Knit One Pearl One (31 page)

“At least she’s stopped putting things in the washing machine.”

“Not entirely. I washed two bits of Archie’s train set on Sunday.”

She laughs. “And how’s Dovetail getting on? No more falling asleep?”

“No, thank you. He’s fine; he’s got a big job on at work, so he’ll be away for three weeks, nearly four, all over the place, installing some new critical upgrade, something like that.”

“So that’ll be you stuck with that bloody dog? For three weeks? Jesus darling, that’s a bit harsh.”

“No, thank God, there’s good news on that front. Jeffrey’s setting up a workshop at the barn, in the old stables. He’s got stacks of stuff in the garden shed which Elsie’s been desperate to get rid of for years. So he’s going to move it all, and that way he’ll be there every day to look after Trevor. He’s going to work on all the window frames, making new bits, and that’ll take weeks.”

“He’s making his own window frames? Christ, they really go for it in the wonderful world of wooden things, don’t they?”

“I know, but Martin’s earning a fortune on this job, so he thinks he can take October off to finish the barn; well, perhaps not finish, but get the kitchen in, and the last bit of the roof done. So you never know, maybe there’ll be less planks lying around next time you see it. He’s looking after the kids tonight, when Cinzia goes out on her date. She and Tom are seeing each other properly now.”

“Seeing each other, as in shagging? Christ, I’d never even thought about what my policy is on my domestic staff shagging. I suppose as long as it’s not Harry, it’s fine.”

“She’s not my domestic staff, not really, and anyway I’m trying not to think about it. I’m not sure her family back in Italy would approve.”

She laughs. “Well, if you wake up with a horse’s head in your bed, give me a call, darling.”

“I woke up with a shoe on my pillow the other day; Pearl woke up early to rearrange the bottom of my wardrobe.”

“See, that’s why I need a girl, they get shoes in a way boys just don’t.”

She orders another bottle of champagne while I call home, but the line’s engaged.

“Just one more glass, then I need to go or I’ll miss my train.”

“Cheers darling. Here’s to us.”

“Us what?”

“Us, being fabulous.”

I raise my glass.

“Talking of fabulous, any news from Fitzcarraldo?”

“He’s in Spain, in the mountains, doing some winter fashion thing, or he was the last time I heard from him. But he sent the photographs of us on the beach at my birthday, and they’re lovely. There are some beautiful ones of Pearl, and the boys, and a really nice one of me holding Maximo, talking to Connie. He’s really good at taking pictures of kids; Maximo looks angelic.”

“Quite good at grown-ups too, darling, from the number of awards he wins.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t make you pose, he just wanders around, and you forget he’s there. Not like Edam.”

“Who?”

“The photographer today.”

She laughs.

“Erdenne. Though I’m calling him Edam from now on, it’s much better. Yes, he was a bit full of himself, wasn’t he? Come on, drink up darling. I’ve got to go to this stupid awards thing, and you’ve got a train to catch. Or we could stay here all night. Actually, let’s do that. I’m sure we can find two businessmen at a loose end who’d love to take us to dinner.”

“No thank you. Loose businessmen aren’t really my style. And we can take ourselves to dinner, can’t we?”

“Yes, but it would be a laugh. A bit of off-the-record flirting, just to keep your skills up.”

She pours me another glass of champagne.

“What skills? No, it’s tempting, but I really need to get home, Ellen, and you should go to the awards thing.”

“Yes, but one more glass, to celebrate your new frock. And your proper girlie shandals.”

“Shandals?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Bugger. I’ve missed the 8:30 train, so I have to hang around at the station for nearly an hour, trying to make a cappuccino last and avoid sitting next to anyone who looks like they might be psychotic, which isn’t easy. I have to move seats three times, and I try calling home again but the line’s still engaged. I’m quite pleased with myself for not going into maternal meltdown and ringing every three minutes until I get through; I know Martin will call if there’s anything up, and it’s either Cinzia talking to her friends or Elsie calling Martin with one of her lectures. So I buy another cappuccino and pretend to read the paper, and then the bloody train stops at every single station and it’s nearly midnight by the time I’m walking back up the hill from the station. Still, at least I’ve got new shandals.

Martin’s half asleep on the sofa when I get in.

“God, I’m so sorry, Martin. I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“They’re all asleep.”

Poor thing, he’s looking pretty irritated.

“Thanks so much, Martin. And I’m really sorry, it all took longer than I thought it would and then I missed the 8:30 by minutes. What time did Cinzia leave?”

“Around eight, after Pearl was asleep.”

“Great, she said she’d wait until she’d put her down. Would you like a coffee, or tea? I think I’m going to have one.”

“No thanks, I better be off. Nothing worse than when the paid help lingers, is there? Or the unpaid help in my case.”

“Sorry?”

“I wish you’d called.”

“I did, a few times, but the phone was engaged.”

“That was Mum, and she was only on for five minutes.”

I know Elsie has never made a phone call to Martin that only lasted five minutes in her life, but I don’t think he’s in the mood to be contradicted.

“Well I’m sorry, I did try, and you knew where I was, you could have called me if there was anything urgent.”

“Yes, but that’s me all over, isn’t it? Nothing urgent.”

“Shall we talk about this tomorrow? We could have a late breakfast, I’m in the shop for a while in the morning. How does that sound?”

“It sounds convenient. Like I’m being slotted into your busy day.”

“Well I don’t mean it like that, Martin, honestly.”

“But I am, aren’t I? Now Mr. Wonderful is back on the scene.”

Oh, God. Now I get it.

“Nobody is back on the scene. He’s Pearl’s dad, so if he’s around a bit more, that’s got to be good, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes, bloody brilliant, calling everyone angel and chucking money about like there’s no tomorrow. While muggins here gets to stop in and babysit. I had hoped we’d be spending some proper time together now I’m less busy with the boat and everything. I thought that’s what you wanted. Not to go jaunting off to London. Did you see him? Is that why you’re so late back, loaded down with bags? Did he take you shopping? How kind of him.”

“I’m too tired for all this right now, Martin.”

“Well I hope you remember it was me that picked up the pieces last time. I was the one worrying myself sick in the kitchen that day, when you had Pearl. And where was he? Off shacked up with an actress living the high life.”

“Martin, Daniel’s in Spain, and I’ve been out with Ellen, just like I told you. And yes, I have been shopping, isn’t that allowed? Let’s talk about this tomorrow, when you’re less grumpy.”

“No, I want to talk about it now. I’m fed up of being good old Martin, who you can put to one side when anything better comes along.”

God, he’s starting to sound like Elsie now.

“Nobody is putting you to one side.”

“Well it bloody feels like it.”

“Maybe that’s your problem, Martin, not mine. Look; I think you should go now.”

Maybe he’s been at the vodka or something, or he’s extra tired. He has been working long hours on that bloody barn.

“You think you’re so perfect, don’t you? But you’re not you know.”

“I know I’m not perfect, Martin, but thanks for reminding me.”

“It’s high time someone told you a few home truths, coming home at this time, half cut and not a word, you could have been anywhere. No proper mother would carry on like you, do you know.”

No proper mother? Bloody hell.

“Who’s carrying on? The only person carrying on is you.”

“It won’t last you know, he’ll soon get tired of you.”

Oh sod this.

“I know but beggars can’t be choosers, can they, Martin? Middle-aged women with three kids and one of them without a husband, well, they have to take what they can get, don’t they?”

Trevor’s looking at us rather anxiously now, and starting to whine. Just like bloody Martin.

“Shut up, Trevor. Just take him home will you, before he wakes someone up. You’ve made your point. No proper mother. How bloody dare you? Just piss off and take that bloody dog with you.”

“I just meant—”

“No. I’ve had it with people just meaning. Everyone grabbing at me for what they need, their special project, their little problem, can I help, can I just fit in one more thing. It’s my turn now. And if people don’t like it—”

“Yes, but—”

“As long as the kids are happy, and they are, Martin, I always put them first, actually, first, second, and third. But in case it’s escaped your notice, I do need to earn a living. Nick was off having affairs and taking out a second mortgage before he finally left us, pretty much up the creek without a fucking boat, let alone a paddle.”

“I know, but—”

“And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. An interview with Ellen, to get more customers for the shop. And yes, losing Nick was a terrible tragedy, and of course I wish he was still around, for the boys, for all that, of course I do. But part of me thinks it was just bloody typical. When it really got tough, he drives into a bloody tree and leaves me to sort it all out. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. So why don’t you just go, and let me get on with it. It’s been a long day, like most of my days actually, and I’m doing my best, although I know it’s not perfect, thanks. But anyone who doesn’t like it can just bugger off.”

“I just think you need to—”

“No, I don’t need to do anything, Martin. Good night. You can see yourself out can’t you? Night Trevor.”

Trevor wags his tail as I walk out of the kitchen toward the stairs.

Christ. I don’t know why he’s got himself into such a state, but he’s got me into one now. And he did sound uncannily like his mother for a minute or two there. Bloody hell. If Ellen wasn’t at her awards thing, I’d call her. So I go back and sit at the kitchen table instead, and write a list, eating half a packet of chocolate biscuits in the process. And Martin is definitely not on my list. Bloody cheek. No proper mother. Christ.

Elsie’s standing with her arms folded when I get to the shop the next morning. Well, she can keep them bloody folded, because I’m not in the mood.

I don’t think those aspirin I took earlier can have kicked in yet either. I still feel like I’ve got a very tight hat on.

“Morning dear, I told him you wouldn’t like it.”

“Sorry?”

“I told him to talk to you about it, not just go booking it, but he wouldn’t listen. Mind you, it does look like a nice hotel, doesn’t it dear? In the brochure, I mean. Four stars and your dinner for that price, and it’ll do you good to get away for a weekend. And we can manage in the shop, it’s just one day really and I know Saturdays get busy but I’m sure we’ll be fine, and it’s not until November, make a nice break just before Christmas.”

“Elsie, sorry, I’m not—”

“I’ve always liked Brighton, and there’s some tree he wants to see, on the way, did he say? In a village, hundreds of years old, a yew tree I think he said. So you can have a break and he can look at it on the way back. So that’ll be nice, won’t it dear? Only I did tell him he should have checked with you before he went ahead and booked it.”

“Right.”

“I mean, it’s not that easy, is it, planning for a little holiday, it takes thinking about.”

“Yes.”

“He was in right old temper this morning; I couldn’t get a word out of him. I only got Jeffrey to drive me round with a bit of washing for him, a few shirts ready for this trip he’s doing for work; he’ll be in hotels all the time, and they charge a fortune, don’t they? He still hasn’t got that washing machine sorted out, you know. Stainless steel and flashing lights are all very well, but you need something to do the washing in. He says he’s still deciding, but you want to tell him to get a move on. Can’t cook a nice dinner without an oven, can you dear? Typical man he is; they never think of the practicalities, do they? His father’s just the same.”

“Right.”

“I only said he should get the washer sorted because I won’t always be around to do his laundry for him, and he nearly bit my head off. Not had a proper breakfast probably; he’s always terrible when he hasn’t had a breakfast. Shall I put that new silk mix out; it’s just arrived, and that pale pink has sold out again.”

“Yes please.”

“We’re a bit low on the mohair again, for the shawls. Shall I put it in the book?”

“Thanks Elsie.”

Damn. He must have been waiting for me to get home so he could tell me about Brighton and his big surprise. Damn. I call Ellen.

“Silly sod, I hope you told him where to get off.”

“Oh, I told him all right. But he had it all planned, Ellen. It’s such a shame, I feel awful now.”

“Why? If he thinks he can start giving you lectures, it’s the beginning of the end. You don’t need that, or deserve it, come to that. Still, he’s gone up in my estimation if I’m honest. I didn’t think he had it in him. I mean obviously he was talking complete bollocks, but you’ve got to give him credit for being a bit assertive.”

“He can be assertive, Ellen. Just not aggressive and domineering, which is a good thing; it’s one of the things I like most about him, well, usually. Actually, I think this might be more about Patsy than me, you know.”

“Who?”

“His ex-wife, Patricia, the one who ran off with his sales manager, where he used to work, and now everyone has to call her Patsy, and she wears an ankle chain. I think he was so humiliated by it all, it’s made him extrasensitive.”

“Doesn’t sound very sensitive to me. I mean you’d told him you were out with me and he still went into one, didn’t he? And anyway, you can do what you like; you don’t have to stay indoors with boring old Martin every night, darling.”