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‘I was just getting a bit of fresh air.’
‘I expect you were surprised to see all the changes James has made since you left. He really has done terribly well, and Becky issucha support to him. I’ll admit that I wasn’t sure about her at first, but she really is a charming girl and they make a lovely couple, don’t you think?’
I know she’s deliberately trying to wind me up, but I’m determined not to rise to it.
‘I’m just glad he’s happy and the farm is thriving,’ I tell her.
‘Of course you are. Don’t take this the wrong way, will you, but I think the fact that Becky grew up around here is an advantage. She doesn’t have the trouble fitting in that you did, you see.’
She really is doing her best to rile me, and I force myself to keep calm. I can’t help having a little pop, though.
‘It does sound like it’s all worked out for the best,’ I reply. ‘Maybe, now that he has some spare cash and doesn’t need to sell other people’s possessions to keep himself afloat, James will be able to afford fertility treatment and the farm will have the heir I know you’re so keen on. I also hope, for Becky’s sake, that his infidelity issue turns out to be a one-off and not the beginning of a pattern, like his father. Or maybe, because she understands how things work around here so much better than me, she’ll just put up with his sexual incontinence, like you did.’
I’ve hit a nerve, I can tell, as the faintest flush of colour appears on her cheeks.
‘I’ve never said that what James did to you wasn’t wrong,’ she begins.
‘Look, Rosalind,’ I interrupt, ‘I’ll be perfectly honest with you. It’s water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned. I’m only here because James insisted that I come. Why did he do that, do you think?’
‘He knew you were good at your job.’
‘You know that’s nonsense as well as I do. There are any number of event planners who could have organised this weekend for him, but he specifically asked for me.’
‘Yes, but you know how the country works. Someone who’d never lived in the country wouldn’t have a clue how to organise a shooting weekend.’
I laugh. ‘Come on, Rosalind. You can’t have it both ways. I can’t be the poor city girl who struggled to fit in and the only person in the South of England who knows how a shooting weekend works.’
I can see her struggling for a riposte, so I decide to press home and deal my killer blow.
‘Don’t you see it?’ I ask her. ‘He can’t bear the thought that I don’t need him any more. He wanted me to come here and see what he’s done, because he thought that I would be impressed and regret my decision to leave. But I don’t. I don’t even regret the seven years I wasted on him, because it’s helped me to understand the qualities that are important to me in a man, and I’m sure you’ll share my happiness when I tell you I’ve met someone who has those qualities.’
The gloves are truly off now, and her mouth is pursed in displeasure.
‘You’re delusional,’ she replies archly. ‘You’re past history and we’re better off without you. James only has eyes for Becky.’
‘Of course he does. Which is why he tried to kiss me last night. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’
I step around her and continue down the drive. I can feel her eyes on me, but I don’t care. I have nothing more to say to her or her son.
32
When our time to leave finally comes around, after lunch on Monday, I’m exhausted and relieved in equal measure. The weekend has been a huge success, and we sent each of the guests away after tea yesterday with a brace of plucked and gutted pheasants in an ice box. The rest were collected by a couple of local butchers, one of whom will be including them as part of a game pie that James will sell in the farm shop. James has continued to stay well clear of me since our encounter in the butler’s pantry, although I have caught him watching me a few times. The furniture lorries all appeared again this morning, and we’ve counted everything once more to make sure nothing gets left behind. A couple of glasses were broken, but I’m not expecting a bill for those, and everything else is undamaged. Given the amount of alcohol consumed and the rowdiness of some of the guests, I reckon that’s a minor miracle.
Emily looks done in, and I’m slightly worried about sharing a car with her back to London, but she insists she’s fine. We call Annabel on the way and update her, leaving out the whole sexual harassment incident for now. James has already been on the phone to her to say what a success the weekend was, and she fully expects another booking soon.
‘I would be very surprised if he makes another booking with us. Would you do it again if he did?’ I ask Emily as we’re belting along the M5.
‘As long as I didn’t have to go on the shoot or have anything to do with the dead birds, I reckon I could handle it,’ she replies. ‘The hospitality part of it was fun, even if I never got to the bottom of what was going on with that Catriona woman.’
‘Now that the weekend is over, I can probably tell you. Bill is her sugar daddy.’
‘You’re kidding! I’ve heard the term, but I never knew it was an actual thing!’
I tell her everything that Catriona told me, and we spend a happy hour raking over the questionable morality of it. One thing we do agree on is that she must have the constitution of an ox to be able to tolerate sex with him. Emily does a couple of impressions that leave us crying with laughter.
‘I don’t think it could have gone any better, in spite of James,’ I tell her, once we’ve finished talking about Catriona and generally unpicking the events of the weekend. ‘You should be very proud.’
‘I had an excellent mentor. Can I ask a question?’
