It's Raining Men Part 29

'Get lost,' replied Lara.

'I heard something interesting about him . . . from Raine,' Clare said and she told them what she had learned about the brothers Hathersage and Colleen Landers.

Chapter 67.

The storm was like a child's tantrum. The sky stamped its feet and made a lot of noise but its energies were soon spent. The sun chased away the weakened grey clouds and the wind stilled. Within half an hour the strange, puffy, fake clouds were back spoiling things again.

'Anyone fancy a limp down to the pub?' asked Lara at teatime. 'We could have a bar meal and some very expensive drinks at offc.u.mden prices.'

'Will you manage?' asked Clare.

'I'll find out,' replied Lara, not ruling out the possibility that Gene Hathersage had designed the crutch to fall to pieces after forty paces so she'd fall and sprain her other ankle. She immediately admonished herself for being so mean. After Clare had told them about his ex-wife, Colleen, she'd played his words back in her head and found that, as he had claimed, he'd actually been a realist, not a s.e.xist. He was right: women could be every bit as evil as men. Take Tianne Lee, for instance. A first-cla.s.s b.i.t.c.h if ever there was one.

She hoped they wouldn't b.u.mp into him down the hill, but a wish of this type was usually doomed, making the opposite come true. So she wasn't at all surprised when they turned the corner and there he was, walking up with a newspaper in his hand.

'Oh, just great,' said Lara.

'Play nice,' warned May.

'Evening, ladies,' said Gene, then he nodded to Lara. 'And you.'

Lara felt her lip curl back from her teeth.

'Right height for you, is it?' He flicked his finger towards the crutch.

'Yes, thank you.'

'We're going to the pub,' said Clare, as Lara and Gene stood there, glowering each other to death.

'Well, don't let me keep you. Good night,' Gene replied, bowing his head in their direction and carrying on up the hill.

'Ge- Mr Hathersage?'

Lara's sense of decency forced her to speak. He stopped walking but didn't turn around.

'Yeah?'

Lara limped up the hill and stood squarely in front of him.

'I owe you an apology. I was much too opinionated the last time we spoke. I shouldn't have said what I said. You were right. I was wrong.'

He nodded but didn't move.

'Ok-ay,' said Lara. 'Well . . . thanks for listening.' She started to walk away from him, snarling under her breath.

'I'm going to choose another dog in the morning. Would you like to come with me?'

Lara's mouth dropped open, like the mouth of one of the fishes he carved on his pieces. She turned back to him. 'Er . . . yeah, yeah. Why not?'

'I'll pick you up at ten,' he said. And was off.

'What was all that about?' asked May when Lara caught up with them.

'Gene Hathersage wants to show me some puppies,' said Lara.

'Dirty sod. That's what they all say,' Clare said with a wink.

The regulars were in the pub: Milton Bird puffing on his empty pipe, Shirley's Uncle Morris. Thankfully there was no Daisy Unwin; unfortunately that meant there was no Frank Hathersage either. May thought she could just about put up with abuse from the former in order to be in the same room as the latter for a while.

They ordered scampi and chips for three and noticed that their bar bill was considerably cheaper this time around.

'I think we've suddenly become locals.' Clare giggled.

'G.o.d forbid,' replied Lara. Although she didn't really mean that. She would miss Ren Dullem in a strange way. If nothing else it had taken her thoughts away from Manor Gardens and the people a.s.sociated with it. Well, mostly. She shooed away a stray thought of Keely hovering with her arms folded and her overly made-up face grimacing in her evil teenage way whilst in the background Garth picked his nose and wiped bogeys on every available surface. Lara shuddered and batted the image out of her head.

The atmosphere in the pub was certainly more accepting of them, they all noticed. Jenny and her equally portly male friend came in just after nine and smiled big h.e.l.los.

They were all quite tiddly by ten and wended a very meandering path home.

'That was a nice evening,' declared May. 'And isn't it warm? I feel as if I'm in Spain.'

'I wish,' said Clare. The gins hadn't anaesthetized her self-disgust. She hoped she never b.u.mped into that old couple again. What must they have thought?

'I like it here,' said Lara, hobbling expertly by now. Her ankle was healing well. She would use the last of the comfrey leaves in a poultice tonight. 'I might not go home.'

May waved the word 'home' away. There wasn't enough gin in the world to dull the pain of what lay in store for her there.

'Why did we leave this holiday so long?' said Clare. 'I don't want to be one of those people who only catches up with friends at funerals.'

'Then let's promise to meet up more often,' Lara suggested.

'I promise.'

'I promise.' Clare added her voice to May's.

But they all knew, as soon as the words were out, that when they returned to their real lives, those promises would be as insubstantial as the air they were said in. Life had an annoying habit of getting in the way of living.

Chapter 68.

Lara could easily have woken up with a hangover the next morning had Clare not been the sensible one and made them all drink a pint of water before retiring. The hands of the clock swam into focus: nine thirty. She sprang out of bed, cross that she hadn't remembered to set the alarm, and hobbled into the bathroom to wash and throw on some make-up. She slipped on jeans and a pink shirt she was saving for best, then gave herself a subtle spritz of perfume whilst wondering why she had agreed to go and look at puppies with Gene Hathersage.

When she emerged from the loo, May was in the kitchen putting on the kettle. She turned, saw Lara and wolf-whistled.

'Does it look as if I've made too much of an effort?' Lara panicked. 'I don't want him to think that I have. Even though I haven't, obviously.'

'I think you've got it just right,' said May.

As the clock chimed ten, a horn blasted outside.

'Go check out his puppies, then.' May smirked, her eyebrows raised.

Lara threw her the Vs, grabbed her handbag and crutch and hobbled out.

Gene was holding the pa.s.senger door open for her. She hoped he wasn't looking at her b.u.m as he helped her in because it wasn't as small as it should be.

'The vet says there's a dog they haven't been able to home at the place I'm going to, and he wondered if I'd be interested,' said Gene, slipping the truck into first gear.

'What sort is it?'

'Greyhound.'

'Ah.' Lara smiled. 'My auntie had a retired running greyhound, Jim. He was the laziest animal I think I've ever met.' She remembered that he was constantly curled up in a ball in his fireside bed. Her auntie made him a red furry coat for winter walks which he wore with a haughty lift to his head, as if it were a Vivienne Westwood.

'This one hasn't ever run in a race,' said Gene, turning up the lane which was flanked with old mattresses and rubbish. Lara thought she heard him mutter 'b.l.o.o.d.y Milton' under his breath.

'Where are we going?'

'Whitby. Just outside.'

They joined the A road and Lara looked out of the window. She had become too used to the slow pace of life in Ren Dullem; it was all so fast and busy here.

'You eaten?' asked Gene.

'Er . . . no, not yet.' Gene indicated left and turned into a roadside cafe. It had a large sign above it: F annies.

'Sounds delightful,' said Lara.

'Frannies. The "r" has fallen off,' Gene explained. 'The dog people asked if I'd call at eleven instead of half-past ten. I thought we might as well pa.s.s the time by having some breakfast.'

'Oh, okay.'

He helped her out of the truck with a hand supporting her elbow, and pa.s.sed her the crutch.

'You're just missing a parrot,' he said, a twinkle creeping into his eyes and warming them. He had a totally different face when he smiled, thought Lara. Almost pleasant.

A waitress led them over to a booth. The seats were bright red and bouncy and everything looked very clean. Gene handed her a menu.

'Have what you like,' he said.

Lara looked at the extensive list of offerings: everything from blueberry pancakes with cream to the Fancy Full Franny, which must have lent itself to lots of misp.r.o.nunciations and made her wonder if that's what the person who created the menu had in mind.

'What can I get for you?' asked the waitress, pen poised over her pad.

'Frannie's sausage filler,' replied Lara, very carefully. 'And a filter coffee, please.'

'Same for me. With an orange juice,' added Gene, handing the waitress the menus.

'It's like a Carry On film in here,' whispered Lara. 'Do you think that menu is deliberately saucy?'

'As saucy as this bottle of HP,' said Gene, picking it up. Lara noticed how hairy his arms were. She turned her head to the window to stop noticing.

'So, what made you apologize, then?' said Gene. 'Local gossip machine been working overtime, has it?'

Lara puffed out her cheeks. 'I just heard that I didn't have the monopoly on mashed hearts,' she said. 'I could cringe at some of the things I said yesterday. Way over the top and not what I really think at all. I was just angry and spouting off.'

'Hmm,' he replied. 'Well, I imagine you're a bit raw. I've had longer to get over things.'

'Are you over them? Her?'

Gene shrugged. 'There's no way back, if that's what you're asking me.'

'The answer doesn't quite match the question, no.'

Gene sat back against the seat. 'With the perspective of time I've come to realize that it would never have worked. Colleen was restless. Even when we were kids she couldn't enjoy anything because her eye was always on what the next thrill would be. She had to have drama, excitement or she grew very bored very quickly. She was tired of me until I didn't want her any more and then she saw me as a challenge. It wasn't me she wanted; it was to win the game.'

She sounded like Tianne. A living, breathing grenade whose purpose was to cause as much noise and fire and destruction as possible.

'Do I still hurt? Yes, but it's getting less,' he went on. 'But I think it's more to do with my ego being battered than my heart.'

They were briefly interrupted whilst the waitress brought the coffees and orange juice.

'When I walked off after finding her with my brother I was resolute that it was over. It wasn't as easy to say no to her when she arrived at my door the next morning, crying, begging. I wanted to believe everything she said about never doing it again and how sorry she was,' said Gene, his eyes on his hands resting on the table.

'But still you didn't change your mind?'

'It wasn't the first time she'd been unfaithful. But I was determined then not to take her back. All the other times I'd fallen for her promises and lies, so when it happened again I knew I couldn't keep pinging between the pain of thinking I'd lost her and the ecstasy of having her back. Whatever she felt for me wasn't love. Not my sort of love anyway.'

He raised his eyes to hers.

'You might think you're strong now, but be prepared for a charm offensive when you go back home. Promises are easy to make and easier to break. And you'll want to hear him apologize and promise you everything will be okay.'

Lara nodded. She knew really that, however resolute she intended to be, faced with a begging, pleading James she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't weaken. She was dreading finding out.

'Two Frannie's sausage fillers,' announced the waitress, appearing at their side, holding the edges of the plate in a folded towel. 'Watch out, the plates are furning. I mean burning.'

'She must be so used to saying "f" words they take over her whole language,' confided Lara across the table. Gene laughed. It was a nice sound, thought Lara. Genuine and from the depths of him.