Out of Step (24 page)

‘Of course. The way Paul’s behaved leaves me no option.’

‘Oh.’

‘So, how’s life with you, Nellykins? How’s Roger the lodger?’

‘Wonderful.’

‘Hey oop! Do I detect nookie down t’cottage?’

‘Rob’s lovely. He’s just what I need.’

‘But that’s great! I never thought he’d actually get round to it. How did you swing it?’

‘That’s not the sort of thing you ask.’ Nell was indignant.

‘Sorry, sorry. I’m getting too cynical. Look, I’m really pleased for you. It’s terrific news. How are his children reacting?’

‘They don’t know yet. We’re going to wait a bit before we tell them. They’re very young, after all.’

‘It’s a good age,’ Elly said, thinking of her two. ‘They’re so easy to please at this stage, and it’s so rewarding. You want to make the most of Rosie and Josh, you know, whilst they’re still only babies, before the teenage horrors begin.’

‘Mmm.’ Nell sounded unconvinced.

‘Anyway, must dash. Pop over to the boat whenever you want.’

‘Right. I’ll look forward to that.’

Nell put the phone down. ‘It’s all right,’ she said to Rob, ‘that was Elly. She’s seen the light.’

‘Just as well,’ Rob said. ‘No broken heart?’

‘Apparently not, although you can never tell with Elly; she puts on a good act. She’s pretty resilient, though.’

I wish I was too, Nell thought, but when people like Elly talk that way about children, I feel like some sort of alien being. Am I totally lacking in normal female maternal feelings, or what? Or am I just scared of the responsibility of someone else’s children? Most people seem to be able to cope instinctively, so why do I feel that I can’t? Thank goodness Josh and Rosie don’t live with Rob full-time. I couldn’t survive that.

‘Hadn’t you better phone Cassie back?’ she reminded him.

‘I suppose so, but it’s bound to be trouble.’ He sighed, and picked up the phone. After a few moments he put it down again. ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ he said. ‘No reply.’

‘Oh good,’ Nell said. ‘I was looking forward to a nice
uncomplicated self-indulgent day.’ Two car doors banged outside as she spoke. ‘Oh no! Who’s that?’

Then they heard the sound of a car driving away up the hill, and almost immediately the front door was kicked open and Rob’s children burst into the kitchen, hitting each other.

‘What’s going on?’ Rob demanded. ‘Josh?’

‘Mic’s walked out on us and Mum’s ill,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to come, but she says it’s your turn now.’

‘She just dumped them and ran!’ Nell said to Elly. ‘What if we’d been out?’

‘Well, I suppose both your vehicles were there, so it was unlikely.’

‘Or in bed?’

‘Now that could have been awkward.’ Elly sat back against a red velvet cushion and grinned at her broadly. ‘How’s it going then?’

‘It was bliss – until the children arrived.’

‘Well, they’re only staying for the weekend, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, and then for the whole of half-term the week after next! Rob’s having to take leave from work. And then they’re coming every weekend after that for the foreseeable future.’

‘But why?’

‘It seems the Mad Cow needs “a rest”. Her live-in skivvy has done a runner.’

‘Don’t blame her! Never mind, you can do what you’re doing now: escape here from time to time, to me.’

Nell looked out of the small windows of the houseboat to Eely Isle and the grey river beyond the creek. The tide was on the ebb, and the first mud was coming into view at its edges; a gradually expanding buffet for the waiting curlews and other birds with long probing beaks.

‘I suppose I ought to be at the cottage getting their lunch,’ she said.

‘There’s no “ought” about it!’ Elly exclaimed. ‘Rob can manage baked beans on toast, surely?’

‘Maybe, but he isn’t much good at discipline.’

‘I expect he feels guilty, having left them in the first place. He’s probably, unconsciously, trying to make it up to them all the time.’

‘That’s more than likely true,’ Nell said, ‘And I’m sure it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want my lovely cottage all grottified by flying food, sticky fingers and muddy boots.’

‘Don’t blame you. You’ll just have to set some rules and get Rob to enforce them too. At least that’s one thing Paul and I did manage to do together – bloody man! I hate all men at the moment.’

‘So what happened with Ber – Malachy?’ Nell was dying to know.

‘Oh, him. He just wanted a compliant female to flaunt. There was nothing in it for me. He never had the least intention of helping me with my career. It was a total con. Great shame – he was brilliant in bed – really knew what he was at.’ Elly smiled ruefully.

‘Well, you always did go for masterful types, didn’t you, even at school?’

‘Much good it did me. Is a liberal nineties man less of a disappointment then?’

Nell blushed. ‘Most certainly.’

‘I’m so glad for you, Nellie.’ Elly put out a hand and patted the knee of her jeans. ‘But someone like Rob would never do for me. If I get my own way too often with a man, I begin to despise him or walk all over him, or both. Either way it’s a disaster. Let’s face it – I
am
a disaster with men!’

‘No, you’re not. You’re sometimes not a very good chooser, that’s all.’

‘Let’s go to a pub for lunch,’ Elly suggested. ‘Preferably somewhere high up with good reception for my mobile. It’s useless trying to call the boys in this valley. It’s like being inside a railway tunnel.’

‘You must miss them.’

‘Oh Nell …’ Elly collapsed into tears. ‘What on earth am I doing here?’

Anna made up her double bed with great care, using the best duvet cover and matching pillowcases. She put coasters on the bedside tables so that any glasses wouldn’t leave ugly rings on the polished wood if they were to be put down too sloppily in the heat of the moment. She tried to think of all the places she didn’t normally clean, that he might notice – under the loo seat, that high shelf in the kitchen, where else? She was pretty confident he’d be too busy to be critical, but she didn’t want to take any risks.

She wondered how much sex it was going to take to seal their relationship once and for all. She would have to be careful not to let her reluctance show; she’d so nearly lost him altogether at Christmas, and to be without him was unthinkable …

He’d rung the day after Boxing Day to apologise. ‘I’m sorry,’ he’d said. ‘Just a quickie to say I haven’t been myself lately.’

‘Of course not.’ Anna said, managing heroically to conceal her accumulated rage, disappointment and pique. ‘I quite understand.’

‘Bless you,’ Paul said. ‘I knew you would. Look, love, I’ve still got to take the boys skiing, but we’ll meet soon, I promise. Love you. ‘Bye.’

Soon? It was now mid-February! But at least he is coming, Anna thought, and for the whole half-term week too. So if I want him, then I’ve got to forget how angry I sometimes feel, and just grab him while the going’s good. And I do want him. I need a man to belong to me. It may well be trendy to be twenty-five and unattached, but then I never was a slave to fashion.

‘Aaaaaah,’ Paul said when he finally arrived, sinking
into her sofa. ‘It’s so good to be here. I am totally knackered.’

‘That’s no good,’ Anna said. ‘I need you to be on full power. We’ve got a lot of talking to do.’

‘Cup of tea,’ Paul said, ‘then I’ll be fine.’ Anna went to make a pot, and put out some biscuits on a plate as well.

‘So,’ she said, handing him a full cup. ‘What’s happening then?’

‘Where do I start?’ He opened his hands expressively.

‘The divorce?’

‘Well, there is that, yes, but it’s not what’s occupying my mind at the moment.’

‘So what is?’

Paul sighed deeply. ‘I’ve had enough of being a head teacher. I simply can’t recruit any decent staff, let alone keep them. Anyone who’s any good isn’t going to subject themselves to the bloody awful conditions and the pitiful pay. Absolutely no one with a grain of sense would want to teach these days.’

‘I do,’ Anna said. Had he forgotten that?

‘Well, of course there are shining exceptions,’ Paul said hastily, ‘but in general it’s a thankless task. I nearly got beaten up by a bloody parent last week! No, I’ve had enough.’

‘But, what will you do?’

‘Take early retirement.’

‘But Ermintrude will take half your money when you divorce, won’t she? How will you manage?’

‘Oh, I’m not sinking into pipe and slippers quite yet. I’ve got some part-time consultancy work lined up, and there’s always Uncle Tozer’s heirlooms. Anyway, Elly has some money of her own.’

‘Oh I see.’ Anna was reassured. ‘So,’ she said, settling back into the sofa and looking at him expectantly, ‘what shall we do for one whole glorious week? I thought we could spend some of it at the houseboat. We could get the
stove going, and it would be really cozy.’

‘Sorry,’ Paul said. ‘I’ve just dropped the boys off there.’

‘Why? What d’you mean?’

‘Elly’s living there. I think she’s off her trolley, but there you are. If she wants to freeze to death, I suppose it’s up to her. I only hope the boys will be warm enough. I’ve sent their warmest clothe –’

‘But it’s
our
special love-nest houseboat!’ Anna interrupted furiously. ‘She’s no
right –’

‘I’m afraid there’s one difficult concept you are going to have to grasp at the outset, my darling,’ Paul said firmly, ‘if this week is going to be a success.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘It’s this: Elly – for the moment at least – is still my wife, and the mother of my children and therefore has more “rights” than you do. Sorry.’

Land Rover doors banged and raised voices sounded outside the cottage, and Nell, within it, experienced a guilty sinking feeling. They had arrived. I must remember, she thought, they’re only
children
. It’s not their fault.

Josh came in first, kicking the door as usual and bursting into the kitchen. Nell saw that his mother still hadn’t bothered to get his hair cut.

‘Hello, Josh,’ she said. No answer. Rob came in then with Rosie, who was clearly having a sulk, judging by the way her bottom lip was sticking out.

‘How old are you?’ Josh suddenly demanded of Nell.

‘Thirty-two,’ she smiled at him.

‘My mummy’s
thirty-four
, so she’s older than you,’ he said triumphantly. ‘So there!’

Nell glanced across at Rob, hoping for an amused raising of the eyebrows but he was busy trying to jolly Rosie out of her sulk.

‘Come on, pudding, it’s not that bad.’

‘Is!’ Rosie said.

‘Hello, Rosie?’ Nell said experimentally.

‘Go ‘way,’ Rosie shouted. ‘Talking to my daddy, not you.’

Oh wonderful, Nell thought. I apologise for existing. She turned her attention to the stove where lunch was nearly ready.

‘What is it?’ Josh asked.

‘Spaghetti bolognese.’

‘Oh no,’ he complained, ‘we had that yesterday.’

Nell turned to him with a determined smile. ‘I’m so sorry. My telepathy line must be on the blink.’ Josh stared back at her, uncomprehendingly scornful. God! Nell thought turning away, does it have to be such hard work? She hoiked out a length of spaghetti to test whether it was done, and glanced round, chewing. It was ready, but Rob was putting his boots on. ‘Don’t disappear,’ she said. ‘I’m dishing up.’

‘Just getting some firewood in,’ Rob said easily. ‘Won’t be a moment.’

‘Me too,’ Rosie said at once.

‘Sorry poppet,’ Rob said. ‘No wellies today, remember? And it’s muddy by the woodshed.’

‘Oh no! Why?’ Nell asked, vexed that Cassie’s deliberate withholding of boots would mean no possibility of good walks for any of them that week.

‘Rosie’s not very well,’ Rob explained as he went out of the back door. ‘There’s the usual pink stuff she’s got to take. I’ve left it in the ‘Rover. Cassie wants her to stay indoors and keep out of the cold.’ Rosie swung her legs, looking smug.

She’s always ‘ill’, Nell thought. What nonsense. She looks perfectly all right to me. It’s not that cold, anyway, and I’m sure fresh air would perk her up no end. She’s a tough little person, not a hot-house flower.

Nell wondered as she drained the spaghetti, whether pink medicine was Cassie’s substitute for love. Then Rob
came in with an armful of logs just as she was carrying the hot bowl of bolognese sauce to the table and she had to wait until he was out of the way before she could set it down on the mat. She managed it just in time, before the heat penetrated the tired oven glove and burnt her fingers. Josh was already sitting in his place.

‘Yuk,’ he said, peering suspiciously at the sauce.

‘Yuk nothing! Come on, Rosie.’

‘Daddy isn’t thitting down.’

‘Well, he’s just about to, aren’t you, Rob?’

‘Just washing my hands. Have you two washed yours?’

‘No.’

Nell divided up the spaghetti as fairly as she could on to four dinner plates, while the two children argued over who should have the soap first. Then they squabbled over who had the most food, and then who had been the illest the week before.

‘The most ill,’ Rob corrected them. ‘Not the illest.’ Nell wondered why anyone would want to be more ill than the next person. There must surely be better ways of getting attention.

Then Josh began singing, to the tune of
‘Frère Jacques’
, a round he had learnt at school:

‘Life is but a, Life is but a,’
he began.

‘Collyfl –’ Rosie joined in lustily.

‘No!’ interrupted Josh irritably. ‘That’s
wrong!
You’ve gone and spoilt it. Now I’ll have to start all over again. So shut up this time.’ He continued:

‘Life is but a,

Life is but a,

Melancholy flower,

Melancholy flower,

Life is but a melon,

Life is but a melon,

Cauliflower! Cauliflower!’

‘I thang that!’ Rosie retorted.

‘No you didn’t!’

‘Yeth I –’

‘That’s enough,’ Nell said. ‘Stop it.’

‘Life is but a
…’ Josh began again.

‘Josh,’ Rob said mildly, ‘no singing at mealtimes, right?’

‘Thang that, thang that, thang that…’ Rosie muttered provocatively.