I shake my head and frown. Dominic hasn't been out of London much. He was born a mere brioche-throw away from Harrods and thinks cows only make guest appearances in butter commercials. Someone once told him they didn't have cash-point machines outside of the capital and I think he believed them.
'How were the entertainers?' I ask. 'Any good?'
'Fantastic! I particularly enjoyed the stilt-walker! He nearly took his eye out on the chandelier though. I've booked him, the jugglers, one of the magicians and a sort of balancing thing with a bicycle. Plus all the others that the previous venue had chosen. And don't worry, Izzy, I wrote everything down so you can fill in your precious tables.'
I relax slightly. I've spent the entire day sorting out the food and drink, cloakrooms, loos and numerous other details. Ordering the flowers for the tables alone took me an hour on the phone. I still have to go over the practical arrangements with Mrs Delaney which I'm not really looking forward to.
Will and Monty come in through the back door together, looking fresh-faced and energetic, and pronounce themselves hungry enough to eat the table.
The appropriate introductions are made and the men make a big show of pumping hands and squaring shoulders (which always makes me smile as any minute I expect them to burst into a rendition of 'I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay' with their hands on their hips). I fetch Will and Monty a bottle of beer each from the fridge while Dominic looks sheepishly at the Nancy-boy glass of wine in his hand.
'So you two know each other quite well, do you?' asks Will.
'Dom and I share a flat together.' I can feel Dominic watching us intently and I try to ignore him. Luckily Monty engages him in conversation about the entertainers he has seen today.
'How has your day been, Izzy?' asks Will.
'Oh, fine. How about yours?'
'Equally fine. I suppose you haven't had a great deal of conversation about crop yields though, have you?'
'Not a great deal, no. Were they good?'
'The conversation or the crop yields?'
'Either.'
'The crop yields were average and I'd much rather have a conversation with you.'
'Oh, I wouldn't have a great deal to say about crop yields, I'm afraid,' I say, blushing slightly 'Or any other farming issues, for that matter.'
'Thank God for that! I rarely meet anyone who hasn't got an opinion about the estate and how it ought to be run! Can I get you another drink?' He indicates my already empty glass and gets to his feet.
'Thanks,' I say and hand over my glass. Dominic pokes me with his elbow and raises his eyebrows suggestively. I give him a look.
'Good evening everyone,' says a quiet, authoritative voice behind us. We swivel around to see Simon standing in the doorway. Will immediately goes forward to shake his hand.
'Hi Simon! Good trip?' he asks.
'Fine thanks. How are you?'
'Fine. Beer?' Their manner is cool and detached and I get the impression that all is not rosy between the two brothers. Will goes to the fridge to get the drinks and Monty makes the appropriate introductions between Dominic and Simon.
'How's the estate?' Simon asks Will as he hands him a bottle of beer. Will glances at me.
'Nothing to report,' Will answers shortly and hands me my refilled glass. Simon comes and sits down.
'So, Isabel, how's the ball going? I must say I was surprised when Dad told me you were organising it.'
'The ball's going well. We're managing just fine,' I say firmly.
'When is it?' he asks.
'Two weeks on Saturday.'
'And when does the real disruption begin?'
'Only a few days before, when the main marquee goes up.'
It feels strange to be talking so formally to a man I once knew so well. I know about the scar on the back of his leg from where he had a mole removed. I know he absolutely hates mushrooms unless they are chopped up finely. I know he always wants to be the shoe when he plays Monopoly. I watched him cry his eyes out when his first dog died. Yet here we are, talking as though we only met this morning.
Thinking of this, I say suddenly, 'You were at the launch of the Zephyr trainer a few months ago.' I don't want it to go unacknowledged. After all, we are no longer children.
He thinks for a second. 'Yes, I was. Did your company manage that one?'
'I did, actually.'
'Did you?' He looks at me, puzzled. 'Were you there?'
'Yes, I saw you.'
'You should have said hello.'
'I was going to but you didn't seem to recognise me.'
'Well, no offence, but you were eleven when I last saw you.'
'Oh.' I feel rather foolish, the wind having suddenly been taken out of my indignant sails. What an idiot I am. I could have sworn he recognised me but that explains why he didn't say anything.
Aunt Flo provides a welcome distraction by floating in and looking like a hothouse flower among us hardy perennials. Dominic looks positively thrilled to meet someone so exotic and they exchange a noisy greeting.
She comes over and lightly lays a hand on Simon's shoulder. 'Are you out of that dreadful work mode yet, Simon dear?'
He grins at her and takes a swig from his bottle of beer. 'I'm ready to talk about anything you want, Aunt Flo.'
She sits down in an adjacent chair. 'You know, you'll never get a serious girlfriend while you work so hard.'
'I don't know that I want one.'
'Did we hear a rumour about you and a certain young lawyer?' Her eyes twinkle merrily at him.
'Did you?' His eyes smile back at her but his mouth is set.
'Are you seeing anyone, Izzy? We haven't asked!' says Aunt Flo.
I'm startled by the sudden swing of the spotlight on to me. 'Em, I've just come out of a relationship, Aunt Flo.' Cripes, that sounds amazingly serious, as though we were engaged or something. 'But it wasn't anything very significant,' I hasten on, 'more of a fling really!' The word 'fling' hangs jauntily in the air. Sluttishly, even. 'He used to work a lot,' I try to explain. 'It was Rob Gillingham. He's the son of David Gillingham, the insurance people?' Now, I just sound as though I'm showing off. Dear God, someone shoot me, please.
'I know them!' says Monty. God bless him. 'Big company in the city!'
'That's them!' I say in relief and take an enormous slug of wine.
'So was your trip successful, Simon?' asks Monty, changing the subject as he senses my discomfort.
'I think so. A few of the key people are flying over next week to tie the whole thing up.'
He goes on to explain more about his business trip but he is very conscious of the strangers in the household and he glances at me now and then. I'm so wary of him that I'm almost holding my breath and I'm having to fight a desire to cross my arms in front of my body in some form of self-protection.
Will distracts me from my growing anxiety. 'What's for supper, Mrs D? What is that divine smell?' he asks, while peeling the label off his beer bottle.
Mrs Delaney doesn't waste any time in producing a dish from the bottom of the Aga. We all sniff the air appreciatively like the Bisto kids. She plonks the dish on the table.
'Mr Dominic here says he's vegetarian, so I've made some bean stew.'
There's an uncomfortable silence. Vegetarian is a dirty word in this house. I narrow my eyes and stare fixedly at Dom. Even he looks horrified. He's never had anyone take him quite so literally before.
'Bean stew?' says Will in disdain.
'Are you sure you're vegetarian? Do you think you meant Irish vegetarian?' I ask Dominic pointedly. 'Or perhaps you're not really a vegetarian at all?'
'Er, well. I thought I was. But you know, you can never be sure.' Mrs Delaney is now staring at him too. He looks from one to the other of us, torn between two wraths. Rather sensibly, he chooses to side with the one capable of causing the most misery.
'But bean stew is my favourite thing in all the world!'
'It looks like someone has thrown up on my plate,' says Monty as he is passed his portion. He's the only person in the room who could get away with such a comment but Mrs Delaney still glares at him. I try hard not to laugh.
'What did Harry get?' asks Will wistfully. 'Did he get this too?'
'Fish fingers.'
'Oooh. Fish fingers.'
'Will, Mrs Delaney has gone to a lot of trouble to make one of our visitors feel at home,' says Simon. Will shoots Simon a look at this patronising remark.
'So, Isabel. Have you had a look around the estate? Is it as you remember?' Simon smiles at me.
'It's exactly as I remember,' I reply shortly.
'We must go and visit the lake while you are here. We used to go fishing there a lot.'
'Did we?' I say politely. There is no way I am going to fondly reminisce with Simon as though absolutely nothing has happened. He is going to have to find a more direct way of appeasing his conscience if he wants to do that. Like apologising.
Simon notes my coldness and moves on to other things.
Despite the enforced vegetarian option, dinner is an animated affair. Monty uncorks a few more bottles of wine and the conversation flows along with it. I am sat between Monty and Will, which is undoubtedly one of the best seats in the house.
Simon suddenly says, 'By the way, I keep meaning to ask. Have any of those grasshoppers you were racing escaped?' He fixes his gaze on Monty and me alternately. Will and Dominic look suitably mystified.
Thinking Monty might crack under the pressure, I jump in. 'We released them outside, didn't we, Monty?' Monty nods quickly. 'Why?' I ask, regretting the query as soon as it is out of my mouth.
'I keep thinking I can hear them.'
Suddenly we all develop hearing problems of our own.
'Hear them?'
'Grasshoppers, you say?'
'I can't hear any of them, can you?'
'Pardon?'
'What are you talking about?'
We all look inquiringly at him.
'It's a kind of singing. Like the sound grasshoppers make.' He looks around our little throng.
There's a slight pause as we subconsciously re-group.
'Tinnitus!' I exclaim to almost rapturous applause. 'TINN-I-TUS,' I say a bit louder; after all, he does have a hearing problem.
'Tinnitus?' he questions.
Everyone sees the bandwagon and leaps straight on it.
'Probably stress-induced.'
'Ringing in the ears.'
'You're working far loo hard.'
'Mobile phones can do terrible things.'
Pudding suddenly becomes something of supreme fascination for everyone concerned. It's as though none of us has ever tasted ice cream quite like it.
'This ice cream is delicious, Mrs Delaney!' I cry.
'Absolutely gorgeous!' says Aunt Flo, digging in with gusto.
'Yes, where
did
you get it from, Mrs D?' says Monty.
Mrs Delaney looks confused. 'I got it from the supermarket. It's made by Wall's.' Her voice is disbelieving.
'Well, it's just so … so … so creamy.'
At this point Simon excuses himself, saying he needs to do some more work. I visibly relax.
'Anyway! How is dear Sophie, Izzy?' asks Monty. 'Has
she
got a boyfriend?'
'Sophie? Nooo. Sophie is too married to her career, no time for boys!'
'How often do you see her?'
'Oh, every couple of weeks or so. Well, usually, but we've both been a bit busy recently so it's been a while.'
Monty drops his voice and the conversation carries on over our heads. 'I missed you and Sophie when you went. I think the boys did too.' He adds that last bit on rather hurriedly.
'Yes, it's a shame we lost contact.'
He smiles and stares down at his hands. 'I think so too, but some things are better left. Tell me some more about your Aunt Winnie.'
I begin to tell him about her tormenting the vicar but my mind lingers on Monty's comment. Some things are better left. What on earth does he mean by that?
C h a p t e r 13
O
n Friday morning I get up early, my mind buzzing with all the things I have to do today. Rose and Mary are coming for another meeting so I shower hastily and throw on a smart pin-striped trouser suit. I pick up my clipboard of notes, find Meg the Westie waiting for me outside my bedroom door and together we wander down to the kitchen.
'Morning, Mrs Delaney!' I beam delightedly at her.
'Morning, Isabel.'
'How are you this fine morning?'
She glares at me. 'Busy. I've got a lot of things to plan with all the disruption ahead.'
Ah.
'And I have to go to Bury St Edmunds on top of everything else.'