Page 44 of Happily Ever After
A stack of six books. Slim, hardbacked notebooks, edges ruffled and worn. Almost reverently I leaned in and took them out. When I opened the first one, I could see the ink was still as bright blue as the day it was written – these had been put away and never looked at; the pages had the virginal flatness of new paper. Even, it seemed, Oswald hadn’t reread them.
September the fourth 1968
Caroline complained more of pains today. The doctor called and we have an appointment at the hospital for next week, but I suspect there will be little they can do. Whether it is rheumatism or some other form of degeneration I do not know, but she is largely confined to bed and unable to do for herself. I do what I can, but brushing her hair is beyond me.
Started another novel tonight. I feel this one may sum up the small joys to be obtained from a life mired in unhappiness.
Wilkins reports the dairy returns to be lower, instructed him to move the herd to the Upper Pasture.
Richard has a cold.
Jay read the entry over my shoulder. ‘He was quite a boring bloke, wasn’t he?’ he observed.
‘It’s a diary, not a column forPenthouse,’ I said tartly. ‘What were you expecting? What sort of things do you put in your diary?’
Jay pulled a face. ‘Fair point,’ he said. ‘Mine is all about next year’s planting and which seeds I should be starting off. Anyway, objective achieved. You’ve found the missing diaries, well done. Lady Tanith will be ecstatic. Actually, we might want to have some Valium on standby.’
I held the diaries to my chest for a moment. Yes, Lady Tanith would be delighted. But, also, would she now terminate my employment? After all, the whole ‘catalogue my library’ had been a ruse in the first place. She could well decide that I’d done my job and I could go.
Jay was offering me a chance at a life. Gardening didn’t need loads of qualifications, plants didn’t care if you didn’t have GCSEs, as long as you knew where to put them and made sure they had water and things like that. I knew, somehow I justknewthat I could be good at it. That I would enjoy working with Jay, in whatever context we found ourselves.
But I needed more time. More time to get to know him properly. Maybe a few dinners, more flasks of coffee drunk at strange hours, more casual encounters that could lead to more…something. If I left Templewood now, I only had two places to go and both of them were a long way from this bubble in time; from Jay and also from Hugo, who needed a friend.
‘I think I might hang on to them for a little while,’ I said, still clutching the bundle of notebooks. ‘Lady Tanith doesn’t need to know we’ve found them yet.’
Jay was looking at me, one eyebrow quirked as though he knew how my mind was working. ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘We’d better put Oswald back then, hadn’t we?’
We hauled the portrait back into place, with a lot of swearing, broken nails, and the occasional yowl as we trod on the cat. Then we had to drag the table back and make everything look as it had. Eventually, the portrait was rehung, the furniture dragged back where it belonged, and now the library was, once again, just a whole load of books in random piles on the floor.
‘I did all that for nothing,’ I panted, looking at the heaps. ‘Got them all off the shelves and generated enough dust to test-drive a thousand hoovers.’
‘On the plus side,’ Jay observed, ‘at least it looks as though you are serious about finding those diaries. Ought to keep Lady Tanith quiet for at least a week. Can you let me out of the window again, please. I should go home and sort myself out for tomorrow. I have to mow obscene slogans into the lawns for the final time this year.’
With one eye on the diaries, in case they evaporated, I opened the window and Jay climbed up onto the sill. ‘Goodbye then,’ I said, suddenly awkward. ‘And thanks for helping.’
‘No problem. Well, no very big problem, anyway. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.’
Our faces were very close. Jay was sitting on the ledge facing into the room, bending forward over his knees to look into my eyes.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And no pissing in the bushes.’
He raised a hand and cupped my cheek. ‘No pissing about of any kind.’ His voice was very quiet. ‘Just plain, direct action.’ He leaned in a little further and I moved closer. His hand was warm, the callouses rough against my skin. I closed my eyes; his breath was on my face, his mouth so very close to my lips that it felt as though we were already kissing. ‘All right?’
‘Oh yes,’ I murmured.
There was the briefest of contact, just a feather-touch of his mouth against mine, and then he lost his balance and toppled backwards out of the window to vanish into the drop onto the lawn.
‘Oh, bugger,’ floated up to me.
‘Are you all right?’
No answer. Then his head popped up, reattaching both hearing aids. ‘Sorry. They fell out.’ A breathless kind of pause, a wiggle of eyebrow, and then he was gone, moving away with both hands in his jeans pockets so his elbows stuck out like wings, and he was whistling.
19
GARDENCOURT – PORTRAIT OF A LADY, HENRY JAMES
‘Do you fancy a bottle of wine tonight?’ Hugo asked that evening over dinner. ‘I’ve had a delivery that I’d like your opinion on.’
