Women of a Dangerous Age (21 page)

She began to tidy the kitchen, putting things back in the fridge and the cupboard so that when he came down again, he'd be reminded how she liked the place to be. Sighing, she crossed the room to pick up the newspaper, ordering its pages and folding it in half before putting it in the magazine rack.

When Don returned, he appeared oblivious to the fact that anything had been moved.

Lou clasped her coat to her as the wind screamed off the sea. Halyards on the beached tarpaulin-covered yachts chinked wildly in the gale. Sanjeev tightened his scarf with gloved hands as his gaze followed hers towards a gaggle of seagulls loudly squabbling over something invisible at the water's foamy edge. Dark wooden groynes pointed across the sandy-coloured stones towards a sea the colour of well-brewed tea. White horses raced across the choppy surface all the way from the Isle of Sheppey. Further along the promenade a couple walked, bent against the wind, hands in pockets, trailed and circled by three unmistakable black Labradors. Otherwise, Lou and Sanjeev were alone with the elements. Above their heads, a bruised-looking bank of cloud was moving across the sky from the west, simultaneously gathering mass and momentum.

‘So this is your English seaside?' Sanjeev sounded puzzled.

‘I'm afraid so.' Lou felt almost guilty, as if its failure to meet his expectations was her fault.

‘But the sand!'

They both looked down at the patchy grass and smooth stones under their feet. Lou could almost feel their cold penetrating the soles of her completely unsuitable townie's shoes and beginning to work its way up her legs. How far they were from the white sands, the palms and the turquoise Indian Ocean that belonged to the fabled beaches of Goa and Kerala over which he'd rhapsodised when they met. She began to laugh.

‘One day I'll show you a real beach where the sun shines, the sand's warm and the sea welcomes you.' He put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards him, then lessened the pressure as if worried he was being presumptuous.

She didn't move away.

Would he really show her? Lou hadn't imagined their relationship becoming so close. But then who knew what fate had in store. She huddled into him. Perhaps she would go to southern India one day – and perhaps it would be with him. She glanced up to see that he was half smiling as if his Indian dream was replacing the grim reality of the Kent coast out of season.

Lunch had been the best part of her plan. No romantic connotations. After all, she didn't want to give the impression that she was coming on too strong after one kiss and besides, wasn't her life complicated enough? And of limited length – unless it went really well. But then she had hit on the English seaside: Whitstable, only an hour and a bit's train ride from London. There was nothing like a brisk spring day to revive the spirits. She had promised Sanjeev something quintessentially English (why?) and
that's what she would deliver, however inconvenient it proved to be. But now she was wondering if Fiona had been right. Perhaps the outing had been a mistake from the word go.

‘Whitstable?! Are you out of your mind?' Her friend had spoken hers without hesitation. ‘In April! On a date!' Her disbelief and despair at Lou's plan had been blindingly obvious. ‘What's wrong with London? And anyway, you hardly know the man.'

‘I've already told you it's not a date.' Lou had been patient with her oldest friend who was being perversely obtuse. ‘I want to show him a bit of English life. That's all.'

Fiona snorted her derision at such an unnecessary idea. But Lou held firm.

Ali had been similarly perplexed. ‘Where's the romance in a blustery English beach?' she'd asked. ‘Why not a restaurant? Much easier.'

‘I'm not after romance. I'm after the real England. That's it. Just an enjoyable day out,' Lou had insisted, although by then the idea was already beginning to lose its initial sparkle. But she was cursed with a streak of stubbornness that came into its own when crossed by opposition.

‘And what about the shop?'

‘Ah, yes. I was wondering if you'd mind …'

The next problem had been to find a day when she could easily skive off for four or five hours that coincided both with Ali's availability and with Sanjeev's hectic working schedule. While he was in London, LBF Electronics demanded as many waking hours as they
could legitimately claim. They'd had to wait until he was granted a Thursday off.

When the day finally arrived, it couldn't have been less spring-like or less convenient and Lou was full of second thoughts. Once, she had imagined herself as a boutique owner able to close the shop whenever she wanted, but in fact the business needed her total commitment if it was to work. A big spender could turn up at any time, and she needed to net as many of those as she could. Besides that, she was behind on the orders for the three fifties blouses that had so far resulted from the patterns she and Ali had found in the trunk. The sooner they were done, the sooner more orders would come in. What she longed for more than anything was a rainy Thursday hunched over her sewing machine. Not this.

Inhaling the freezing ozone blown fresh off the sea, she wondered how Ali was coping at the shop. What if Hooker walked in looking for her? But that wasn't going to happen (why would it, except in her wildest dreams?) because today he was going to pick up Shona and Rory at King's Cross. Although she would be back in London long before the evening, Lou hadn't been invited to accompany Jamie, Nic and Tom to meet their half-brother. Hooker had insisted that her presence was both unnecessary and inappropriate under the circumstances, particularly since Shona would be staying with him for the night. Lou wondered what Emma felt about that. Now his secret was out, Hooker was busy wresting back control of the situation, making sure Rory's visit was orchestrated exactly as he wanted it. Lou might have outed him but
she was no longer in charge of the show – just as it had always been.

For the last few days, she'd been able to think of little else besides Rory's visit. She wasn't worried about the child himself but about the impact the visit might have on Nic who was still refusing to speak to her father. The only reason she was going with the boys was because Lou had coaxed and persuaded her, hoping against hope that meeting Rory might soften Nic's attitude. Lou felt responsible for the rift between father and daughter, and while not expecting them to kiss and make up – Nic was far too stubborn for that – she hoped that the tension between them might be eased.

As for Lou, she was going to meet Rory after his mother had left for a city break somewhere in Europe. Ali had agreed to stand in for her yet again on Saturday morning, despite muttering darkly about having her own business to look after, while Lou went with Nic and Rory to the zoo. To Hooker's distress, Nic had been adamant that she wanted nothing to do with her father but would only take Rory out with her if Lou came too. Lou didn't have it in her to refuse. Family still came first. Staring dismally into the distance, she became aware of the first drops of rain splatting onto the stones around them. Digging into her bag, she realised she'd left her umbrella at home.

‘Let's get back before it tips down,' she yelled above the wind, turning towards the back of the beach where a forlorn row of painted beach huts faced towards the elements. They sat behind a characterless concrete wall, the colours drab in the dull light, the doors and windows boarded up and padlocked shut.

Running over the beach was near impossible when, with each step, the stones rolled away underfoot. Eventually, stumbling onto the walkway, now slippery with rain, Lou stopped to get her bearings so she could take them the shortest route back towards the harbour and lunch. Sanjeev stood beside her, his dark hair sleek as an otter's in the wet, a broad grin on his face.

‘What's so funny?' Lou asked, turning to their left.

‘You,' he said. ‘The weather. England. Everything.'

‘None of them seems that funny to me,' she smarted, quickening her pace as the heavens finally opened in earnest. They ran past a weather-boarded block of flats, then a terrace of houses decorated with painted stucco crabs, fish and shells, and on by the empty tennis courts. She glanced over at him, but his coat, now pulled up over his head, hid his face. She concentrated on running back towards the harbour as quickly as she could without further conversation.

They burst into the pub–restaurant and stood on the mat, panting and laughing, water dripping off them. Sanjeev shook his coat down onto his shoulders, leaving his hair standing on end while Lou pushed the wet strands of hers from her face, not wanting to think of the uncontrolled frizz they'd make when they dried. On either side of the door, the sash windows ran with condensation. At the unadorned square bar, backed by bottles shelved in front of a huge mirror, the few drinkers turned to see what had blown in and then, having immediately lost interest, turned back to their drinks.

Shown to a table in the small dining room upstairs,
Lou was alarmed by how empty the place was, given its enthusiastic online write-up. She took off her mac, shaking off the worst of the wet, and hung it on a hat stand with Sanjeev's coat. The worn pine table and chairs, the floorboards and small fire in the brick chimney-breast gave the place an unpretentious, homey feel that she liked. But would he? If the meal was as grim as the weather, she doubted that she'd be seeing him again. And that would be a shame. The train journey alone had reminded her of how entertaining he was, and how attractive. Which was more than could be said for the bleak countryside they passed through. She needn't have worried. Half an hour later and the world looked a better place. The tables were filling up, the background hum of voices getting louder. The cooking smells emanating from the open kitchen took over from the tang of wet clothes. Outside, the tide ran to the east, spray flying into the air as the waves smacked against the nearest jetty. They ordered native oysters, followed by fish and chips, following Lou's claim that they were the most ‘English' things on the menu and Sanjeev must have them, never having tried either.

‘Really, never?'

‘No. You promised me something English and that's what I'm getting.' He looked around at the menu chalked on a blackboard, the glasses of lager and wine on other tables, the activity behind the bar. Meanwhile, outside, the rain kept falling.

‘I should have left it until the summer. I didn't think.'

‘But then I wouldn't have seen it at its most English. No?'

She thought she detected a definite gleam in his eye although his face remained quite serious. Unsure how to react to the steadiness of his gaze, she forced herself to look out at the lowering sky and the pub sign being buffeted back and forth by the wind. ‘Even then, I couldn't have relied on the weather. But that's the thing about this country. You never know what to expect.'

‘That's what I like about you too.'

What? He was staring at her so intently now that she felt uncomfortable, wishing her red cardigan with its beautiful black bugle-beaded flowers wasn't quite so figure hugging.

‘I thought you were working so hard at your business that you couldn't take a second away from it.' This time, he was definitely teasing her.

‘I know I said that and, truthfully, I did worry about taking today off.'

‘Then you should have cancelled,' he interrupted, suddenly concerned.

‘But I didn't, and now I'm glad I didn't. Not even I can work every second of every day. I went in early this morning to make sure everything was set up for Ali and, if we get the three thirty or four o'clock train, then I should finish at least one order when I get home. Anyway, to be honest, I'm glad to have the distraction. My three kids are meeting their half-brother for the first time today, so it's good to have something else to think about.'

He looked interested. ‘I don't think you've told me about this?'

‘Haven't I? I probably didn't want to bore you with my
dysfunctional family dramas.' Her two black and red resin bangles clashed together as she raised her glass.

‘I wouldn't be bored. Think of it as fair exchange for everything I've told you about my family and my country.'

‘But they're not like … well, this.'

The waiter leaned forward to put their plates in front of them. On two beds of crushed ice sat six oysters each, their uneven brownish shells in sharp contrast with the pale meat glistening against the pearly inner shell. Sanjeev looked uncertain. Lou took one, squeezed the muslin-bound lemon, sprinkled on a few chopped chives and a dash of Tabasco and tossed the oyster down her throat, feeling the rush of sea and flesh.

‘Heaven,' she pronounced, and waited for Sanjeev to follow suit. ‘They grow on you,' she added as his face contorted. ‘Sometimes.'

His eyes unscrewed and he took a quick mouthful of brown bread and butter. ‘Mmm. Maybe.'

Despite trying another couple, he remained unconvinced so Lou finished off his last three as well as her own. Calorie-free aphrodisiac, as Hooker used to call them – what more could a girl want? Except she didn't want an aphrodisiac at all, she reminded herself. She wasn't quite ready to fan the spark between them into a blaze. When the plates of golden-battered cod and chips arrived, along with a bowl of minted peas, Sanjeev looked relieved but curious. With the first mouthful, his face relaxed. ‘Now this is more my thing.' He ordered them both a second glass of wine. ‘But go back to your dysfunctional family. Tell me what's happened.'

Lou began to explain how she had found Hooker's will and what had happened since. Sanjeev was as good a listener as he was a talker: he didn't comment, just heard her out. The wine emboldening her, Lou told her story without leaving out any detail. ‘The point is, I feel so betrayed by him,' she concluded, in an attempt to explain why the rewritten will mattered so much to her: just as much as the existence of Rory. ‘Even now. Isn't that stupid?'

‘It's not stupid because it's a fundamental betrayal. But you do still care for him?' His disappointment was plain.

‘No!' she rushed to assure him. ‘No, it's not that. I stopped caring for Hooker ages ago. Really did. But I do sometimes get hijacked by emotions that I don't think I have any more. It's hard to explain.'