Country Plot (17 page)

‘There must be a lot of clearing up to do from the party,' Jenna said.

‘There's a bit. Mrs Phillips did the crockery last night – one load in the dishwasher while we were still eating, and another load afterwards, before she went home. But there are the glasses and cutlery still to do. But you don't need to bother with it. I can manage.'

‘I wouldn't think of leaving you to do it alone,' Jenna said. ‘Of course I'll help. And afterwards, I might as well do a bit of work. If you're up for it, we could go through the photographs and pick out the ones you want included in the house history.'

Kitty brightened. ‘There's nothing I like more than looking at old photographs, as long as I've got someone to look at them with. I might find some of your parents, if you're interested. And there are some very sweet ones of Xander as a little boy. He was quite enchanting, as beautiful as an angel. His mother used to call him her little star.'

‘How sweet,' Jenna said, thinking that was something to store up as possible ammunition, should the need arise.

They lunched on cold-lamb-and-stuffing sandwiches, and afterwards Jenna said she needed to stretch her legs before settling down to work. ‘The rain seems to be easing off a bit,' she said. ‘I think I'll go for a walk.' She hesitated. ‘Do you think I could take the dogs with me? Would they like it? They look awfully bored.'

‘They'd love it,' Kitty said. ‘They go shamefully short of walks, because there's so much room for them to roam around here, but of course that's not the same thing to a dog.'

‘Will they go with me all right?'

‘Oh yes, they know you now. And they're very good on a leash.'

So a short while later, Jenna was heading out of the back door, clad in Kitty's wax jacket and shapeless hat, with a joyful dog on either side. They said this was just what they wanted, and commended her for her very canine disregard of the rain.

As soon as she passed through the yard it came on more heavily again. Veils of it drifted across in front of her, the sky was low, wet and grey, and a mist of water seemed to hang about the green dripping hedges and trees. Suddenly the little cottage looked very inviting, with a light on inside and the smoke from the chimney suggesting a nice log fire. But she was restless for exercise, and she told herself the rain wasn't cold – just really, really wet. Besides, she couldn't possibly disappoint those two hopeful doggy faces, eagerly turned up at her. She went on out into the lane, and turned away from the village.

The dogs did walk well, trotting beside her and only occasionally pulling, their nostrils flaring to catch all the unfamiliar scents. She walked for ten minutes to establish discipline and then let them snuffle on a grass verge and relieve themselves. One car swished past, windows steamed up, throwing spray from its wheels. Wood-pigeons croodled liquidly from the trees above her, and somewhere a crow yarked repetitively, but otherwise she might have been alone in the world. She went from one lane into another, and realized the frustration of walking in this sort of country: you couldn't see over the hedges, so the scenery was rather monotonous.

The wax jacket kept her body dry and warm, and the hat seemed impervious to the weather, but her feet and lower legs gradually soaked through. She had refused the offer of Kitty's wellies – even if they had fitted, she was queasy about wearing someone else's footwear – and though her shoes were respectable flats, the long exposure to water and the occasional puddles she couldn't avoid proved too much for them, while the long wet grass of the verges soaked her jeans. She began to feel rather chilly, and the rain didn't seem to have any intention of stopping or even slowing: the sky was invisible beyond the low veils of grey. The dogs had stopped frisking, though when she addressed them they looked up at her and wagged in a way that suggested they would go on as long as she could.

‘Oh, we'll go back,' she said aloud, turning around. ‘It'll take the rest of the day to get you guys dry.'

Another car went by, spraying her lightly and disappearing round the bend with a brief flash of red brake-lights, prismed through the falling water. The world seemed deserted. Even the birds had stopped, and there was no sound but the endless patter of the rain on the road and hedges. Jenna shivered, and thought of home, getting dry, having a cup of tea – and maybe a piece of Mrs P's shortbread, if there was any left. The lamb sandwich seemed a distant memory now. She was developing a real outdoor-girl appetite these days.

Then she heard the sound of hoof-beats coming towards her, and she pulled the dogs over on to the verge as a big bay came into sight, ridden by a man in a riding mac and a crash cap with a waterproof cover. As they came closer she reckoned the bay was easily sixteen hands, and very well bred, going at a collected trot on a double bridle, its tack expensive and beautifully kept. She couldn't see much of the man's face between the brim of his cap and the turned-up collar of his mac; but as he approached he pulled the horse down to a walk, and she realized as he stopped beside her that it was Alexander.

‘Hello,' she said cheerfully. ‘Lovely weather for ducks.'

The horse didn't seem to be bothered by the dogs, so she drew closer to get a bit of relief from the rain in the lee of the big animal. It was so tall that she was on a level with the rider's booted leg (not rubber but real leather – oh posh!) and behind it the gleamingly-polished saddle flap and the steaming bay flank. Alexander's leather-gloved hands were quiet on the reins; looking up further, flinching as the raindrops hit her face, she saw that glorious face looking down at her, and – would wonders never cease? – it was with a smile of friendliness and approval.

‘Aren't you the intrepid one?' he said pleasantly. ‘Braving all this for the sake of the dogs! Not what one expects from a townie at all.'

‘Oh, it's a mistake to underestimate me,' she said lightly. ‘I'm a very unusual person.'

‘I'm beginning to realize that,' he said.

The words warmed, but disconcerted her. Where was the disapproval of yesteryear? ‘I suppose you recognized the dogs,' she said, for something to say. The smile was throwing her out. She wasn't used to it. And it made him look all too attractive.

‘And Kitty's hat,' he said. ‘But why didn't you borrow some boots? Kitty's would be too small for you, I expect, but there are dozens of pairs knocking around, I know for a fact.'

‘I'm squeamish about other people's shoes,' she admitted. ‘Foolish, I know, but I can't help it.'

‘Well, be sure and get your feet properly dry when you get home,' he said. ‘Don't go around all evening in damp socks.'

So solicitous
, she thought. The horse eased his weight from foot to foot, and turned his nose to see who she was. She let him sniff her fingers and then patted his neck. ‘Nice horse,' she said. ‘Is he yours?'

‘Yes. He's called Victor.'

‘He's got a terrific crest on him. You obviously keep him fit.'

‘We do a bit of cross-country. I'd like to event, but I never really have time. You obviously know something about horses. Do you ride?'

‘When I can. Not so many opportunities in London, but when I was a girl I was horse mad. It was my thing. Harriet wanted to be a ballerina and Rachel wanted to be a nun, but I wanted to be a girl groom.'

‘Not a showjumper?'

‘I had very modest ambitions,' she said, laughing.

‘You should get some riding in while you're here,' he said. ‘It's lovely country, and of course you can't really see it on foot. The hedges are too high.'

‘I was thinking the same thing only a minute ago,' Jenna said.

‘Well, look here,' he said. ‘Would you like to go for a ride tomorrow evening, after I close the shop? I know of a horse I can borrow for you, and I can show you a bit of the countryside around here.'

‘I'd love it,' Jenna said, surprised and pleased at the overture of friendship. She supposed it was for Kitty's sake, but was perfectly willing to go along with it – especially if it meant a ride. ‘But I don't have any riding clothes with me. I'd have to ride in jeans.'

‘I don't mind if you don't,' he said. ‘Are you on, then?'

‘Definitely. Though we won't see much if it's raining like this.'

‘Oh, this will have passed over by tomorrow,' he said, glancing around.

She laughed. ‘Do all country people know exactly what the weather's going to do?'

‘Of course!' He smiled. ‘It's God's compensation for having no cinemas and theatres and concert halls.'

The horse sneezed lavishly.

‘Now you'd better get home before you drown,' he said.

‘That was the horse, not me,' she pointed out, and he laughed, making her shiver, because she saw for an instant how utterly gorgeous he could be when he did it.

‘I know that! Go on, off you go. I'll come and collect you around half past five tomorrow, if that's all right? I close up early on a Monday – there's never much trade.'

Kitty was delighted with the news. As they crouched in the rear lobby towelling a dog each, she said, ‘I'm so glad he's making an effort to get to know you. I really want you two to be friends. But he's terribly shy, you know, which makes it difficult for him to get on with strangers.'

‘Shy?' Jenna said. That was the last thing she'd have accused him of.

‘Yes, and it makes him rather stiff with people, and they take it the wrong way and decide they don't like him, so they never get the chance to know the real person.'

‘I should think being stiff with strangers would be a disadvantage in his trade,' Jenna remarked.

‘Oh, he's fine with customers, because that's business, and you never have to let them inside your guard,' Kitty said. ‘It's getting personal with people he has a problem with. Anyway, the antique trade is full of stiff people, and the fine furniture people are the stiffest of all, so he fits in perfectly well at the trade fairs and country house auctions.'

‘Maybe Caroline really suits him after all, then,' Jenna said. ‘She's stiff too.'

‘Yes, but Xander's only stiff on the outside. She's stiff all the way through. I think Barney's as dry as I'm going to get him. How's Watch?'

‘Like a soggy lambswool cardigan, and he smells just the same,' Jenna said.

‘They'll do for now. And you must get out of those wet things before you catch cold. Why don't you have a nice hot bath?'

‘That sounds lovely. I am feeling a bit chilly.'

‘Yes, it's a nasty dank sort of afternoon. Why don't I light the fire in the sitting room, and we can cosy in for the evening?'

‘That sounds like heaven.'

‘It's only cold lamb again for supper, but we can cheer it up with a nice bottle of wine, and have a cocktail beforehand. Or would you like your cocktail in the bath?'

‘Wouldn't that be the depths of decadence?'

‘The heights, rather,' Kitty said, smiling. ‘I like to take my baths seriously, with a good book and preferably something agreeable to drink. Shall I bring you one up? I make rather a wicked Martini.'

So in short order Jenna found herself lying full length in the massive bath, up to her neck in hot water, with a dry Martini gathering dew beads on its glass. The Martini had a wonderfully fragrant, floral overtone: ‘A dash of elderflower cordial,' Kitty had told her. ‘It's my special recipe. I can't cook, but I can make a cocktail.'

This is the life, Jenna thought with a sigh of content. Oliver was right, it was just what she needed, a job that was like a holiday. This was almost too much like a holiday for her conscience. But it was a mistake to think about Oliver, because that reminded her of her old life, which she had lost so completely. Patrick's face came before her eyes. She felt a pang of loneliness and loss, and her body ached for the touch of a man, and for that wonderful intimacy, the cosiness of belonging, of not having to do things by yourself.

A tear trickled down her face and mixed with the steam dripping off her chin. Oh Patrick! Why? She took an incautious swig at the Martini, which made her cough – Kitty had no inhibitions when it came to the use of gin – and it broke the mood and made her pull herself together. This was supposed to be a moment of sublime pleasure, and she wasn't going to spoil it with yearning for that worthless swine who had taken another woman into
her
bed. She was going to enjoy her bath and her cocktail, and after supper she and Kitty would sit by the fire and look at photographs and maybe find some of her parents when they were young. She'd love to see some new photos of Daddy.

And there would surely be some of the ‘angelic' child who had grown up to be Alexander. Now there was a thing!

It was the most beautiful morning she had ever seen. Jenna bounced out of bed to dash to the window and push it up. The smell that rollicked in was so heady and full of life it almost knocked her over. The sky was a perfect, newly-washed blue, the sun jinked on a gazillion diamonds carpeting the grass and decking the trees. Everything seemed to have grown six inches in one day. Now Jenna could see why people like Kitty and Bill said ‘lovely rain'. In town, rain was just an unmitigated nuisance. Here it was beautiful and life-giving. She felt she had misjudged it all her life. She leaned out of the window and said, ‘Sorry, rain.'

Below her, on the turnaround, Watch looked up and gave a single bark in reply. Barney only gave her a sultry glance and then rolled on his back on the warm gravel in a very kittenish way with his paws paddling in the air. Watch clearly thought this was going too far. He turned his back on Barney, hoicked up a hind leg and scratched thoroughly behind one ear, shook himself violently all over, then looked up at Jenna again and gave another bark, which obviously meant, ‘What are you hanging about up there for? Hurry down!'