Pink Wellies and Flat Caps (8 page)

‘I was hired as a farm manager,’ I correct.

He laughs.

‘Well, I assure you there is nothing to manage here except animals, and you need a firmer voice than you have else you’ll have a lot more than Molly up your skirt.’

I feel myself blush. He has a half smile on his face and I can tell he is enjoying teasing me. He nods at the contract in my hand.

‘You realise you’ve signed a contract to work here for six months. You could break it admittedly, but knowing my mother, who can be a bit of a tough cow, she’ll probably sue you.’

Oh no. He smiles and adds,

‘Don’t worry, I’ll phone her. She’s an interfering minx. Frankly though, I could do with a bit of help around the house. I tell you
what; I’ve got to rescue those sheep. Why don’t you have a look upstairs? The room at the far end would be yours if you choose to stay. I’ll be a couple of hours. My number is on a pad by the phone. If I don’t hear from you I’ll presume you’ll be here when I get back. I’ll bring back extra fish and chips, unless you prefer a Cornish pasty, or were you planning on cooking?’

I shoot him a filthy look. Fish and chips. He cannot possibly be serious.

‘I would get you a take-out salad but there’s not much call for it in these parts, oh and if you should go out, please don’t ever forget the golden rule;
always shut the gate
!’

He smiles and without another word walks out of the farmhouse. Bloody golden rule, this is worse than being back at school.

I stare at the door examining every scratch and knock that has been inflicted on it. It’s like I am unable to move. I begin to wonder if I am in shock. I look at the contract and drag my heavy legs to one of the chairs at the table. I fall into it and let the tears come. How could I have been so stupid? I should have known the whole farm manager job was too good to be true. Oh what a fool I am. I hate Charlie, I hate him so much. How could he do this to me? I was a good girlfriend, I was never over demanding like some women. Wasn’t it enough losing him without losing the flat too? I fumble in my bag for a tissue, slamming it angrily back onto the table when I don’t find one. I give the sink a cursory glance in the hope there might be some kitchen towel there, but there is nothing. I’ve never seen anything like it. Doesn’t he have a shed or something? What sort of person piles so much rubbish onto a table? A rude person, that’s what. Edward Fairfax is not only rude, he is also a slob. No wonder Lady Fairfax-Mason was desperate to get him a housekeeper, although on reflection, he doesn’t need a housekeeper, he needs a sodding skip. The sink is full of dirty dishes and on the floor below is a wash basket full to the brim of dirty washing. I push some engine parts to one side of the table and lay out the contract. He is quite right of course. I had stupidly signed to work here for six months. I angrily yank off my holey laddered tights and with a heavy heart make my way upstairs in the hope of finding some toilet roll in the loo.

The stairs creak under my feet and I pass an oil painting that must be older than my grandmother. The stair carpet doesn’t look like it has been vacuumed in months. I mean, who lives like this for Christ’s sake? I hear Lloyd Grossman’s posh voice echo in my head.
So, who lives in a house like this?
An arrogant untidy slob, that’s who. Honestly, I swear I can see things moving in the stair carpet. One night here and I will no doubt have fleas, not to mention lice. That’s if I haven’t got them all ready. I so need a bath. It is when I reach the room that is to be mine that I make my decision there and then. I don’t give a hoot if Lady Muck takes me to court. Let her, yes let her. I was led here under false pretences. Farm manager my arse. More like farm dogsbody. I can’t possibly stay here and eat take away fish and chips and Cornish pasties. I shall become huge like the mother in the movie
What’s Eating Gilbert Grape
. Georgie will have to burn the house down as she would be too mortified to have me lifted out of this room. That would teach Edward Fairfax and his mother a lesson. Just the sight of this room is enough to drive me to the Cornish pasties. The floor is covered with a threadbare carpet and the room houses a king-sized bed, a small dresser and a battered bedside cabinet. All are bare, including the bed. I click on the light switch. There is a pop and the light bulb goes out. More tears roll down my cheeks and I walk to the bathroom for toilet roll. I shall tidy myself up and look for a bed and breakfast. There must be one somewhere near here. After all, this is where people come for their holidays isn’t it? I push open the bathroom door.

‘Oh shittity shit.’

I stumble back and hit the door with my elbow, slamming it shut. There is a gigantic spider in the bath and I mean gigantic. It has the body of a tarantula I am sure. In fact, it probably is a tarantula. I’m in the country after all, and who knows what you get out here. Its legs are the hairiest I have ever seen, well the hairiest I have ever seen on a spider, and what’s more the thing has been breeding by the look of it as there are lots of little worm things in the bath too. Christ, I feel sure I will throw up any minute. I’m in some kind of horror movie. What if the thing has been breeding all over the house? It will be like the movie
Arachnophobia,
and I won’t get out alive
.
Oh my God it’s moving. I scream and turn to the door when it suddenly bursts open making me scream even louder. Molly dives in and leaps up at me almost sending me into the bath with the monster. This is awful. I shove her back and rush from the room hurling myself at a large cobweb as I go. I am screaming so much that I am surprised everyone from the local village hasn’t rushed round to check I’m not being slashed to death by Norman Bates. In fact, I’m thinking getting slashed in the shower by Norman Bates may well be preferable to getting into the shower with the tarantula. My head is thumping unmercifully. Molly is pushing me backwards into the bedroom. I’m being sexually assaulted by a dog. This could only happen to me. My skirt is now spluttered with mud and my tights look like they have been pecked at by birds. I dread to think what my once well made-up face must now look like. I most certainly fit the part of a heroine for a horror film, that’s for sure. I fall onto the bed and sob. Molly has raised herself up and has both paws on my knees and is now licking my face. She is killing me with love and it just makes me cry even more.

‘I hate him, I hate him,’ I say over and over again. Molly continues to lap at my face, ignoring all my
down girl
instructions.

A bang at the front door makes us both jump and Molly bounds from the room barking madly. God, I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I tiptoe to the top of the stairs and look down. There is another thud on the door.

‘Hello, anyone here?’

The door creaks open and the face that matches the voice looks up
at me.

‘Hello there. Is everything okay
? Is Ted about?’

A woman of about my age
surveys me with piercing blue eyes. She is wearing a boiler suit and wellington boots, and several strands of her blonde hair have escaped her neat bun and she flicks them away with her hand. I stare down at her and admire her beauty. If this is what country living does for you perhaps I should stay. Clarins doesn’t seem to be doing very much for me at the moment. Her cheeks are rosy red and her full lips have a natural pinkness to them.

‘I was on my way back and I spotted some of Ted’s sheep by the church. I’ve brought them home. I thought I heard screaming. Is everything okay? Edward trying to force you to put a duster round is he?
’

I blow my nose and walk downstairs.

‘Oh dear, whatever has happened?’ she asks on seeing my face. With two quick steps she is standing in front of me and shaking my hand with all the vigour of a man.

‘Hello, I’m Sara I live just up the lane. We own Cockspit
Farm; well that is my parents do.’

I raise my eyebrows.

‘Yes I know. Bloody awful name isn’t it?’

I smile.

‘I’d do anything to change it. I’d sleep with the planner if it came to it,’ she laughs. ‘Seriously though, are you the new cleaner?’

Cleaner? Do I even look like a cleaner?

‘I’m Alice I’ve come as the new farm ...’ I hiccup back a little sob. ‘Oh, it’s just everything isn’t as I thought it would be and Edward is getting fish and chips and I, well I just don’t eat fish and chips. In fact I don’t remember when I last ate fish, or meat, and my bed hasn’t even been made and it will take me hours to get back to London and, I mean just look at everywhere.’ I wave my arm around in an effort to encompass all the mess in one sweep.

‘Lady Fairfax–Mason told me
…’

‘Whoa, you’re going too fast. Let’s have a cup of tea shall we?’

Well
that would be nice if I could even see the kettle let alone fill it with water, and as for cups, I’d be surprised if he has any. Knowing him he probably just swigs from the tea pot. What a disgusting slob. Well, if he thinks I’m eating my chips out of the newspaper he can think again. Who does that these days? To my surprise she lifts a shiny clean kettle from behind a packet of cornflakes and fills it with water. From the Welsh dresser behind the table she retrieves two mugs and rinses them under a tap. I scramble in my bag and take out a foil of Paracetamol. I’d better stock up on these if I’m staying. What am I thinking of? Of course I’m not staying.

‘You must think me so stupid,’ I say blowing my nose
.

‘Of course not, I’d have a bloody fit if I walked into this after driving up from London,’ she replies
in her cheerful sing-song voice.

It
occurs to me that she must know Edward very well. Good job I didn’t say what a slob he was.

‘I hope you don’t prefer herbal. There is only builder
’s tea I’m afraid.’

Well, I’m not surprised. I don’t imagine
camomile is in Edward Fairfax’s vocabulary. She lifts several pieces of engine from the table and dumps them onto the floor. Then with a quick flick of her wrist she flaps a tea towel over it.

‘It’s a bit of a mess I’m afraid. Ted has tried to get a cleaner but you know how it is?
’

Obviously these cleaners haven’t met Blanche Fairfax
-Mason have they, or they would have been hired before they could say
Brillo Pad.

‘So, you had a run in with
madam did you? And if I’m not mistaken you have been led on a bit of a wild goose chase, would I be right?’

I nod miserably. I must seem like a gullible fool.

‘She told me there was staff here, that I’d be managing them and would help run the farm. I accepted the position because … Well, I wanted to get away from London and … Anyway if you can recommend a decent B and B …’

She lays her hand on mine. It’s the last thing I need. Even the smallest gesture of kindness has me weeping again.

‘Look, I tell you what, I can spare an hour. Why don’t we get the bed made up in the spare room? Tidy it up a bit. Even if you just stay for tonight, it’s better than paying out for a B and B isn’t it? I’ll text Ted, get him to bring you a vegetable pasty instead of the fish, how about that? Of course if you want to go to a bed and breakfast I can phone around.’

‘Oh no, really, the fish will be fine,’ I say quickly. The last thing I need is some country farmer ridiculing me because I am vegetarian. Not that I am a strict vegetarian you understand. It’s Charlie that is the real vegetarian and animal rights liberator. I only did it to make things easier at meal times. Come to think of it I did a lot of things to make things easier and keep the peace between us. I almost froze to death at some of the animal rights protest movements he took me on. I often used to think animal cruelty came before Alice cruelty. I swear I had mild frostbite once because he snatched my gloves off me. Well, I didn’t know they were real leather. My mother had given them to me for Christmas. So, it wasn’t strictly my fault was it? My hands were a bluish purple by the time we got home. The truth is I got so tired of going out for a meal and having Charlie ask
is this cheese vegetarian,
or,
was this cooked in the same pan as that meat.
In fact, I’m still riddled with guilt as often I would forget and give him cheese that wasn’t vegetarian, or pretend I had made a bolognaise from Quorn when it was in fact real mince. I would lay awake all night waiting for him to have some kind of anaphylactic shock while he snored away happily. I’m still haunted by fears that one day he will spontaneously self-combust because there was gelatine in the trifle or animal fat in the apple pie. It will be something of a relief I suppose to just tuck into some fish and chips without having Charlie say
You do know that is dripping in animal fat don’t you?
Plus the fact that I am actually so hungry that I’m seriously beginning to think that if Edward Fairfax slaughtered a cow in front of me I would eat it. After tea I feel a little better and with her help make up the bed with clean sheets and blankets.

‘Obviously, if you decide to stay you can buy a duvet in the
village shop …’ she trails off.

‘Ted is desperate for help around the house. He won’t admit it of course, he’s a stubborn bugger, if you’ll excuse my language,’ she smiles and wipes a film of dust from the dressing table.