Page 23 of Sisters Making Mischief
‘Well, we know what that rhymes with,’ Isabel said, with a lift of one eyebrow.
‘Stop it, they may make up, despite everything. I can’t say anything too inflammatory just yet, in case they do, and after all he is the twins’ father. I need to tread a fine line between being supportive and sympathetic, and not going off on one about his selfishness and the way he made just about every woman he met feel slightly uncomfortable.’
‘That awful back stroking,’ Isabel agreed.
‘Stop it!’
‘So what would you like to do, now you’re here?’
I gave a sigh of contentment. ‘Nothing in particular. You said I could stay in one of thegîtes? Shall I get my bags in and get settled?’
‘Ah, well there’s a slight problem there. Pierre and Sylveste have been doing some renovations over the winter, and as usual they got side-tracked and I ran out of money, so they haven’t finished yet. I thought you could stay here in the house for a few days. Just until they sort everything out, a few minor tweaks.’
‘Okay. What are they doing?’
‘There’s a leak in the roof of one, and the other has no running water at the moment. They are like their father, really good at getting on with a job, but not so good at finishing it off before they start something else. And they have been a bit preoccupied getting the hard standing ready for the shepherd’s hut, but we have had so much rain recently they couldn’t pour the concrete. It’s due to arrive in about two weeks. I can’t wait to see it. Perhaps you could stay in there and do a sort of test run before the paying guests arrive in March. At least I think it’s March. It might be April.’
‘That sounds fun. So, when exactly do bookings start?’
Isabel looked vague. ‘I don’t know. I think it’s all written down somewhere, or Felix might have updated the spreadsheeton the computer. He was messing about with it over Christmas and I’m not sure he got it finished. Perhaps?—’
Isabel went over to the dresser and pulled out a sheaf of papers from one of the drawers. A few fell on the floor and immediately one of the dogs raced over, claws clattering on the flagstone floor, to snatch them. There followed a brief tussle, and eventually Isabel retrieved the paper, by then a bit torn, and damp around the edges.
‘Yes, here we are. First bookings are the weekend of March 6 or is that 16? It’s a bit smudged.’
I shook my head. Yes, it had always been like this when we were growing up. While I had been the methodical, tidy one, Isabel had always been the exact opposite. Her room was permanently a shambles, homework was never done on time, it was a miracle she had managed to pass any exams at all. I remembered the parents’ evenings when teachers had all said much the same thing.
‘Mrs Cavendish, Joy is a pleasure to have in any class, but Isabel is very different.’
And they didn’t mean it in a good way.
‘I hope you are going to pitch in and help,’ she said, ‘you were always better at making a house look pretty than I was. To me all a bathroom needs is clean towels, a new loo roll, and some handwash, you were the one who did all the fussy stuff with flowers and roller blinds and stencils.’
‘I’d be happy to help,’ I said, ‘if I’m here long enough.’
‘When are you leaving?’
‘You’re not supposed to ask guests that the moment they arrive,’ I said laughing, ‘give it a couple of days!’
At that moment, home felt a long way away. Here, in my sister’s chaotic house, I was already beginning to relax. I felt suddenly hopeful that here I could find a new strength, sort out areason to be optimistic about the future. To finally have the time and space to decide what to do.
‘So how was your Christmas?’ I asked.
‘Oh, you know, quiet. We had the Christmas Eve meal and then we tottered off down the road to Midnight Mass. And when we got back we had a few drinks with the neighbours. And Pierre and Sylveste and their girlfriends. And the local headmaster and his wife, and a couple of their friends who were staying with them, and Eugénie of course, we couldn’t leave her out. I think she watches this house with binoculars, and if she sees any signs of a gathering or visitors she’s up here like a shot.’
‘How old is she now?’
‘Eugénie? Eighty-four, but you wouldn’t know it to look at her. Felix says his mother is a witch, and she’s done some immortality ritual. She still lives alone in the cottage at the end of the driveway. She will have spotted you arriving, so brace yourself, I expect her to turn up at any moment.’
‘That sounds a bit worrying,’ I murmured.
I remembered Isabel’s mother-in-law from my previous visits. She was quite a character, always immaculately dressed, with sharp eyes that missed nothing and a tongue to match. If she had been my mother-in-law, I don’t think I would ever have had a moment’s peace, but as I remembered, Isabel dealt extremely well with her.
‘And then on Christmas Day, we had a big meal, but I expect it was pretty much the same as yours. Smoked salmon to start with, some of our friends do their own, it’s absolutely delicious. Roast turkey, with chestnuts, then the famousbûche de noël, we have to have that, or Pierre has a sulk. It’s supposed to celebrate the end of winter, but somehow, I doubt it’s over. And then that evening some of the neighbours came around for a drink and some nibbles, and we ended up playing charades, and I had a terrible hangover the next day because Bertrand fromthe village brought somechouchen– it’s a sort of apple mead, and I really shouldn’t drink it. And then on Boxing Day, we just hung around, and I did a big buffet and nothing special really happened, but a lot of people dropped in. It was great fun. The glass recycling bin wouldn’t close it was so full. I expect you did much the same.’
I gave an ironic laugh. ‘It doesn’t sound very quiet to me.’
‘No, it wasn’t, but at least the accordion didn’t come out this year, I’d hidden it in the barn.’
