Page 70 of Old Girls Behaving Badly

‘Had a nice time?’ the driver asked me. ‘Was it an eventful wedding?’

He wasn’t the same driver who had brought me to the house and it proved to be true what the previous driver had said about it being a big house but a small village.

‘It was the most eventful wedding I have ever been to,’ I said, before pushing my sunglasses onto my face and resting my head gratefully back against the seat.

I pulled my suitcase up the path to the house and unlocked the front door. The first thing I noticed was the slightly musty scent of dead flowers and I could see that the vase of roses I’d left on the console table were way past fresh and heading firmly into dried flower territory. The pale-pink petals littered the surface and the water had a hint of green to it. So much for setting the scene for house-hunters.

I left my suitcase in the hallway and went straight to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, but of course the milk was almost off. It had only been a week, but it felt as if the house was turning against me. Instead I made a black coffee and took it out into the garden to see whether the storm had stretched this far and what damage might have been done to my plants, and then I set to work.

‘Hello, Georgina.’

I spun my head round from where I crouched, pulling at some weeds, to see Douglas was standing on the lawn. He was wearing a white linen shirt, which showed off the tan that still lingered from his trip.

‘I would prefer it if you knocked on the door or let me know you’re coming. You don’t live here any more,’ I said, turning back to my task and annoyingly I wished I’d put a brush through my hair.

‘I did send you a message. You don’t answer them.’

‘Oh, I’m not long back. I think my phone is still in my bag,’ I said, pulling off my gloves and getting to my feet. ‘I don’t suppose you brought some milk with you?’

‘No,’ he said, bemused. ‘Didn’t think to.’

‘Black coffee it is then,’ I said, walking past him and into the house.

He followed me inside and after a long lingering look at his piano, he stood watching me make him a drink and instead of feeling uncomfortable I felt some strength in the fact that this was my domain, not his. Except that actually it wasn’t, not for much longer anyway.

‘So the offer isn’t as high as I’d like, but, Georgina, I won’t leave you stuck, you know. We’ll make sure you get somewhere half decent to live.’

‘Will we? Half decent, lucky me. Who’s we anyway, Douglas?’ I asked him and he did look a bit uncomfortable for a moment.

‘I meant you and me, we.’

‘Not Little Miss Maidenhead?’

He looked stunned at that, but he rallied.

‘This isn’t about anyone else you know,’ he said, without actually denying the existence of anyone else. ‘This is about reaching the grand age of seventy-three and wanting more. I’m sorry if that is hard to hear, but it’s the truth. I won’t leave you in the lurch – you have entitlements.’

‘You won’t leave me in the lurch! You left me with a letter explaining that you’d gone off to rediscover your youth and that the house was being sold from under me. I consider myself well and truly lurched. And I don’t want entitlements; I can look after myself,’ I said, slamming the mug of coffee down on the counter next to him and delighting in the fact that a couple of drops flew out of the top and landed on his sleeve. That stain would be tricky to get out.

‘You can look after yourself? You haven’t worked for forty-three years. How much does your companion job pay? Hmm.’

‘I should never have left my job.’

‘You weren’t capable of doing it. After all that happened with your mother, you were a mess.’

‘You were there; you knew what happened. If I was a mess, there was good reason,’ I said, quietly, and he looked at the floor. ‘And perhaps I would have been capable, with the right support.’

‘I did nothing but support you. You were able to stay at home with all the comforts while I went to work.’

‘You took advantage of me, Douglas. You took advantage of my state of mind. You turned me into a doormat over the years and then casually wiped your feet on your way out.’

He just stared at me, flabbergasted. I was a bit flabbergasted myself as the realisation hit home. He’d used me, not supported me. I felt almost euphoric as this thought landed.

‘I’ve had a very busy week and I’d like you to leave,’ I said with my arms folded firmly across my chest and, to be fair to him, he did.

Later, I ran myself a bath and soaked my tired body. It wasn’t just the afternoon of gardening and the encounter with Douglas that had made my limbs and head ache, but a week of feeling tense all the time. I had felt uncomfortable, unsure, pressured and, at times, even threatened, but mostly I had come away with a huge sense of accomplishment. Dorothy had called me a problem solver and that had felt really good. Then I remembered Leonard’s broken body at the bottom of the steps and shuddered.

The bath water was cooling and I got out and wrapped myself in my fluffy robe. I pushed that lingering image of Leonard from my head, and instead thought about Dorothy’s bittersweet victory. The happiness she felt in being right in her assumption about the painting was imbued with sadness about the part Sandra and Rufus had played. There could never be true happiness when you looked at the bigger picture. Leonard was terribly injured and may not survive to serve his punishment, Sandra had to live with the awful choice she had made to save her son’s reputation and future career, and Rufus was planning to leave that situation now anyway, making the choice his mother had made all the more pointless.