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Authors: Rebecca Tope
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more.’
‘Okay – his mother, Gudrun, is a single parent, had him when she was forty-four. Her only one. Invested everything in him. Spoilt him rotten, so he thinks he rules the world.’
‘Good-run?’ Thea repeated. ‘Is that what you said?’
‘G-U-D-R-U-N. Like in Women in Love, the D.H. Lawrence novel. It’s Swedish or German or something,I think. Awful name, if you ask me.’
‘She doesn’t look remotely Scandinavian.’
‘No. I assume her mother liked the book, same as mine. Except it was Sons and Lovers in my case.’
Thea grimaced helplessly. ‘You’ve lost me. I don’t think I’ve ever read any Lawrence.’
Clara Beauchamp’s cheerful laugh erupted for a third time. ‘You’re too young. Our mothers were mad about him – yours too, I expect. He was “all the rage” in the sixties, apparently. In any case, it gives me and Gudrun something in common.’ She used her fingers to draw the inverted commas in the air.
Precious little , thought Thea, remembering the gypsy-like woman. ‘She must be a lot older than she looks. I guessed about forty-eight.’
‘She’ll be fifty-four next week, as it happens. She was born two days before my eldest sister – who is furious about it, because on a bad day she can look at least sixty. Not fair at all when you consider how much she spends on anti-ageing stuff. Gudrun just has the right bones and skin, apparently.’
‘Does Stevie have a father?’
Clara’s face constricted, her mouth clamped shut. Thea waited, head slightly cocked, eyes wide. The reply, when it came, was disappointing. ‘Nobody knows who he was. There are various malicious stories but I don’t believe any of them. Gudrun has never told a soul, to my knowledge. Certainly, if she has, that person knows how to keep a secret.’
‘I get the impression that you like her?’ Thea hazarded. ‘You think Gudrun’s all right?’
‘That’s entirely the wrong question. She’s elemental, a free spirit, a force to be reckoned with. It’s not a matter of liking her. Most of us just gaze on with open mouths as she forges through life without a second thought. Gudrun gets what she wants, without ever thinking about it. Even when it turns out to be a huge mistake, she doesn’t agonise, like other people would.’
‘So you’re saying Stevie was a huge mistake?’
‘Oh yes. About as huge as they come.’
‘Poor little chap,’ said Thea sadly.
Chapter Five
Sunday lunch was a late affair, comprising a bowl of soup and a cheese sandwich. Catering for herself during the house-sitting commissions was sometimes difficult and frequently boring. Now and then she would be given free access to a well-stocked freezer, as part of the deal. More usually, she was expected to fend for herself, driving ten miles or more to a supermarket in one of the larger towns. Often she grabbed basic necessities in small expensive village shops, or those attached to petrol stations. Occasional meals in local pubs were disproportionately welcomed, as a result.
It had been a relief to meet and talk to Clara Beauchamp, who had vaguely offered her company one evening in the following week, if Thea felt the need. ‘I live with my boyfriend, half a mile from here,’ she said. ‘And my mother’s in that house there.’ Shehad pointed to a classic Cotswold cottage halfway down the street. ‘I work in Cirencester, so I’m never here during the day. Rupert’s in town all week, so it would be nice if you could come over. I’ve got Yvonne’s landline number – I’ll call you. Or should I take yours?’ She eyed the BlackBerry still in Thea’s hand.
With a small effort, Thea recited her mobile number. How Phil would approve , she thought ruefully. Only a year before, she had been wilfully technophobic, much to her lover’s irritation. Now, not only was she enthusiastically using the thing, the yet more resistant Drew Slocombe was blithely sending texts, and perhaps even developing a website for his
‘Okay – his mother, Gudrun, is a single parent, had him when she was forty-four. Her only one. Invested everything in him. Spoilt him rotten, so he thinks he rules the world.’
‘Good-run?’ Thea repeated. ‘Is that what you said?’
‘G-U-D-R-U-N. Like in Women in Love, the D.H. Lawrence novel. It’s Swedish or German or something,I think. Awful name, if you ask me.’
‘She doesn’t look remotely Scandinavian.’
‘No. I assume her mother liked the book, same as mine. Except it was Sons and Lovers in my case.’
Thea grimaced helplessly. ‘You’ve lost me. I don’t think I’ve ever read any Lawrence.’
Clara Beauchamp’s cheerful laugh erupted for a third time. ‘You’re too young. Our mothers were mad about him – yours too, I expect. He was “all the rage” in the sixties, apparently. In any case, it gives me and Gudrun something in common.’ She used her fingers to draw the inverted commas in the air.
Precious little , thought Thea, remembering the gypsy-like woman. ‘She must be a lot older than she looks. I guessed about forty-eight.’
‘She’ll be fifty-four next week, as it happens. She was born two days before my eldest sister – who is furious about it, because on a bad day she can look at least sixty. Not fair at all when you consider how much she spends on anti-ageing stuff. Gudrun just has the right bones and skin, apparently.’
‘Does Stevie have a father?’
Clara’s face constricted, her mouth clamped shut. Thea waited, head slightly cocked, eyes wide. The reply, when it came, was disappointing. ‘Nobody knows who he was. There are various malicious stories but I don’t believe any of them. Gudrun has never told a soul, to my knowledge. Certainly, if she has, that person knows how to keep a secret.’
‘I get the impression that you like her?’ Thea hazarded. ‘You think Gudrun’s all right?’
‘That’s entirely the wrong question. She’s elemental, a free spirit, a force to be reckoned with. It’s not a matter of liking her. Most of us just gaze on with open mouths as she forges through life without a second thought. Gudrun gets what she wants, without ever thinking about it. Even when it turns out to be a huge mistake, she doesn’t agonise, like other people would.’
‘So you’re saying Stevie was a huge mistake?’
‘Oh yes. About as huge as they come.’
‘Poor little chap,’ said Thea sadly.
Chapter Five
Sunday lunch was a late affair, comprising a bowl of soup and a cheese sandwich. Catering for herself during the house-sitting commissions was sometimes difficult and frequently boring. Now and then she would be given free access to a well-stocked freezer, as part of the deal. More usually, she was expected to fend for herself, driving ten miles or more to a supermarket in one of the larger towns. Often she grabbed basic necessities in small expensive village shops, or those attached to petrol stations. Occasional meals in local pubs were disproportionately welcomed, as a result.
It had been a relief to meet and talk to Clara Beauchamp, who had vaguely offered her company one evening in the following week, if Thea felt the need. ‘I live with my boyfriend, half a mile from here,’ she said. ‘And my mother’s in that house there.’ Shehad pointed to a classic Cotswold cottage halfway down the street. ‘I work in Cirencester, so I’m never here during the day. Rupert’s in town all week, so it would be nice if you could come over. I’ve got Yvonne’s landline number – I’ll call you. Or should I take yours?’ She eyed the BlackBerry still in Thea’s hand.
With a small effort, Thea recited her mobile number. How Phil would approve , she thought ruefully. Only a year before, she had been wilfully technophobic, much to her lover’s irritation. Now, not only was she enthusiastically using the thing, the yet more resistant Drew Slocombe was blithely sending texts, and perhaps even developing a website for his
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