Sent: 27 August
Dear Janie,
Thanks for the photos. I’m impressed. Both you and Elizabeth have made huge strides! Such a relief to see you looking your old self. Yellow never suited you. As for E., not a bouncing baby quite yet, but at least she looks less like a textbook pic of a fetus at seven months! What beautiful eyes, though. Give her a kiss for me, and tell Mum and Dad to come home. You must be driving each other up the wall by now.
Bye and love,
Lizzie
P.S. Have put self on strict diet — if matron of honor dress won’t fit on Sat, the dressmaker will have me arrested for reckless endangerment of property or similar. Wish she hadn’t taken measurements when I weighed less than eight and a half stone.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Bruno asked as Lizzie tooted at an ancient Mini that had suddenly pulled into their lane just as she was speeding up to merge onto the M25.
“Little old men who drive Minis wearing Andy Capp headgear should be forced to retake their drivers’ licences every six months,” Lizzie muttered as they pulled out and surged past the offending vehicle. “And no, I don’t want you to drive. How do I know you don’t drive like a maniac? You can’t take chances when you have kids in the car.”
So saying, she suddenly pulled into the slow lane to overtake a lorry that was thundering along down the middle of the highway.
“Interesting maneuver. I usually overtake on the right,” Bruno remarked mildly.
“Oh, shush. If you’re going to backseat drive all the way to Laingtree, I’ll have to get out my earplugs.”
“Earplugs?”
“I keep them for when the children won’t stop squabbling. They’re also useful if your passenger won’t stop second-guessing every single thing you do.”
“Okay, I’ll shut up. Let’s find something soothing on the radio.”
“Soothing? We don’t need ‘soothing.’ We need ‘rousing’; we need ‘upbeat’; we need ‘funky.’ ”
“Funky?”
“You know, something to get us into party mood. So, what did you do with Madge?”
“Well, I thought of bringing her, but I wasn’t sure if the B&B would have her. So I asked my neighbor to keep her.”
Things weren’t as bad as they could have been, then. They could have had Madge along for the ride, trailing a long tongue out of the window and roaring at passing cars.
“Mu-mmy, are we there yet?”
“No, we are
not
there yet. We’ve only been in the car for ten minutes.”
“Mummy, I’m hungry.”
“Mummy, Alex is trying to spit at me.”
“Tattletale, tattletale.”
“Oh, for
heaven’s
sake. Bruno, would you look in that bag behind your seat? You’ll find a couple of tapes from the library.”
“Let’s see . . . the Wiggles? Raffi? ‘The Tale of Jemima Puddleduck’?”
“Wiggles! Wiggles!” came the cry from the back.
“Wiggles it is, then,” Bruno said cheerfully. “So much for ‘funky’ and ‘rousing.’ ”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Lizzie shrugged. “Have you heard their fruit salad cut?”
More than two hours later, after a stop for lunch in Oxford, and just as both twins had finally dropped off to sleep, Lizzie turned off the main road and sped along a series of narrow, hedge-lined lanes snaking through picturesque fields dotted with sheep. After a while they began to drive past rolling parkland. Lizzie slowed down and put on her turn signal as they approached a massive stone gate.
“What are you going in here for?” Bruno asked. “We don’t have time to start popping in at National Trust houses, surely?”
“It’s not a National Trust house,” Lizzie snapped. “It’s where my in-laws live.”
“Christ almighty! Why didn’t you tell me you’d married minor royalty?”
Lizzie had almost forgotten her own shock and amazement when she’d first laid eyes on the myriad chimney pots and flying buttresses of Laingtree Manor. “It’s not as grand as it looks,” she said, not quite truthfully. “Anyway, James’s folks only live in one wing, nowadays. The rest of the place is a sort of hotel. And they’re not titled — except for Lady Evelyn. His family only bought the place three or four generations back, with money they made from something not very glamorous — wool trading, I think.”
“Where’s your house, then? Somewhere nearby?”
“Mill House? It’s down there, see? That cottagey place with all the trees around it.”
“Cripes,” he breathed. “Now that’s what you call a garden! Can we drive over so I can take a closer look?”
“No, we can
not
,” Lizzie said, more sharply than she’d meant to. “Some fabulously wealthy American businesswoman’s in there this weekend, apparently. It’s hardly good manners to go and gawk.”
“Who takes care of the grounds, then?”
Lizzie pulled a face. “My mother-in-law does the master-gardener thing, with a couple of local chaps once or twice a week to take care of the grunt work.”
“She knows what she’s doing.”
Lizzie nodded. “Yeah, you have to give the devil her due.”
Minutes later they stood at the tall Gothic archway of the front door, Lizzie carrying Ellie, still groggy from her doze, and Alex hanging on Bruno’s hand.
As she sounded the enormous knocker, Lizzie found herself praying that her father-in-law would answer the summons. But she was out of luck. The heavy, carved door creaked open to reveal Lady Evelyn Buckley, attired for a casual country weekend in cashmere twinset, hairy burgundy skirt, and matching burgundy pumps.
“Poor children, they’re worn out!” was the first thing out of her mouth. “Eleanor’s as white as a sheet! I suppose you’ve been letting them stay up till all hours, Elizabeth. Well, come along, don’t hang about, let’s get them inside. And who might this be?”
“Erm . . .” Lizzie couldn’t think of Bruno’s name for the life of her. This was the effect her mother-in-law had on her. No wonder the woman thought she was a (“dreadfully middle- class”) imbecile. Oh, not to mention a trollop, turning up with a man she barely knew from Adam.
“Bruno Ardis,” Bruno said firmly and stuck out his hand. “I’m Lizzie’s partner. For the wedding.”
A fraction of a second passed while Lizzie’s mother-in-law viewed Bruno’s proffered hand with raised eyebrows and nipped-in nostrils. Then she extended her own for a fleeting shake.
“Ardis? That’s unusual. It’s not English, is it?”
Bruno shrugged slightly. “I’ve always thought it was,” he said without rancor.
“Well, it isn’t. It can’t be. You’d better look it up on the World Wide Web. I’m sure you’ll find your people come from somewhere peculiar, like Italy. And what is it you do, Mr. Ardis?”
Lizzie, still clutching Ellie even though the child was struggling to escape, thought her heart might stop entirely. She should have primed Bruno. She should have told him to lie. If he opened his mouth now and said he was a gardener, she would simply sink through the floor with sheer mortification.
“Investment banker,” Bruno said smoothly. “Retired.”
“Re
tired
? At your age? I suppose you made a fortune gambling away old ladies’ nest eggs. Really, it’s quite criminal the way flashy young men with absolutely no ability to produce a
single
useful thing are allowed to make indecent amounts of money, just gabbing on the phone all day to their chums. At least James has an honest profession, I always say.”
Alex, hopping from flagstone to flagstone, suddenly piped up. “Bruno cuts people’s grass, Granny.”
Lizzie felt one of her eyelids twitch crazily. A nervous tic. This was new. “He has his own landscaping business,” she explained hastily. As she spoke, Ellie oozed out of her grip, fell in a heap on the floor, and began to sob quietly.
Meanwhile, Lady Evelyn looked poor Bruno up and down. “How . . . interesting,” she murmured. Then she turned her attention to the whimpering child and her voice softened. “Come on, Eleanor, stop that silly crying. Let’s get you into the kitchen and give you some bread and milk.”
“She’s just waking up, that’s all,” Lizzie said defensively. “Give her a moment and she’ll be fine.”
“Don’t worry, Elizabeth, I’m quite aware of that,” Lady Evelyn replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “A little discipline and structure go a long way though, you’ll find. Now, Mr. Ardis, if you’ll just set their luggage down against the wall over there, I’ll get somebody to take it up to their room later.”
Obediently, Bruno put down the overnight bag he was carrying. He looked over at Lizzie with raised eyebrows. “Shouldn’t we get going?” he asked. “Don’t you have to pick up a dress or something?”
“Oh God! So I do.” But Lizzie couldn’t bring herself to leave. She crouched down on the floor next to Ellie. “Ellie, my love, do you want to lie down and finish your nap, maybe? How about if Gran lets you watch a video?”
“Good heavens, do you allow them to watch television at one o’clock in the afternoon? Remind me to give you an article I cut out about the detrimental effects of too much television on the unformed brain. Eleanor doesn’t want to watch a video, do you, darling? She just needs to get some decent food inside her and then I’ll read her a nice book. All this fast food stuff makes children quite irritable, I understand.”
Lizzie was just choking back a howl of rage when a familiar voice rang out, “Hoy, Alex, put that down right now! Ellie-Belly, what are you doing on the floor?”
“
Daddy!
” With a shriek of joy, Ellie jumped up and bounded over to her father. Alex hastily set down the large pewter jug full of dried flowers he’d been fiddling with and slammed himself into his father’s knees.
Lizzie felt an absurd rush of relief. Thank God! James was here! Already Ellie was bouncing back to her normal self.
But relief turned into blazing fury within fractions of a second.
Oh God!
James
was here! James, who’d asked Sonja Jenkins to stay over at his new house while the children were in his care, against Lizzie’s express wishes. James, who’d let his three-year-old son see his PA’s bare breasts!
James, who’d then bolted off to Scotland for two weeks, on the flimsy excuse of finishing up the renovation of some barn, so that she, Lizzie, hadn’t had the opportunity to confront him with his perfidy.
The bastard.
She stood up slowly, keeping her eyelids low so he wouldn’t see the rage flashing in her eyes. Now was not the time to cause a scene.
James didn’t seem to notice either Lizzie’s suppressed fury or the presence of Bruno. He was too much occupied with the twins, who were swarming all over him. Bruno, leaning against the wall, arms folded, viewed the scene with calm interest.
“Oh, don’t let them do that, darling, they’ll ruin your clothes,” Lady Evelyn said sharply as Alex hooked his hands in the waistband of James’s trousers, preparatory to rappeling up his frame.
“Relax, Mum, it’s just a bit of fun.” James didn’t seem in the slightest bit ruffled to be scolded as if he were yet another child. By now Alex was sitting on his shoulders and chanting that he was king of the castle.
“Okay, we’d better get going,” Lizzie said stiffly.
James looked at her at last. “Hi, Lizzie. You look very well. Have you put on some weight? You were so thin last time I saw you.”
Bruno stepped forward. “Yeah, I kept telling her to be careful in the bath or she might trickle off down the plug-hole,” he remarked, almost as if he and Lizzie were in the habit of taking baths together. Lizzie could have kissed him in gratitude for the sly implication.
James’s eyebrows shot up. “Trickle . . . ? Oh, yes, right.”
Bruno stuck out his hand again. “Bruno Ardis,” he said heartily. “Lizzie’s partner. We’ve met before — in Sevenoaks?”
“That’s right,” Lizzie chimed in. Her voice sounded strangely shrill to her own ears. “Only Bruno didn’t have a shirt on, so maybe you don’t recognize him fully dressed.” There. Let him not imagine for a moment that he was the only one who could have romps with bare- chested people.
“Of course,” said James smoothly as he clasped Bruno’s hand. “Bruno. The garden tap chap. With the wife who makes steak and kidney pie. Nice to see you again.” He hoisted Alex down from his shoulders. “Come along, kids, let’s go to the kitchen, then. Granny has a snack for you. See you later, you two.” And he sauntered off with a twin hopping and skipping along at each hand.
He really hadn’t looked particularly perturbed to see her with Bruno, Lizzie thought sadly. That was probably because he thought Bruno’s wife had lent him out for the evening. Never mind, Bruno was bound to look fabulous in a dinner jacket, and James couldn’t fail to feel a few twinges at the wedding, surely? Especially if they somehow conveyed to him the fact that there was no steak and kidney wife waiting in the wings.
Lady Evelyn shot Lizzie a reproving look. “Good-bye, then. We’ll see you tomorrow morning when you come for the children.
Enjoy
yourselves.”
Back in the car, Lizzie sat with her hands on the steering wheel for a moment or two, taking a few deep breaths.
Bruno got in beside her and fastened his seat belt. “Is your mother-in-law always so . . . so charming?” he asked with a twinkle.
Lizzie shook her head in wonder. “Did you see the way she
looked
at us? As if . . . as if . . .”
“As if we might suddenly strip off our clothes and start going at it right in front of her?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Don’t worry about her. Obviously, she’s upset that you’ve hurt her son’s feelings.”
“Oh no, she
always
looks at me as if I’m about to do something obscene. As a matter of fact, she’s relieved to be shot of me. It would be complete good riddance, I’m sure, if I didn’t happen to be the mother of her grandchildren. To be fair, she dotes on them. She’s actually quite good with them, in her way.”
“Ah. I see. You bring out the worst in her, do you? But that James doesn’t seem a bad bloke.”
“He gives a good impression, doesn’t he? Looks like the kind of chap who’d keep his word, do right by his children, that sort of thing. In fact, you’d probably be surprised to hear that he’s a lying swine who thinks nothing of letting his three-year-old son see his new girlfriend parading around naked.”