Not Quite Nice (8 page)

Sally tipped a spoonful of sugar into her coffee and watched it sink slowly through the froth.

She had that spare room which she always kept prepared, ready for Marianne should she want a short break. Perhaps she could do this man a service and, while she was at it, make a little pin money for herself. It would be nice to have a man around the house and some company.

‘I wonder whether you might like to take my spare room,’ she asked tentatively. ‘I’m hoping my daughter might come over soon. She’s a businesswoman. Very smart. But at the moment it’s free.’

Brian waved his hand for the waiter. ‘You’re very kind, but I couldn’t dream of it,’ he replied. ‘But thank you for the offer.’

7

Theresa traipsed up the hill to the boulangerie for a fresh loaf and to stretch her legs. Despite having no hot water or heating she was looking forward to her first breakfast in her new home. She’d got the coffee and a lovely-looking pot of apricot jam and a sweet little percolator to brew up the coffee.

Coming out of the little Huit-à-8 shop with some milk and butter, a packet of paper plates and cups, which for the moment would have to do, she thought she saw the lady from yesterday who had persuaded her to buy the mac in the Galeries Lafayette going into the wine shop. She was looking superb in a neat black-and-white outfit, matching gloves and scarf, simply too well turned out for this time of the morning. Theresa scurried along hoping the woman wouldn’t turn and catch sight of her in her sloppy old clothes.

Then while the coffee brewed, she turned on the radio and sang along as she polished up the new table ready for eating. She pondered phoning Imogen to ask whether she or Michael might be able to give her a loan towards getting the boiler done and decided against it.

The spluttering of the percolator coincided with the delicious aroma of the warm bread coming from the oven. Perfect timing! She lay it all out on the new table, got her penknife from her bag and spread out a paper napkin for a tablecloth. Then she poured herself a steaming cup of best arabica.

Bang! Bang! Thump! Thump!

Theresa jumped out of her chair.

Somebody was battering on her front door in great agitation and, whoever it was, they were surely desperate. Theresa prayed that it was not the police with bad news.

She opened up.

‘You whore!’ A tall woman with long blonde hair screamed into Theresa’s face, then, pushing her out of the way, strode through into the living room.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Theresa, still by the door. ‘I think there must be some mistake.’

‘A mistake? You’re dead right there is.’ The furious woman swung round, hands on hips, and looked Theresa up and down. ‘My God! Look at you! How low could he sink? He must be getting desperate in his old age. I never thought he’d go for such a frump!’

‘I think you must have got the wrong flat,’ stammered Theresa, leaving the door open so that, should it be necessary, there was a quick escape from this raving madwoman.

‘His standards have certainly fallen if he’s down to fucking over-painted fat old cows like you.’ The woman took a step forward and slapped Theresa across the face. ‘So back off, bitch. And in future, you superannuated Jezebel,
leave my husband alone
!’

The woman turned towards the door, plunged her hands into her pockets, then swung around. ‘I believe this grubby
thing
is yours.’ She dropped Theresa’s silk scarf on to the floor as though it was infected with leprosy.

With no further ado, the woman left, swept out by the same whirlwind upon which she had arrived.

Theresa stood, leaning against her new table, mouth open, stunned.

She put her hand up to stroke her still stinging cheek.

She could see clearly enough what had happened. The naked man who had landed in her courtyard must be the madwoman’s husband. Lord, she’d only wanted to help. Now look at the trouble. What had she done? By lending that naked man her throw, she was now the accused.

Oh, what a ghastly start to her new life!

She slumped down into a chair, lay her head on the table and wept.

Why had she come out here to this strange town where she knew no one and had nothing, not even proper cutlery? She wiped a tear from her eye and stooped to retrieve her scarf, which was now dusty and rather badly ripped.

When Theresa looked up, standing before her in the doorway, like a guardian angel, perfectly made-up, resplendent in her stylish suit with matching scarf, gloves and clutch bag, stood the glamorous American from the department store.

‘Oh dear, we meet again!’ said the woman in her casual American drawl. ‘I feared it was you. So now you’ve met the dragon-woman, Sian. I’m Carol Rogers, by the way.’

Carol stepped inside and gently shut the door behind her. ‘I heard the brouhaha from the street. Do you have another of those paper cups? I’d love a coffee.’

Carol sat at the new table and tore off a piece of baguette.

‘Come along, honey, sit down. Let’s eat this lovely breakfast.’

She buttered a strip of bread and laid it in front of Theresa’s coffee.

‘My, what a lovely table and chair set. I adore that 1950s look. So chic.’

Theresa still stood in the centre of the room, clutching her hanky in one hand, her torn scarf in the other.

‘You mustn’t listen to these people, dearie. They’re minnows compared to you or me, and that’s why they dislike us so.’

Theresa sat, bemused by this beautiful woman sitting at her new table, spreading butter and then crunching into a piece of baguette.

‘I haven’t slept with
anyone’s
husband, you know,’ said Theresa. ‘There’s been a mistake.’

‘Make the most of it. You’re the talk of the town, darling.’ Carol guffawed. ‘There may be a logical explan­ation, but, you see, Ted
was
seen running naked from your house.’

‘But nothing happened . . . he’d jumped from the window above and landed in my little yard.’ Theresa stood pointing towards the back window. ‘I just lent him a scarf to cover his nakedness and let him out.’

‘How typical of him.’ Carol shook her head. ‘Ted may think of himself as a poet, but at heart he’s really just a silly little boy. He enjoys getting Sian worked up. She’s so busy with her business projects she doesn’t spare much time for him. It’s his way of getting attention. In my humble opinion she’s asking for it, but poor you. It’s a terrible pity you took her wrath. And on your second day here.’

‘I’ve just about had it, Carol,’ said Theresa. ‘All I do is keep running away. But the problem is that wherever I go, however far I run, I always bring myself and, you see, I’m beginning to realise that it’s
me
I’m running from.’

‘Bah!’ said Carol popping open the jar of jam. ‘Stop being self-pitying and absurd. Let me tell you, in my time I’ve had my share of mockery. I
really do
know what it’s like. And I’ll tell you now, the best method of defence is indifference. Let them rant and rave. They’re the ones who’ll make themselves ill, poisoned with their own venom.’ She rose. ‘If you don’t join me and eat something I will finish that whole baguette all alone, and what would that do to my figure? I’d blow up like a balloon, then I really wouldn’t forgive you.’

Carol strolled into the kitchen and refilled the percolator.

‘I adore this apartment,’ she said. ‘It’s perfect. How many rooms?’

‘Bedroom, box room, this one, kitchen and bathroom,’ said Theresa, blowing her nose on a paper napkin. ‘I’m very lucky.’

‘I know we’ll both be fired up with caffeine overdoses, but why not? We’re going to sit down and you’re going to tell me all your problems and plans, and I am going to see how we can get them sorted. And before you open your mouth, you are forbidden to say no.’

Avoiding telling her about the trouble with her daughter, instead Theresa told Carol about her worries about the boiler and money, and her doubts over the move to Bellevue-Sur-Mer.

‘Don’t doubt that moving here was a good idea, darling,’ said Carol, sipping her coffee. ‘Best thing you ever did. Money however is another matter. It doesn’t grow on trees here any more than it does in London. What are you good at?’

‘I used to work for a solicitor.’

Carol put down her cup and looked at Theresa, her eyes sparkling.

‘Wow!’ she said. ‘A solicitor? That’s a kind of English pimp, right?’

Theresa was momentarily puzzled, then worked it out.

‘Oh, no! Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. A solicitor is a kind of local lawyer.’

‘Oh. An attorney. I was thinking that it was a kind of thrilling world to be admitting to leaving.’ Carol took another sip of coffee. ‘Going back to the subject of Ted – you say he’d jumped from a window?’

‘So it appeared.’

‘I don’t understand. Why jump? Why not walk out of the front door?’

‘I know it sounds mad. I suppose you don’t believe me now.’

‘No, no. But think about it. He had no reason to risk life and limb, especially while he was in the altogether, did he?’

‘His wife was after him, he said.’ Theresa tore off a piece of baguette. ‘There was no other way out.’

Carol chewed, screwing up her forehead, like a detective on a case. ‘Can I look at the drop?’

They walked to the back door and stood for a while in the small yard peering up the sheer rock wall to the hotel windows above.

Carol shook her head and blew a whistling sound of awe.

‘That is some jump! Is he a goat, like the god Pan? I’ve heard he has similar attributes.’

‘Really?’

‘Covered in hair like a gorilla, with a huge . . . you know . . . well of course you probably do know, very much the rutting male.’

‘I wasn’t really looking. I was in too much of a panic.’

That’s the Hotel Astra, which makes the puzzle with Sian coming here to attack you, all the more intriguing.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Think about it. If Sian was really coming into the hotel, after Ted, because she thought he was in there, what would make her now believe that he’d actually been
here
with you? It doesn’t add up.’

‘No. I suppose not. Look, Carol, I really didn’t have anything to do with him you know . . .’

Carol flapped her hand, silencing Theresa. ‘No, no. I’m sure you didn’t. But there is a mystery here. Why was Sian going into that hotel within minutes of arriving in the town? There has to be a reason.’

‘Maybe she didn’t. Perhaps Ted imagined hearing Sian’s voice.’

‘Don’t be silly. You’ve heard her. They don’t only call her the dragon because of the temper. She has the vocal tone of a corncrake. And why else would he jump? No. If Ted was so convinced that she was coming after him that he jumped naked from one of those windows, he must have had reason to believe she was there.’

Carol took the sputtering percolator from the hob, strolled back to the table with it and flopped down into a chair.

‘Oh, by the way, Theresa dear, I really didn’t mean so much to ask you “how did you earn a living back in England?” – but rather “how would you like to earn a living here?”’

‘Not soliciting!’ said Theresa. ‘I’m too old and fat.’

‘You’d be amazed, my dear,’ Carol laughed. ‘Men have a very wide spectrum of taste. What are your hobbies, the things you enjoy doing?’

‘I like reading.’

‘No money to be made out of that, I’m afraid.’

‘Cooking?’

Carol pursed her lips and screwed up her eyes. ‘Now
that
, my darling, might just be an idea we could run with. How about you . . .’

Carol was interrupted by a hammering on the front door.

Theresa cowered. ‘Oh, not again . . .’

‘Come on.’ Carol rose. ‘Stand up to her. This time I’ll be right beside you ready to land her a hefty punch if she goes too far. And believe me I’ve got quite a powerful uppercut.’

Wincing, Theresa went to the door, took a deep breath and opened up.

A man stood on the threshold. ‘Oh, sorry. I’m looking for Carol. Someone told me she came in here?’

‘In here, William, darling. Come meet my lovely new friend, Theresa.’

Theresa held the door wide and William edged into her living room.

‘Your taxi awaits, Divina!’ He stopped, open-mouthed and flung his arms out in a gesture of amazement. ‘Oh, Theresa, my dear,
where
did you get that wonderful table? Carol, isn’t it just divine!’

‘
Divine
, as is its owner. Theresa – William. We’re all going to adore one another, aren’t we, darling?’

Carol reached for her clutch bag, gloves and scarf. She moved towards the door and linked arms with William. ‘You’re going to sign up, aren’t you, William?’

‘Oh, God, Carol, you devil!’ William gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘What are you getting me into now?’

‘It’s wonderful – so exciting – Theresa is going to give us all classes in cooking.’

In unison Theresa and William exclaimed.