Second Thyme Around (33 page)
Janey and William were there, so much a couple that Perdita wondered if they would have got together without her machinations, they were so clearly destined for each other.
But the person who seemed to Perdita to be having the most fun was Kitty. She could almost see her moving among the people, offering more drinks, more to eat, introducing her friends to each other. She’s so nearly here, she thought. It’s as if she’s in the kitchen, or showing someone something in the garden, or finding a book to check a reference. She’s only just
not
here. It’s only just a trick of the light that I can’t see her. Perhaps that’s why I can’t cry. I don’t believe she’s dead.
not
here. It’s only just a trick of the light that I can’t see her. Perhaps that’s why I can’t cry. I don’t believe she’s dead.
‘Now, are you sure you’ll be all right? I really think I should stay and help you sort out the house.’ Her mother took her duties seriously, and if Perdita hadn’t been telling her ever since she arrived for the funeral that she did not want to be looked after, she would never have left.
‘Yes, Mum. I’ve got to get used to living on my own. Only I can sort out Kitty’s things. You’ve had this—’ Just then, she couldn’t remember which exotic location her parents were off to, or what it should be described as. Safari? Walking tour? Expedition? – ‘holiday booked for ages.’
‘I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. What about that dreadful Roger?’
‘I can deal with him, and what’s going to happen to me here? You’re far more likely to get kidnapped by terrorists. In fact, I think you should cancel and go to Skegness instead.’
This was supposed to be a joke, but her mother didn’t see it. ‘Do you want us to cancel and look after you?’
‘No! Really! I want to get on and sort out my life. When it’s all over and we – know how Kitty’s left things, and got probate and everything, I’ll come and have a long holiday with you. But for now, I must get on with it.’ Whoever Kitty had left her money to, Perdita wasn’t going to have her friend’s personal possessions sorted by anyone but herself.
Her mother was still torn between duty and pleasure. ‘I’m just a little bit worried about unsuitable men, darling. When one is vulnerable, one does fall in love with inappropriate people.’
‘But not twice, Mummy! I’m hardly going to fall in love with Lucas again and if I did, he wouldn’t with me. Besides, you said yourself he did a wonderful job with the funeral.’
Perdita’s mother’s face turned ashen. ‘Who said anything about Lucas?’
Perdita realised she had made the most ghastly mistake. Horror caused beads of sweat to form in her hair as she fought to think of what she could say to put her mother’s mind to rest, and stop her leaping to all the right conclusions.
‘Only joking, Mummy. Really. Gosh, we fight more than we did before. Besides, he’d never look at me, not now he’s the nation’s heartthrob.’
Her mother, who had seen Lucas watching Perdita in Kitty’s dress at the funeral, went away not at all reassured.
Getting Thomas to leave was harder because in some ways, in spite of her longing to be alone, Perdita would have liked him to stay. He was quietly supportive but not bossy. He was also worried about leaving Perdita.
‘I just don’t want you turning into a dotty old lady, never going out, never seeing anybody.’
‘For goodness’ sake! Because I looked like a character out of Dickens for the funeral, it doesn’t mean I’m going to turn into one permanently. I’m fine, and I promise I won’t get any dottier than I am already.’
Thomas was still doubtful. ‘And there’s that Roger. Always on the phone hassling you about getting things sorted …’
‘I told him last time if he mentioned the house or its contents again, I’d burn it to the ground. I think I managed to convince him I’m loopy enough to do it. I don’t think he’ll bother me again.’
‘Supposing he does?’
‘If I get stuck without you, I promise I’ll summon you back, as long as I can afford to pay you.’ She raised a hand to silence his protest. ‘You know you can’t afford to work for nothing, and I know you lied to the agency about how long you stayed, telling them you went home the day after Kitty died.’ She pressed an envelope of bank notes into his hand. ‘I’m an heiress, I can afford it,’ she said, although
she knew that until Kitty’s estate was settled, one way or the other, that she couldn’t.
she knew that until Kitty’s estate was settled, one way or the other, that she couldn’t.
In spite of her promise to Thomas not to become dotty, Perdita did realise that she was not quite normal. For a start she found it quite impossible to ring the solicitors to find out what was in Kitty’s will. She knew it was irrational, but she didn’t feel she could face the possibility of having to lose her poly-tunnels. While she was in ignorance, she could cope.
She had boundless energy, she hardly slept, and when she wasn’t working, she sorted Kitty’s things.
She was in the attic reading through a file of newspaper cuttings when Lucas found her.
‘What the hell are you doing up here?’ he demanded.
‘Sorting through Kitty’s papers. And how did you get in?’
‘Through the front door, like any self-respecting burglar. Haven’t you heard of opportunist crime, or do you just think no one’s going to break in because you’re a woman on your own?’ He was angry and, unusually, was trying to conceal it. ‘I’ve brought you an answering machine. I’m fed up with you never being in when I ring you.’
‘Oh, sorry. I should of course be waiting by the phone night and day in case you phone me. Why would you want to phone me, anyway?’
‘To find out how you are! Hell and damnation, Perdita! You’re recently bereaved, no one ever sees you, even William says you mostly just leave notes, and you wonder why I’m worried! Have you resigned your membership of the human race?’
‘Of course not! I’ve just got a lot of sorting out to do. Kitty was a terribly hoarder.’
‘I know. And she was constantly cutting bits out of newspapers to read again later. But you don’t need to read
them all too. Either keep them, or throw them away.’
them all too. Either keep them, or throw them away.’
‘But I can’t, they might be important.’
‘You’re in no fit state to decide that.’
‘What do you mean? I can read, can’t I?’
‘Well, I suppose so, but Janey told me that William said you threw away all the good peas and sprouted the damaged ones the other day. And she also said that William is having to watch you like a hawk in case you pull up the good lettuce and try to sell the stuff that’s bolted.’
‘Oh. Well, perhaps I am a little tired. I probably just need a few early nights to sort me out.’
‘What time do you go to bed now?’
‘Oh, about midnight. Not that late, really.’
‘But do you sleep?’
‘Of course. You always sleep more than you think you do, anyway. When they test people who say they don’t sleep well, they always find they’ve slept better than they said.’
Lucas scowled at her. ‘You’re protesting a bit too much, lady.’ He removed a cobweb from her hair. ‘I daren’t ask when you last ate. You look awful, you’ve got shadows under your eyes, although that could be dust, and your clothes are hanging off you. And I don’t know what Ronnie would say if he saw your hair.’
Perdita smiled weakly. ‘I expect I can guess.’
‘He’s worried sick about you. He wants to book you in at the health farm, for a fortnight’s rest cure.’
‘And how does he think I’m going to pay for it?’
‘He thinks you’re an heiress. Everyone does. Janey, William, the whole village.’
She almost told him that the whole village might be horribly mistaken, and that far from being an heiress, she might have to sell her business; Bonyhayes Salads barely made a profit as it was now; without Kitty’s land it wouldn’t be viable. But she didn’t want to voice her fears
out loud. If she told Lucas, she could no longer live in that happy place called denial.
out loud. If she told Lucas, she could no longer live in that happy place called denial.
Instead, she said, ‘And do
you
think I’m an heiress?’
you
think I’m an heiress?’
‘I have better things to do with my time than speculate on other people’s money. And for your personal interest, I don’t give a fuck if Kitty didn’t leave you a red cent.’
‘Oh.’ This was strangely consoling.
‘So come downstairs and have something to eat while I fix up the answerphone.’
Later, when she’d eaten the scrambled eggs that Lucas made her, she pondered on everyone’s interest in her financial status. Her parents certainly shared it. She supposed it was natural, but as long as the land was hers, she felt very much as Lucas did: she didn’t care if Kitty hadn’t left her anything. But the thought of losing her livelihood was terrible.
The following week Perdita had had three messages from the surgery on her answerphone, the last one from Dr Edwards personally, before she finally rang back.
‘It’s Dr Edwards,’ said the receptionist. ‘He says he wants to see you. It’s urgent.’
‘Oh? I don’t think that can be right. I haven’t had any tests or anything. He can’t be about to tell me I’m pregnant, or anything.’
The receptionist didn’t respond to this light-hearted remark. ‘He’s very insistent. He said I wasn’t to take no for an answer.’
She made an appointment, feeling bullied and complained about it to William.
‘I think you should go, Perdita,’ he said seriously. ‘We’ve all been worried about you. Lucas especially.’
‘Oh? What makes you say that?’
‘He keeps nagging Janey about you, that’s what.’
‘If he’s worried, he could come and see for himself that
I’m all right. He doesn’t need to bother Janey about it.’
William gave her a rather odd look. She was used to odd looks – they were all she got these days, from the few people she saw – but this was a different kind of odd.
‘I expect he’s frightened of gossip.’
‘Gossip! When has Lucas ever given a damn about what people say about him?’
William took on the expression of a messenger, about to be killed. ‘Since they started saying that now you’re an heiress, he’s going to marry you and open his own restaurant with the money.’
‘What?’
‘Since the telly programme. People reckoned there was something going on between you, and that now that the old lady was dead, and everyone knew you were due to inherit millions, he was bound to marry you so he could open his own place.’ William obviously gave this a small amount of credence himself.
How would people react if and when they discovered she was anything but an heiress? ‘Oh God! I can’t cope with all this nonsense as well as everything else.’
‘Do you want me to run you to the doctor’s then?’
The doctor started off with easy questions she could answer, like, when did Kitty die. That date was engraved on her heart, she’d had to put it on so many forms.
She suspected he was gentling her, like a horse-whisperer, steadily gaining her confidence until she no longer felt like running away. He knew she would never have stepped foot in the surgery if she hadn’t been summoned, and probably not then if William hadn’t physically delivered her. Then, as she knew they would, the questions got a lot more difficult.
‘So, are your parents at home at the moment?’
‘My parents? No. They’re walking somewhere. With rucksacks and sherpas and stuff.’
‘It must be quite a long trip.’
‘Oh, it is. A couple of months, I think.’
‘And when are they due back?’
‘I really don’t know. They travel a lot. I can’t keep track.’
‘Have you got anyone else you could go and stay with? Some friends your own age, perhaps?’
After some moments reading the eye chart on the wall, Perdita remembered Lucy. Lucy seemed to belong to another time, as did anything that happened before Kitty was ill. ‘Umm, well, there is the friend I spent Christmas with, but she cried a lot, because she was pregnant. She’s probably had the baby by now.’
‘Haven’t you heard?’
‘No.’ Perdita didn’t mention that she’d stopped opening letters, and there might well be a picture of a stork
carrying a nappy somewhere in the pile of envelopes on the hall table.
carrying a nappy somewhere in the pile of envelopes on the hall table.
‘Is she the sort of person you could go and stay with, and sleep a lot?’
She cast her mind back to the neurotic, dependent woman addicted to perfect Christmases. ‘Not going on what she was like when I last saw her, and the house was in need of a very major makeover. I suppose Kitty’s is, too.’
‘It’s your house now, Perdita.’
‘Not necessarily. Kitty had a nephew – or he may be a great-nephew.’
‘But she always told me she was leaving everything to you.’
‘Yes, but that was before Roger turned up. I’m not actually related to her.’
‘What makes you think she may have changed her will?’
Perdita sighed. She hadn’t voiced these anxieties to anyone else and she wasn’t sure it was wise to do it now. ‘Beverley, one of the carers—’
‘I remember. Very efficient.’
‘—told me that Kitty had had a solicitor round, while Roger – that’s the nephew – was staying.’
‘And you haven’t rung the solicitor to ask what’s in the will?’
‘Why should he tell me? Supposing I’m not mentioned? He’d just ask me what the hell it was to do with me.’
The doctor frowned.
‘I’d rather not know, anyway. If Kitty has left everything to Roger, I might lose the land my tunnels are on. She gave them to me years ago, but I bet she didn’t get round to changing the deeds of the property, or anything. I can’t cope with the thought of winding up my business, and trying to find some other way of earning a living just now.’ She smiled weakly. ‘Please don’t ask me to take a reality check.’
The doctor sat in silence, regarding her in that respectful, listening sort of way which always made Perdita feel very stupid. ‘How are you sleeping, Perdita?’
She gazed at a print of Monet’s
Water Lilies
for a few moments. ‘Oh, the usual way, on a bed, with a duvet.’
Water Lilies
for a few moments. ‘Oh, the usual way, on a bed, with a duvet.’
He didn’t laugh. ‘I’m going to give you something to help you sleep.’
‘I never said I couldn’t sleep!’
‘You didn’t need to. Now, these are very mild, they’re not addictive, and you can stop taking them the minute you sleep eight hours.’
‘I don’t need eight hours’ sleep. I can manage on very little. Like Margaret Thatcher.’
‘I’m going to ring through to the desk to make you another appointment next week.’
‘Oh, I can do that on my way out.’ She was already on her feet.
‘You could, but you won’t. Just sit back down.’
She looked back to the eye chart while he made the call and realised that the bottom row was moving. She decided not to comment in case it wasn’t a wonderful new invention but something to do with her eyes.
‘You can go now,’ said the doctor. ‘Now don’t forget to take this to the chemist. The receptionist will give you a card with your appointment time on it.’ He gave her a look she’d seen him use on Kitty. ‘And if you don’t turn up, I’ll have to make a house call.’
Perdita was delivered back home by William, who was going on to make some deliveries. She made herself a cup of tea and stared at the pile of post which Miriam, the cleaner, had moved from the hall to the kitchen table. It was her way of saying it was time she did something about it.
Miriam was right, no doubt about it. Perdita ought to check there were no final demands, or letters from bailiffs lurking like land mines in among the letters of condolence,
and those addressed to Kitty from official organisations who didn’t know she was dead.
and those addressed to Kitty from official organisations who didn’t know she was dead.
But on the other hand, it seemed unwise to add to the vast amounts of paper already in the house and Miriam was very good at squaring up the piles of envelopes.
Perdita got up a little stiffly. Nothing about her seemed to work quite as well as it used to. She glanced at her watch. She should go and work in the poly-tunnels but William would be back by now. She had avoided discussing how she had got on at the doctor’s while they drove back, but he might not spare her now. She decided to go and clean the windows in the old stables.
She had the cleaning stuff and some rags in her hand, but somehow she found herself in among the lettuces with William.
‘What did the doctor say? Janey was furious with me for not asking before.’
‘You can tell Janey that the doctor didn’t say anything much, except I’ve got to go back next week.’
‘Have you made an appointment?’ From William’s expression, this was the last thing he expected her to have done.
‘Yes! Look!’ She pulled the appointment card out of her jeans and waved it at him. With it came the prescription. He picked it up.
‘Do you want me to get this filled out for you?’
‘No, it’s OK. I’ve got to go into town soon. I’ll do it then.’
William gave her the strange look everyone gave her these days and went back to his digging. ‘I’ve got a friend who needs a job,’ he said.
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. He’s done an agricultural course. Just qualified. You wouldn’t need to pay him much.’
It took Perdita some moments to grasp that William wasn’t just passing on chitchat about his mate, but wanted her to offer him a job. It was probably because she had got
so batty, he was scared to be alone with her. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘I don’t want to think about taking on any extra staff at the moment, William. I’ve got too much on my mind. We’re managing, aren’t we?’ She picked a leaf at random.
so batty, he was scared to be alone with her. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘I don’t want to think about taking on any extra staff at the moment, William. I’ve got too much on my mind. We’re managing, aren’t we?’ She picked a leaf at random.
‘Not really. I need some help.’ William addressed some bolted lettuces.
She frowned. ‘We’ve always managed before. I know I’ve been busy at the house, but I still put in the hours here. And much as I’d like to help your friend out, I just don’t think I can justify taking on any more staff at the moment.’
‘It’s not to help my friend out,’ he muttered. ‘It’s to help me.’ Then, a bit louder, he said, ‘You’ve inherited all Mrs Anson’s money, haven’t you?’
‘I don’t know, William. Possibly not. But even if I have, it’ll be a while before I get probate. I can’t just hire staff on a whim.’ She didn’t like to tell him what might happen to her existing staff if she didn’t inherit.
‘But really—’ said William to her retreating back.
Perdita fell asleep on the sofa, and woke up at midnight. She didn’t feel tired then, so instead of going to bed properly, she got out another box of papers and started to sort them. At about four o’clock in the morning, she realised they were familiar to her, and that she’d already sorted them, and now they were in heaps over the attic floor. She swore for a few moments and scooped them up and stuffed them back in the box. A ghost in her head said, just burn the lot, but another, more insistent voice told her she must read every paper Kitty had ever kept, even if it took her years.
William came to her door at five to ten in the morning, and told her it was time to go to the doctor’s, and she should get dressed first. She was wrapped in Kitty’s dressing gown and did realise that she’d have to put on something
more conventional, or he’d look at her even more sympathetically. William waited in the kitchen while she found jeans and a sweatshirt, and then drove her to the surgery.
more conventional, or he’d look at her even more sympathetically. William waited in the kitchen while she found jeans and a sweatshirt, and then drove her to the surgery.
‘I’ll see you get home OK,’ he said, ‘so just wait, if you come out early.’
Perdita was a little surprised when she came out of the surgery to see Lucas’s car in the car park. Strange, she thought, he was never ill.
He got out when she walked across to the car park, looking for the van.
‘I’ve come to pick you up,’ he said.
She shook her head. She knew William had said he would come for her. ‘It’s all right, Lucas. I’ve got a lift.’
‘William is busy. I’ve told him I’m going to take you away for a while. He’s going to hold the fort while you’re gone. Now, jump in.’
She stood there, confused. Lucas wasn’t exactly a strange man, in fact, she knew him quite well, but she was certain she shouldn’t just get in his car and run away from all her responsibilities. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘It’s either that or drive you to the nearest loony bin so you can have a nervous breakdown.’
‘That’s nonsense!’
‘I’m only quoting Dr Edwards, though I do agree with him. He said if you don’t get away you’ll have a breakdown. So I’m taking you away. Now do get in, people are watching us.’
Perdita looked behind her and was aware of a couple of faces looking at her. Lucas waved and nodded at the faces and held the door open impatiently.
Perdita got in. ‘Where are we going? I don’t think I could face a hotel or anything like that.’ Just pulling on her jeans and sweater had become enough of a chore. The thought of dressing up for breakfast made her want to weep.
‘The bothy. Now go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when we stop for lunch.’
Obeying him was frighteningly easy. She was so tired, a long, built-up tiredness which had become part of her. She had no energy to fight or protest, she just felt grateful that the decision was made for her. She closed her eyes and fell into unconsciousness.
It was slightly unnerving, sleeping so deeply in a car, for every now and then, she woke up and found herself apparently going at full speed into the back of a lorry. For a split second Perdita always thought she was driving, had fallen asleep at the wheel, and was speeding to her death. Seeing Lucas, calm and controlled at the wheel, driving slightly too fast for safety, reassured her, and she allowed herself to slip away again.
When he woke her, they were parked in a motorway service station. ‘Pee break, also I need food and fuel. Come along.’
She was so reluctant to be disturbed she pleaded to be left in the car to sleep. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll just doze off again.’
‘No, or you’ll need to stop when I don’t need to. Come and have something. God knows what time we’ll get there, and if there’ll be any food.’
She found herself biting into a hamburger with all the trimmings. It was surprisingly tasty, though after a few mouthfuls she was full. Lucas finished her fries and then steered her to the Ladies. She felt so dazed she probably couldn’t have found it by herself. There were so many people, the service station felt like an airport, and everyone seemed to know where to go, except her.
‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ said Lucas, seeing her try to open the door the wrong way.
She was asleep again before he’d finished filling the tank.
They stopped again, just before the motorway ended,
and had tea and fruitcake. This time she was awake enough to ask a few questions.
and had tea and fruitcake. This time she was awake enough to ask a few questions.
‘Surely you can’t take time off just now, Lucas? Isn’t it your busy time?’
‘I’ve got minions. Janey’s very good, and there’s another young chef I’m training up, Tom. The lad who was sous for me that time you – worked in the kitchen.’
Perdita decided to ignore this reference. ‘Well, I’m not at all sure I can take time off.’
‘Yes you can. I’ve given William permission to take on that friend of his, and anyone else he needs. And he’s got Janey to tell him what people need.’
‘Yes, but Lucas, I may not inherit Kitty’s money! I may not be able to afford staff!’
‘Nonsense! You don’t need to inherit from Kitty to employ an extra bloke.’
She sighed and decided she couldn’t face explaining about the land and if she was going to be making people redundant, it might as well be two as one. ‘I still don’t think William can run the business without me.’
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