I was dying to ask why, but I didn’t want to distract her. Despite myself, I wanted to know more about Lando Lord. She continued.
‘It’s a shame he’s become so grumpy and puritanical, it’s not really him. He needs to bounce back to a sort of middle ground. Maybe being around Xander will help; he’s calmed down a bit in the last eighteen months or so, but he’s not lost any of his spark. What Lando really needs is a lovely wife and a couple of children. That would cheer him up, I’m sure of it.’ I could see her giving me a sideways look, but I stared resolutely into my glass and stayed quiet, although my heart beat a trifle faster. ‘Anyway, he’s decided he’s going to set himself up as some sort of monk or hermit, dedicated to his art. For now, anyway.’
I nodded and muttered something anodyne about people having to find their path in life. Bunny nodded, drained her tea and looked at her watch. ‘Oh no, is that the time? I’d better go and get ready to go out. I am sorry you’re not coming this evening, Pixie. It seems very odd going out without you – you’re one of the family already.’
‘I don’t mind at all, it was all arranged long before I came on the scene, and I’ll enjoy a quiet night in. I hope you have a good time.’
She stood up wearily.
‘I’ll do my best. These bashes are bad enough at the best of times, never mind when you’re at the most exhausting stage of pregnancy and can’t tell anyone yet. You’d think the social scene would be quieter down here, but it’s worse than London, if anything, and all the same people, just in holiday mode.’ She suddenly seized my hand. ‘I’m so glad I could tell you about being pregnant, dear Pixie. Thank you for your sympathy. I need a mother’s help more than the children do.’
I squeezed her hand back.
‘It’s my pleasure. I’m here for you all.’
She left to go upstairs and about twenty minutes later they all went out – Lando, Bunny and Xander – to the party at a neighbour’s house, calling their goodbyes as they went. I was still nursing my drink and staring into the fire when Pilar popped her head round the door.
‘All good here, Penélope? I go now if that’s okay – I have left you some supper in the kitchen.’
The house fell into a friendly silence around me, and I thought fuzzily how happy I was here and what good friends I seemed to be making. My thoughts drifted towards Lando then, but as they started to settle dreamily on what it would be like living permanently in this house, married to that handsome, complicated, intriguing man, I turned my attention firmly to supper, some light TV and maybe even an early night. As if that was ever going to happen when I was living with the Lords.
SIX
About half an hour later, I was sitting happily on the sofa, my feet tucked up underneath me, eating a simple but delicious supper of baked cheese on toast with some creamy, garlicky sauce I could happily have had at every meal as it was so scrumptious. I was watching one of my favourite cosy murder series, making no effort whatsoever to try to guess who had smothered the vicar with his own chasuble and left him prostrate across the Nativity scene, when I heard the front door bang open. I didn’t have time to put down my plate before the living room door also flew open and in stormed Lando.
‘Oh,you’rein here,’ he growled, as he stamped across the floor to collect this morning’s newspaper, which promptly fell apart, leaving him furiously gathering up pages and stuffing them together so roughly that I feared there would be nothing readable left. I chanced a question.
‘Are you all right? I thought you had gone to the party.’
‘I had.’ He shook the sheets of paper with a sharp snap, and they finally succumbed to being folded into something manageable. ‘I couldn’t bear to stay a moment longer – bloody Xander trying to pour alcohol down my throat because he thinks I’m more fun when I’m drunk, and the local do-gooding bloody council member or whatever she is thrusting her poor daughter, who was in agonies of embarrassment, under my nose because she thinks we’ll make a good match. I happen to know that the daughter is in love with the greengrocer, who returns her feelings, thank God, and they’re trying to find the right time to tell Mummy. Hell isn’t freezing over any time soon, so they’d be better off selling spuds in Gretna Green.’
‘Areyou more fun when you’re drunk?’
He glared at me. ‘Probably. Too much fun. Anyway, I don’t want to get drunk, I want to go and work.’
What a shame he’s leaving, I thought. He was even more attractive in this cross mood, spilling out his feelings and frustrations. I shoved down my urge to ask more and had another mouthful of my supper.
‘You have sauce on your chin,’ said Lando. I wiped at it quickly, mortified, but he hadn’t finished with me yet. He looked over at the TV screen, which I had paused when he came in. The plump, homely detective was holding up the vicar’s limp arm with a determinedly quizzical look on his face.
‘Do you like this kind of thing?’ asked Lando.
Now it was my turn to glare at him.
‘It’s relaxing,’ I said, and picked up the remote control. ‘Very relaxingon my night off.’
‘All right, point taken, I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll be in my studio.’
I wouldn’t be unkind enough to say that he flounced out of the room, but there was a definite huff about him. Maybe he secretly liked home counties homicide, too, and really wanted to stay? Some chance. Timothy had insisted that his favourite programmes – if hehadto watch the television (he always used the full word, with a trace of disgust, never the friendlier ‘TV’ or ‘telly’) – were dry documentaries about global warming. But I once found him happily devouring something about burly Australians in the outback hunting gold for a living, and his protests about my tastes didn’t hold much water after that.
As Lando stomped off down the corridor, I thought back to my earlier musings – flights of fancy – about marrying him and living here, and the hot burn of shame crept up my cheeks. How ridiculous I was. Having finally woken up to Timothy – and made the very sensible decision to stay away from men from now on – five minutes later, I was fantasising about being with another awful man who didn’t want me in the least.He’s not only rude but boring, I thought, as I resumed my programme and finished off my cheesy, garlicky feast. The gorgeous, talented parts would definitely wear off. Who cared if the sauce dripped down my chin, and who cared if Lando saw it? I knew I did, really, and feeling messy just added to my humiliation. Tears threatened to fill my eyes, and I scrubbed at them with my napkin. What an idiot I was, letting myself be sucked into someCountry Livingfantasy by a few nice cushions and a view. I paused the TV again, took my plate through to the kitchen and went up to grab my laptop from my room. Before I opened it up, I decided that what I required to salve my bruised ego was some of Pilar’s chocolate mousse that ‘needed finishing’. Heavily laced with Cointreau, it was absolutely delicious and went beautifully with a decaf coffee I managed to coax from the spaceship controls of the coffee machine. I had stopped short of licking the bowl clean and was about to set up my computer to draft my resignation letter to the school and maybe look for some possibilities in India, when I heard the front door open and close. I checked my watch, but it still seemed early for the Lords to be back from their party. The living room door opened, and I was greeted with far more enthusiasm than I had been by the last person to return.
‘Penny, Penny, lovely Penny, how glad I am to see you.’
‘Hello, William, are you all right?’
‘Well…’ He eyeballed my laptop. ‘I can see you are working away here, and I wouldhateto disturb you…’
I needed no further encouragement and snapped the computer shut.
