Harnessing Peacocks (7 page)

Finding Hebe preparing dinner, Mungo rushed straight to the point. ‘I have come back to ask you to sleep with me.’

Stirring the sauce she was making, Hebe glanced up and said, ‘I won’t sleep with you here.’

‘Why not?’

‘Not in your mother’s house.’

‘But you will?’ Mungo stared at her.

‘When I leave here we can go to an hotel.’

‘You will—oh my God!’ Mungo felt exhilarated, couldn’t believe his ears.

‘I’ll see what it’s like then—’

‘You’ll see what what’s like?’

‘I’ll see,’ Hebe was patient, ‘whether I like sleeping with you. We can come to an arrangement if I do and you want to go on with it.’

‘Oh.’ He was deflated by her calm tone.

‘I can’t do it for nothing. I have to earn my living. I am very expensive.’

‘Are you a prostitute, then?’ Mungo was puzzled, excited.

‘I’m a cook but if you want I’ll give you a try.’

‘Give
me
a try!’ Mungo exclaimed.

‘It’s you who asked me, not me you.’ She seemed so calm, so detached.

‘Please.’ Mungo put his arm round her and tried to nuzzle her neck.

‘Mind my sauce.’ She pushed him away with her elbow. He saw she was smiling. ‘We will spend a few days together, see how it goes.’ She stirred the sauce. ‘Then, if I’m happy, we will discuss money.’

‘If
you
are happy.’

‘You will be happy all right. I have to think of me.’ Had she been mocking him? ‘I am a very expensive cook,’ she said. ‘The same applies to bed.’

Mungo did not grudge her a penny. All he minded was her secrecy. He was no wiser now than when he first met her. He did not know where she came from or where she went when they parted. Meeting her in Exeter was the first clue he had in all the years. Why was she wearing spectacles? What was she doing in Exeter, he asked himself, as futilely he wooed sleep. He knew she did other cooking jobs, that she had other lovers. He groaned with anger and frustration.

‘Do stop waking me. If you can’t sleep go to the dressing-room,’ Alison scolded. ‘Take a digestive pill.’

‘Your snorting keeps me awake.’

‘I don’t snore.’

‘I said snort, silly bitch.’ Mungo got furiously out of bed and made for the dressing-room. Would Eli put up with Alison’s snorts? Hebe never snorted or snored. Trying to settle in the dressing-room bed he resolved once more to pump his mother. She must know of something of Hebe’s background.

L
OUISA FOX RECOGNISED HEBE’S
voice when she picked up the receiver. ‘Hebe, how nice to hear your voice.’

‘I wondered whether you would like me to come during August. I have a cancellation, so I just—’

‘Thought you might come to me?’

‘Yes, I—’

Louisa was enthusiastic. ‘What day will you come? It will be a treat.’

‘Would the seventh to the twenty-first suit you? Have you got your little book handy?’

‘Not necessary. August is a month when I lie low. We shall be on our own.’

‘Oh good. I’ll arrive in the evening and bring a dinner to cook.’

‘I shall look forward to it. You can tell me your news when you come.’ Not, thought Louisa Fox, that that girl ever has anything to tell. She switched on the television for the news and wondered whether to ring Lucy Duff. While she thought about this the news reader led her through world disasters to the weather man. She dialled Lucy’s number.

‘Lucy, that you? Listen, I have the treasure coming in August. Am I not lucky?’

‘I thought you never got her in August. I can’t. I supposed she had a child for the holidays or another job. I never get her at Christmas or Easter. Miss Thomson has to arrange spring, summer and autumn. She was here in May. Two blissful greedy weeks. Can I come and stay?’

‘I don’t think so. I will get her to stuff my deep freeze; come later on. Did Mungo visit you while she was with you?’

‘No, Alison had him on the lead.’

‘Really tied?’ Both women laughed.

‘How do I know?’ said Mungo’s mother. ‘Maggie Cook-Popham’s Dick swears he saw Mungo with Hebe in London.’

‘Did he indeed? Where did he see them?’

‘Walking in Kew Gardens.’

‘When was she with Maggie? Don’t tell me her boy—’

‘I bet he tried, though if he had succeeded the whole world would hear and that wouldn’t suit—’

‘Wouldn’t suit Hebe. Does Mungo ever—’

‘Never breathes a word. Wouldn’t dare say anything in case I let something slip to Alison, as if I would.’

‘As if you would.’ The old women, separated by miles of wire, laughed.

‘We are not like Maggie,’ said Lucy. ‘Though for news that doesn’t matter, telling Maggie certainly saves stamps.’

‘Wouldn’t it be a good thing if you could get Hebe to come in the holidays? Your grandchildren would love her food. If she is coming to me in August it may mean she is not tied in the holidays, as you thought,’ suggested Louisa.

‘I am not having the little beasts to stay,’ cried Lucy. ‘Not until they are a lot older.’

‘Heavens, why not?’

‘They picked all the buttons off my Victorian chairs.’

Suppressing her inclination to laugh, Louisa said, ‘How dreadful. What possessed them?’ Lucy must have annoyed the little beasts in some way.

‘Alison is going away. I gather she is sending them to stay with friends. Mungo is hopeless with them, he shouts and they laugh. She is sending them to people who stand no nonsense.’

‘They will be better when they grow older,’ opined Louisa.

‘One hopes so.’ Lucy was doubtful. ‘We must remember your telephone bill,’ she said, hinting that Louisa had talked long enough.

‘Goodbye,’ said Louisa, ringing off. It takes the rich to remind one of bills, she thought. Mungo would one day be rich. Louisa considered him fortunate if he was having an affair with Hebe. It was old history now, and it would hurt Lucy to know she had been second choice. Mungo’s father had asked her to marry him before he asked Lucy. Mungo might never have existed, since I am barren, and if I am right and Hebe is Christopher’s grandchild she might not exist either. Louisa was surprised that Lucy had never noticed Hebe’s extraordinary likeness to Christopher Rutter, starchy, pompous, upright, who had long ago proposed marriage and had been surprised and angry when she refused him. He had married a girl as upright as himself. Calculating dates, Lucy decided Hebe was probably a granddaughter, child of the daughter killed in the air crash. Suspecting Hebe’s provenance, Louisa forbore telling her friend, since Lucy, who reproached others of gossip, could gossip with the best, and Hebe, for reasons best known to herself, never spoke of her family or friends, not even of Bernard who, by coincidence, knew Hebe since he lived in the same part of the country. Louisa did not think it necessary for Hebe to know of her friendship with Bernard. Bernard was amused by Hebe, she knew, and loved her. Lucy would be fascinated by any connection with Christopher Rutter and gossip. Recommending Hebe as a temporary cook who also worked for Maggie Cook-Popham, Lucy had said, ‘Not only is she the most marvellous cook, but she’s a lady,’ using the expression which Mungo deplored. Since Hebe never discussed her clients Louisa respected her reticence, believing she travelled from one post to another. While she joked about Mungo with his mother, she would not have credited him as a business transaction. If she considered Hebe’s and Mungo’s affair, she thought of it as a bit of fun for the girl and for Mungo, married to managing Alison, a well deserved treat. She would have been astonished to hear the difference in the rates for mistresses compared with cooks.

Looking forward to Hebe’s cooking, Louisa welcomed Hebe’s visit, blessing the day when Lucy had suggested she should give her a trial. Lucy, thought Louisa with a pang of envy, could afford permanent Miss Thomson whereas she herself could only just manage Hebe’s exorbitant fees once or twice a year. She was quite unaware that Hebe, liking her, charged her less than Lucy and charged Maggie Cook-Popham, whom she neither liked nor trusted, very much more.

While Louisa telephoned Lucy Duff and looked forward to Hebe’s cooking, Hebe enjoyed the short time there was with Silas before he went to the Scillies, happy to watch him relax from the taut boy back from school, glad that he had a friend in Giles. Though hurt at first by Silas’ defection, she found herself looking forward to a fortnight in Wiltshire; better to be busy than sit at home wondering how he was enjoying himself. Meeting Mungo in Exeter had alarmed her. It was possible he might find some lead to her whereabouts. If she was away in Wiltshire it lessened his chances of finding her. She was fond of Louisa Fox, loved her house, enjoyed working for her. But she reckoned without Miss Thomson, who resented hints that the girl who took her place provided imaginative meals and was not opposed to Lucy entertaining her friends, a thing she was not prepared to do, feeling martyred if anyone came for a drink, morning coffee or tea. She feared Hebe, resenting Lucy referring to her as ‘a treasure’ or, worse, ‘my lady cook’. Listening on the extension to Louisa’s conversation with Lucy enraged her. The jealousy she already felt of Hebe lit a latent talent for mischief. Preparing the supper she would presently share with her employer, Miss Thomson considered the theory she had hitherto dismissed as absurd of Mungo and Alison divorcing, of Mungo marrying Hebe and of Hebe either superseding her permanently or losing her her job in some sly way. Miss Thomson was saving to retire to a flat on the Spanish Costa. Fearing any interference with her plan, she decided to poke an apparently innocent spoke in Hebe’s wheel. She chose a postcard, addressed it to Alison and wrote:

‘Dear Mrs Duff: Should you wish to contact H. Rutter, the temporary cook, she will be working for Mrs Fox in Wiltshire from the 7th to 21st. Yrs. Truly, A. Thomson.’

Reading this, Miss Thomson hoped that Alison would wonder, What on earth does this postcard from Miss Thomson mean? Is it a warning? She would grow more alert, with luck make trouble for Hebe, leave Miss Thomson in peace to complete her savings. It can do no harm, thought Miss Thomson, opening a can of soup, it doesn’t exactly say anything but in Alison’s shoes I would have a little think.

The card dropped through the letter-box an hour after Alison’s departure for the States. Reading it, Mungo whooped with delight.

H
EBE LET HERSELF IN
to Amy’s house, her spirits lifting with affection.

‘Hullo, love.’ She kissed Amy. ‘I’ve sent the boys out for the day. Gave them sandwiches.’

‘In the rain?’

‘Never mind the rain. Have you seen Hannah?’

‘Gone to her elocution lesson.’ Amy grinned. ‘Teeth, name, now it’s her speech has to change.’

‘If it makes her happy.’ Hebe sat beside Amy. She looked round, noticing that Amy’s paperweights, banished by Hannah, were back on the windowsill where the colours caught the sun.

‘Where did you buy those lovelies?’ She stroked the old woman’s hand.

‘Given to me, I did not buy them.’

‘Ah.’

‘Valuable now, you know.’ Amy was complacent. ‘Where are you going tomorrow?’

‘To Mrs Fox. It’s better to earn a bob or two than sit around moping while Silas is away.’

‘Who will mind Trip? Would you like me to feed her?’

‘Terry’s going to feed her.’

‘Ho, Terry,’ Amy mocked. ‘That one!’

‘I’ve brought the rent.’ Hebe handed an envelope to the old woman.

Amy counted the money. ‘You paying a year in advance or something? This is far too much.’

‘I got a bonus. Please take it.’

‘Who from?’ Amy looked at Hebe, black eyes glinting. ‘Not that blackamoor?’

‘A bonus from
Terry
.’ Hebe grinned. ‘A goodbye present.’

‘Leaving you, is he?’ Amy was curious.

‘Still friends. He’s—er—moving on.’

‘Queer, isn’t he?’

‘A little fantastic—’

‘You’re fond of him, aren’t you?’

‘He makes me laugh. We read poetry.’

‘So you’ve told me. Love poems.’

‘And others, too. He’s passed his O-level.’

‘Failed last time, didn’t he?’

‘I failed mine!’ Hebe looked distressed.

‘Took him on to annoy the old man, didn’t you? Couldn’t resist the combination of a black boy with a failed exam.’

‘It began that way,’ Hebe said stiffly. ‘He’s become a good friend.’

‘What’s he do? Still burglar alarms?’

‘He is self-employed, goes solo now.’

‘Like you.’

‘Like me.’ Hebe returned Amy’s look calmly and added gently, ‘Like us.’

Amy squeezed Hebe’s hand. ‘I never set about it like you. Didn’t read poetry and play backgammon. Didn’t call the tune. I don’t know how you get away with it.’

Hebe looked away, not answering.

‘Lovely girls like you should get married. Hannah wants to re-marry.’

‘Her dentist.’

‘But she finds him dull. Edward Krull was dull, she doesn’t want to repeat her error.’

‘Oh, do you know someone who knows him?’ Hebe was surprised into gossip, not surprised when Amy did not answer. She sat in the small sitting-room in the house which Amy had made home for her in her time of crisis, sheltering her until after Silas’ birth, later renting her the house across the street. ‘What would I have done without you, Amy?’

‘You’d have managed.’

‘You saved us.’

‘Don’t exaggerate. If not me it would have been somebody else. You had got yourself into a fuss, that’s all.’

‘Fuss.’ Hebe thought fuss an understatement. She said, ‘There was nobody else. No, Amy, you saved us all right, then started me on the right track.’

‘Few people would call it the right track,’ Amy laughed delightedly.

‘You introduced me to Bernard.’

‘The old bastard. We could have managed without him,’ Amy sniffed.

‘He bought my things, didn’t cheat me, introduced me to the job at the hotel.’

‘Some job. I grant he did not cheat. He had no business to let you meet that Hippolyte. You could have worked for Lucy Duff and Louisa Fox.’

‘I do work for them.’

‘Decent people. I worked for them when they needed a secretary before—’

‘My grandfather.’ Hebe spoke stiffly.