The Making of Minty Malone (51 page)

‘Yes, why don’t we?’ he said. ‘Other couples do.’

Other couples; I liked that.

‘I’d love to,’ I said. ‘But Jack will need at least a week’s notice. And where would we go?’

‘Well, I know where I’d like to go.’

‘Yes?’

‘I really hope you like this idea too, Minty.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ I said as the ladybird flew off.

‘It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do,’ he said.

‘Tell me.’

‘So I really hope you go for it as well.’

‘Joe, I don’t mind
where
we go, as long as you’re there.’

‘OK,’ he said. And he was grinning enthusiastically now. ‘Minty, I’ve always wanted to go on a canal holiday!’

‘A canal holiday?’

‘Yes, I can’t imagine anything more idyllic, can you?’

‘Well …’

‘All that tranquillity.’

‘It’s quite tranquil here, Joe.’

‘That peace.’

‘London’s very quiet at this time of year.’

‘Just the sound of the water lapping against the side of the boat.’

‘Yes,’ I said quietly. Oh God.

‘So much to see along the way.’

‘So much.’

‘Just you, and me, and the canal. Wouldn’t that be great?’

‘Mmm,’ I said thoughtfully. Joe smiled at me.

‘Say yes, Minty,’ he said. He looked so happy – how could I say no? Stuff what I’d learnt on the Nice Factor. ‘That would be lovely,’ I said.

Well, Sheryl von Strumpfhosen did tell me not to turn down any invitations, I reminded myself as I waited for Joe to pick me up a few days later. I didn’t need to look at the calendar to know what day it was. It was Sunday, 28th July – exactly a year to the day since my wedding. What had Sheryl predicted then? Suddenly it came back to me. She’d said ‘Libra, your love life takes an upward turn this weekend.’ And I laughed, because I realised she was right. It
did
take an upward turn. Dominic left me and instead I met Joe. I smiled at that. And then I grinned. Then I began to laugh. And I couldn’t stop. I sat there, in the sitting room, quietly rocking with laughter. I sat in the silence of my flat, with my two packed bags, and thought of all that had happened in the intervening year. I reviewed it, spooling it through my mind like the material for a programme, but it was only now that it had any shape. I thought of the George V, and meeting Joe, and Amber’s anger with Charlie; I thought of Citronella, and the Nice Factor, and my hair-cut – it’s quite long again now. I remembered the ball, and Helen, and Laurie and Perdita and poor Sir Percy and Virginia Park, and I thought of Jack’s step-daughters, and Melinda, and of Los Angeles and the Four Seasons. Four seasons. That’s what had elapsed. Four seasons in which the wheel had turned for us all.

‘And here we are,’ I said to Mary. ‘We didn’t think we’d make it, did we? But we did.’ She blinked at me, and purred. I was just filled with happiness. I could afford to be generous about the canal holiday. It probably wouldn’t rain – in fact the weather’s perfect right now – and the boats are bound to be more comfortable than they were all those years ago. I was unlikely to have to throw myself in the water after someone else’s dog, and with just the two of us, it wouldn’t be too cramped. Maybe it would even be OK.

I wondered which canal it was. Joe hadn’t told me because
he wanted it to be a surprise. I went through them in my mind. Perhaps it would be the Shropshire Union. Or the Trent and Mersey. Or maybe the Kennet & Avon. Yes, that would be nice, I thought to myself – we’d drift through Oxfordshire and the West Country. It would probably be quite relaxing.

There was a sudden honking from outside, the sound of a car door, and then I saw Joe running up the path.

‘Right,’ he said, as he came in, ‘let’s get going. Put Mary in the basket, we’ll drop her off on the way. And don’t forget your passport because the boat yard needs it as ID.’

‘
Do
they?’

‘Yes, it’s a requirement. Those barges are very expensive, Minty. How do they know we won’t just nick it?’

‘That is extremely unlikely,’ I replied.

‘Yes, but they don’t know that, do they? You’ve got to see it from their point of view.’

‘OK,’ I said, ‘I’ll get it.’ Then I locked up the flat, and Joe picked up my bags.

‘I say,’ he said with a smile, ‘your baggage is light! It hardly weighs a thing!’

Then we drove to Amber and Laurie’s with the cat. I wanted to stay there a few minutes and get the grand tour of their new place, but Joe was agitating because he’d told the boat yard we’d be there by two. So off we sped again. To be honest, I thought the whole point of canal holidays is that they’re meant to be calm affairs, but my stress levels were already climbing fast. Joe was so impatient with the traffic, because it was pretty slow going through the Angel, and then we hit the Euston Road, so I guessed we were going south.

‘Which canal are we going on?’ I said as we hurtled towards Shepherd’s Bush.

‘It’s a surprise.’

‘Go on, tell me.’

‘Well, OK,’ he said. ‘It’s the Grand Union and we pick it up at Southall.’

‘Southall?’ I said.

‘Yes, Southall. What’s wrong with Southall?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ I said. ‘Nothing. I’m sure Southall’s lovely.’

Oh God. This is what happens when you’re nice. You agree to go on holiday to Southall.

‘Can you read maps?’ asked Joe.

‘No,’ I said truthfully. And he started talking about the A4 and the M4 and Junction this and Junction that and I just kept quiet because, as you know, map-reading is not my forte. But we were driving along on the M4 and I began to notice the signs. And I saw the sign for Junction 3 ahead of us, which announced that Southall was to the right. But Joe didn’t turn right. He turned left.

‘Joe, the sign said Southall was to the right.’

‘It’s OK,’ he said, as he glanced in the mirror, ‘I know what I’m doing.’

‘Yes, but …’

‘And you admit you’re a useless navigator.’

‘Yes. Hopeless bordering on the moronic but I do know left from right. And we should have gone right there, but we went left, which is not right, it’s wrong.’

‘This is the alternative route,’ he said with what I thought was spurious authority.

‘Well, 180 degrees in the wrong direction is certainly alternative,’ I said. ‘Aren’t you bothered, Joe?’

‘No.’

‘But we’re going towards Heathrow now.’

‘
Are
we?’ he said. ‘Oh
no
!’

‘Yes, we are. Look – Heathrow, Terminal 4.’ Joe kept quiet. ‘Terminal 3,’ I added, as we passed another sign.

‘Oh dear,’ said Joe. ‘We have gone wrong, haven’t we? Look, here’s Terminal 2.’ Joe swung into the car-park, grabbed a ticket and found a space. Then we got out, and he was smiling, and so was I by now. Then he took our bags and went inside.

‘It’s OK, I like canals,’ I said. ‘I would happily have gone on a canal holiday.’

‘I love canals too,’ he said, as he reached into his jacket and
pulled out an airline docket. ‘Right, British Airways,’ he said, as we headed for the BA counter.

‘Joe, where are we going?’

‘Well, where would you
like
to go? There’s quite a choice, isn’t there?’ he said surveying the long line of check-in desks. ‘There’s Lisbon, Madrid, Barcelona, Alicante, Oslo, Gibraltar, or Paris. Do you fancy Paris again, Minty?’ And then he handed me the tickets, and I looked, and I smiled as I read: ‘Venice, Marco Polo.’

‘I told you I love canals,’ he said again. ‘Though I prefer the Grand Canal to the Grand Union, given the choice.’

‘How …wonderful,’ I said quietly, and I found it hard to say anything else.

‘Well,’ he said as we headed towards International Departures, hand in hand, ‘we both need a break, don’t we? I’ll be starting work on the film soon, and you’ve been so busy, so we should spend some time together. Won’t it be nice being on our own, Minty,’ he said, as we went through the gates. ‘Whenever you look up, there I shall be. Whenever I look up, there will be you. Won’t that be lovely, Minty?’

‘Lovely,’ I murmured.

‘And we need time together – before I go back to LA. But I hope you’ll be coming out there, Minty. The filming’s going to be such fun. Now, did I tell you about the casting?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I think we’ve got Kevin Spacey on board, and lots of A-list women are interested in the female lead – Sandra Bullock, Julia Roberts, Winona Ryder and Helen Hunt.’

‘Wow!’ I said.

‘But do you know who I really want?’

‘No.’

‘The one I really want.’

‘Tell me,’ I said with a smile.

‘Cameron Diaz!’

‘Cameron Diaz?’

‘Yes,’ he said, squeezing my hand. ‘Apparently, she’s dead keen, and I think she’d be perfect for the part. You could come
on set and meet her. And do you know, Minty, I’ve got this funny feeling that you’d both get on
terribly
well!’

‘Well …’

‘Wouldn’t that be
fun
, Minty?’ he said as the plane took off.

‘That would be
super
, darling!’ I said.

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins, 1999

Copyright © Isabel Wolff 1999

Isabel Wolff asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Source ISBN: 9780007305131

Ebook Edition © MAY 2013 ISBN: 9780007392209

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