Prudence

Chapter Thirteen

When I woke next morning, I could see dirty flakes of snow falling outside the window. I had only half-drawn the curtains. The snow was coming down sideways now, slanting to the left. If I stared at it long enough, I felt giddy. I closed my eyes, but knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep again. Gradually I pieced together yesterday’s events and groaned. Really they ought to find a Pre-Marriage Guidance Council for people like me. Pendle was due in two days. Perhaps if it kept on snowing the roads would get blocked up and he’d never arrive.

There was a knock on the door and Mrs Braddock came in with a red nose and a breakfast tray, followed by Coleridge, the kitten swinging on his back legs.

‘Lovely weather,’ said Mrs Braddock. ‘The snow came over my ankles when I opened the back door. Someone will have to shovel it away, but it won’t be me.’

‘You shouldn’t have bothered,’ I said, wriggling into a sitting position. ‘I was going to come down.’

‘Mr Ace insisted. He said you’re to eat it all, as you didn’t touch your dinner last night, and to remember your medicine.’

‘You are kind,’ I said, valiantly trying to work up some enthusiasm for bacon and eggs. ‘Is he having breakfast?’

‘Gone down to mill with Mr Jack. Mr Batten’s left. He’s a nice gentleman, and she’s up already, poking around the kitchen, giving orders, asking questions.’

‘Who?’ I said.

Mrs Braddock was suddenly a picture of outraged dignity.

‘Berenice or whatever she calls herself. Waited until Mr Ace had gone, then down she came poking into my larder, saying we were all poisoning ourselves with chemicals, and threw all my packets of cake mix in the dustbin. I’ve cooked for this family for thirty years, hardly a day of sickness. Never known such a healthy lot.’

‘Nor have I. They must have constitutions like oxen to survive all that booze.’

‘She’s even given me a shopping list,’ puffed Mrs Braddock. ‘Where can I find soya beans and brown rice and courgettes and bran in the village in the middle of winter?’

I giggled. ‘Get Mr Braddock to make her up a bran mash down at the stables.’

‘Well I must get back to my kitchen. The washing machine’s acting very strange and Miss Maggie left the Professor’s hat in the hall and Antonia Fraser slept on it last night and squashed it flat as a pancake.’

‘The cat sat on the ’at,’ I said, feeling slightly better. I got up, gave the bacon and eggs to Coleridge, who already had long trails of saliva hanging from either side of his mouth, and waved at Lucasta who was building a snowman in the garden.

In the drawing-room I found Berenice looking like something out of Country Life, wearing an olive green cashmere twinset, a brown tweed skirt, beautiful casual shoes with stacked heels, and listening to Vivaldi. She was obviously being thwarted in her attempts to spend a morning en famille.

‘Doesn’t anyone ever get up here? That poor old woman who’s quite past it is having to do everything. I’ve never seen anything like the dirt in this house, dog hair everywhere, and I’ve just spent half an hour cleaning the john.’

‘The what? Oh, the loo,’ I said.

She took a bottle of brown tablets out of her bag. ‘Here are the multi-vitamin tablets I promised you. I’d take four if I were you, three times a day.’

‘Gosh thanks,’ I said, feeling perhaps I’d misjudged her.

‘Are you into yoga, Prudence?’ she said, flexing her neck gracefully. ‘Whenever I get tense, I sit down and meditate. I’ve got a book on the subject. I’ll lend it to you. I’m sure it would help you get it together with Pendle.’

Interfering old busybody. I wondered how much Ace had told her.

Now she was walking around the room examining everything.

‘This room could be so charming if only someone bothered. In my apartment in New York I’ve gone back to natural fibres and earthy colours. I mean, environment is terrifically important to one’s inner serenity.’

She’d have that red wallpaper out in a flash. I wondered, if I really tried, if I could ever be as beautiful as she was and decided not. Standing by the window, with her glowing suntan, and the snowy mountains behind, she was rather like a winter sports poster. Perhaps Mrs Braddock would come in yodelling and bearing Gluwein.

‘What does Rose-Mary do all day, apart from squandering Ivan’s inheritance?’ asked Berenice.

‘Well, it’s a good question. She’s got lots of friends, plays bridge, looks beautiful, and — er — has fun.’

‘And Margaret? She’s really out of shape; her derrière follows her upstairs.’

‘Well, the same really,’ I said lamely, ‘but she seems to have less fun.’

‘I got very negative vibes from her last night. I guess she and Jack aren’t getting it together. I must have a good rap with her later, about redefining the parameters of their relationship.’

She got up and turned Vivaldi over to the flip side.

‘This is the only record that hasn’t got scratches.’

‘I don’t expect anyone’s ever played it,’ I said. ‘I suppose we’d better start thinking about Lucasta’s party.’

‘I’m an expert on kids’ parties,’ said Berenice smugly. ‘Last summer I gave an all night party for my son Che. He’s the same age as Lucasta, but super intelligent.’

‘How on earth did you keep them all amused all that time?’

‘Oh we didn’t bother with games. I provided a running buffet, soya bean canapés, carrot cake and my lentil loaf, and the kids wrote their own scenario as the party went along.’

At that moment Lucasta barged in, emitting Tarzan howls and leaving the door open.

‘Will you come and see my snowman?’ she said, kneeling down by the fire and holding her hands to the flames. ‘D’you think the lake’s going to freeze over? Can I have a biscuit?’

‘May I have a biscuit,’ corrected Berenice with a charming smile. ‘A raw carrot would be much better for you.’

‘I’m not a donkey. Are you coming, Pru?’

‘Is your Mummy up yet?’ said Berenice, ignoring her rudeness.

‘She’s not my Mummy,’ hissed Lucasta. ‘She’s my father’s wife.’

Almost on cue Maggie came through the door. She shot a venomous look at Lucasta but didn’t say anything. She looked very pale.

‘Are you all right?’ I said.

‘So, so. Look, Jack’s on the telephone; you wouldn’t like to have a word with him?’

I went into the hall and picked up the receiver.

‘Baby!’ said Jack. ‘Are you better? How’s the Great American disaster?’

‘Heavy.’

He laughed. ‘You wouldn’t like to have lunch with me? Then afterwards we can choose Lucasta’s presents, and get the things for the party.’

‘Oh, I’d love to. What about Maggie? She looks rotten,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t she want to come with us?’

‘Not in the least. I’ll pick you up about one o’clock.’

Back in the drawing-room Berenice was starting her Ancient Mariner act on Maggie.

‘I exercise every morning,’ she was saying. ‘Exercises aimed at the stomach, the tarps of the legs and whole pelvic area that one uses for sex. Start using those internal muscles and everything improves, and I mean everything, Margaret.’ She smiled warmly at Maggie. ‘I’m sure you and Jack can work it through.’

Ace came back at lunchtime with Jack, who said he’d just flip through his mail and we’d be off. Maggie was still in her dressing-gown. Rose hadn’t surfaced. Berenice was flapping around about going on television in Manchester that evening.

‘The producer has said don’t bother to dress up.’

Would her French jeans and Hermes belt be too casual? What time did Ace think they ought to start? Would the roads be bad? I saw Ace stifle a yawn. He looked absolutely knackered. Too much of Berenice’s superior muscle tone, I thought sourly. Having been so crochety with him last night, I found it very difficult to act normally now. We were acidly polite to each other. I still couldn’t look him straight in the eye.

The telephone rang. Maggie shot out of the room to answer it. Normally Jack wouldn’t be home at this time of day. I wondered idly if it was Pendle ringing.

Berenice turned to Ace. ‘Shall I make an egg plant lasagne for this evening, sweetest? We could heat it up when we get back.’

Ace said that he’d much rather eat out.

Maggie poked her head round the door. ‘It’s for you, Ace,’ she said. ‘It’s Penelope Blake.’

‘You look a bit uptight, sweetest,’ said Berenice, when Ace came back five minutes later. ‘Shall I massage your neck?’

‘I am not uptight,’ snapped Ace. ‘That was Elizabeth’s mother confirming lunch tomorrow. I’m sorry,’ he added to Jack, ‘it was arranged before I knew about Lucasta’s party. I can’t really stand them up.’

‘Course you can’t,’ said Jack, throwing a pile of envelopes into the wastepaper basket.

‘You’ll miss my party,’ wailed Lucasta.

Ace pulled her on to his knee. ‘No I won’t lovie. It’s only forty miles away. I should get back by five if the snow doesn’t get any worse.’

‘I’m so much looking forward to meeting Elizabeth’s folks tomorrow,’ said Berenice. ‘I’m sure we can be very supportive.’

‘I’m afraid I’ve got to go on my own,’ said Ace bluntly. ‘I haven’t seen them since the funeral. It wouldn’t be very tactful to barge in with someone else.’

Berenice shook back her dark hair angrily. Suddenly there was a muscle going in her cheek.

‘And what am I supposed to do while you’re away?’

‘You can help Pru organize the party.’

Lunch with Jack was a blissful relief. We both drank too much and I told Jack about Berenice’s plans for revamping the drawing-room.

‘She’ll have my mother jogging in a track suit and Mrs Braddock in an old people’s home by Christmas. We’ll all be out at the rate she’s going.’

‘She believes in clearing the decks,’ I said gloomily, ‘and she isn’t too choosy who she sweeps into the sea.’

‘She’s certainly put the kibosh on Ace. He could hardly walk this morning. Never actually came near the mill at all. Just sloped off to see an osteopath about his bad back.’

I giggled. Jack always had the ability to make things seem less awful.

‘I expect you’ll be round at the osteopath tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Berenice has been giving Maggie a few tips on sexual technique.’

Jack took my hand, ‘When you said “I love you” in that tonic bottle last night, did you mean it?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘brother-sister.’

‘We’ll always be friends, won’t we? Christ, how maudlin can one get? What the hell am I going to do about Maggie?’

‘You could boost her morale a bit more,’ I said.

Afterwards, expansive from drink, we went shopping, buying party food and three cases of Entre Deux Mers — to cheer up the mothers, said Jack. Then we spent a fortune at the toyshop, buying loads of little presents for the party and a red and silver sleigh and a three-foot fluffy white rabbit as main presents for Lucasta. I bought her a black velvet cat suit I thought she might like to wear to the party.

‘It’s so much easier shopping with you than Maggie,’ sighed Jack. ‘She always gets green eyes when I spend money on Lucasta.’

When we got back, Ace and Berenice had gone. I found Maggie eating chocolate cake in the kitchen.

‘What are you doing in here?’ I said.

‘It’s the warmest room. The central heating’s given up the ghost. Berenice and I have been having a terrifically productive dialogue. Jack and I have got to work through our conflicts and stop laying bad trips on each other, and re-structure our marriage.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Jack, coming in with a tumbler half full of whisky and heading for the fridge. ‘You can start off by putting a couple of my shirts in the washing machine.’

‘That’s broken too,’ said Maggie. ‘It went bananas this afternoon. It was like Lake Windermere in here an hour ago.’

‘Well you can wash a shirt by hand,’ said Jack. ‘Tomorrow is my daughter’s birthday. I have important customers coming over. I need a clean shirt. Christ, isn’t anyone ever going to de-frost this fridge?’

‘I am not going to wash your shirt, Jack,’ said Maggie, her voice rising, ‘just because I am a female person. You are a microcosm of the whole male power base. Don’t you know the whole macho number is sick?’

‘Oh boy,’ said Jack, ‘that is profound. I think you’ve been talking to Berenice. I can’t even get the ice tray out, but I would have thought you and Ms de Courcy would have provided enough hot air to melt it.’

‘Can’t we even have a meaningful dialogue? You’ve been on a macho trip all your life, Jack.’

‘Oh, shut up.’

‘I’m entitled to my own opinions.’

‘Of course you are. I don’t want to hear them, that’s all.’

‘Oh, I hate you,’ sobbed Maggie, rushing out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

‘At least that might loosen the ice tray,’ said Jack.

Later we watched Berenice on television. She was wearing a man’s grey flannel suit, a white shirt and the inevitable Hermes belt.

‘She’s certainly easy on the eye,’ I said.

‘And absolute hell on the ears,’ said Jack.

I was safely in bed by the time they came home — but this time Ace didn’t bother to come and say good night.