More to Life Than This Page 8

  He’d been with Hills & Hopeland for years, ten years to be exact, and had worked his way steadily up the ladder to a plateau. The comfort zone. Similar to the twilight zone, but with a better salary and a bigger company car. It was bad news when a man of his tender years was confined to coasting. These days the company was full of hungry young men—brought in when the senior partners were all pensioned off with cosy retirement packages. Except that these hungry young men were never hungry for food; they sat relentlessly crunching numbers, swallowing caffeine in various forms at a rate of knots, but never stopping to eat. Come one o’clock, Jeffrey yearned to go to the pub for steak-and-kidney pie and chips. His arteries screamed for a cholesterol fix. But there was always the fear lurking in the background, gnawing in his subconscious, that if he took his statutory hour for lunch, who would be at his desk when he returned? They didn’t let the weeds grow round the personnel at Hills & Hopeland like they did the parking spaces.

  His heart wasn’t in the job today: end-of-year accounts for his least favourite client, a building company with a managing director who favoured the Howard Stern school of charm, followed by some junior staff training and development work. He did this not because he was any good at passing on his knowledge acquired through years at the dirty end of accountancy, but because he was deemed to be the only person patient enough to deal with the exuberant ignorance of youth and focus them on the delights of the grindstone. He assumed it was some form of backhanded compliment.

  His mind wasn’t on the job either. It was still lingering on Natalie Lambert, who had arrived looking particularly sunny at the allotted time this morning and had proceeded to engage two rather startled and school-uniformed children in a Rice Krispies throwing fight. He had left the house to the cry of: ‘See you later, Jeffers!’ before any of the offending cereal had headed in his direction. The children were squealing with delight and possibly over-excitement by the time he had crunched across the drive and reached the car. Breakfast was normally a terribly sedate affair during which Kate dished out the packed lunches. He was to fend for himself today, hence the lusting for steak and kidney, as Kate had deemed Natalie incapable of preparing three rounds of sandwiches and a Wagon Wheel. She would have fainted if she’d seen her hurling cereal across the table.

  As it was he had worked through lunch without even a break to visit the loo, and was now on the point of starvation. Now he needed to relax, chill out, kick back. He looked at his watch. Time to go. He’d just miss the traffic if he was lucky, which would give him some time to potter in the garden before they lost the light.

  chapter 12

  There was a strange smell drifting from the direction of the kitchen when he approached the door. Two strange smells if he was going to be absolutely accurate. One was definitely burning. Not call-the-fire-brigade burning, but burning nevertheless. The other was harder to identify. It was pungent, spicy, like sour curry, and made his nostrils twitch in displeasure. Jeffrey paused with his key in the lock.

  It was strange to come home and not be greeted by Kate’s cheery voice shouting out from somewhere in the house or garden. He off-loaded his briefcase into the study and was gratified to hear giggling sounds coming from the kitchen.

  ‘Keep still,’ Natalie ordered as he pushed open the door.

  Jeffrey stopped in his tracks. ‘What the…’

  Kerry was lying on her stomach in the middle of the kitchen table, giggling uproariously. Joe looked on in rapt silence, sitting amidst the cereal boxes that were still there from this morning. Jeffrey frowned. He could feel the furrows eating deep into his brow. A sea of luminous green sludge lay in a bowl next to her—the source of the foul stink—and Natalie was stabbing enthusiastically at the bared cheek of his daughter’s bottom with a small stick tipped with the same green goo.

  ‘Don’t wriggle,’ Natalie barked. ‘You’ll make me blob.’

  Kerry chuckled again. ‘You’re tickling me.’

  Natalie looked up, hand poised on Kerry’s buttock. ‘Hi, Jeffers,’ she said with a wall-to-wall smile.

  Kerry rested her chin on her hands. ‘Hello, Daddy.’

  Jeffrey ran his fingers through his hair. It took a moment to be sure that his voice was going to be available for use when he opened his mouth. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he stuttered.

  ‘Ah, I’m tattooing Kerry’s bum,’ Natalie informed him, giving his daughter a hearty slap on the hide.

  Kerry shrieked with laughter.

  ‘Tattooing Kerry’s bum?’ Jeffrey repeated incredulously. ‘It’s not a proper tattoo, Daddy,’ Kerry assured him brightly. ‘It’ll be gone in a couple of months.’

  Jeffrey pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down next to Joe. Then he inspected the bowl of green gloop. ‘A couple of months. That makes me feel a lot better.’ Kate would go ballistic. He pushed the bowl away. ‘This stuff smells foul.’

  ‘It’s mehndi,’ Natalie said. ‘Henna.’

  Jeffrey stared blankly at her.

  ‘It’s a brown dye,’ she continued. ‘It doesn’t do any harm and it generally fades after a few weeks. I can show you mine if you like.’

  She proceeded to roll up the sliver of Lycra that was her skirt.

  ‘No!’ Jeffrey held up his hand. ‘There’s no need for that. I’ll take your word for it.’ He needed a drink. A stiff one. ‘What exactly are you tattooing on my daughter’s bottom?’ he asked politely.

  ‘I love Justin.’

  ‘And some sunflowers,’ Kerry added.

  Jeffrey nodded carefully. ‘Justin?’

  ‘Timberlake,’ Natalie supplied. ‘Hot babe.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Daddy, you are such a saddo!’

  ‘Quite probably,’ he said. Drink. Fast!

  ‘I want one, too,’ Joe piped up. ‘I want Man United Forever!’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Kerry sneered. ‘Boys don’t tattoo their bottoms!’

  ‘We could do your arm or your shoulder,’ Natalie suggested pleasantly. ‘Robbie Williams has lots of tattoos.’

  Joe grinned with contentment. Jeffrey thought that he might pass out. Lots! There was a rush of blood to his head and a ringing in his ears. Robbie Williams was a pop star—even he knew that—and, as a direct result, could carry off such fripperies. He wasn’t sure a ten-year-old schoolboy could. Kate would go completely and utterly ballistic.

  Natalie resumed her task of daubing dye on his daughter’s rear end with the supreme concentration usually only demonstrated by neurosurgeons. Now that he had got used to the unattractive whiff of the mehndi, the smell of burning was getting distinctly stronger.

  ‘So why can I smell burning?’ he asked.

  ‘Ah, fun!’ Natalie shouted, abandoning her stick in the bowl of goo and leaping towards the cooker. ‘That’s tonight’s dinner.’

  Jeffrey closed his eyes. A whisky. Malt, perhaps. A double.

  Nat scraped around the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon. ‘That’ll be right,’ she said encouragingly. ‘We’ll hardly notice the black bits. Charcoal’ s good for you. Cleans out the digestion.’

  Jeffrey stood up from the table. He wasn’t sure he wanted his digestion cleaned out. Not by the bits that had flaked off the bottom of his saucepans anyway.

  He went over to inspect the damage. The empty margarine carton stood on the draining board, its label wet and smudged. Wednesday—chilli con carne. He checked the pan. It was chilli con carne all right, con black bits.

  Jeffrey held up the carton. ‘This is Monday,’ he said.

  ‘Good call, Jeffers.’ Natalie grinned.

  ‘But we’re eating Wednesday’s meal.’

  ‘Are we?’ Natalie peered into the pan.

  Jeffrey scoured the various charts and rotas held by cutesy magnets to the front of the fridge. ‘Monday is spaghetti Bolognese,’ he said.

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘You’ve got the wrong carton out.’

  ‘Have I?’ Natalie looked very unconcerned. ‘Does it matte
r?’ she ventured, stopping in mid-stir.

  ‘No,’ Jeffrey blustered. ‘No. Not at all.’ But it did matter. A lot. Kate had gone to an enormous amount of trouble to cook the meals and label them all for the freezer, including an individual portion of a suitable vegetarian alternative for Kerry, and here was Natalie, heedlessly producing them out of order. Good grief, he hoped Kate didn’t ring tonight. How was he going to explain two tattooed children and burnt chilli con carne on Monday, when they weren’t due to eat it until Wednesday.

  He turned to Natalie, feeling extremely flustered.

  ‘You need to stay cool, Jeffers.’ She gave him a long, lazy wink. ‘It’ll taste bonza whatever day of the week. You wait and see.’

  In the event, he had to wait rather a long time to see. Kerry had to lie on the table with her mehndied bottom drying for forty-five minutes and Joe also had to have a small tattoo—by which time Wednesday’s chilli had lost much of its heat. It seemed excessive to lay the dining-room table for burnt offerings and salad. Jeffrey had a drink, or several, while he waited. Natalie joined him, sipping white wine with a relaxed air of someone who is obviously used to obliterating dinners. She turned the radio up and danced round the kitchen, singing chirpily and making a performance out of cutting up an iceberg lettuce.

  When the food eventually appeared on the table, it was dreadful. But the children ate it without complaint, chattering ceaselessly, still absorbed by their tribal marked bodies. Jeffrey ate his with equal compliance, chewing and swallowing every mouthful with stoic determination. It was the most disgusting meal he had ever eaten, but he didn’t care. All he could do was wonder exactly what Natalie Lambert had tattooed across her firm round bottom.

  chapter 13

  ‘Where’s Sonia?’ Ben asked as Kate approached him. The dining room at the priory was already crowded and there had been a Charge of the Light Brigade-style rush for the best places. He patted the cushion next to him. ‘I’ve saved two seats for you.’

  ‘She’s retired to bed with a stash of Mars bars and a headache. I think T’ai Chi’ s rather more strenuous than she envisaged.’ Kate laughed. ‘When I left her, she seemed to be finding the effort of sitting upright rather taxing.’

  ‘So she won’t be joining us?’

  Kate felt herself blush. No, it’s just the two of us. ‘It seems unlikely.’ She slipped into the vacant seat opposite Ben aware that her pulse was hammering. ‘Although she could make a miraculous recovery when she realises she’s missing food.’

  Ben chuckled. ‘You two seem to be very close. Have you known each other long?’

  ‘Years. We met in the maternity ward.’ why did she say that? It made her sound married and boring. I am married and boring! ‘We’ve clung together ever since.’

  Ben appraised her, slowly. ‘You look lovely,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, this is old,’ she replied, self-consciously fingering her blouse. It was old. Why hadn’t she taken more care with what she’d packed? Sonia had brought clothes for all occasions, all temperatures—every eventuality was catered for. Kate hadn’t packed with more care, because she’d come here hoping to find herself, not someone else.

  ‘Perhaps you’d care to join me in a glass of particularly good Fleurie?’ Ben waved the bottle temptingly. ‘As I was supposed to be on a wine-tasting course, it seems silly to deny oneself completely.’

  ‘I’d love to.’ She held out her glass. ‘I feel we deserve it after all the exercise we’ve done today.’

  Pouring the wine, Ben tasted it, savouring it in his mouth. He clinked his glass against hers. ‘Here’s to a good week, Mrs Lewis,’ he said. ‘May it be all that you hope for.’

  Kate returned the clink. ‘Here’s to you, Mr Mahler.’ She tasted the wine. ‘A very fine choice,’ she said.

  ‘I like the good things in life,’ he told her.

  I bet you do.

  There was a muted buzz of chatter in the dining room, giving it a relaxing atmosphere. The whole place still had the cloistered feel of a priory, with its flagstone floors, mellow stone walls and Gothic arches, and it felt as if the walls had absorbed the calm meditations of centuries of monks, and now quietly seeped them out as succour to their current highly stressed occupants.

  ‘Your work must be very exciting,’ Kate observed.

  ‘Not really. I spent all day last Friday choosing models for a client’s annual calendar.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.’

  ‘Sounds like hell,’ Kate agreed, straight-faced.

  ‘And what do you spend your days doing, Mrs Lewis?’

  ‘Very mundane housewifely things.’ She shrugged. ‘I spent a ridiculously large proportion of last Friday choosing which particular flavour of chocolate chip cookie to buy in Tesco, for instance—milk, plain, white or a mixture of all three?’ She didn’t tell him that even such mundane decisions were becoming increasingly hard to make. ‘Other than that it’s the school run, school lunches, school homework. If you want a conversation about any aspect of school life, I’m your woman.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound as if you’re very happy with your lot.’ His mouth twisted in sympathy.

  ‘I am,’ she said, looking down at her skirt. ‘Most of the time.’ Taking a drink of her wine, she paused as she felt the warming flush of it travel to her cheeks. Kate forced a laugh. ‘Why am I telling you this? I’ve forgotten what it is to have a proper grown-up conversation. You’re probably not the slightest bit interested.’

  ‘Of course I’m interested,’ Ben said earnestly. His hand reached out and brushed hers. So briefly, that it was gone by the time she noticed it. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I just feel—’ she struggled past the tears which felt perpetually close to her eyes these days ‘—that there’s something missing.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘How can you?’ she cried. ‘You look like the sort of man who has everything.’

  ‘Do I?’ The corners of Ben’s eyes crinkled with amusement. ‘I suppose I do. Materially.’ Suddenly he was serious. ‘But that doesn’t mean I have everything I want.’

  ‘Do any of us?’ Kate asked. They stared at each other for a moment.

  Ben sat back and folded his arms. ‘So why T’ai Chi?’ he said, breaking the silence.

  She shrugged. ‘I wanted to get away for the week. Have some time to think about things. “Find myself” if you want to be the hundredth person to take the piss.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s funny at all,’ he said. ‘I think it’s a very courageous thing to do. Not many of us are focused on where we’re going in life. I admire you for it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘I feel no one understands what I’m going through. I’m not even sure that I do myself.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘It’s difficult when you can’t put a label on it. I’m not sick, I’m not suicidal. I haven’t got a deadly virus. I just have an itching throughout my body and a twitchiness in my bones. My feet fidget all night long.’ She twisted the stem of her wineglass in contemplation. ‘I have a husband who adores me and two beautiful children who never put a foot out of place. So why doesn’t it feel like enough? What else do I need to satisfy this…this longing that’s inside me?’

  ‘If you’re lucky, you may find some answers here,’ Ben ventured. ‘At least you’ve started your search. I think this is the right place, too. ‘He gestured at the room. ‘There’s something very magical about the atmosphere. What was it Sam said today? “Be open to all possibilities”.’

  ‘Wasn’t that shortly before he made us stay in Dragon stance for fifteen minutes?’ Kate giggled. ‘I was definitely open to the possibility of never being able to move my knees again after that!’

  The waitress served them a starter of avocado, piled high with succulent prawns swimming in Marie Rose sauce. Dangerously high in fat and calories. Sonia would have loved it. Kate considered taking a doggy bag to her room except that would have meant leaving Ben and she was enj
oying his company too much. More, probably, than was good for a married woman.

  ‘How old are your children?’ he asked between mouthfuls.

  ‘Kerry’s twelve, Joe’s ten. It seems strange to be without them. I’ve never been away from home before.’

  ‘Never?’

  ‘Not without them.’

  ‘I can’t imagine it,’ Ben said. ‘I spend half of my life in hotels.’

  And what about the other half? ‘I needed a break,’ she said. ‘And now, after one night, I’m missing them.’

  ‘Will they miss you, too?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ she said. ‘I nag them constantly. They’d never put cream on their athlete’s foot if it wasn’t for me.’

  Ben laughed.

  ‘Do you have a family?’ Kate asked.

  ‘No.’ A shutter came down over his pale blue eyes and he took a long drink of the Fleurie. ‘And what does your husband think about your quest for fulfilment?’ Ben said eventually.

  ‘Jeffrey?’ Kate pushed her plate to one side. ‘He’s very supportive.’

  ‘But not exactly in tune?’

  ‘He can’t see anything wrong with our life,’ she admitted. ‘Not that there is,’ she added hurriedly. ‘It’s just that when you become wrapped up in your children and work and life in general, you lose some of the intimacy of being a couple.’

  The avocado was replaced by roast lamb. Kate’s mind wandered to the leg of New Zealand that would still be languishing in the freezer.

  ‘Have you been together long?’ Ben asked.

  ‘It feels like for ever sometimes,’ Kate murmured. ‘Jeffrey was my first boyfriend. We were both still at school.’

  Ben looked surprised and she wished she’d been able to say that they’d met at a candle-lit champagne reception on a millionaire’s yacht in the Bahamas, but she’d never even been on a sailing dinghy in Bournemouth. Ben looked as though he’d been on a lot of yachts in his time.