Never Too Late (11 page)

“He’s WHERE? For Christ’s sake man! Get hold of him - I need to talk to him NOW!”

“I’m sorry, yes I know... Look, keep trying will you?”

“Yes, I’m leaving now.”

She scuttled into the bathroom and was languidly cleansing her face when Iain popped his head round the door.

“Forget the full performance, Tasha. You’ve time for a quick shower and that’s it. We’re leaving in 10 minutes. I’ll see you downstairs.”

He grabbed his things from the bathroom and went back to the bedroom. She heard him throwing his things in his case and a few minutes later the door slammed behind him.

Sorry to spoil your day, Tasha,
she thought grimly.
I know you don’t mind jumping to obey when God Almighty barks. Well, I can do a lot of things but I cannot shower, get my face done and my clothes packed in 10 minutes! You’ll have to wait a bit Mr High and Mighty!

Whatever the problem was it sounded big. She’d never known Iain rattled like this before. She wondered idly if she’d need to find another escort for Royal Ascot. Riches to poverty in just a few weeks was not unheard of in her circles and she certainly had no intentions of being left in limbo. She’d make a few calls when they got back to Town, just in case.

*

James had hidden himself away in the study night after night, claiming there was paperwork to catch up on before the following day’s work, that with the end of one tax year and the start of another he and Adam were snowed under. He worked in a daze, knowing he’d have to recheck everything in the morning as he couldn’t concentrate, but all too soon bedtime came round. He knew he couldn’t carry on like this. The cycles of rage and deep melancholy would only calm to her normal happy nature when he’d given his wife what she wanted. He would have to face it again.

Keela was there waiting for him. He delayed as long as he could in their en suite bathroom but he knew there was no escape. He could go along with it tonight and get it out of the way for another few weeks, or he could continue to fret and worry until he felt physically sick and still have to face it.

Best get it over with.

She looked so very lovely as he approached the bed, her creamy white skin such a contrast against her dark brows and hair, her long eyelashes curving over and defining eyes he could drown in. He wanted her so much, but not like this. Teeth clenched tightly he forced himself to climb in beside her and did what he knew he had to.

Afterwards Keela went to the bathroom and returned to bed dry eyed, leaning into him as he sat back against the pillows, her head resting on his chest as he stroked her hair and rocked her. It was beyond his understanding why Keela behaved as she did. Who could help them though?

*

Iain had found the drive back to London a nightmare with Natasha in that mood. It was bad enough having all the permutations of the current situation whirling through his head without bitchy comments and snide innuendos thrown at him. After dropping her off at her flat in Belgravia he’d spent a frantic three hours with Richard going over the company financial projections and the main Gantt chart for the Northamptonshire project. Was he going senile that his judgement had been so flawed this time? Or had he been trying to prove something?

He was very tired when he arrived back home. He managed a weak grin as he entered the hallway. “I know, Margaret,” he admitted, raising his hands in submission. “I’m starting to make a habit of turning up when you don’t expect me.”

“More changes of plan?” she queried, “That doesn’t sound like the Iain I know,” she added uncertainly.

He slowly put his case on the hall floor, and sighed. “No, it’s not, is it.”

Maggie looked at the lines of strain on his face and the tense line of his neck and shoulders. Suddenly she felt closer to him than she had for a long while. Now he looked vulnerable she felt able to offer help.

“You look weary, Iain. Let me run you a bath with some herbal oils, and I’ll bring a scotch up for you to sip while you soak that tension away.”

“Thanks love,” he smiled at her. “That sounds grand.”

She stood and looked at him, surprised and rather pleased. It had been a long time since there had been any endearments between them. Iain realised it as he saw her expression and made a half move towards her, but she turned away to pick up his bag and take it upstairs.

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes so don’t dawdle down there,” she called.

She adjusted the taps to the temperature he liked and added a liberal dose of oil. It used to be a regular habit when the children were young. He’d read a bedtime story if he was back in time while she ran a bath for him to enjoy while she prepared their evening meal.

Happy days!

While Iain undressed she started sorting out his scattered bathroom items from among the crumpled clothing in the case.

Most unusual,
she thought,
he’s normally meticulous with his packing.

He padded naked into the bathroom and climbed into the fragrant water.

“Aaah!” Iain sighed as he lay back in the water. “You remembered – exactly as I like it.”

She smiled at the appreciation in his voice. It felt like the first days of their marriage, when they had often performed so many small acts for each other as an expression of their love. She sorted two piles of clothes, one for the laundry and one for the dry cleaners, then finished unpacking his wash bag. Coyly she looked in the mirror at his muscular chest, now with its complement of grey hairs and the darker line arrowing down towards his manhood. Iain caught her eyes in the reflection and she blushed, quickly turning her attention back to the items she was replacing in the cabinet for him. Her hand froze half way with an unfamiliar bottle. It was an opened bottle of Chanel No 5. She turned to him, her mind numb.

Oh shit!
Iain berated himself.
How on earth did I manage to do that?
Speed had led to stupidity and no mistake
. Think man! Think!

“That’s for you,” he said, amazed his voice sounded normal.

“But it’s open,” Maggie stammered. “It’s been used.”

“Yes, it’s from Richard’s wife,” he improvised wildly. “He was at the site meetings and passed it on. Joanne tried it and didn’t like it – some crap about wrong skin chemistry or something – wondered if you use it. Didn’t want to just throw it away, you know?”

Her relief was palpable. “What a nice thought,” she half gasped. “Yes, I do like it. Please pass on my thanks to her.”

“Will do,” he assured her.

“Joanne’s such a lovely woman,” Maggie continued, putting the perfume in her own cabinet. “It’s ages since we last got together. How about inviting her and Richard over for a meal sometime soon?”

“Doubt if they can get a babysitter with three so young, but I’ll ask.”

Not until Maggie’s forgotten about the perfume though.

“I’ll take the laundry down and get your scotch.” Maggie gathered the clothes and went downstairs.

Iain groaned inwardly as she left, and raked his fingers through his hair.

If only a bottle of perfume was all I had to worry about.

*

With great care Maggie continued the spring clipping of her ‘lamb’, enjoying the warm sunshine on her back and the fragrance of the rosemary, although her brow was furrowed in concentration. It had taken many years to grow and clip Larry to perfection. One careless move around his ears now would take all summer to even start repairing the damage. She stepped back, moving her head from one side to the other to check the balance.

“Hello Maggie,” a familiar voice spoke behind her.

“Oh my goodness!” Maggie jumped and put her hand to her breast. “You made me jump.”

“Thought I might, you were so deep in concentration there,” her neighbour and close friend Angela chuckled. “That’s why I waited until the clippers were safely away from that wonderful topiary of yours.”

“Do you think the ears are even, Angela?” Maggie asked, peering at them from all angles and still unsure if she had it right.

Angela took the secateurs off her. “He’s absolutely perfect,” Angela assured her. “I keep expecting him to run away across the lawn and start cropping the lettuce.”

The two women had known each other since Angela and her family had moved just down the road when their sons had been three. James and Adam had spent equal amounts of time in the two houses, gone to school together, separated for university but were now back together again as partners.

“I do envy your skill in the garden,” Angela sighed. “Everything I try seems to go wrong. Even my roses are giving me a hard time – covered in greenfly already.”

“No problem,” Maggie assured her. “Just spray them for a few evenings with soapy water and that’ll cure it. Or even better is some water that you’ve soaked crushed garlic in.”

They headed over to the padded recliners in the shade of an ancient beech tree. Maggie darted into the kitchen and returned with a jug of homemade lemonade, tinkling with ice, and two tall glasses.

“Ah,” Angela sighed after a long sip. “That feels so much better. I’ve been shopping all morning and it feels hotter than summer in town.”

“Mmmm, it is rather lovely, if unexpected,” Maggie agreed. “I wonder if it’s the start of a good summer?”

Angela wondered if it would hold long enough for the party. She’d been thrilled that the children were planning a party for her best friend, but Chloe had been no help at all with suggestions for a present. Hence the call round today. After getting no inspiration from the goods she had seen on display she was hoping for inspiration from the birthday girl herself, without, of course, giving the game away by mentioning parties or gifts. Not easy!

They chatted idly about the boys and how well their company seemed to be doing. They chatted about Chloe and Angela’s other children, Gavin and Zoe. They discussed the current male obsession with European football, the weather and global warming, but nothing come naturally into the conversation that Angela could turn towards gift ideas for Maggie.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Maggie said suddenly. “I’ve been meaning to for days but keep forgetting. It must be age addling my brain.”

“Snap!” Angela laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one who has to write everything down - and then forgets where the to do list is!”

“I’ve been wondering about Simba.”

That was unexpected. What on earth did she want to know about her much loved and very soppy Rottweiler? “What about him, Maggie?”

“What do you do when you need to be out all day?” Maggie asked. “Or when you go away on holiday?”

“That’s easy. Sometimes we take him with us – there are quite a few places now that allow dogs. If not, Nora takes care of him, apart from longer holidays when he goes into kennels so he has a bit of company.”

Nora was the daily cleaner who was employed by both women. It had taken a while for Nora to believe that such a large dog was reliably well behaved and so sweet natured but now, as Angela told Maggie, had built up a profitable little sideline in dog walking and dog sitting.

“She takes him to her home?” queried Maggie.

“Oh no, she lets him have a really good romp in the garden and paddock with her Jack Russell while she does her cleaning rounds, then shuts him back up until going back to give him his evening meal and a last ‘do your business’ time in the garden.” She leaned forward confidentially. “Actually, I think her daughter does that. Young Lisa is besotted by all dogs, and Simba in particular, so I think they probably have quite a good playtime together of an evening after school.”

Maggie sat back thoughtfully. “How is Simba in kennels? Does he mind going there?”

“Obviously you have to be careful which kennels you choose,” Angela told her. “Personally I trust Pet Holidays implicitly. They have a huge, securely fenced field they let the trustworthy dogs play in together, with a couple of the staff present to supervise of course. Half the times we’ve been to collect Simba I’m sure he was undecided whether he wanted to come back home or stay and play with his new friends there.”

Now it was Angela’s turn to look first thoughtful, then delighted. “You’re finally seriously considering getting a dog yourself, aren’t you?”

“Well, Chloe does keep talking about it,” she admitted. “And it does make sense, for the guard dog side of it.”

“Hey,” Angela stopped her, “you don’t have to try and justify it. It’s a wonderful experience, having such a loving friend and companion. One, moreover, who doesn’t pass judgement on you or keep making demands you weren’t prepared for. They are wonderfully predictable, not at all like my brood.” She sat back grinning broadly, sure this was just what her friend needed in her life. “So, what breed are we looking for?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Maggie stalled. “I’m only considering it at the moment. There was that appeal on the local radio though for good homes for the dogs in Second Chance Rescue Centre.”

“Well let’s go and have a look at them.” Angela was determined to strike while the iron was hot. Chloe wasn’t the only one who’d been trying to persuade her to have a dog for company. “Come on – there’s no harm in looking and it might help you decide what you want to do.”

It was only a few minutes’ drive to the centre. As they drew up into one of the parking bays in front of the rescue centre’s offices, Maggie noticed the neatly kept herbaceous borders and bright pots of primroses and polyanthus. She was surprised at how clean, efficient and business-like the centre was. She was not quite sure what she had expected but certainly not such a welcoming approach.

In the bright cheery office they were greeted initially by a gamine young woman in a loose sweater and jeans, with her hair in plaits.

“Hi,” she called, “I’m just passing through but Liz will be out from the surgery in a mo to see you.” She left carrying a pack of some medicine or other.

A much older woman came out as she spoke, pushing a pen back into the breast pocket of her white coat. She shook her head but was smiling as the door slammed behind the young woman. “That’s Schez,” she confided to Maggie and Angela. “Lives for the dogs but is none too keen on dealing with people.” She surveyed the two women in front of her. “Now, what can I do for you today?”