Authors: Harriet Evans
‘Er…no,’ said Dad, with alarm. ‘I’m looking over the papers again. Stuart and Simone might drop by later, before completion tomorrow, and I don’t want them springing anything on me.’
‘Need me to check them for you?’ I said.
‘You
?’ Dad spluttered. ‘No thanks, Lizzy. Tell you what though, Chin wants me to help her fold napkins in return for her giving me a lift to the solicitor’s tomorrow. Maybe you could do it instead.’
‘Why’s she giving you a lift?’
‘Car’s packed up,’ said Dad briefly. I sighed. His car was a twelve-year-old estate, called Dilys by her affectionate owner, and packed up at the most inconvenient moments. Need to get to the station in ten minutes flat? Dead engine. Dreaded family outing to visit Great Aunt Dahlia and Uncle Simon? Purring engine.
‘Of course, Dad. Anything to help!’ I trotted into the hall again. Chin and Gibbo were still there, having A Moment.
I lingered on the sidelines, unsure what Jane Watts would have done in a similar situation.
Thankfully the front door opened slowly and Tom came in, pulling a wheelie suitcase. A zip-up bag for his morning suit hung over one arm. Chin and Gibbo stepped apart and I walked forward nonchalantly, as if I’d been elsewhere doing important things.
‘Tom!’ I said, and went to kiss him. ‘I thought you weren’t coming down till teatime!’
‘Hello, Tom,’ said Chin. ‘You’re early!’
Kate’s voice echoed from the kitchen. ‘Tom? Is that you?’
‘I stayed late last night to get a document ready for a client so I could be here early today,’ said Tom, pleased with himself.
‘Well, this is great,’ said Chin, hugging him. ‘You can go to pick up the glasses and cutlery! Suzy’s got the address.’
‘Uh?’ said Tom.
She turned back to Gibbo. ‘’Bye, darling. I’ll see you in a little while.’
‘Where are you going?’ I said.
‘Manicure and pedicure,’ said Chin, airily. ‘And a massage.’
‘Right,’ said Tom, putting his suit on his case and his hands on his hips.
‘Right!’ I interjected hurriedly. ‘Lovely. Where’s that then?’
‘You wouldn’t have heard of it.’ Chin put her bag over her shoulder and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Sophia Gunning recommended it. Dereham Spa’.
‘Oh,’ I said and I coughed and smiled inwardly to restore my schoolgirl equilibrium.
‘Why aren’t you going tomorrow?’ Tom said. ‘What if you chip the nail varnish?’
‘I want to go today,’ said Chin, smiling sweetly. ‘Lizzy, your father’s supposed to be folding the napkins. I’ve left a pattern specification on the table for him but I’m sure he’ll
get it wrong. You’ll have to help him. Best do it now – there’s loads to do this afternoon. And, Lizzy, find some gloves for picking the flowers this afternoon. I don’t want people asking on Saturday why all my family are covered with scratches. Thanks. See you later.’ She marched out.
‘She’s pushing her luck, she really is,’ Tom said. ‘God, I pity the fool—Hey! Gibbo! How are you, mate?’
‘Good, thanks,’ said Gibbo, the light of amusement in his eye.
By Thursday evening I was exhausted. There’s nothing in the
School Friend Annual 1956
about jolly old Jane Watts having to take a rest cure for a month after setting up a wedding for a bloody control freak. While Chin was probably lying on a soft leather chair in a dressing-gown, with cucumber slices on her eyes, being attended to by soothing voices and velvety hands, back at the ranch her family worked themselves into a frenzy. We gathered, we polished, we picked things up, we dropped them off, we made phone calls, washed dishes, jugs and plates, we ran around the house packing the rest of our possessions into boxes and tidying up the essentials that remained. We wrote signs, we lugged crates of champagne, and Tom, Jess and I ruined pile after pile of napkins, until Gibbo, surveying the wreck-age shooed us away and got to work. Ten minutes later – or so it seemed – two hundred napkins sat on the two tables nearest the door, deftly manipulated into the shape of a fleur-de-lis.
‘How on earth did you know how to do that?’ Tom asked.
‘Y’know,’ Gibbo said, pulling up his trousers, to which were attached an assorted variety of grass cuttings and bits of paper. ‘Chin taught me. Pretty easy, really. I’ve been practising. Let’s move these chairs into place, shall we?’
Mum and Kate appeared after seven, bearing a jug of Pimm’s and some crisps. ‘I thought we could have a drink out here. I’ve put a casserole in the oven and baked some potatoes,’ said Mum. ‘Here, have a glass.’
We all sat outside the marquee, on the grass that sloped down towards the house, and took in the view. Against a gun-metal sky, the golden grey of the lichen-covered stone house glowed in the early-evening sun, and the glass diamonds of the leaded windows flashed and shimmered. The budding lavender stretched towards us in mauve and grey rows, like spindly fingers reaching up to the meadow where we sat.
There was the sound of a car in the driveway and we looked up to see who it was but no one moved, as if we were reluctant to break the spell. Then I heard Chin’s voice and her footsteps as she opened the gate that led from the lane by the side of the house into the garden. ‘Here’s Simone and Stuart come to say hello,’ she called.
‘Oh, hell,’ muttered Mum, under her breath, as she scrambled up, brushing grass off her lap. ‘Where’s your father, Jess?’
‘Don’t know,’ said Jess.
‘Evening, all!’ cried Stuart Caldwell, as he advanced towards us, his beefy torso crammed into a short-sleeved shirt. His face was aggressively tanned, his expression jovial. Chin and Simone followed him, the latter, hampered by her high-heeled clear plastic mules.
‘Just enjoying the view, are you?’ said Stuart. ‘Making the most of it while you can, I expect.’
Simone screamed and clutched Chin’s arm. ‘Stuart!’ she yelled. ‘I’m, like, falling over in these bloody heels. It’s hilarious. Hey, it’s Lizzy! And is that Tom? Look, do you like them?’
We all stood up, and I looked down to examine the shoes in question.
‘They’re really nice,’ I said, lying, because they were completely hideous, studded with glass stones around the heel and across the foot.
‘Hi, Mrs – Suzy.’ She waved at Mum. Every part of her – except her dodgy boobs – wobbled. ‘We just wanted to come over and say hi. Is Mr – John around?’
‘Stuart, would you like a drink?’ said Mum.
Suddenly Kate materialized next to her, like the sinister Addams Family butler, and silently held out a glass. ‘Pimm’s, Sarah?’ she said, to the incoming lady of the house.
‘It’s Simone, Mrs Walter,’ Simone corrected her helpfully.
‘Is it?’ said Kate mutinously, but Mum elbowed her out of the way.
‘Well, well!’ Stuart repeated, taking the glass Mum offered him. ‘Sorry to disturb. This time next week we’ll be sitting here doing the same, I expect.’ He smiled in a friendly way.
‘The Caldwells just wanted to ask something,’ Chin explained, in a neutral voice. ‘I ran into them in town.’ Her eyes were fixed on the ground.
‘Oh, it’s
so
lovely up here,’ Simone said. Her heels were sinking into the ground. Stuart rubbed his hands together, then held out his stubby arms in an all-encompassing gesture. ‘We were wondering what you think to something. I know this is a bit irregular, ahead of our moving in here. I mentioned it to Ginevra, seeing as how it’s her wedding day on the Saturday. Simone and I, we’ve just got back from Thailand, see?’
‘Lovely,’ we murmured, not sure where this was going.
Simone nodded. ‘We had a butler in our room all the time. And whatever DVDs we wanted, they’d order for us. CDs too! It was a six-star hotel – there’s only, like, five in the world. I had to stay there one night on my own because Stuart had to go away. A meeting in Bangkok.’ Stuart’s eyes were boring into her like bullets, but Simone didn’t notice.
‘And I’m, like, well, what am I gonna do? So I went out, and there was this market, right outside the hotel, but I hadn’t noticed it because we hadn’t been out of the hotel before. Why would you? Seriously, it was that nice.’
‘Anyway,’ interrupted Stuart, tiring of this reminiscence, ‘Simone buys this mini-temple thing, right? Well, four of them. And a huge, wooden door. It’s almost eight foot high. Amazing they are, wood-carvings, totally authentic. The workmanship’s genuine. It’s not tat.’
The wind was picking up, providing respite from the heavy humidity of the evening. I looked up at the weathervane swinging gently in the breeze.
‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘we’ve just been to pick them up and we was wondering, you know.’ He trumpeted a cough into his clenched fist. ‘Seeing as how we’re completing tomorrow, can we just pop them away here instead of taking them home and finding a place for them where the kids won’t smash into them?’
Tom suddenly said. ‘They’re not those mini-temple things you put in your house to ward off evil spirits, are they?’
‘Yeah, and they’re lovely. I just had to have them, you know?’ Simone said, clasping her hands in front of her. ‘And,’ her voice became serious, ‘it’s something a bit different. No one else has them, right, and they’ll look great in my new house.’
‘Are they…Hm.’ Tom bent his head, as if to access something buried deep in his mind. ‘Are they like the ones Posh bought last year in Thailand?’
Tom’s
heat
magazine knowledge is encyclopaedic.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Simone said, clearly nettled that she’d been rumbled. ‘But, apart from her, no one else’ll have them. I had to really beg the old man who was selling them to let me buy them. I thought he weren’t gonna let me at first. But we came to, like, an agreement. I bargained with him.
Amazing that he was selling them right outside the hotel – it was really lucky.’
‘That
is
amazing,’ said Tom, beaming. ‘Well, what a great idea. Do you want to put them—’
‘Hang on a second, Tom,’ Chin chipped in. ‘I don’t think there’s room, is there?’ Her eyes were clearly conveying a message that said, ‘How dare they think they can start putting their stuff here?’
‘Never mind. We’ll find somewhere. The shed, maybe. It’s pretty big and John cleared it out last week. How about that, Stuart?’
‘No, Tom,’ Chin said, through gritted teeth. ‘I really don’t think there’s going to be room.’
‘Oh, they won’t do anyone any harm there, Chin, don’t worry,’ Mum said.
‘That’s not the point! They shouldn’t be there – it’s still our bloody house,’ Chin said spikily, and stalked off towards the house.
‘I’ll go after her,’ Gibbo said, as we all stood there, embarrassed. He followed her and a few seconds later we heard the kitchen door slam.
‘Sorry about that,’ Mum said. ‘Wedding nerves.’
Stuart was unperturbed. ‘Sure it is, sure,’ he said, bobbing his head. ‘It must be, erm, strange. This time next week and all that, eh? Well, it’s a lovely house, and I promise you I’m going to take good care of it.’
Dad appeared from the house and the situation was explained to him. I noticed a bathroom catalogue poking out of Simone’s pastel-lettered Louis Vuitton bag and my stomach churned.
Dad offered them the use of the shed, gave Simone his arm and set off with Mum and the Caldwells to their black Shogun with tinted windows. It looked like a huge shiny beetle, dark and smooth in the pretty rose-dappled lane.
‘Twelve o’clock tomorrow, it has to be signed by, remember,’ Stuart Caldwell said to Dad. ‘Otherwise the deal’s off.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Dad. ‘I understand, Stuart, don’t worry. I’ll be there at ten.’
‘Good,’ said Stuart, unsmiling, and climbed into the car. Then the mask fell back into place. ‘’Bye, all,’ he cried, beaming like Tony Soprano. ‘Good luck!’
‘Yes, and good luck for Saturday,’ Simone called, waving. ‘We’ll see you next week.’
‘Why didn’t you mind them putting the mini-temples in the shed?’ I asked Tom as he, Jess and I sat on the ground again. Kate stood up, brushed down her skirt, and started to clear the glasses.
‘Amusement factor, I suppose,’ said Tom. ‘But they do bring luck, those things. If you place them in a home they protect it. And as the Caldwells have got four I thought it was worth a chance.’
‘Bit late for that now,’ said Jess. ‘Anyway, from what Dad says, if we don’t sign tomorrow Mike misses some deadline to repay the money he owes.’
‘How do you know?’ I said.
‘He keeps ringing to remind us,’ Kate said, as she put the last glass on the tray. ‘It has to get to him on time.’
‘What happens if it doesn’t?’ I asked.
‘I don’t like to think,’ said Kate. ‘But I presume we’re not talking about being fifty pounds in the red with one’s current account.’
‘So we need all the luck we can get, don’t we?’ said Tom, practically.
‘Yes,’ said Kate. ‘We do. See you inside, then. Supper’s nearly ready.’
A delicious smell wafted to us from the kitchen window. Above, Chin’s room overlooked the garden and I could see her pacing up and down, while Gibbo stood with his arms
outstretched, trying to catch her as she passed him, only to be slapped away. She was crying.
‘It’s just wedding nerves,’ said Tom, following my eye.
‘I’m almost past caring,’ said Jess.
‘Me too,’ Tom said, as we stood up to go in. ‘Still, if she wants something to take her mind off it, Uncle Mike’s arriving tomorrow.’
I sighed into my glass and drained it.
The School Friend Annual
didn’t have a section on Uncle Mike or indeed, the Caldwells. Let alone Miles and David. Its usefulness was limited.
Friday dawned humid again and overcast, and the atmosphere was ugly. Today was the day. It would overshadow Chin’s wedding, no matter what we did to pretend otherwise. As I lay in bed I could hear Chin and Gibbo, down the corridor, bickering about something. My windows were wide open and the curtains hung limply. My phone buzzed again. I ignored it. Miles had left a series of phone and text messages, but he seemed to be from another world, a world unconnected with the weird, end-of-an-era gloom that hung over the house as thickly as the heavy clouds in the sky.
Downstairs Dad and Mum were packing the study, one of the last rooms that had to be sorted out. The low static of the radio floated up to me as I looked around my room. I didn’t want to remember it like this, half-empty and forlorn.
I glanced at my watch. It was eight thirty. Mike’s plane would be near England by now. Was it near us? Was he looking out of the window? What would it be like, to see him again? I couldn’t bear the idea of having to hate him. Was he sorry for this? Miles had said I should forget about all of it, that it was in the past, but I couldn’t – just as I couldn’t forget about David sleeping with someone else,
or how much I disliked Stuart Caldwell, or how awful Chin was being, or how nervous but relieved I was to be leaving next month for LA.
Chin’s bedroom door slammed and I heard footsteps run down the stairs. She was giving Dad a lift to the solicitor’s soon so that he could sign the papers – a gloomy way to spend the day before your wedding. Now that it was here, I felt no stab of pain. It was as if we were camouflaging the sale with the wedding. But everything I looked at in this house held some kind of memory connected with me, my family, our lives and those of our relatives before us. And from Wednesday it would be the Caldwells’ home. I dug my fingers into the palms of my hands, feeling the sharp crescents of nail press painfully into my skin. I stayed like that for a while, then got up, dressed and went downstairs.
Through the kitchen window I could see Mando kneeling in front of a bench on the lawn, with a tarpaulin on which rested flowers, jugs and ribbons, all of which he was dividing up and sorting out. It was hot, but the sky was a murky sea-green-grey. I poured myself some coffee, grateful for the relative cool of the kitchen.
Kate staggered in with a box of plates in her arms. ‘There we are,’ she said, as she deposited it on the table. ‘God, it’s a vile day. You can feel the humidity on your skin.’
‘Have Dad and Chin gone?’ I said.
‘Not yet. Your father’s still in the study. Budge over, Lizzy. I need to get that pie-dish out of the cupboard.’
‘When’s Mike getting here?’ I asked, as Kate knelt on the floor, her floral skirt flaring out about her.
‘Lunchtime.’
‘You spoke to him last week, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Kate said, shutting the cupboard.
‘How was he?’
‘Fine,’ said Kate. She stood up with the pie-dish. ‘Where’s the butter?’
‘Here,’ I said. ‘What did he say?’
‘Mike? He said…’ Kate gave a tiny sigh. ‘He just said he was arriving at lunchtime today. I don’t think he’s looking forward to it. To be honest, he’s…well, he’s terrified.’
It was so unlike Kate to venture information of this nature voluntarily that I was unsure how to continue. She stared vacantly at the butter, twisting her wedding and engagement rings, then grimaced suddenly. ‘That’s salted, Lizzy. Get the other butter from the larder.’
Kate and Mike. What I wouldn’t give to know what was going on there? I mused, as I went into the larder, where jars of chutney and pickles stood on the deep shelves with trays of fruit and vegetables. I picked up an apple and rubbed it on my jeans.
‘Hello, John. Nearly ready to go?’ I heard Kate say.
When I came out, Dad was standing there in his suit, his wallet-style leather briefcase under his arm. He looked smart, like a little boy on his first day at school. The sharp juice of the apple stung the back of my throat.
Mum appeared behind him, her hands in her pockets. Her eyes were red and her face was blotchy. She had been crying. It was such a miserable scene, so stupid that my mum was crying about this, that I felt a new wave of rage against Mike.
‘Have you got everything?’ asked Mum, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.
‘Here,’ said Kate, and handed her a kitchen towel.
‘Thanks.’
‘It’s hot,’ Dad said.
‘Boiling,’ said Mum. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to swelter in that suit, John.’ Then she tried to put a positive spin on the conversation: ‘Chin’ll bring you back in time for lunch
and you’ll have a nice glass of beer and a nap and you’ll be relieved it’s over. We all will.’
‘Yes,’ said Dad doubtfully.
‘Where’s Chin?’ said Mum.
‘Don’t know,’ said Dad. He went out into the corridor. ‘Chin! I’m ready when you are.’
There was a silence, broken only by the sound of Mando gabbling to himself on the lawn.
‘Chin?’ Dad called again.
‘She’s around somewhere,’ said Mum. ‘I saw her first thing and she bit my head off. Said the dried flowers in the downstairs loo reminded her of something from a retirement home and couldn’t I make them look less repellent?’
‘Oh,
honestly
,’ Kate said impatiently. ‘She
is
the limit. I know it’s her big day tomorrow but, really…’
‘Chin!’ Dad called, advancing further into the corridor. ‘I can’t be late. Mike needs the money to go out today, and Caldwell has some tax issue he’s worried about.’
‘Really?’ Kate said.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Dad. ‘Their solicitor’s a terrifying woman. If it doesn’t get signed and completed today, aside from the mess that’d leave Mike in, the Caldwells can pull out. We’d have to pay them compensation.’
‘Ridiculous man,’ said Kate in disgust. She strode out and stood at the back door.
‘Ginevra
!’ she boomed, so loudly that the birds scattered out of the mulberry tree.
‘Mando, have you seen Chin?’ Mum called out of the window.
‘Chinevra? No,’ said Mando, standing up and brushing off his trousers. ‘Well, not since one hour ago when she left in the car.’
Kate stomped up the path towards him as Mum and I leaned out of the window.
‘She left an hour ago?’ I said.
‘Mando, are you sure? In the car?’ Mum said.
‘Why didn’t we hear it?’ Kate demanded suspiciously.
‘Yes, in the car. In her car,’ Mando said, waving a branch of Chin-approved pink roses at us. ‘She parked it round the corner last night – do you not remember? – because of the Caldwells.’
‘What’s all the shouting about?’ asked Tom, as he came into the kitchen.
‘Chin’s gone and she’s supposed to be giving John a lift to the solicitor’s now,’ Kate said succinctly.
‘I’ll take him,’ said Tom. ‘Let me get my keys.’
‘That’s not the point, though,’ I said. ‘She said she’d give Dad a lift – she made a big deal about it, how out of her way it was and everything. What’s she playing at?’
‘Morning, everyone,’ said Gibbo, ambling into the kitchen.
We rounded on him.
‘Where’s Chin?’ Mum screeched.
‘Gibbo!’ Kate boomed from outside, where she and Mando were peering into the kitchen. ‘Where’s Chin?’
Gibbo looked tired, and who could blame him? ‘I don’t know,’ he said, looking around at all of us. ‘She was…well, we had words last night. And first thing this morning. Then she didn’t sleep at all. Then she just stormed out. Mate, it was strange,’ he said, appealing to Tom.
‘But did she say where she was going?’ Tom asked.
‘She said she had to go into town…with John.’ He spotted my dad and smiled at him. ‘Hey, John, there you are! So where’s Chin?’
‘We don’t know,’ said Kate, through gritted teeth.
‘Oh,’ said Gibbo. He drooped a bit.
‘What did you argue about?’ Tom demanded. ‘Was it – was it a
serious
argument?’
‘No, not really. Well…sort of…’ Gibbo scratched his head.
Dad ran his finger around the back of his collar.
‘To be honest, I’m not sure,’ Gibbo said, his voice quieter. ‘The last month or so…she’s been in a right state. Snappy. Nothing’s right.’
‘About wedding stuff?’ I asked.
Gibbo thought for a moment. ‘No, not really. She knows what she wants there.’
‘What, then?’ Mum said.
‘I don’t really know. I think it’s to do with the house. And that Sophia Gunning. She’s always off meeting her and her friends.’
I remembered Sophia’s flaxen hair and perfect white teeth, her patronizing manner. Why on earth was Chin so keen on her?
‘Hey. What’s this?’ Mum said sharply, and picked up a folded piece of notepaper that was propped against the breadbin. It said
John
on the front. She opened it, her hands shaking a little. ‘ “
Dear John
,”’ she read. ‘“
I can’t take you in today. Something important’s come up. Don’t sign the contracts, don’t go to the solicitor’s. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Love C XX PS Tell Gibbo I’m sorry.
”’
There was a silence.
As if by unspoken consensus, Mum, Tom and I took a step towards Gibbo and patted his arm.
‘Well, well,’ Mum said, refolding the note. ‘ “Don’t go to the solicitor’s.” Honestly, what’s she playing at?’
I looked at the clock. It was nearly ten. ‘Dad, you’re supposed to be there soon. Shouldn’t you give them a call?’
‘I’m going to,’ said Dad, heading for the study.
‘Someone else can give you a lift,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve got to go to the surgery now. Kate?’
‘Of course,’ said Kate.
‘Right,’ said Mum. ‘Well…I suppose I’d better go. This is all very strange. See you later. Lizzy, remember the pie’s in—’
‘Yes, Mum,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry about any of that. See you later.’
Mum hurried out, jacket over her arm, handbag swinging from her shoulder. I turned to Tom, who crammed some bread into his mouth and raised his eyebrows at me. ‘It’s not her failing to give Dad a lift that pisses me off,’ I said. ‘It’s just – sorry, Gibbo – that she’s been such a bitch lately. It was the one thing she had to do for Dad, and she can’t even do that.’
‘I’m with you, honest I am,’ said Gibbo, his brows knitting, ‘but there’s something about it I don’t understand. It’s just not like her.’
‘Well…’ Tom and I began, but Kate flashed us a warning glance.
Dad came back into the kitchen, still on the phone. I could hear Stuart Caldwell’s voice in a trickle of tinny noise. ‘Yes, Stuart. I know…Yes, I know. Look, I really don’t see—Yes. I’ve said I’m sorry. I’m on my way now…Yes, of course I want this to go ahead! I’ve said so…Yes, I appreciate that was one of the conditions…Yes…Yes, I know…Look, we can have this conversation when I get there.’
Dad stood next to me and picked up a wooden spoon. His face was like thunder.
I could hear Stuart Caldwell saying, ‘I’m not happy, John. Not happy.’
‘Yes, I can appreciate that, but it’s not the end of the world. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.’
‘This money has to go out of my account today or I’m fucked.’
‘You’ve said that,’ said Dad. ‘Goodbye, Stuart. See you in a little while.’
‘John, you’d better—’
Dad switched the phone off.
‘Something dodgy going on there,’ he said slowly. ‘He says he has a financial commitment and has to move this money out today for tax reasons. If we don’t have the papers signed by twelve it won’t and some deal of his’ll fall through.’
‘He sounded pretty cross.’
‘He was,’ said Dad briefly. ‘Nasty piece of work. I wish it was anyone but him. She’s a sweet girl, but he’s a thug. Still, I’m going to have to go, no matter what Chin’s note says. If she gets back, give her a short sharp shock from me.’
‘Come on, John,’ said Kate, jangling her car keys.
We walked with them to the hall, then Tom, Gibbo and I stood in the courtyard and watched Dad flick through his papers one last time. Not a leaf stirred in the trees.
‘See you later,’ Dad said. He raised his arm and turned away.
At that moment, an extraordinarily loud noise rang out from behind us, like a roaring wave heading towards us from the road away from the house. It sounded almost like a jet plane. Tom jumped, and we all swivelled round, in time to see a sleek silver car screech round the corner and come to a ferociously abrupt halt.
‘Fuck!’ yelled Kate, all composure gone.
I giggled, more out of shock than anything else.
‘What the hell—’ Tom said simultaneously.
‘
Stop!
Stop!’ someone screamed, and through the gate, looking like a bedraggled water rat, ran Chin, crying, one arm waving at us, the other dragging behind her a beautifully presented, beaming Sophia Gunning.
‘Hello, John, hello, Kate,’ she panted, as we lined up to greet her. ‘Do you remember my friend from school, Sophia?’
‘Yes,’ said Dad.
‘Hello,’ said Kate.
‘Eh?’ said Tom.
‘Ssh,’ I hissed.
Chin brushed her hair out of her eyes. She looked about nineteen again. ‘Thank God I caught you in time,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry about all of this. Hello, gorgeous,’ she said, and blew a kiss at Gibbo.
‘’Lo,’ said Gibbo, looking as if he’d swallowed a gobstopper.
‘Oh, it’s so lovely to be here again,’ Sophia said, in her calm, silvery voice. ‘It’s going to be just great.’
‘It is,’ Chin said. They grinned at each other.
What’s going to be great? I wondered idly, as I do in moments of drama rather than simply saying, ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘What the hell is all this about, Chin?’ said Dad. ‘I’m so furious with you I’m seriously considering – I have to walk up that aisle with you tomorrow and give you away, and apart from relief at having you off my hands, I’ll feel a huge sense of disappointment at you and your behaviour lately. First Mike, now you. I’m sorry. You’ve let us all down. Now, if you don’t mind…’ He gazed at her coolly and put his hand on the car door.
‘I’m not explaining very well,’ Chin said, unperturbed by my father’s uncharacteristic anger. She took his hand. ‘Oh, John, you’re going to love me. I love me. You don’t have to sell the house.’
‘What?’
‘You don’t have to! Sophia works for Lizzy’s company. She wants to hire it! For a film! And she’ll pay us rent for the orchard and the meadow, so there can be production offices and catering vans and things there too! They want to film entirely on location for three months, all here, at Keeper House. Here! It’s a vast amount of money! You can get the rest to pay Mike by remortgaging – we all can. I’ve
done the sums and I’ll explain, but the main thing is you don’t need to sell the house.’