Paradise Fields (29 page)

‘I'll have a Women's Tea,' said Vivian, ‘if you've got any. I need something powerful. I'd be on the whisky if I wasn't driving.'

‘Simon?'

‘I'm not drinking that witches' brew you and Viv seem so fond of, but I'll have a cup of coffee. Instant is fine.'

‘Oh, good,' murmured Nel to herself, ‘because that's all there is. Fleur?' she said louder. ‘Want anything made out of hot water?'

‘No, thanks, Mum, I'll stick to lager.'

‘Isn't it a school night?' asked Simon. No one took any notice. ‘You mustn't mind too much about the building. People need homes, Nel.'

‘I know that. And people are going to get homes. It's just the right ones we want,' said Nel, dunking tea bags, badly wanting to go upstairs and have a good cry. ‘So why, if we all accept that Paradise Fields are going to be built on, are you dishing the dirt on Jake Demerand?' She hadn't meant to say that. It was probably the whisky making her say things she would regret.

‘He's just a bit too much of a smooth operator for my liking. I was telling Kerry Anne . . .'

‘What?' demanded Vivian. ‘What were you telling Kerry Anne?'

‘That Demerand might not be the best solicitor for them.'

‘I'm a bit confused,' said Fleur.

‘Serves you right for drinking lager on a school night,' said Viv.

Fleur ignored her godmother. ‘You come round here with something off the web for Mum, to help her with the campaign, and then tell her you think the Hunstantons have got the wrong solicitor. Surely that's a good thing, if she doesn't want a housing estate on Paradise Fields.'

Simon laughed. ‘That wasn't quite what I meant, Fleur. The fields have had planning permission for years. There's no way you can stop that now.'

Fleur was enjoying arguing with Simon when no one could legitimately stop her. ‘I'm sure we could if we tried hard enough. Dug ourselves in, like Boggy, or whatever his name is.' She retrieved Simon's bit of paper from the aloo gobi. ‘Now, how can this help us?'

‘I don't think it can,' said Nel, passing out mugs. ‘If we prove to the Hunstantons that their solicitor was involved in a dodgy deal, they'll just get another solicitor—'

‘And the next one might not be quite so attractive,' put in Vivian, unhelpfully.

‘—so it won't make any difference,' Nel finished.

‘The problem is, we none of us know what the Hunstantons are likely to do,' said Vivian, sipping her tea. ‘We none of us know them, really.'

‘Chris does,' said Simon. ‘He's getting to know them. I reckon he'll talk them into making the right decision.'

‘Right as far as you're concerned,' said Fleur. ‘I suppose being an estate agent, you're bound to want more houses to sell.'

Nel frowned at her. Being a free spirit was one thing, being rude another.

‘Well, I don't think we should be discussing what is basically hospice business outside the committee,' said Vivian, who would usually have been willing to discuss anything, anywhere, if the gossip was juicy.

‘Quite right,' said Nel, beginning to gather up the detritus of the meal. She wanted everyone out of her house so she could think.

They all seemed to start talking at once. Nel tuned
out of the argument, too downcast to know what she felt about anything just now.

‘Tired, Nel?' asked Simon a little later.

Viv and Fleur were stacking the dishwasher and Nel had gone into the sitting room, ostensibly to gather up any mugs and glasses, but in fact to get a bit of peace. Nel wasn't really pleased to have been followed, but she didn't have the energy to stop Simon taking her into his arms.

‘A bit,' she mumbled into his jacket. ‘I've had a really busy day.' She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her.

‘Let me make it better,' he breathed and made as if to kiss her.

She convulsed in his arms and moved her mouth out of reach. Not today; she couldn't cope with his lovemaking today. ‘I'm sorry, Simon. I'm not in the mood.'

‘I just thought we ought to be thinking about our future, with Fleur nearly off your hands . . .'

She disengaged herself. She didn't like him talking about Fleur as if she was some sticky substance to be removed with a special cleaning product.

‘I'm sorry,' he went on, putting his hands on her shoulders. ‘I've rushed you. You need more time to think. But I want you to know my feelings for you. When all this hospice business is over, I'll take you away somewhere, for the weekend, and remind you of . . .'

‘Of what? What will you remind me of?'

He laughed, to show her he knew he was being teased and didn't mind. ‘I'll remind you that you're a woman, with womanly needs.'

Nel retreated a few steps and sat down on the sofa. ‘Womanly needs' sounded like sanitary protection or
vaginal deodorant. ‘I'm sorry. I'm being awfully unresponsive. I suppose I'm too taken up with the hospice and the farmers' market to think about anything else.'

Viv came in. ‘It's all a bit better in there now, so I'll push off and leave you two lovebirds to watch the news together.'

Nel got up quickly. ‘But I haven't paid you for the Balti!'

‘My treat. Don't bother, honestly.'

‘No, really.' Nel pushed Viv towards the door. ‘I'll get my bag. I've got things I must talk to you about,' she added when they were out of Simon's earshot.

‘What is it?' asked Vivian in a stage whisper.

‘Oh, just something I saw. It's probably not important . . .'

‘It's obviously important to you. Come over tomorrow and talk about it.'

‘You're not doing anything to the bees, are you? I don't need any extra stress.'

‘No! I'll just be at home. I haven't got any appointments until the afternoon. Now you go and get cosy with Simon on the sofa.'

‘You never used to encourage me to do that.'

‘I now know that you're out of danger. Anyone who's slept with Jake is not likely to lower her standards to Simon.'

‘Viv! I'll be around at about nine. I've got a whole list of calls to make later, but I'll have to take the dogs out first.'

When Nel went back into the sitting room, Simon was ensconced on the sofa, doing as Viv had implied he would be, watching the news. He patted the seat
next to him. ‘Come and sit down. It's cosy sitting here, watching television.'

Nel didn't much like the news. She found it distressing and she couldn't do anything about it. It was why her television viewing tended to be what other people considered rubbish, and her life full of helping others.

She sat by Simon and closed her eyes, allowing his arm to go round her shoulders, even though it meant she couldn't sit comfortably.

‘This is nice,' said Simon. ‘I could get used to this. You and me, together, in front of the television in a companionable way. After all, we're too old for passion, don't you think?'

Nel closed her eyes. Perhaps she was too old for passion. Perhaps passion was unhealthy for the over-forties. Perhaps she'd better just let Simon move in and forget about Jake. Irritatingly, a tear forced its way past her tightly closed lids. She sniffed.

‘
SO, WHAT IS
it you couldn't tell me last night?' said Viv, opening the door. ‘In front of Simon.'

Nel took time to greet Hazel, Viv's little whippet, who came and stayed with Nel and her dogs so often she was practically one of the family. ‘You like to cut to the chase, I must say!' she complained. ‘No, “Hello, Nel, have a cup of tea,” or anything.'

‘Hello, Nel, have a cup of tea or anything, and then for God's sake tell me what was making you so odd last night.'

‘Was I odd? I was probably drunk. I drank half a tumbler of whisky when I got home.'

‘You weren't drunk, honey, but you were on edge. Come and tell Aunty Viv everything.'

They went into the kitchen, which was everything Nel wished her kitchen to be, only smaller. The cupboards were natural wood below, and glass fronted above. In the cupboards the glasses and bowls were arranged either in rows or piles. The matching china mugs hung on hooks beneath. The work surface itself, also natural wood, shone with beeswax polish and was uncluttered by anything except an Alessi kettle and a Dualit toaster. Even Viv's washing-up accoutrements were stylish and elegant. A beautiful wooden bowl full
of fresh fruit sat on the circular kitchen table, but that was all. Where Viv opened her post, paid her bills, read the paper and did the crossword puzzle, Nel didn't know, but it obviously wasn't where she herself performed all those activities.

‘Sit down. Let me make you some juice,' said Viv. ‘You need a pick me up, not caffeine. What would you like? Apple and mango is nice. Perhaps with some carrot?' Viv extracted a juicer from a cupboard and set it on the side.

‘Do you want me to peel the carrot?' asked Nel from the table, wondering, not for the first time, how Vivian managed to be so tolerant of Nel's chaotic lifestyle when her own was so ordered.

‘Nope. It's all ready in the fridge. So what gives?'

‘Lots of things really. I know for a fact that there's something going on between Kerry Anne and Jake.'

‘You can't know that! Unless you've seen them with your own eyes—'

‘I have! She was kissing him. She had her arms round his neck and he was bending down to her.'

‘What did he say when he saw you? How did he behave? Was he guilty? Embarrassed?'

‘He didn't see me. I was in the car coming back from a dreary woman who weaves – possibly her own hair – and I saw them in the car park of the pub where he took me to dinner.'

‘Oh.'

Nel sighed. ‘Bloody men! You think that place would be sacrosanct, wouldn't you?'

Vivian shook her head. ‘I'm afraid they would just think it was a good place to eat and read nothing more into it than that.'

‘Well, now I know he slept with me for underhand reasons.'

‘Now why do you say that? Even if you're right about him and Kerry Anne—'

‘I did see them together, Viv.'

‘But what could his ulterior motive be? I don't understand what you're getting at.'

‘To keep me quiet! I mean, who, of all the committee, apart from you, is most likely to make waves, to protest, to argue with Christopher about selling the hospice land?'

Viv looked unconvinced. ‘Muriel can be quite feisty,' she joked.

‘Well, he's not going to sleep with Muriel, is he! She's well over seventy and has two plastic hips!'

‘There's me.'

‘Of course, and I'm sure you would have been his first choice.'

‘So, if he didn't fancy you like mad, why didn't he sleep with me? I feel quite insulted!'

‘Because, airhead, you obviously have a full and satisfying sex life! You're not a widow, overweight, over forty, desperate, and therefore grateful.'

Viv shook her head. ‘I'm quite sure you're wrong.' She pressed a button and reduced a carrot to liquid.

‘I'm not making it up. I did see him with Kerry Anne, and – did I tell you? – when I was at Chris's, trying to see the deeds, Kerry Anne rang up. So unless she's having an affaire with Chris too, that more or less proves there's something going on between Chris and the Hunstantons.'

‘I admit that if you had Jake you wouldn't want Chris.' A couple of apples shared the fate of the carrot.

‘Personally, I'd rather die childless than have anything to do with Chris.'

‘So you're not that desperate then.'

‘No one could be that desperate. The thought of him – touching me – it's positively revolting.'

Viv wiped a knife round a mango, separated the halves, and then scored one half and turned it inside out so it looked like a hedgehog with squared-off prickles. ‘It's a strange thing. The thought of someone you fancy doing stuff can be so lovely, and the thought of someone you don't doing exactly the same stuff can make you want to heave.' Another swoop with her knife, a burst of hideous noise, and the cubes were history.

Nel sighed, watching as Vivian poured most of the contents of the jug into a glass.

‘Here, drink that.'

Nel sipped gratefully. ‘This is delicious. I'd make things like that, only I can't face having to wash the juicer.'

‘It's no trouble if you do it straightaway.'

‘I'm sure. But I wouldn't do it straightaway. Something would stop me. And the children would eat the mangoes.'

‘The joy of living alone. So, we think we know there's something unsavoury going on between Jake and Kerry Anne: most unethical. So do we think he is unethical in other ways?'

‘We don't think, we practically know! There was that thing Simon got off the Internet. If he is working secretly for Gideon Freebody, the Hunstantons are hardly getting impartial advice!'

‘Have you brought the cutting with you?'

‘No, it got covered in ghee, I had to throw it away.'

Vivian carried her own glass of juice to the table and sat down. ‘And we think Chris Mowbray has something to do with them too, which means that the hospice only has us, and Muriel, to protect it.'

‘Otherwise, if Chris and that other man on the committee have their way, the hospice building will be pulled down, and houses built on the site.'

‘And however much money we got for it, it would never be enough to build from new, it never is. It's why ancient buildings can never get insurance. That juice really is delicious,' added Nel. ‘It would help if we knew how Abraham was getting on researching the will. If we knew for certain who owned it we'd be in a much stronger position. I suppose we just have to wait until he gets the copy of the will.'

‘So what are we going to do?'