Women Behaving Badly_An uplifting, feel-good holiday read Read online

“What about homework?”

  “I’ll have done it by then.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” Finn grinned. “Trot says he’ll give me a tenner if I have it all done by Sunday.”

  “That’s bribery!”

  “Yeah. Great, isn’t it? You should try it sometime.”

  Jay found the cottage on a website. It wasn’t ideal, being a bit farther away than they would have wished, and the setting — in the country, just, but near a large town — was not ideal. But as Jay pointed out, last-minute holidaymakers can’t be choosers, and it was a great deal better than the alternatives. Alice found herself looking forward eagerly to what would be their first whole weekend together. It was something they had often talked of, even planned, but never quite managed — something, she suspected, that neither of them had ever really expected to happen.

  But right from the start, it was apparent that things weren’t going to go according to plan. Perhaps it was the heightened expectations, the pressure to enjoy themselves and make the most of an opportunity that might not come their way again. Locations and dates can be arranged — moods and emotions cannot — and from the moment they arrived at the cottage, Alice knew that she was in entirely the wrong frame of mind. She remembered feeling just the same one Christmas when she was a teenager. Her mother had made a huge effort, as always; the decorations, the meal, the tree were all perfect; Alice herself had received everything she could have wished for. And yet the imperative to have fun — to have a good time, to be nice to everyone, to enjoy every minute of the day — had proved too much, and she had ended up by spoiling it for everyone.

  She felt exactly the same now, and while by her age, she certainly should have known better, within a couple of hours of their arrival, she found herself picking a quarrel with Jay.

  “I said I’d cook dinner,” she said when Jay announced that he would like to do the cooking. “I was looking forward to making you a meal.”

  “Well, that makes two of us.” Jay laid fillet steak and asparagus, raspberries and cream out on the kitchen worktop. “There. A feast fit for a king!”

  But Alice was annoyed. She had said that she would shop for their first meal; she had planned it carefully and enjoyed doing it. Jay had agreed to provide the wine, and perhaps some crisps and olives.

  “I’m not keen on asparagus,” she said, aware of how childish that sounded, but unable to stop herself.

  “Everyone likes asparagus,” Jay said, breaking off the spears and putting them in a saucepan. His calmness was infuriating.

  “Well, I don’t.”

  “Never mind. I can eat it myself.”

  This, of course, was entirely the wrong thing to say. Jay should have been apologetic; he should have realised he had been remiss in not consulting her first. He also ought to be concerned that while he was eating his bloody asparagus, Alice would be having to make do with salad. Alice was mature enough to know that she was being unreasonable and that she was risking sabotaging their precious weekend, but she was sufficiently infuriated not to care.

  “I’ll wash the raspberries, shall I?” she said in what she hoped were icy tones.

  “Already done,” said Jay cheerily, opening the champagne. “Come on, Alice. Have a drink.”

  “I don’t feel like a drink.” Alice did feel like a drink, and as Jay knew only too well, she always felt like champagne (who didn’t?). But she continued to make her silly little stand. She seemed unable to stop herself.

  “Alice, what is your problem?” Jay paused, glass in one hand, bottle in the other. “You seem determined to spoil this evening. What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing’s the matter.”

  “Of course something’s the matter. Tell me what it is, and we’ll sort it out.”

  “I said, nothing’s the matter.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.” Jay tasted the champagne and poured himself a glassful. Apparently he had decided to ignore her ill temper.

  “Nice champagne?” Alice asked.

  “Excellent. I thought I’d bring a really good one to celebrate our weekend together. A shame I’m going to have to drink it on my own.”

  “You’re really going to do that, are you? Drink champagne on your own?”

  “Well, if you won’t join me, I’m going to have to, aren’t I? Now that the bottle’s open.”

  “I don’t know how you can!”

  Jay banged his glass down on the table. “You tell me that nothing’s the matter. I accept what you say. And now, apparently, that’s wrong too. What, exactly, am I supposed to do, Alice? Tell me how you want me to behave, and I’ll do my best to oblige.”

  “I want you to stop controlling this — this relationship.”

  “From where I’m standing, you’re the one in control. You’re the one hell-bent on spoiling our weekend. You’re the one who’s in a nasty mood. I’m not controlling anything!”

  “Yes. Yes, you are. All this, everything we do, is controlled by you. You and your marriage. When we meet, when we can speak on the phone, the secrecy — everything. And now, when I plan to cook us a meal and have everything ready, you have to take control of that, too, and do it yourself. I’m not even allowed to cook for you. Everything — everything — is controlled by you.”

  “But it’s you I’m doing it for.” Jay sat down at the table and ran his fingers through his hair. “Alice, why now? We’ve had this kind of conversation time and time again, and now that we have a chance to spend a whole weekend together, you spoil it by bringing it all up again. I don’t understand you, I really don’t.”

  “No. You don’t, do you?”

  “Bloody women!” Jay finally snapped. “You’re all the same!”

  “Women? Do you mean the sainted Angela has moods, too? Oh dear. Poor Jay.”

  “Don’t you bring Angela into this!”

  “Oh no. I forgot. Angela must be protected at all costs, mustn’t she? Poor, blameless Angela, with her — with her precious bump and her nice pink nursery!” And to her horror, she burst into tears.

  “That,” said Jay, “was unworthy of you.” And ignoring the tears, he flung back his chair and left the room.

  Alice had painted herself into a corner. She knew that she was being totally unreasonable. She knew she was being selfish and thoughtless and unkind, and that she had said some horrible things, entirely without provocation. Worst of all, she knew that if their weekend was to be saved from total wreckage, she had to be the one to do it. Jay had done everything he could to keep the peace; now it was her turn.

  She opened the back door and stood for a moment on the step, taking in the night-smell of damp earth and leaves and grass. It was already dark outside, but a crescent moon hung suspended in the arc of the sky, as though from an invisible thread, surrounded by a flotilla of stars. Jay knew the names of many of them, and usually she enjoyed listening to him as he explained the different constellations.

  She walked carefully across the tiny lawn, enjoying in spite of herself the feel of the turf beneath her bare feet and the cooling breeze against her cheeks. Looking up, she felt, as she always did, the unimportance of herself and of the world she inhabited in comparison with the hugeness of everything that lay beyond, and it made the pettiness of her behaviour seem even more trivial, stupid, unnecessary.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I could take it all back. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I know you are.” She hadn’t heard Jay come up behind her, and now his arms encircled her waist. “I know you are.”

  They stood for a few minutes in silence, watching the stars, listening to the soft sounds of the countryside. If she turned her head, Alice could hear the steady thump of Jay’s heartbeats under his thin cotton shirt, and the soft sound of his breathing.

  “That’s Orion.” Jay pointed. “See his belt across the middle?”

  Alice nodded. “I really am sorry,” she said. “Terribly sorry. I’ve no idea what got into me.”

  �
��Haven’t you? Haven’t you really?” Jay turned her to face him.

  She shook her head.

  “Things have been difficult for a while,” Jay said.

  “You mean, I’ve been difficult for a while.”

  “No, not just you. Us. The situation.”

  “You mean — the baby?”

  “That too. I know how hard it must be for you, darling, but what can I do about it?”

  “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do. Nothing either of us can do.”

  Jay took her hand. “Let’s go indoors. While the champagne’s still cold.”

  Much later, as they lay together in bed, watching the thin curtains shifting in the breeze and listening to the distant hooting of an owl, Alice was filled with foreboding.

  “It’s nearly over, isn’t it?” she whispered. “You and me. We can’t go on for much longer, can we?”

  There was a long silence, and then Jay sighed.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. I really don’t know. But just for now, let’s try and live in the moment. Let’s make the most of what we have.”

  “You’re right.” Alice moved more closely into his arms, resting her head in the curve of his neck. “Actually,” she said, “asparagus is my favourite vegetable.”

  “I know.” Jay laughed. “Why do you think I brought it?”

  Gabs

  Gabs’ life was becoming complicated, and at the moment she could do without complications.

  For a start, there was Steph. Steph, in fact, was becoming less of a problem since the dreaded visit to Father Pat, for contrary to everyone’s expectations, Father Pat had been surprisingly helpful. He had praised Steph and Clive for “doing the right thing” (apparently choosing not to mention the fact that all this was because they had started off by doing the wrong thing) and being “good Catholics” (Gabs cringed).

  “He was so nice, Gabs,” Steph said. “You’d hardly believe it was the same man!” (Gabs didn’t.) “He had lots of ideas and said that the baby might bring us closer, in which case we could get married.”

  “He what?”

  “He said — he said that Clive and I might end up by getting married.”

  “Steph, if you marry that wimp, I’ll never speak to you again.”

  “Well, it’s unlikely; of course it is. But Clive is being very sweet at the moment.”

  Gabs tried to imagine Clive being sweet, and failed. “Well, it’s your funeral,” she said.

  “Don’t be like that, Gabs. I’m doing my best.”

  “I know you are, and I’m sorry, but the thought of my little niece or nephew being brought up by Clive…”

  “It’ll be Clive’s child, whether he’s there or not,” Steph reminded her.

  In fact, Clive had taken to coming round rather a lot, and while at first Gabs suspected it could well be because he wanted to chat her up again, he did seem to be genuinely caring where Steph was concerned, and that was no bad thing. At the very least, it meant that she wasn’t the only one supporting her sister, and for that alone she was grateful. Their father, when Steph had finally told him her news, had been outraged, slamming the phone down before Steph had time to say anything more, and they hadn’t heard from him since. So there was unlikely to be any support coming from that quarter.

  Then there was Gabs’ job at the agency. While Gabs and Mrs. Grant had — and probably nurtured — a thorough dislike for each other, Gabs did enjoy the work. She didn’t need the money — her other activities took care of her needs more than adequately — but she loved the clients and would miss them were she to leave. But Mrs. Grant had a niece coming over from Australia, who was a trained nurse and was interested in working for the agency, and Gabs feared that this would be a perfect opportunity for Mrs. Grant to get rid of her. She had had the statuary three written warnings, so there would be nothing to stand in the way of her dismissal. It occurred to her that she could pre-empt any decision by resigning before she was sacked, but that would be giving in, and Gabs had never been one to give in easily.

  Mavis, too, was becoming something of a responsibility. Since Maudie’s stroke, she had taken to phoning Gabs up to talk about her worries and ask her advice.

  “You know about these things,” she would say. “What do you think?”

  And Gabs would have to explain that she wasn’t medically trained; she had clients who had suffered from strokes, but she wasn’t qualified to advise on a particular case.

  Maudie had regained consciousness and rallied a little, but she was unable to move her right side, and her speech was all but gone, and Mavis was beside herself. The doctors had told her that Maudie might recover some of her lost faculties, but she was old, and it had been three weeks now. Any recovery tended to happen early on, and the longer Maudie continued in this state, the less likely she was to recover much more.

  Gabs had visited her twice — she was fond of Maudie and sorry for Mavis — but privately she didn’t hold out a lot of hope. While Maudie appeared pleased to see her, she continued to stare at her strange new world with wild, bewildered eyes, as though seeking explanation where there were none. Her words — jumbled sounds, punctuated by little cries — were almost impossible to understand, and she gripped Mavis’s hand in a pathetic attempt to prevent her from leaving.

  “I know how hard it must be, but you have to start letting go,” Gabs said over coffee in the hospital canteen. “Something was bound to happen sooner or later. She’s old, Mavis. She can’t last forever.”

  “But not like this.” Mavis wiped away her tears with an embroidered handkerchief. “I never wanted it to happen like this.”

  “I know.” Gab sighed. “Peacefully in her sleep, at home.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Isn’t that what we all want?”

  “They’re talking of her going into a home,” Mavis said. “They can’t keep her here much longer; they need the bed.” She bit her lip. “I promised her that she would never have to go into a home.”

  “Mavis, you meant it at the time. But you can’t look after her yourself. She’s a heavy woman; she needs round-the-clock nursing. How would you manage that?”

  “I could get help.”

  “Help’s expensive, and it’s never there when you need it. Where’s the help in the middle of the night, or if she falls?”

  “I suppose a home wouldn’t have to be permanent,” Mavis said. “Just till she’s a bit stronger. I could tell her it was just for convalescence, couldn’t I?”

  “Yes. Give it a try. She might enjoy the company of other people. She does spend a lot of time on her own, doesn’t she?”

  On her way home, Gabs pondered Mavis’s predicament and thanked her lucky stars that she was unlikely to find herself in the same position. Her mother had been dead for years, and her father had all but disowned her. Gabs wouldn’t put it past him to demand filial duties of his daughters should the occasion arise, but she would have no hesitation in reminding him that he hadn’t earned the right to expect anything from either of them. He had already told her that he had disinherited her (not that there was a lot to inherit); well, two could play at that game. And given his reaction to Steph’s condition, he certainly shouldn’t expect anything from her.

  But the biggest problem facing Gabs was her campaign to win over Father Augustine. She had missed two opportunities because of a bad cold, but fortunately for her, he had suffered some kind of setback and was still off work. However, this situation couldn’t last much longer, and if she was to succeed, she needed to do something this Wednesday. The housekeeper always went into town on her day off, and Father Pat took Mass in the local Catholic school on Wednesdays. This was Gabs’ last chance.

  Gabs had no idea what she was going to do or say if she were fortunate enough to find Father Augustine in and on his own, but she reckoned that love would show her the way. It was true that hitherto, love had never shown her anything, but then she had never been in love before. She felt — no, she knew — that when the
time came, the right words would come, and anything that happened afterwards would follow naturally.

  But the right words didn’t come. Father Augustine was certainly in, and he appeared to be on his own, but what Gabs hadn’t expected was Father Augustine in his dressing gown.

  “Oh.” For a moment she was lost for words. “Good morning, Father.”

  “Good morning. I’m afraid I have to ask you to go. I was about to have a shower. As you see, I’m not prepared for — for visitors.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t matter. This will only take a moment.” Gabs edged her way past him and into the hallway. “I brought you these.” She handed him some very expensive chocolates. “I’m so sorry you’ve been ill.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” He took the chocolates. “But I really have to insist that you go. This is — this is quite inappropriate.”

  “Don’t worry.” Gabs shrugged off her jacket. “I’m in the caring profession. I’m used to people in dressing gowns.”

  “But I’m not. I’m not used to being seen like this.” Father Augustine put the chocolates down on a chest and tried to usher Gabs toward the door.

  “Oh, goodness. I feel a bit faint.” Gabs sank into a chair. “Could I — could I ask you for a glass of water?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” Father Augustine hurried off to fetch the water, leaving Gabs to gather her wits and cobble together a plan B.

  “Thank you.” Gabs sipped her water. “I think I’d better put my head between my knees.”

  “Do you need a doctor?” Father Augustine enquired. From her upside-down position, Gabs noted that his legs were bare, and it looked very much as though he wasn’t wearing anything under the dressing gown.

  “No. No doctor. If I could just lie down for a minute? I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh dear.” There was a note of panic in Father Augustine’s voice. “I’m not sure where — oh dear!”

  “A sofa, perhaps?” Gabs murmured. “Just for a few minutes?”

  “A sofa. Yes.” Still her host remained rooted to the spot. Gabs noticed that his legs were pleasantly hairy, his feet long and pale, the toenails neatly trimmed. Sensing that things were about to grind to a halt, Gabs tilted sideways, and Father Augustine gave an anxious little cry. “A sofa. Yes. I’ll help you, shall I?”