Page 8 of Old Girls Behaving Badly

‘I’m happy to get stuck in with anything that needs doing,’ I said.

‘That’s great. We’ll all be pretty busy with the wedding activities and preparations so, mostly she’ll just need a companion. The thing is, the other week she had a fall and was a little confused after. She doesn’t seem to want to admit to being eighty-nine and we would like to have someone to keep an eye on her, because she won’t allow us to.’ She turned to leave and then thought of something else. ‘Oh, of course, wear whatever you are most comfortable in. Certainly for the next few days when it’s just us immediate family. We’ll all be casual. The main party won’t be arriving until Friday. Things will get a little more formal then, but really with fun being foremost. So, shall we say an hour?’ She glanced at her watch, moving a pretty gold chain along her slender, tanned arm and then left the room without waiting for a response.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and wondered what on earth I was doing. The house was beautiful, that was for sure, but I didn’t really belong here. Dorothy was perfectly pleasant, Lavinia seemed nice enough and had made me welcome, yet I felt a little out of my depth, suddenly. There had been other wanted ads for live-in companions, but I hadn’t been asked for any other interviews. My lack of experience obviously bothered them more than it did Dorothy.

I hauled my suitcase up onto the bed. Because of the open house, I’d packed more than just what I needed for the week. I had those very precious and salvaged things I always carried with me in my handbag close and safe: the only remaining photograph of my mother, the last birthday card she had given me and the key to her beloved MG that sat in my rented garage and would never be driven again. But, because strangers would be in the house, I’d decided to take more. Looking now, it struck me that if I never returned home, I wouldn’t miss anything still there. I wouldn’t hanker for the kitchenware or soft furnishings, for the table lamps and rugs.

Chris took everything that belonged to him when he moved out years ago and Alice’s box of memories was ready for her to collect. I had a few books, photos and personal things in my suitcase and it wasn’t much, but it was mine. I had learned many years ago that it really was possible to carry with you what meant most to you. Everything else was just excess.

5

DOROTHY

The evening sun hadn’t lost any of its warmth and Dorothy wiped her forehead with her handkerchief. It came away with a smear of warm ivory, which reminded her she’d rather overdone her make-up. She’d considered it warpaint really, a shield to hide behind. Being in Leonard’s house was proving more difficult than she thought it would. The fact that he wasn’t even here yet was making her feel twitchy and she was anxious for Gina to arrive.

Her grandson, Toby, was playing the piano and the gentle sound of his music came through the open French doors to the patio where Dorothy and some of the family were beginning to gather. There was a large oak table and chairs with a parasol open to keep the sun from the ice bucket, full of champagne. This had been provided by Harry, Leonard’s chef. Harry also seemed to be a right-hand man, as he’d shown them to their rooms, helped them with their bags and offered afternoon tea – all with a small amount of conversation and an even smaller amount of eye contact. Dorothy thought it incredibly rude that Leonard hadn’t been there to greet them himself, but then he always did like to make an entrance and, frankly, that was the least of his crimes.

Dorothy’s daughter, Sophie, poured her a glass of champagne and sat down beside her with a glass of her own.

‘This place is actually amazing, isn’t it, Mum,’ she said. ‘Can’t believe we have the whole week here.’

Sophie was right; Leonard’s home was amazing. Dorothy had never actually been here before. She’d only heard about it and seen a few photos of the outside. Leonard had said in the past how she and Philip really must come and stay, but he’d never actually invited them. It always seemed odd to her that for a man so happy to brag, he hadn’t ever given Philip the grand tour. The house didn’t make her feel as impressed as it did her daughter, though; it made her feel a bit sick. It was huge. Where would you even start?

She glanced at her daughter, seemingly relaxed in this opulent setting. Dorothy was glad. She’d been worried about Sophie recently. She’d appeared tense and snappy, which could be the pressure of work. Sophie was the head of a girls’ school in Surrey and unsurprisingly the most efficient, bossy and organised person Dorothy knew. Nothing like herself, she often mused. Dorothy tended to be impulsive and held a grudge like a drowning person would hold on to a life belt.

Sophie was Dorothy’s long-awaited second child. After Miles had been appointed the title of the honeymoon baby, to the family’s great delight and Dorothy’s mortification – the mere thought of them all discussing their sex life – Dorothy assumed she’d have another child as easily as her first, but it took years – ten to be precise. Sophie was fifty-seven now, which could be another indicator of her change in mood; Dorothy remembered it very well.

‘Granny?’

Sophie’s daughter, Juliet, glanced up from her phone for the first time in a good hour. She was thirteen and probably also factored in her mother’s irritability. Sophie had had her own struggles conceiving and she’d been a resigned forty-four when Juliet had made a surprising appearance. A teenager and the menopause was surely a heady combination. In fact, both of Dorothy’s children had been late bloomers, in the child-rearing department, which meant she’d most likely never see any great-grandchildren, but she was grateful for what she had.

‘Do you think I could have some champagne?’ Juliet asked.

‘I think you should ask your mother,’ Dorothy said, glancing at her daughter.

‘I’m right here,’ Sophie said with both of her eyebrows raised in Juliet’s direction.

‘Yes, but you’d say no and Granny might say yes. She did let me have some of her sherry at Christmas even though it was disgusting; no offence, Granny.’

‘None taken,’ Dorothy said. ‘Although you are dropping me in it.’

‘Sorry, but no,’ came Sophie’s response. ‘You’re only thirteen; get back to me when you’re an adult.’

‘Gah!’ Juliet exhaled, theatrically sliding down further into her seat and tucking her chin into her chest. ‘There is literally nothing for me to do here. At least a glass of booze might perk things up a bit.’

‘I find it usually has the opposite effect, actually,’ Dorothy said with a wry smile.

Sophie glanced at her mother with a thoughtful look.

‘How about I pop inside to see if Dad needs any help with the unpacking and I won’t know if Granny accidentally allows you a small sip,’ Sophie said, getting to her feet, offering her mother a little shrug and disappearing back inside the house.

Dorothy grinned at Juliet and slid her glass across the table, pleased that her daughter was prepared to ease up a little bit this week.

‘A small sip,’ Dorothy said.

The music stopped then and Toby appeared in the doorway with his wife-to-be, Caroline. She was a bright and beautiful young woman. She had a sunny disposition and even though Dorothy had only met her a few times, she could see how much love she offered Toby. Toby just needed to step up a bit to meet her, Dorothy thought. As much as she loved her grandson, he did appear a little undeserving at times. Perhaps it was because he’d always been a bit spoiled, and she had hopes that once married and away from his mother’s clucking, he would blossom.

Lavinia and Miles appeared behind them and then a couple that Dorothy had only met once before, at the engagement dinner.