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THE meal was not ruined.
David took charge.
He elicited the information that this was the only house in the street without lights. He despatched Caitlin, Michelle and Trevor to the neighbours’ homes with the pots and pans of vegetables. The heat in the ovens would finish cooking the meats. He persuaded her parents and their guests to resume their places at the candlelit table, poured champagne for them all, proposed a toast to the happy couple celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary, and instigated the speech-making that would normally have taken place after the meal.
In the meantime, the County Council arrived, diagnosed a power overload due to the number of electrical appliances being used, sent an electrician up a pole to change a transformer, and in half an hour had fixed the problem.
Henry Ross took the opportunity to sing, ‘When the lights come on again...’ and the guests to join in, ‘...all over the world...’ to much laughter and merriment.
Trevor was able to start the carving; the neighbours carried in the cooked vegetables and joined the party. Caitlin and Michelle served the dinners, and, since everyone’s appetite was sharpened by the unscheduled delay, the meal was enjoyed all the more.
Despite the undoubted success of the rescue operation, or perhaps because of it, Michelle made it her business to tell Mummy that Caitlin and David were doing things in the pantry when the lights went out. She sweetly informed Caitlin that this was for her own good.
Trevor thought so, too. The family should not be subjected to such scandalous behaviour and it was perfectly clear that David Hartley was the kind of man who rode roughshod over everyone and anyone.
Trevor was undoubtedly piqued that he had been appointed a labourer during the crisis while David shone as a team leader.
After the sweets course and before coffee was served, her father slipped away from the dinner table and took Caitlin aside. ‘Caitlin, I’d like to speak to you if I may,’ he said in his mild and gentle manner.
‘Sure, Dad. What about?’
‘David Hartley.’
Caitlin’s heart sank. ‘Do you have to?’
‘Your mother said I had to deal with you.’
‘Well, in that case...I suppose we’d better get it over and done with.’
‘Trevor said I had to be stern with you.’
‘Trevor would,’ Caitlin muttered.
‘And Michelle said I was to be severe. Indeed, I think the word “harshly” came into the conversation. Harshly severe.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Caitlin said with resignation.
‘I don’t see that I have any option, Caitlin. None that’s viable.’
‘No,’ Caitlin agreed. ‘You’ll have to do it.’
‘Perhaps it would be best if we did this privately. Could I ask you to step into the study please, Caitlin?’
‘Sure, Dad.’
The study was more a room of memorabilia, her father’s escape to the past. Photographs of his best horses covered the walls, along with the ribbons they had won at shows. The purple rosette for ‘Supreme Champion’ in the Galloway Class took pride of place. Caitlin walked over and touched it.
‘I do understand how much you must miss this, Dad,’ she said in soft sympathy.
‘It’s a loss, but your mother was right to sell up, Caitlin. The doctors said I wouldn’t last if I kept up the work. When I had that queer turn this morning...’
Caitlin turned in quick concern. ‘You did? You should have told me, Dad.’
‘I got over it. Made me face up to a lot of things today.’
Caitlin reflected that it had been that kind of day for her, too...facing up to what she wanted and where she was going with David.
‘Your mother’s been trying to interest me in other things for my own good,’ her father went on. ‘I was being a stubborn old fool...not co-operating. Didn’t want to let go. Your mother’s a wonderful woman, Caitlin. Always knows best.’
