Wishing Water (31 page)

Lissa tumbled from the stool and grabbed hold of Renee, shaking her slightly to make her stop laughing and take the matter more seriously. ‘Philip must
never
know. That’s the whole point. I don’t
ever
want him to find out. Do you understand, Renee?’
 

Renee stopped laughing to look deep into the violet eyes, darkly shadowed in an unusually pale face. She could feel the very slightest tremor in the hands that held hers, the wrists seeming so frail and thin they might snap in two at any moment. ‘I’ll put the dough to rise then I think we might have a drop of sherry. For medicinal purposes.’
 

‘Maybe I should be getting back. Nanny Sue will wonder where I am.’
 

‘Let her. Old po face. Come on, you two whipper-snappers. You can go and sleep on my big bed while I bake your dough men. OK?’ She swept Sarah into her arms while Lissa followed on with Beth.

Ten minutes later they were more comfortably seated in Renee’s living room, still untidy with newspapers and discarded clothing. Exactly as Lissa remembered, except that the chirping budgie seemed to have departed, for the cage stood empty. Renee did not remark upon this, so neither did she.

She was suddenly glad to be here, in Renee’s uncomplicated company, and for the first time in months felt herself relax. She wondered why she’d kept away so long.

Renee took a sip of the sherry, sighed with pleasure then set her glass on the mantelshelf.

‘Why did you marry him then?’ The bluntness of the question took Lissa by surprise.

‘I-I’m not sure. I liked him, I suppose, he was charming and kind and good looking. He seemed a safe bet.’
 

‘So what’s gone wrong? Come on, lovey, let’s be having it. Has he been knocking you about? Because if he has…’
 

‘No, nothing like that.’
 

‘What then? You and me have a lot in common, y’know, both being married to older men like. Mind you, Jimmy could give your Philip a few years and he’s a long way behind in the looks department. Is it the age thing that bothers you?’
 

Lissa shook her head. How could she explain the depths of the terrible mistake she’d made by marrying Philip? She’d made her bed, as they said, and must lie in it. With him. But she couldn’t talk about all that, not with Renee, not with anyone. It was too intimate.

‘I never did understand why our Derry left the way he did,’ Renee was saying. ‘Mind you, what a mess when he came back that time! Took me days to calm Jimmy down.’ She hurried on, not explaining how he’d found his son in his wife’s arms. ‘You two seemed made for each other.’
 

Lissa pressed her lips together and stared out of the window on to the back garden. She could see the shed at the bottom of it, the one where Derry had presumably slept for several months at Renee’s instigation. But he hadn’t left Carreckwater simply because Renee had asked him to move out. He could have found other digs in town. Even after all this time Lissa had come up with no answer except the obvious.

‘His head was full of his own ambitions. I couldn’t compete with a guitar or the promise of a recording contract.’

‘He never got it, poor mite.’ Renee looked mournful as she reached for her sherry. ‘Played his socks off all over Manchester and London to no avail.’
 

Where Derry was, or what he was up to, was no longer any concern of hers. ‘What is he doing these days?’ The words came of their own accord.

‘He’s gone abroad, hasn’t he?’

‘Where?’ She didn’t care. She only hoped he was miserable as hell, as miserable as she was.

‘America, would you believe? Do you think he might meet Acker Bilk? Ooh, I love that record don’t you, ‘Stranger On the Shore’?’ She began to hum the tune.

‘I’d believe anything of Derry Colwith.’
 

‘That’s men for you. Never there when you want them.’ Renee took several sips of her sherry. ‘Broke Jimmy up it did, his only son and heir going off like that at a moment’s notice. Mind you, we’ve decided against kids of us own. ‘Jimbo’s had enough of all that, and I don’t want the responsibility. I fancy this new pill, don’t you? I’ll give it a try when they get it sorted out.’ She stared at the cage. ‘I might get a parrot.’
 

Lissa felt a sudden spurt of laughter but managed to restrain it. It would be too cruel. Renee might be brash, greedy, oversexed, possibly verging on the amoral judging by the gossip there was about her guest house, but no one could doubt that her heart was in the right place. She meant well for all her clumsiness on occasions, and was the only person Lissa had found in an age who was prepared to be on her side now that Jan had gone.

‘I’ll never forget the look of shock and outrage on his face when the soup poured down his legs,’ Renee said, spluttering over her sherry.

‘Oh, golly, yes.’ And they were both off laughing again. It made Lissa feel so good to feel young and carefree. When they’d mopped up their tears and more sherry had been poured she said,’ I shall continue to lie, about wanting more children. If it saves an argument.’
 

Renee looked doubtful. ‘You can’t keep it up for ever.’
 

Lissa turned her face away, not wanting to meet the inquiring gaze.

‘So what is it? What’s really wrong? I’m not daft. I can see there must be summat else.’
 

‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m bored.’ Lissa felt her heart jump as the words popped out and realised for the first tune how true they were and how much that bothered her. She took a deep breath and began to pour out her heart. ‘Philip expects me to be the perfect little wife. Beautiful, charming, hosting his dinner parties, entertaining him each evening with a gin and tonic and adoring attention.’ The sherry had loosened her tongue and she warmed to her theme.

‘I don’t even get to spend much time with my own children, except for an hour or two each afternoon. He expects his house to look like something out of the Ideal Home Exhibition with me devoting my entire life to achieving such a miracle. He’s so very particular and has such high standards yet treats me like Dresden china, or a weak fool incapable of intelligent conversation let alone holding down a job.’ She lifted clenched fists in helpless appeal. ‘He goes out to meetings most nights and sometimes I think I’ll go mad, with no one in the house to talk to but two babies, a starchy nanny and the vacuum cleaner. Can you understand?’
 

‘Oh, yes,’ said Renee, nodding wisely. ‘I understand perfectly. That’s why I miss my Peter since he passed over. Jimmy’s never away from that boat yard. Mind you, I have my guests, in the summer at any rate. The long winters can be a bit of a drag. That’s why I help out at the Marina Hotel now and then. Bit of company like, as well as a few bob in the pocket. You should try it.’
 

Lissa shook her head in despair, an expression raw with lost hope on her drawn face. ‘There’s nothing I can do. Philip wouldn’t allow it. I’m a possession, like a sofa or a fine picture. And if I’m not careful, the bearer of an increasing brood of children which will keep me very securely within doors.’
 

The familiar sensation of fear beat slowly in her stomach, the sickness sweeping right up into her gullet. She felt like a prisoner. Yet how could she ever escape without a job, without money of her own? And did she really want to? ‘Philip needs me at home. He’s said so a million times.’ And she wanted him to need her, didn’t she? What else did she have? She couldn’t risk losing him.

‘I wouldn’t let that stop me.’

Lissa drew in a trembling breath, aware she must remain composed. ‘Simply not on the cards, he says.’
 

‘Bugger his cards,’ said Renee, reaching for the sherry bottle and refilling the glasses for a third time. ‘If you can lie about the baby thing, why can’t you lie about that too?’
 

Lissa blinked. ‘What are you saying?’
 

‘How will he know if you’re working, if you don’t tell him? So long as you’re home by the time he is and the house is done and dusted, he’d never notice. Men never see what’s right in front of them, everyone knows that. Anyway, you could employ a cleaner. Surely you can afford one?’
 

‘He expects me to look after our home myself. Anyway, Nanny would tell. She’s very proper. Likes to do everything by the book.’

‘Not if you bribed her not to.’
 

‘Bribed?’
 

Renee smiled. ‘Threatened her with the sack if she split on you.’

Lissa looked shocked. ‘I couldn’t do that.’
 

‘Ask her nicely then.’
 

‘I’d never get away with it. Would I?’ Why was she even considering it? The idea was utter madness.

Renee propped her feet on the mantelshelf while she considered. ‘Pretend to take up charity work. Most ladies of your class, if you’ll pardon the expression, are out and about all day and nobody has a blind idea what they’re up to. Take up good works. The Lissa Turner - sorry - Brandon, Save-Her-Sanity Committee.’
 

They were both hooting with laughter again. Before the sherry bottle was halfway down they had begun to devise a plan.

Following the evening’s débâcle, which he blamed entirely on the clumsiness of the stupid waitress, Philip insisted that the hotel pay for his dinner jacket and trousers to be dry cleaned. He returned three days later to collect them, repeating his annoyance at the incident and his hope that the waitress, whoever she was, would pay out of her wages. When he’d vented his wrath he agreed to be mollified by a glass of malt whisky in the bar, courtesy of the management.

‘Got to keep them on their toes,’ said a voice at his side. Philip swivelled round to find himself addressed by a young man with fair, floppy hair and tortoiseshell spectacles that kept slipping down his nose. His dark grey suit was clearly brand new and the white collar he wore looked odd against the pale grey of his shirt, giving him an almost clerical appearance. A clipboard and measuring tape reposed on the bar counter beside a half empty glass of beer.

Philip said, ‘Very true,’ and returned to his whisky.

After the usual discussion about the weather and the failings of hotels in general, a subject close to the man’s heart apparently, he informed Philip that he was a consultant. ‘Andrew Spencer.’ He held out a hand which Philip reluctantly shook. ‘For Manchester Water Board. They’re the bogeyman round here, in case you didn’t realise.’
 

Philip gave a dry smile. ‘I believe so.’
 

‘They’ve learnt a bit since Thirlmere were built. That’s what started it all off.’
 

‘Indeed?’
 

The Manchester man warmed to his theme. ‘The mistake they made then was to concrete the shoreline. Too hard and unnatural, d’you see? Then they stopped folk from using the new lake, which again didn’t endear them to the natives, as you might say. They don’t make those sort of mistakes these days.’
 

‘I see.’ Philip tried to look interested though his mind was on Lissa and how she had actually refused his essential needs these last three days and nights. He blamed it all on that doctor. If he didn’t set her right soon, Philip meant to go and tackle Robson himself, women’s complaints or no. A man was entitled to a son if he wanted one, to carry his name forward to the next generation. He never loved Lissa more than when she was soft and vulnerable with pregnancy, smelling of babies with breasts swollen with milk. He felt an ache start up in his loins even now at the thought and hastily took a large swig of whisky.

The man was still talking. ‘Eighty million gallons of water are pumped from the Lakes area each day. Trouble is, Manchester could do with another fifty at least. Industry must have its water, eh?’
 

‘Quite.’ God, what a bore he was. Philip drained his glass, preparatory to making a hasty departure, but the man clung.

‘The demand goes on. Industry versus tourism, I suppose. I’ve to speak at a meeting tonight, in fact. You’ll read all about it in the local paper, how Manchester Water Board is on the lookout for another site. Most of it is scare-mongering of course. Rumours abound.’ He rolled his eyes and laughed. ‘People panic and come up with all sorts of daft notions. They’d have everyone believe we’re ploughing up half the Lake District to hear some talk.’ He continued with his tale without pausing to draw breath.

‘But if we don’t find a suitable valley for a holding reservoir soon, we’ll have to extract from the main lakes, and folk won’t like that any better, now will they? Think they’re holy, those waters, and it’s my unenviable task to help find the right spot. Do preliminary survey work before calling in the geologists and the rest of the engineers. I don’t mind telling you this is my first big job, so it’d be a feather in my cap if I came up with the goods, so to speak.’
 

‘I see,’ Philip said, suddenly thoughtful.

Andrew Spencer puffed out his chest with self-importance then took a swallow of beer, wiping the froth from his upper lip with the back of his hand. ‘No doubt I’ll be questioned by the local big-wigs and the press
ad nauseam.
I’ve given two interviews this morning already.’ The man sighed at the trials of unwanted fame. ‘Not my favourite task, I can tell you.’