Pink Wellies and Flat Caps (9 page)

Excuse her language? Bloody hell, if I can listen to Casper I can listen to anyone.

‘
This place has gone to the dogs. Poor Ted, I don’t think he fully realises what he’s taken on. Was he bloody rude?’

I nod.
             

‘He’s got a lot on his plate, but I know that’s no excuse for rudeness. He’s not a farmer, our Ted. He’s a brilliant vet but a lousy farmer. So, what made you take a job in Truro of all places?’

I feel tears prick my eyelids again.

‘My fiancé
chucked me a few weeks before our wedding, and then he gave up the tenancy on our flat and then my hours at work got cut …’ I stop abruptly.

Christ, it sounds even direr than I thought it was when I say it out loud. I’ve read about people like me. I’m one of those people that cause delays on the
Underground.
We’re experiencing delays due to person under a train.
I’ve got nowhere to live, and nothing to live for.

‘Crikey. So you’ve been left without a pot to piss in so to speak?’

That’s one way of putting it.

‘Charlie did rather leave me in the lurch.’

She nods.

‘He sounds a right Charlie if you don’t mind me saying.’

I don’t as it happens.

‘Crikey and now you’re lumbered with Edward. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to bits but this farming idea is
…’ she breaks off, ‘Listen to me being the village gossip.’

Heavens, I hope I’ve not been slagging o
ff my new boss to his girlfriend. She might have said something. What was I thinking of letting Casper and Georgie talk me into taking this job? The thought of Casper reminds me I haven’t sent Georgie an
I’ve arrived here safe
text. Oh my God, knowing those two they will be convinced I’ve been involved in some multiple pile-up and will be on the phone to the police already.

‘I must text my friend to let her know I am safe. Otherwise she’ll be worried sick.’

‘You won’t get a signal here. You’ll have to go to End Field to get any. Use Ted’s phone, he won’t mind.’

Where the hell is
End Field
when it’s at home? And what kind of place is this that you can’t get a phone signal? The last thing I want to do is phone Georgie where I can be overheard. As this woman will, no doubt, repeat the whole conversation back to Edward Fairfax. I just want to speak to Georgie, eat my fish and chips, and get a good night’s sleep before my journey back tomorrow. There is no way, absolutely no way, I am staying. I shall also phone Mark and tell him that the new hours will suit me fine. I’ll cope. I can move back in with my parents for a short time until I find a better job. Yes, that’s it. I must think positive. In fact, probably after a few months Charlie will come to his senses. Men have these sort of crisis things don’t they?

‘Actually, I could do with
some fresh air,’ I say cheerily, ‘I’ll pop to End Field.’

She looks at me curiously.

‘But it’s pouring with rain. Wouldn’t you rather use the house phone?’

It takes some time to convince her that I would appreciate the walk. She directs me to End Field which, amazingly enough is exactly that, the field at the end of the estate. I mean, how original is that? I mean, who calls the end field
End Field
?’ No doubt it was one of Edward Fairfax’s great ideas.

‘You’ll need your
wellingtons,’ she calls from the bedroom window. ‘I’ll pop the vacuum over your room and then I’ll be off. Tell Ted I’ll give him a ring.’

I suppose I could wait until she leaves and then phone Georgie. Of course though, knowing my luck Edward will return and then he will hear my conversation. No best to call her on my mobile. Honestly, what kind of place doesn’t have
a phone signal these days? It’s not darkest Peru for heaven’s sake. I don’t like to say I’ve never owned a pair of wellingtons in my life and am not going to start now. I’m about to tell her it is not my room, and it never will be, but bite back the words. After all, she is only being nice, and God knows, being Edward Fairfax’s girlfriend can’t be easy. I can’t help wondering, as his girlfriend, why she doesn’t help around the house a bit, but then it’s not my business. I shrug and tell myself I will be gone tomorrow.

She wasn’t joking when she said it was pouring with rain. It is bucketing down. I retrieve my trainers and rain mac from the car and begin the walk back down the driveway. I don’t even want to imagine what I look like in bare legs and trainers, and a chewed up skirt, all barely hidden by a next to useless rain mac. I wave my phone about trying to get a little bit of signal when Molly charges up behind me.

‘Come on, just one bar, that’s all I ask,’ I plead to my Blackberry. Don’t they have phone masts here?

Molly is convinced that I am talking to her and wags her tail in gratitude, pawing my bare leg and leaving yet another mud paw print. Sod it. Christ, where did all this rain come from? It’s like a bloody monsoon. I’ve only come to Cornwall for God’s sake, not bloody Bangladesh. My trainers squelch as they sink into the mud and I am only half way there. This isn’t mud, it’s quicksand. I’ll be sucked under. They probably call it End Field because that’s what it is; it’s where you meet your end. I am about to open the gate into End Field when suddenly the cows that had been nibbling contentedly at the grass surge towards me. OH MY GOD, it’s a stampede. Molly dives in front of me, barking and dashing from side to side. I slip in an effort to dodge her and my trainer slides on some cow dung and the next thing I know my legs are in the air. I land with a splat in the mud and shit. I feel it splash onto my face and I grimace. I turn wide-eyed and my body freezes. I am going to be crushed to death by stampeding cows and I didn’t even make it into End Field. It seems a little unfair that my end should come when I am just a few feet from it. What am I thinking? I can’t die here, lying in shit. I can’t say my whole life flashed before my eyes. The only thing flashing before my eyes are galloping black and white cows and a fleeting thought that this is so not like Princess Diana. In fact, being crushed by stampeding cows while lying in a heap of cow dung is as far from Princess Diana as one can get I imagine. I close my eyes and clench my teeth and pray it will be over quickly. The pounding of the hooves matches the pounding of my heart. I can barely breathe when I feel strong arms lifting me. I hear the creaking of a gate as I am being carried to safety. I open my eyes and find myself looking into the hazel eyes of my rescuer. Edward Fairfax’s cheek twitches slightly when I fidget to be released and he puts me down abruptly. The stampeding cows stand quietly in a long queue and my mobile is lying in the mud. I look at it forlornly. He leaps over the gate, retrieves it, and hands it to me. I make a pitiful effort at tidying my hair and attempt a smile, but it doesn’t work. I notice my phone is flashing. I finally have a signal and realise I am standing in End Field and the rain is absolutely bucketing down.

‘What are you doing?

‘I was trying to get a phone signal and the cows just …’

‘The cows got spooked. They don’t often see mad women waving mobile phones around.’

I suddenly feel very shaky.

‘Come on,
I’ll drive you back.’

He holds out his warm soft hand and it seems I have no choice but to take it. My legs turn to jelly and the last thing I remember thinking before I fainted was
no way does he know Prince Harry
.

‘Oh Ali, thank God. I was all for driving to sodding Cornwall. Why the hell didn’t you text me to
let me know you had arrived?’

‘I’m sorry. Can you believe there is no phone signal here? Honestly it’s like the bloody land that time forgot. I almost got trampled to death by a herd of cows. Oh Georgie, it’s awful, really awful. I have to go miles into a field to get two bars on my phone. I mean primitive or what
…’

‘You’re sounding like a snob,’ she scolds.

‘Sorry, I don’t mean to. That’s awful. It’s just I can’t tell you what Edward Fairfax’s house is like. It’s like that TV programme
How clean is your house?
, except it’s not funny.’

‘What!’

‘Honestly Georgie. I didn’t want to touch his house phone but I was desperate to talk to you. Can you believe I actually fainted? His cows charged at me. I mean, seriously they charged. What kind of cows does he have that do that? And then all he did was drop me off at the house and tell me to make myself a cup of tea. He’s gone again to fetch his sheep and whatever else farmers do.’

I take a deep breath.

‘I’ve had to wash myself down in the dingy sink downstairs. The bathroom is ghastly. There is a huge spider in the bath.’

‘Oh
no.’

‘Yes, and that’s just the house,’ I pause and then add
, ‘No it’s worse. There are creatures in the bath. Things are breeding there. It’s like one of those films where things crawl out of the woodwork. My head itches too. I swear I’ve got lice. I actually saw things moving in the carpet. There’s this dog Molly. I tell you the thing is possessed. It’s either knocking you senseless or killing you with love and the sheep eat your skirt, and as for Edward Fairfax, he’s a miserable old bugger, a real laugh-a-minute guy, not. I’m driving home tomorrow. I’ll have to stay with Mum for a bit while I cope on the 30 hours …’ I say scratching my head like crazy.

‘Hang on Ali I don’t think it’s as
simple as that. The thing is …’

There is an uncomfortable hesitation and I feel my stomach somersault.

‘Your mum has taken a lodger. I wouldn’t have known but she phoned this afternoon and asked if Cas and I could pop round and take some of the things you left behind …’

‘What! But she can’t do that. I left loads of stuff there
…’

I’m only a few hours out of London and they are removing all trace of me.

‘It’s okay, they’ve moved some to the loft and I’ve got some and Cas …’

‘Oh, share it out why don’t you,’ I say angrily and instantly regr
et it.

‘I’m sorry Georgie it’s just a bit of a shock.’

A bit of a shock, that’s an understatement. Where am I supposed to live now? I won’t be earning anywhere near enough to rent something. I thought parents were always supposed to be there for you. They’ve probably written me out of the will already.

‘Next you’ll be telling me they have someone lined up for my old job,’ I say miserably.

There is silence.

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ I moan.

‘I never said they had someone, but they are bound to be interviewing, and you can’t seriously lower yourself like that and accept shorter hours anyway. What are the other people like at the farm?’

I scoff.

‘Oh them, I think Molly must have licked them all to death because I can’t find them anywhere. I tell you, it’s terrible.’

‘Oh come on Ali, you’re made of tougher stuff.’

I am? If that is the case why is my mind dwelling on the razor blades I spotted in the bathroom cabinet. Let’s face it I couldn’t reach a lower ebb if I tried. I’ve been dumped by my fiancé, pushed out of my job and now disowned by my parents. All that I have left is a crappy job as a housekeeper in the home of Harold Steptoe, and let’s be honest, if that table doesn’t resemble the Steptoe home I don’t know what does.

‘I am coming home even if I have to l
ive in a Travelodge,’ I say with my voice breaking.

I have two choices. It is the Steptoe house or the razor blades.

‘I’ll speak to you tomorrow,’ I hiccup, ‘I need the loo.’

Edward’s loo is one muddle of shaving creams, razors, and more razors. The room smells of him and it’s quite comforting in a peculiar way. How on earth anything in this house and that includes Edward Fairfax could be comforting is beyond me. I move gingerly towards the loo and am surprised to find it is clean. With a sigh I lower myself on
to it. I look around and feel panic rising within me. What am I doing sitting on this man’s loo? Okay, I must keep calm. Make another cup of tea and try to relax. Relax? Who am I kidding? The only thing that would relax me right now is a shot of morphine.

***

Molly’s barking tells me that Edward Fairfax has returned. I hear him greeting her warmly and then a loud thumping at the side of the farmhouse. He walks in barefoot carrying a pair of socks which, with a precise aim, he throws into the over-spilling wash basket. I half expect him to cheer himself. The smell of fish and chips precedes him. He gives me a quick glance before throwing my shoe at me.

‘I scraped the crap o
ff it,’ he says with a sidelong glance. ‘Best not to leave shoes like that outside. The sheep are quite partial to a bit of Gucci. There’s a farmyard moggy that wanders around too, and frankly, will piss on anything.’

‘Seems like no one around her has any manners then,’ I retort and feel quite proud of myself for being so sharp.

‘You’re looking better,’ he says, ignoring my comment while lifting bits of engine off the table and placing them on the floor. In a flash he has produced two plates, knife and forks and a tub of salt.