Read Online A Rural Affair by Catherine Alliott - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Alliott
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up. Angie nodded and swept by. Apart from the kitchen clock ticking and the occasional
snuffle of my darling Archie through the baby alarm, the house was silent.
At length she came bustling back, brandishing bits of paper.
‘Right. Well, the good news is, he did appear to have a life insurance policy, but I have no idea what’s in it. He also appears
to have had a solicitor, who I’m sure can tell you more.’
‘Oh, good.’ I tried to raise some enthusiasm.
I looked beyond her. Funny. I’d never noticed that damp patch on the kitchen wall. I might have to put a picture on that.
‘No will – at least, not that I can find – but that’s quite normal. It’s probably lodged with the solicitor.’
‘Ah.’
‘Shall I make you an appointment?’ she said impatiently.
‘Is that necessary?’
‘Yes, I think it is. You’ll have a lot to talk about. Sometime this week?’
‘Couldn’t it wait?’
‘No it couldn’t. I’ll have the kids for you.’
She’d already whipped out her mobile. Punched out a number which she’d gleaned from the letterhead in her hand. Why couldn’t
I make the appointment, I wondered. Because she thought I wouldn’t do it, perhaps. Would I? Hard to say. The feverish adrenalin
which had rendered me almost manic a few weeks ago, arranging the funeral like a whirling dervish, putting a notice welcoming
all comers in the village shop, rushing from one thing to the next – beetling away from my husband’s grave – had left me now.
Something else had moved in. I felt very cold. Very numb. Had done for over a week now. Ten days, to be precise. Ever since
that knock upon the door. It was as if I needed to sit here forever, all day, just to conserve energy. I managed quite well
when the children were around, forced myself to be chirpy, but most evenings, and in the mornings when Archie was asleep,
I sat here, in this chair.
‘Right, well, that’s all organized. Tomorrow at four. OK?’ Jennie went to pocket her mobile, but it rang. ‘Hello …’ She swung
away to hide her face. ‘Yes … yes, I’ve done it,’ she said quietly as if the eagle had landed. ‘Pretty low still, I’m afraid.’
‘Who was that?’ I asked absently.
‘Um, Peggy. Wanted to know if I was, er … going to the shops. Now, shall I put it in your calendar?’
‘If you must.’
Clearly. Within a twinkling she’d flicked over a page muttering something about me being a week behind, and was pencilling
it in, then underlining it for good measure.
‘
OK?’
‘Couldn’t be better.’
‘And I’ve put a shepherd’s pie in the fridge for you. That’s if you’re absolutely sure you won’t come over.’
‘Absolutely sure.’
Jennie asked me over pretty much every night, as did Angie and Peggy. I’d been to Jennie’s a lot in the first few weeks, taken
the baby alarm with me, but recently I was happy with my chair.
‘Although I couldn’t help noticing there was one in there already.’
‘One what?’
‘Shepherd’s pie.’
Ah. She’d put it there at the weekend. And I’d forgotten to give it to the children.
I sighed. ‘I like crackers, Jennie. So does Clemmie. But thanks. I appreciate it, really I do.’
She gave me that hassled, worried look I’d seen a lot lately. I pulled my dressing gown around me and tucked a lank piece
of hair behind my ear. I did hope she was all right. Had Dan been stopped for speeding again? He’d only just got his licence
back. I must remember to ask her. To enquire. But somehow, dredging up words about anything these days was hard. Where did
they come from, all those words? I’d see women gossiping in the street – what about? Such an effort. Like washing my hair.
Or going to the village shop. God, it was miles, wasn’t it? I’d forgotten we lived so far away. Lucky Jennie, who was just
that bit closer. Five yards at least.
‘And I thought I’d walk up to the nursery with you later.’
‘You don’t have any
snuffle of my darling Archie through the baby alarm, the house was silent.
At length she came bustling back, brandishing bits of paper.
‘Right. Well, the good news is, he did appear to have a life insurance policy, but I have no idea what’s in it. He also appears
to have had a solicitor, who I’m sure can tell you more.’
‘Oh, good.’ I tried to raise some enthusiasm.
I looked beyond her. Funny. I’d never noticed that damp patch on the kitchen wall. I might have to put a picture on that.
‘No will – at least, not that I can find – but that’s quite normal. It’s probably lodged with the solicitor.’
‘Ah.’
‘Shall I make you an appointment?’ she said impatiently.
‘Is that necessary?’
‘Yes, I think it is. You’ll have a lot to talk about. Sometime this week?’
‘Couldn’t it wait?’
‘No it couldn’t. I’ll have the kids for you.’
She’d already whipped out her mobile. Punched out a number which she’d gleaned from the letterhead in her hand. Why couldn’t
I make the appointment, I wondered. Because she thought I wouldn’t do it, perhaps. Would I? Hard to say. The feverish adrenalin
which had rendered me almost manic a few weeks ago, arranging the funeral like a whirling dervish, putting a notice welcoming
all comers in the village shop, rushing from one thing to the next – beetling away from my husband’s grave – had left me now.
Something else had moved in. I felt very cold. Very numb. Had done for over a week now. Ten days, to be precise. Ever since
that knock upon the door. It was as if I needed to sit here forever, all day, just to conserve energy. I managed quite well
when the children were around, forced myself to be chirpy, but most evenings, and in the mornings when Archie was asleep,
I sat here, in this chair.
‘Right, well, that’s all organized. Tomorrow at four. OK?’ Jennie went to pocket her mobile, but it rang. ‘Hello …’ She swung
away to hide her face. ‘Yes … yes, I’ve done it,’ she said quietly as if the eagle had landed. ‘Pretty low still, I’m afraid.’
‘Who was that?’ I asked absently.
‘Um, Peggy. Wanted to know if I was, er … going to the shops. Now, shall I put it in your calendar?’
‘If you must.’
Clearly. Within a twinkling she’d flicked over a page muttering something about me being a week behind, and was pencilling
it in, then underlining it for good measure.
‘
OK?’
‘Couldn’t be better.’
‘And I’ve put a shepherd’s pie in the fridge for you. That’s if you’re absolutely sure you won’t come over.’
‘Absolutely sure.’
Jennie asked me over pretty much every night, as did Angie and Peggy. I’d been to Jennie’s a lot in the first few weeks, taken
the baby alarm with me, but recently I was happy with my chair.
‘Although I couldn’t help noticing there was one in there already.’
‘One what?’
‘Shepherd’s pie.’
Ah. She’d put it there at the weekend. And I’d forgotten to give it to the children.
I sighed. ‘I like crackers, Jennie. So does Clemmie. But thanks. I appreciate it, really I do.’
She gave me that hassled, worried look I’d seen a lot lately. I pulled my dressing gown around me and tucked a lank piece
of hair behind my ear. I did hope she was all right. Had Dan been stopped for speeding again? He’d only just got his licence
back. I must remember to ask her. To enquire. But somehow, dredging up words about anything these days was hard. Where did
they come from, all those words? I’d see women gossiping in the street – what about? Such an effort. Like washing my hair.
Or going to the village shop. God, it was miles, wasn’t it? I’d forgotten we lived so far away. Lucky Jennie, who was just
that bit closer. Five yards at least.
‘And I thought I’d walk up to the nursery with you later.’
‘You don’t have any
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