The Undomestic Goddess (17 page)

None taken, said Martin amiably, reaching for a chocolate biscuit.

The visitors exchange looks.

Of course, says the chiseled-looking man after a long pause. No problem.

Ha! Something tells me this deal may not be happening after all.

Your jacket, sir? I say with a smile, handing it to him. And again, Im dreadfully,
dreadfully sorry.

The great thing about legal training is it really teaches you to lie.

It also teaches you to put up with being yelled at by your boss. Which is handy, because
as soon as Trish hears what Ive done, Im forced to stand in the kitchen for twenty minutes
while she strides around, haranguing me.

Mr. Geiger is putting together a very important business deal! That meeting was crucial!

Im very sorry, madam, I say, eyes downcast.

I know you have no understanding of these things, Samantha. But a lot of money is at
stake! Money that you probably have no conception of.

Stay calm. Stay humble.

A lot of money, Trish repeats, impressively.

Shes itching to tell me more. I can see the urge to show off and the urge to remain discreet fighting
it out on her face.

Seven figures , she says at last.

Urn... gosh. I do my best to look awestruck.

Weve been very good to you, Samantha. Weve made every effort. Her voice throbs with resentment. And we expect you to make every effort in return.

Im very sorry, I say for the millionth time, but Trish still seems dissatisfied. Well, Ill
expect far more care tonight. Tonight? At dinner. Trish raises her eyes skyward.

But... Ive got tonight off, I say in alarm. You said it would be OK, I could leave you a
cold supper...

Trish has clearly forgotten all about our conversation.

Well, she says querulously. That was before you threw coffee over our guests. That was before you spent all morning sitting about, having your
hair done.

What? That is so unfair I cant even find a response.

Frankly, Samantha, I expect a little better. You will stay in tonight and serve dinner.
She picks up a magazine and strides out of the kitchen.

I stare after her, a familiar, heavy resignation creeping over me. This has happened so
many times in my life, Im used to it. Ill have to call off my date with Nathaniel. Another
date... another cancellation.

And then my thoughts stop mid-track. Im not at Carter Spink anymore. I dont have to put up
with this.

I stalk out of the kitchen and find Trish in the living room.

Mrs. Geiger, I say as forcefully as I can. Im sorry about the coffee and Ill make every
effort to do better. But I have to have tonight off. Ive made arrangementsand Im going to
stick to them. Ill be going out at seven as planned.

My heart is beating fast as I finish. Ive never asserted myself like that before in my
life. If Id ever spoken like that at Carter Spink Id have been dead meat.

For a moment Trish looks livid. Then, to my astonishment, she gives an irritated click
with her tongue and turns a page.

Oh, very well. If its that important

Yes. I swallow. Its important. My personal life is important.

As I say the words, I feel stirred up. I almost want to say something more to Trish.
Something about priorities, about balance.

But Trish is already engrossed in an article on The Red Wine DietHow It Can Work for You.
Im not sure shed appreciate being disturbed.

Im putting the finishing touches to a cold roasted-vegetable salad for the Geigers supper
when Trish comes into the kitchen. She opens the fridge, peers into it, then closes the
door, looking dissatisfied. She leans against the counter, watching me work, until I start
feeling twitchy.

Er... can I get you anything, Mrs. Geiger?

No, you just carry on. She picks up a vegetable parer and twirls it around in her hands.

Um... Mrs. Geiger... I gesture that I need the parer, and she hands it over with a tsk of
irritation.

You have such a simple life, Samantha, she says, with a sigh. So... untroubled.

Yes, madam, I say after a pause. If you only knew ...

Trish moves to the window and gives another gusty sigh.

Mr. Geiger will be out this evening. So you only need to make one cold supper.

Um... right. I have the feeling that if I point out Ive already made a salad for two,
shell bite my head off.

She definitely looks out of sorts, standing there, running her finger up and down the
windowpane. Maybe I should make conversation.

Nathaniel told me that you used to run a business, Mrs. Geiger, I say, carving strips off
a huge chunk of Parmesan. Road haulage? That must have been interesting.

Oh, yes. It was our life.

You must have worked hard, I prompt.

We built it up from scratch, you know. Mr. Geiger and I. She suddenly looks animated. By
the end we had a staff of thirty. Contracts with every major supermarket chain in the
country. Youll have seen our lorries on the road. Red with a black flash.

Those are yours? I feel a flash of genuine interest. Ive seen them on the motorway!

They were ours, corrects Trish. We were made an extremely generous offer a few years ago. Which
naturally... we took. All the animation has waned from her voice.

As I sprinkle torn basil over the plate, she gazes out the window again, her face rigid.

And you dont ever think about... doing another job? I venture.

Samantha, says Trish, in her explaining-things-to-a-three-year-old voice. Mr. Geiger and I
have made our money. I am fortunate enough not to need to work.

No, of course not, I say deferentially.

I grind black pepper onto the salad, remembering Trishs tears that day by the washing
machine. I cant help feeling a bit sorry for her. She obviously has no idea what to do
with all her time. And Eddie doesnt help, being out on the golf course all day.

You know, Lady Edgerly didnt have a job either, I say casually as I put cling wrap over
the salad dish and place it in the fridge. But of course she kept busy with her charity
work.

Charity work? echoes Trish after a pause. What sort of charity work?

All sorts! Fund-raisers... charity lunches... She said if she hadnt had those to occupy
her, she would have gone stir-crazy, doing nothing all day except filing her nails and
having her hair donealthough obviously thats nothing like you! I backtrack as Trish turns
around. Youve got... er... loads going on!

Absolutely. Trish lifts her chin defensively. I have many interests and... and...
occupations. People envy me my full life, you know, Samantha.

Im... sure they do, madam. It was just a thought. I bob a curtsy and head out of the
kitchen. At the door I glance back. Trish is still standing in exactly the same place.

By seven oclock that evening, Trishs mood has unaccountably transformed. Or maybe not so
unaccountably. I arrive downstairs in the hall to see her wandering out of the living room
with a cocktail glass, bloodshot eyes, and a high color.

So! she says benevolently. Youre going out with Nathaniel tonight.

Thats right. I glance at myself in the mirror. Ive gone for a fairly informal outfit.
Jeans, nice simple top, sandals.

Hes a very attractive young man. She eyes me inquisitively over the top of her glass. Very muscular !

Er... yes. I suppose so.

Is that what youre wearing? She runs her eyes over my outfit. Its not very jazzy , is it? Let me lend you a little something.

I dont mind not being jazzy I begin, feeling a few qualms, but Trish has already
disappeared up the stairs. A few moments later she appears, holding a jewel box.

Here we are. You need a bit of glitz . She produces a diamante clip in the shape of a sea horse. I got this inMonte Carlo !

Er...lovely! I say, eyeing it in horror. Before I can stop her, she sweeps my hair to one
side and plonks it on. She looks at me appraisingly. No... I think you need something larger . Here. She fishes out a large jeweled beetle and clips it to my hair. Now . You see how the emerald brings out your eyes?

I gaze at myself speechlessly. I cannot go out with a sparkly beetle on my head.

And this is very glam! Now shes garlanding a gilt chain around my waist. Let me just hang
the charms on...

Charms?

Mrs. Geiger... I begin, flustered, as Eddie appears out of the study.

Just got the quote in for the bathroom, he says to Trish.

Isnt this twinkly elephant gorgeous ? says Trish, hooking it on the gilt belt. And the frog!

Please, I say desperately. Im not sure I need any elephants

Seven thousand. Eddie cuts across me. Seems quite reasonable. Plus VAT.

Well, how much is it with VAT? says Trish, rifling in her box. Wheres that monkey gone?

I feel like a Christmas tree. Shes hanging more and more glittery baubles off the belt,
not to mention the beetle. And Nathaniel will arrive any momentand hell see me.

I dont know! retorts Eddie impatiently. Whats seventeen and a half percent of seven
thousand?

One thousand, two hundred, and twenty-five, I respond absently. Theres a stunned silence.
Shit. That was a mistake. I look up to see Trish and Eddie goggling at me.

Or... something. I laugh, hoping to distract them. Just a guess. So... have you got any
more charms?

Neither of them takes the slightest notice of me. Eddies eyes are fixed on the paper hes
holding. Very slowly he looks up, his mouth working strangely.

Shes right, he announces. Shes bloody right. Thats the correct answer. He jabs the paper.
Its here!

Shes right ? Trish breathes in sharply. But how...

You saw her! She did it in her head! They both swing round to goggle at me again.

Is she autistic ? Trish seems beside herself.

Oh, for Gods sake. Rain Man has a lot to answer for, if you ask me.

Im not autistic! I say. Im just... Im just quite good with numbers. Its no big deal...

To my huge relief the doorbell rings, and I rush to answer it. Nathaniel is standing on
the doorstep, looking a little smarter than usual in tan jeans and a green shirt.

Hi, I say hurriedly. Lets go.

Wait! Eddie blocks my way. Young lady, you may be a lot brighter than you realize.

Oh, no.

Whats going on? asks Nathaniel.

Shes a mathematical genius! says Trish wildly. And we discovered it! Its just
extraordinary!

I shoot Nathaniel an agonized shes-talking-nonsense look.

What formal education have you had, Samantha? Eddie demands. Other than cooking.

Oh, God. What did I say in my interview? I honestly cant remember.

I... um... here and there. I spread my hands vaguely. You know...

Its the schools today, Trish declares. Tony Blair should be shot .

Samantha, Eddie says self-righteously. I will take on your education. And if youre
prepared to work hard hard, mindIm sure we can get you some qualifications.

This is getting worse.

I dont really want any qualifications, sir, I mumble. Im happy as I am. Thanks anyway

I wont take no for an answer! insists Eddie.

Aim higher, Samantha! says Trish with sudden passion, gripping my arm. Give yourself a
chance in life! Reach for the stars!

As I look from face to face I cant help feeling touched. They only want the best for me.

Urn... well... maybe. I surreptitiously divest myself of all the jeweled creatures and
slip them back into the jewelry box. Then I turn to Nathaniel, who has been waiting
patiently on the doorstep. Shall we go?

So, what was all that about? asks Nathaniel as we start walking along the village road.
The air is soft and warm and my new hair is bouncing lightly, and with every step I can
see my toes, painted in Trishs pink nail polish. Youre a mathematical genius?

No. I cant help laughing. Of course not! I can just... do sums in my head. Its no big deal.

Must be useful.

It can be. But Id rather be able to cook like your mum. Shes wonderful. I think back to
the serene, homey atmosphere of the cottage, sitting at Iriss table, feeling sated and
sleepy and secure. You must have had a really happy childhood.

We were pretty happy, Nathaniel assents. Of course, Dad was alive then.

It sounds like they had a fantastic marriage.

It wasnt all hearts and flowers. Nathaniel grins. Mum can speak her mind, and so could
Dad. But it was... grounded. They knew they belonged together and that was more important
than anything else in life. He smiles, reminiscently. When they got really mad with each
other, Dad would go and chop wood in the barn, and Mum would chop vegetables in the
kitchen. The two of them would be at it furiously. Jake and I would be creeping around,
not daring to make a sound.

Then what happened?

One of them would crack, he says, laughing. Usually Dad. He turns his head. How about your
parents?

I tense up with apprehension. Im not sure if Im ready to start talking about myself yet.

They split up when I was little, I say at last. And my mum works hard... It wasnt really
the same.

People do what they have to do, says Nathaniel after a pause. Its tough for a single woman
bringing up a family on her own, having to make ends meet.

Urn... yes.

Somehow I sense he might have formed a slightly different idea of Mum from the reality.

We walk on, passing an old stone wall covered with a profusion of climbing roses, and as I
breathe in the delicious scent, I feel a sudden buoyancy. The street is dappled with soft
evening light and the last rays of sun are warm on my shoulders.

Nice hair, by the way, says Nathaniel.

Oh, thanks, I say nonchalantly. Its nothing, really. Flick . So... where are we heading?

The pub. If thats OK?

Perfect!

We walk over the bridge and pause to look at the river. Moorhens are diving for weed and
the sunlight is like amber puddles on the water. Some tourists are taking pictures of each
other, and I feel a glow of pride. Im not just visiting this beautiful place, I want to
tell them. I live here.

And what about you? says Nathaniel. Before you came here? Whats your background?

Oh... you dont want to know. I give him a brush-off smile. Very boring.

I dont believe that for a minute. His tone is light but persistent. Did you have a career?

I walk for a few paces without responding, trying to think what to say. I can feel
Nathaniels eyes on me, but I twist my head away from his scrutiny.

You dont want to talk about it, he says at last. Its... its hard. Nathaniel exhales
sharply. Youve had a bad time of it? Oh, God, he still thinks Im an abused wife.

No! Its not that. Its just... a long story.

Nathaniel doesnt look put off. Weve got all evening.

As I meet his steady gaze I feel a sudden pull, like a hook inside my chest. Although itll
be painful, I want to tell him. I want to unburden everything. Who I am, what happened,
how hard its been. Of all people, I could trust him. He wouldnt tell anyone. Hed

understand. Hed keep it secret.

So. He stops still in the street, his thumbs in his pockets. Are you going to tell me who
you are?

Maybe. Were only a few yards away from The Bell, and theres a small crowd outside. A
couple of people greet Nathaniel and he waves back; the atmosphere is casual and happy. I
dont want to puncture the mood.

But...not right now. I smile at him. Its too nice an evening to spoil with all my
problems. Ill tell you later.

We make our way through the crowd. Some are standing by the door, others sitting at the
wooden tables.

What are they doing? I ask.

Waiting, he says. Landlords late.

Oh, I say. I look around but all the tables are already taken. Well, never mind. We can
sit here.

I perch on an old barrelbut Nathaniel has already headed for the door of the pub.

And... thats odd. Everyone is standing back to let him through. I watch in astonishment as
he reaches in his pocket and produces a big bunch of keys, then looks around to find me.

Come on. He beckons with a grin. Opening time.

You own a pub! I say in wonderment, as the initial melee of the evening dies down.

Ive watched for fifteen minutes as Nathaniel has pulled pints, bantered with customers,
given instructions to the bar staff, and made sure everyone is happy. Now the initial rush
is over, hes come round to where Im perched on a bar stool with a glass of wine.

Three pubs, he corrects me. And its not just me. Its our family business. TheBell , The
Swan over in Bingley, and The Two Foxes.

Every seat seems to be full, with people spilling outside into the tiny garden and onto
the forecourt. The chatter is tremendous. How on earth do you keep the pubs running and
have time to be a gardener? I ask.

OK, Ill come clean. Nathaniel lifts his hands. I dont serve very often. We have a great
bar staff. But I thought it might be fun tonight.

So youre not really a gardener!

I am really a gardener. He straightens a bar mat. This is... business.

Theres the same tone in his voice as before. As though Ive trodden on something sensitive.
I look awayand my attention is caught by a picture on the wall of a fair- haired
middle-aged man. He has Nathaniels strong jaw and blue eyes, and the same crinkles around
his eyes as he smiles.

Thats your dad? I say cautiously. He looks wonderful.

He was the life and soul. Nathaniels eyes soften. Everyone here, they all loved him. He
takes a deep slug of beer, then puts his glass down. But listen. We dont have to stay. If
youd rather go somewhere else, somewhere nicer...

The pub is bustling. Some song I vaguely recognize as a current hit is playing above the
noise of talk and laughter. A group of regulars are greeting each other by the bar with
cheerful insults. A pair of elderly American tourists in Stratford T-shirts are being
advised on local beers by a barman with red hair and twinkling eyes. Across the room a
darts game has started. I cant remember the last time I was in such an easy, friendly
atmosphere.

Lets stay. And Ill help! I slip off my bar stool and head behind the bar. Have you ever
pulled a pint before? Nathaniel follows me. No. I pick up a glass and put it under one of
the beer taps. But I can learn. Nathaniel comes round the bar. You tilt the glass like
this___Now pull.

I pull the tap, and a burst of foam splutters out. Damn!

Slowly... He puts his arms around me, guiding my hands. Thats better.

Mmm, this is nice. Im in a blissful happy haze, enveloped in his strong arms. Maybe Ill
pretend Im very slow at learning how to pull pints. Maybe we can stand like this all
evening.

You know I begin, turning my head toward him. And then I stop as my eyes focus on
something. Theres an old I wooden notice on the wall, stating: NO muddy boots, please and
NO WORKING CLOTHES. Underneath, another notice has been pinned. Its printed on yellowing
paper in faded marker penand it reads: NO LAWYERS.

Im dumbfounded. No lawyers? There we are. Nathaniel holds up the glass, full of gleaming
amber liquid. Your first

ever pint.

Er... great! I say. I pretend to examine the pump, then gesture casually at the sign.
Whats this?

I dont serve lawyers, he replies.

Nathaniel! Get over here! someone calls from the other end of the bar, and he clicks in
annoyance.

Ill only be a moment. He touches my hand, then moves away. Immediately I take a deep gulp
of wine. He doesnt serve lawyers. Why doesnt he serve lawyers?

OK...just calm down, I instruct myself firmly. Its a joke . Obviously its a joke. Everyone hates lawyers, just like everyone hates estate agents and
tax collectors. Its an accepted fact of life.

But they dont all put up signs about it in their pubs, do they?

As Im sitting there, the red-haired barman comes up to where Im standing and scoops some
ice out of the tank.

Hi, he says, holding out his hand. Im Eamonn.

Samantha. I shake it with a smile. Im here with Nathaniel.

Eamonn nods. Welcome to Lower Ebury!

I watch him serving for a moment, my mind working. This guy will know something about the
sign.

So! I say when he comes back over. That sign about lawyers. Its a...joke, right?

Not really, Eamonn replies cheerfully. Nathaniel cant stand lawyers.

Right! Somehow I manage to keep on smiling. Um... whys that?

Ever since his dad died. Eamonn hefts a crate of orange mixers onto the bar and I shift
round on my stool so I can see him properly.

Why? What happened?

There was some lawsuit between him and the council. Eamonn pauses in his work. Nathaniel
says it should never have been started in the first place, but Ben got talked into it by
the lawyers. He got more and more stressed by it and couldnt think about anything elsethen
he had a heart attack.