Summer of Love (42 page)

Fiona and Rory were making biscuits, but Fiona’s mind was not on it. While Rory was merrily choosing which cutter to use next and calculating if he could fit a dinosaur in that bit of rolled-out dough, his grandmother was desperately trying to imagine what was going on in London. Had Sian got to the meeting in time? Had she managed to do any good when she got there? And how had Angus responded? He’d been so furious with her, maybe he’d said she had nothing to do with him? It would have been awful if Sian had had to retreat, red-faced, carrying her portfolio away in disgrace.

The phone rang. She wanted to run to it in case it was news but she had to make sure Rory was all right first.

‘OK, darling, I’m just going to get that. Don’t fall off the chair or anything. Hello?’

When she came off the phone ten minutes later she was a little fraught. When it rang again she picked it up immediately. It was James.

‘Hello, my love, you sound a bit stressed.’

‘I am! Of course there’s no real reason for me to worry but I’ve just had Penny, Sian’s mother, on the phone. Sian’s sprained her ankle quite badly which means they can’t come back until tomorrow. Angus is with her but I still don’t know how the meeting went.’

‘Oh, that’s very unfortunate, but presumably Rory’s all right? He’s not lost and at large in London?’

In spite of herself, Fiona chuckled. ‘Of course not, Rory’s with me and although he’s a darling and very easy, I’m finding it slightly hard to concentrate on him when I’m so preoccupied with my own son.’

‘Would you like me to come over? I could help entertain Rory, cook you some supper?’

Fiona was torn. She wanted to accept, rapidly and gratefully, but should she? Would she be somehow falling down on her duty to Rory if she let James come? Was it like the babysitter smuggling her boyfriend into the house against orders? Then she pulled herself up short. Of course it wasn’t like that. There was nothing that she and James might do that could possibly harm Rory. ‘Yes please!’ she said.

Knowing he was on his way was extremely cheering. It wasn’t that she and Rory couldn’t have had a perfectly happy time together – if only she could stop worrying – but just having James around would make it all more fun, somehow.

First she had to tell Rory that his mother wasn’t coming home until tomorrow.

‘You were a long time,’ said Rory, looking up from where he was pressing boiled sweets into biscuit mixture in order to make a coloured glass panel in them. Fiona decided it wasn’t the moment to wonder if tea pots
did
have glass panels.

‘I was, I’m sorry. First of all Penny, your granny, phoned and I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan.’

Rory paused, sweet in hand.

‘Mummy’s hurt her ankle. She’s all right, though, there’s nothing to worry about,’ she said quickly as she saw a flicker cross his face. Reassured that he believed her she went on. ‘She’s staying in London tonight with her parents, your grandparents. Which means, darling boy, you can stay with me another night! Won’t that be fun?’ She hoped she didn’t sound like a doctor telling a child an injection wouldn’t hurt, knowing full well that it would.

‘OK. Where’s Gus?’ Rory added as if his father’s whereabouts was much more important than his mother’s ankle.

‘He’s staying there too.’ In spite of herself Fiona found herself wondering where he would sleep. Presumably not with Sian but she couldn’t help hoping. ‘He’ll bring her home tomorrow morning.’

‘Oh.’

His face didn’t fall, exactly, thought Fiona, but he wasn’t thrilled. Resigned, more. ‘My friend James is coming over, though, to keep us company. I think you’ve met him.’

‘I think so,’ said Rory, wrinkling his forehead but seemingly encouraged by the news. ‘Will we have the biscuits later?’

‘After tea, yes. Now, what would you like?’

‘Pasta?’

‘Oh yes, lovely pasta. Hey, I tell you what I’ve got, alphabet pasta! We could have it in some clear chicken soup? Would you like that?’

‘I don’t like soup.’

‘What, no sort of soup at all?’

‘I like tomato soup. Tinned.’

‘I haven’t got any of that but I have got spaghetti. Would you like some with tomato sauce? Ketchup …?’

Fiona was halfway through cooking the menu they’d finally agreed on, which had required compromises on both sides, when James arrived. He’d brought a bottle of wine for Fiona and a book for Rory.

‘Hi, Rory,’ he said. ‘I’m James. I gather you had a birthday recently so I’ve brought you a present.’ He handed over the brown paper bag. ‘And I thought later you might give me a game of chess. I brought a set with me. Can you play?’

Fiona opened her mouth to say he was far too young and then shut it again. She poured James a glass of wine from the bottle she already had open.

Rory withdrew the book. It was
The Jolly Postman
. ‘We had this at playgroup in London but they wouldn’t let us read it ourselves in case we lost the letters.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t lose the letters,’ said Fiona, feeling it was rather a big ask for them not to.

‘I hope it’s not too young for you, Rory, but it was all I could find in the shop at short notice.’ James was apologetic.

‘It’s not too young at all, and very kind of you to bring anything. Isn’t it, Rory?’

Much to her relief, Rory came up trumps. ‘Yes. Thank you very much,’ he said, and Fiona hugged him.

‘So,’ James went on. ‘How about a game of chess before supper? Have we time?’

‘Oh, yes. I’ll call when it’s ready.’

They went into the conservatory to play.

‘Right,’ said James, ‘the back row are all the posh and powerful pieces. The little chaps in front are called pawns but they are much more useful than they seem to be.’

Admiring his patience, knowing she’d never be able to teach anyone to play chess, even if her mind wasn’t mostly in London, Fiona watched him explain what each piece could do. He was so good with Rory. Then she went to clear up, glad of an opportunity to worry in private.

Fiona considered as she finished cooking and made a salad: was it reasonable to ring Penny and ask her about the publisher? No, not really. Angus could have rung her direct and told her, but he had never been a very good communicator and if he wasn’t worried he never understood why anyone else might be.

And was Angus staying with Penny and her husband? And what had Sian’s father’s reaction been to Angus? Presumably he’d be grateful that Angus had brought his injured daughter back to them but he might have been harbouring a grudge against the father of Sian’s illegitimate son for years. That would be ghastly for everyone. Particularly for Angus who had shown himself to be completely responsible with regard to Rory. Exemplary, even. But how would Sian’s family respond to him?

And then there was the publishing meeting. Had Sian rushed to the rescue to good effect or did the publishers just think their potential new author was allied with a madwoman and drop him like a hot coal? So many questions she needed answers to. But now it was time to get James and Rory to the table. And find out who won at chess.

‘He shows a real aptitude,’ said James. ‘A little reckless with his pawns but you’d expect that from a beginner. You did jolly well, Rory! You know how every piece moves now, don’t you?’

‘I like the horses – knights – best,’ said Rory.

‘I like them best too,’ agreed Fiona. ‘But mostly because they look like horses.’

‘Can you play chess, Fona?’ asked Rory.

‘Well, I know the moves but I’m not very good.’

‘We can play sometime,’ said Rory, having identified an opponent he might possibly beat.

Rory was asleep, the kitchen was cleared and the second bottle of wine was opened.

‘I should go,’ said James.

Fiona didn’t want him to go. ‘Do you have to open the shop early tomorrow?’

‘No. In fact, Mrs Pie-Woman is opening up tomorrow and has offered to stay all day. She was terribly keen. It seemed the least I could do, so I said yes.’

He looked down at her and she looked away, biting her lip to stop her smile of pleasure. She didn’t want him to see how much she wanted him to stay.

‘Rory’s a very good sleeper,’ said Fiona, hoping that James would pick up the clues without her having to spell it out.

‘You mean he’s not likely to want to come into your bed in the night?’

‘No. He’s got my mobile by his bed and if he wants me, he’s going to ring me up. We practised last night. He rang me several times and I answered him in my bedroom on the house phone.’

‘And you have got another perfectly good spare room?’

Fiona gave up trying to hide what she wanted. ‘I have, but the bed’s not made up. My bed, on the other hand, has clean sheets on it and a very much more comfortable mattress.’

He took her into his arms. ‘It comes to something when a beautiful woman suggests to a man that he should sleep with her because she has a very comfortable mattress.’

She giggled up at him. ‘Well, we’re getting older, these things are important.’

‘Not as important as other “things”,’ he said, taking her by the hand and leading her up the stairs.

Sian moved and was woken by a pain in her ankle. She opened her eyes to find herself in her bed at home. Just for a second she was confused. Then she remembered falling over. She lay back, trying to put her memories in order.

She knew Angus had used her phone to call her mother, and there’d been a lot of discussion about whether or not she should be taken home or directly to A and E. She’d wanted to tell him that her parents lived next door to a retired GP who might well help but she couldn’t seem to get his attention without it hurting.

Finally he’d slipped her phone back in her bag. ‘Apparently your parents live next door to a retired GP,’ he informed her.

‘I knew that,’ Sian said, wincing. ‘I was trying to tell you.’

‘Anyway, she’s in and there’ll be a welcoming committee for you when you get home.’

Angus managed to find a cab almost instantly. He was brilliantly calm and reassuring, and Sian started to realise that having a boyfriend who was used to surviving in any sort of terrain – including a busy city – could have its advantages. The cab managed to drop them off right outside the front door and Angus insisted on carrying Sian into the house, although she felt she could have limped in. Her father paid the taxi; her mother guided Gus.

‘Well,’ said her father, glowering in the doorway as Gus passed with Sian in his arms. ‘This is a fine state of affairs. What happened to you?’

Sian realised he was somehow blaming Gus. ‘I just missed my footing as I stepped off the pavement,’ she explained quickly. She’d hated being surrounded by anxious faces.

‘Louise is on her way round,’ said Penny, clearly trying to defuse the tension by fussing around her daughter. ‘Let’s get you on to the sofa and she can take a look. We’re all ready to take you to Casualty if that’s what Louise thinks is needed.’

‘I’m sure it’s not that serious. It’s just very painful.’ Sian bit her lip to stop herself crying out as she tested her foot on the ground.

‘Better not give you any painkillers until we know you don’t need an operation,’ said Gus. ‘I know it seems hard. I’m sorry, Sian.’ He picked her up again and Sian’s parents guided him into the sitting room and Gus laid her on the sofa. ‘Have you got any ice?’ He addressed Penny who rushed off and came back with a bag of French beans.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t find any peas,’ Penny said, handing the bag and a tea towel to Gus who pressed it gently to Sian’s swollen ankle. Sian looked up at them all staring down at her leg, and suddenly felt horribly awkward. Luckily, she was saved from further embarrassment by Dr Louise’s arrival.

‘Here’s the victim,’ said Sian’s father, ushering a slim, grey-haired woman to Sian’s side. ‘See what you think. I think she should go to hospital, but she doesn’t want to.’

‘Can’t say I blame her,’ Louise said with a reassuring smile. ‘Hospitals are best avoided, in my opinion. Now, let’s have a look.’ Gently, she probed Sian’s ankle. ‘Ouch. That must be painful, but your young man has done the right thing getting ice on it.’ Sian winced, more at the term ‘young man’ and the effect it had on her father than in pain this time. ‘We need to get some sort of bandage for a bit of support,’ Louise continued, unaware she’d made everyone stiffen, for different reasons. ‘A tubular one would be best.’ She looked enquiringly at Sian’s parents.

‘There’s a chemist on the corner,’ said Penny.

‘I’ll go,’ said Gus, clearly keen to be able to do something rather than look on helplessly. ‘Is there anything else we need?’

‘Paracetamol is OK for the pain. Don’t take ibuprofen for a couple of days though. You don’t want to reduce the swelling really, it’s the body doing its healing thing. Can we have a few more cushions, get the ankle right up?’

‘We have paracetamol, but better get some more,’ said Penny, smiling at Gus to try and counterbalance her husband’s scowl. ‘So that and a bandage. What about some Deep Heat or something?’

Emily shook her head. ‘You don’t want to encourage blood to the area. Massage or heat of any kind will delay healing.’

‘Can I have a drink of water?’ asked Sian, feeling a bit pathetic.

‘Of course!’ Everyone scurried about, trying to make her comfortable.

‘Don’t sleep with the ice on it and if it’s not a lot better in forty-eight hours, see your GP or local A and E department.’

When Louise had been profusely thanked and had gone home and Gus had returned from the chemist with bandages and paracetemol for the invalid, Sian’s parents and Gus stood over the sofa looking at her.

‘Well, Gus,’ her father said gruffly, ‘no need for you to hang around. We can look after our daughter now.’

Sian felt this was a stab worse than a sprained ankle.

‘I’d prefer to stay if you don’t mind. I feel partly responsible for her accident,’ said Gus, admirably calm, Sian thought.

‘But you didn’t feel responsible for getting her pregnant?’ said her father.

Sian and Penny had gasped in unison. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Stuart. Gus didn’t know anything about Sian being pregnant. Now let’s everyone have a drink. Maybe you shouldn’t, Sian? You’ve taken painkillers, but I certainly need something. Stuart, can you sort that out while I put sheets on beds? Gus? You will stay, won’t you? I need to clear some stuff out of the spare room, but there’s still a bed …’