic temperament, she supposed. She had to give him credit for the talent he obviously had with wood, not that that should excuse him for being a boorish b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Stop looking at his b.u.m, Lara. She'd had quite enough of men's b.u.ms for a while. James had a slim b.u.m that looked good in suit trousers. James had a slim white b.u.m that she had last seen whilst he was lying on top of Tianne Lee.

That thought of James blindsided her and brought with it a sharp pain that struck her between the ribs. She wasn't looking forward to next week when she would have to see him again to retrieve her things from Manor Gardens. There would be a heap of anger and pain waiting to drop on her head when she was within his airs.p.a.ce, she knew.

May nudged her.

'Shall we go to Jenny's? I'm a bit peckish. You up for that too, Clare?'

'I'm always up for food,' Clare answered, adding to herself, unless it's fatty beef sandwiches in a plastic package washed down with Nitromors wine.

'Good idea,' said Lara, just hoping they didn't b.u.mp into Daisy Unwin. Seeing one village prat was enough for today.

Chapter 48.

Before going over to the main house, Joan wiped off her makeup, sc.r.a.ped back her hair, stripped off her jewellery and reacquired her 'poorly' look. Then she wrapped herself in a shawl as if chilled to the bone and went off to enquire how Lord Carlton was faring.

Gladys was in the kitchen, her ap.r.o.n off and jacket on, when Joan entered, as meekly as she could.

'h.e.l.lo,' she said. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, Gladys.'

Gladys noted how pale and plain Joan looked today. It brought her kind instincts to the fore and completely disarmed her.

'Sit down, Joan, before you fall. Are you still not feeling well?'

'I don't think I've ever felt this ill,' said Joan. 'I came to see how Lord Carlton was before I go back to bed. I couldn't settle. It's all my fault.'

'I'm just taking him some tea and soup. I've managed to get him into his bed. I must admit, Joan, I thought he was hungover, but seeing as you are in the same boat-'

'I would put my life on it being those prawns,' Joan interrupted eagerly, then held her head as if the effort to talk was a little too much.

'Can I get you a sandwich?' asked Gladys.

'That's very kind, Gladys, but I don't want to trouble you. I was going to go shopping today but . . .' Joan cut off her sentence and rubbed her stomach.

'Look, if you've got nothing in your cupboards, there's plenty of food here to tide you over,' said Gladys, who always prided herself on keeping the kitchen well stocked. Edwin Carlton liked his food. 'Please help yourself whilst I take this upstairs before it gets cold.'

'Are you going home, Gladys?' Oh please say yes, thought Joan.

'I'm taking the afternoon off, yes. I'm going to the dentist,' replied Gladys. 'I do hope you are feeling better in the morning, Joan.'

'Thank you, Gladys.' Joan gave her sweetest smile. 'Please give him my very best regards.' She leapt to open the door for Gladys as she lifted the tray.

'You get what you want from the fridge and the cupboards and I'll help you carry it to your cottage if you like,' said Gladys.

'Don't you worry; I'll lock up on my way out.'

Gladys looked suddenly stunned. 'You have a key?' She didn't know that.

'Yes, Lord Carlton gave me a key,' replied Joan, playing it down as if it was no big deal. 'Just for emergencies. I can't say I've had occasion to use it but maybe, if you're not coming back today, I should pop in later to make sure all is well.'

'Well, Lord Carlton has his panic b.u.t.ton,' said Gladys, her feathers slightly ruffled.

Joan stepped in quickly to smooth them. 'It's entirely up to you, Gladys. If you would rather I didn't check to see that all was well, I perfectly understand.'

Put like that, with Joan so meek she almost baaed like a lamb, Gladys could barely refuse. 'That would be very good of you,' she said, before turning and exiting through the door.

As soon as it shut on her back, Joan dropped her facade and had to stifle a giggle. G.o.d, she was good. Five more minutes and Gladys would have been handing over her life savings.

She waited impatiently for Gladys to leave, killing time by having a look in the fridge for something to eat. There were some slices of cold ham which she folded up and popped into her mouth, then she cut off a large slice of oozing Brie and washed it down with some freshly squeezed orange juice. She arranged herself limply by the kettle when she heard Gladys's footsteps outside the kitchen.

'I'll be off now,' called the housekeeper through the door. 'See you in the morning. You take care of yourself and I hope you feel better soon.'

'Thank you, Gladys. Hope the trip to the dentist goes well.'

Joan heard the mighty front door shut and waited a few minutes just in case Gladys doubled back to check on her. She didn't. Then Joan strode off in the direction of the study, her long slim legs powered with nervous energy.

Chapter 49.

Despite it being market day, Jenny's cafe was empty except for May, Clare and Lara. They had a spicy chicken and rice dish, which was delicious, and pecan pie to follow. Clare told them all about her morning well, the visiting-Raine part of the morning at least.

Jenny wasn't very chatty today and Lara was convinced she had been warned off from being too friendly to the offc.u.mdens.

G.o.d, this place was odd. But it was still preferable to what was waiting for her back home.

Clare insisted on showing them Seymour's grave in the churchyard, after they had eaten.

'Illis quos amo deserviam. For those I love I shall sacrifice,' Lara translated the words carved into the stone.

'Ah, that's what it means,' said Clare. 'It makes sense now. He knew that he was going to be buried on unhallowed ground and he didn't give a stuff.'

'That's quite a powerful love story, isn't it?' sighed May. 'If I were a writer, I'd use that as a plot.'

'It's like something out of the Middle Ages, though, don't you think?' said Lara, wrinkling up her nose. 'Mind you, why should that be a surprise here?'

They found the elaborate grave of Jeremiah Unwin.

'"My duties done, I shall rest in Thy house, o Lord." Sounds a bit c.o.c.ky to me,' May said with disdain. 'I'm staying in Your house, G.o.d, so lump it, whether You like it or not. And notice the "I" and not the "we".'

Clare nodded. 'He probably had it designed well in advance. It wouldn't have crossed his mind that his wife would have died on the same day.'

She gave the grandiose statue a sly kick and hoped that Jeremiah felt the reverberations all the way down in his box, which she had no doubt would be very grand and black and lined in velvet. b.l.o.o.d.y Unwins.

They took a leisurely walk back up the hill until Gene Hathersage came around the corner like Nigel Mansell on drugs and blasted his horn to make them move.

Lara extricated herself from the p.r.i.c.kly bush which she had just had to press herself into. 'I really didn't think I could dislike that man any more, but, surprise, surprise, I've just found I can.'

May tried not to smile as she picked a twig out of her friend's blonde mop of hair. Gene Hathersage and Lara reminded her of one of those old Doris Day films in which the hero and heroine are constantly at each other's throat, not knowing they are really in love. Then she looked at Lara's thunderous expression and decided that maybe that wasn't the case here, though.

Chapter 50.

Joan pored over the ledgers again looking for evidence of what, she didn't know. The estate had begun to pay a stipend to those twelve men in 1928: SEA & R, JB, GC, PJD, FAH, WWH, ASL, HRM, BAS, HAWS, JU, JGW as well as into a central account marked Village Fund.