Read Online A Rural Affair by Catherine Alliott - Free Book Online Page A

children at the nursery.’
    Jennie’s children were older: Jamie, twelve, and Hannah,
seven, were both at the local school, which didn’t chuck out until three-thirty.
    ‘I know, but Leila could do with the exercise. And I daren’t go back into the forest with her.’
    Leila had been known to chase the deer up there, an offence which carried a fifty-pound penalty from the deer warden, who
     had threatened to shoot to kill next time. ‘Can I watch?’ had been Jennie’s riposte. I’d been with Jennie on this last occasion,
     when, as usual, she’d foolishly let the dog off the lead, then, as usual, spent the next half-hour crashing through undergrowth
     hissing, ‘Leila! Leila, you bitch, come here!’ Not too loud, you understand, so as not to alert the warden. We’d crashed about
     some more, when suddenly, in the distance, there’d been an ominous rumble of thundering hooves. To get the full Serengeti
     effect you have to imagine the stampeding does, the whites of their eyes, the clouds of dust as we flattened ourselves against
     a tree, pulling Archie’s pushchair in sharpish, and then, in their wake, an Irish terrier, shooting us a delighted look, tongue
     lolling, galloping joyously. Obviously the warden was crashing through the bracken moments later in his Land Rover, puce in
     the face with rage, and obviously Jennie was given a fine on the spot and sensibly hadn’t been back. But still, a walk to
     the nursery, two minutes up the hill, hardly constituted exercise for our Leila. And don’t be deceived by the terrier word,
     incidentally. With Irish before it, it’s more like a small horse.
    I sighed. ‘OK,’ I said obediently, as I tended to these days.
    ‘And then, later on, I thought you might like to come to choir practice with me.’
    ‘Really? Why?’ I felt alarmed.
    ‘Because we’re singing the Gloria tonight, and you’ll enjoy that.’
    ‘But I don’t sing.’
    ‘Anyone can sing. And anyway, I’ve stood next to you in church and you’ve got perfect pitch. Frankie’s going to babysit for
     you.’
    ‘Right,’ I said flatly. Sing. I couldn’t remember how to talk.
    Sure enough, as I set off with Archie an hour or so later, Jennie appeared miraculously from her front door with a straining
     Leila – I’d swear Peggy’s curtain twitched opposite – and we set off up the hill. We collected Clemmie, and walked back down
     the hill, all of which took about fifteen minutes, a little longer than usual as Jennie had a furtive word with Miss Hawkins,
     but still not enough for Leila, who needed a good hour.
    As Jennie said goodbye, she bent down to talk to Clemmie.
    ‘That’s a pretty dress, Clem.’
    ‘I know. It’s got a rabbit on the front.’
    ‘It has. And a bit of gravy. You were wearing it yesterday, weren’t you, darling?’
    ‘Yes, and every day. Six. I’ve counted. Mummy said I could.’
    ‘Good, good.’ She straightened up. Looked anxious again. I must remember to ask about Dan.
    ‘Seven o’clock, then?’
    ‘Hm?’
    ‘Choir practice. I’ll send Frankie round, but I’ll have to meet you there because I need to take Jamie to scouts.’
    ‘Righto.’
    Submissive. Punch bag. Best way.
    The children and I had just about finished our tea when Frankie appeared sometime later. She was a sulky, skinny girl with
     a washed-out face, not helped by heavy, dark eye make-up,
and over-long, bleached blonde hair. She was at the local comp where everyone tended to look like that, but where had that
     sensitive, rather pretty eight-year-old gone, I wondered, as she sat in a heap at the kitchen table, picking gloomily at her
     black nail varnish. Archie grinned and banged the table enthusiastically. He responded well to her sulky charms.
    ‘Hi, Arch.’ She took his soggy offering of a masticated biscuit and his eyes widened delightedly. ‘Crackers and lemonade,
     yum. We’re never allowed that for tea.’
    The children beamed proudly.
    ‘Yesterday we had a Hula Hoop