The Marrying Game (6 page)

He let out a grim bark of laughter. ‘They are a lot of lazy bastards.’

‘Oh, they’re not that bad. Nancy’s done loads of
overtime
. She wore one of her bosomy shirts last night, and came home with a fortune in tips.’

‘Nancy’s a career barmaid,’ Edward said. ‘With her, it’s a vocation. But you’re a clever girl, and I wish to God you’d make something of your life. I always told your father he was disgustingly selfish, talking you out of university. You’re still young enough to do it, you know.’

‘You think I should have ignored him,’ Rufa said, without rancour.

‘You spoilt him. I mean, we all did.’ Edward sighed. ‘God knows, I couldn’t refuse him anything either.’

‘If you’re pushing university, I wish you’d work on Selena.’

Edward knew she wanted to change the subject. ‘Hmm.’

‘You don’t believe me, but she’s terribly bright. A girl who reads Milton and Spenser for fun should be doing Eng Lit at university.’

‘I’m talking about you,’ Edward said. He took a step back, so that he could look into her face. ‘I’d be a rotten sort of godfather, if I let you throw yourself away.’

Rufa knew, absolutely, that Edward would be dead against the Marrying Game. The bare idea would make him furious – she might as well tell him she was going on the other sort of game. She wanted to get him off the subject of the future.

‘I don’t think the Man meant godfathering to be such hard work,’ she said, smiling. Edward had been a boy of seventeen when the Man selected him for the honour, and from the first (totally unlike every other godparent haphazardly chosen to sponsor the girls), he had done his duty with high seriousness.

He gave her one of his rarer smiles, grave and tender. ‘I don’t think of it as work. And I think I’d worry about you, whether you were my godchild or not.’

Rufa was touched. She forgot, for long periods, that Edward was such a handsome man. It struck her again now, seeing his face in the half-light, and made her feel suddenly awkward – handsomeness had never been part of Edward’s job description. ‘You really mustn’t.’

‘It’s dirty work, but someone has to do it.’

‘Things will get better. They have to.’

Edward said, ‘Losing Melismate could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.’

She drew in her breath sharply. This was heresy.

‘No, listen to me. I don’t mean the Man dying, of course not. But his death might have the positive side effect of setting you free. I cared deeply for your father, and I care for his family. But I care for you most. You’re worth the lot of them put together.’ ‘Care for’ was Edwardish for ‘love’. ‘At least this way, I won’t have to stand by and watch you falling into the same trap – the fantasy that inheriting a pile of old bricks somehow cuts you off from ordinary life. That’s what killed your father.’

He would not allow her to protest.

‘Once this house is sold, I want you to join the real world. I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s more constructive than skivvying for your hopeless relations.’

This was a very long and very revealing speech for Edward to make – and he had not finished. He pulled something out of his jacket pocket. ‘I want you to have this. It belonged to my mother.’

He put a small box of worn leather into Rufa’s hand.
Surprised
to get a present from Edward that was not a Boots token, she opened it. Inside, on a faded velvet bed, was a Victorian brooch of thick gold, set with large, dingy jewels.

‘Diamonds and sapphires,’ Edward said.

‘It’s lovely – but I couldn’t –’ Rufa stammered.

‘She would have wanted you to have it, as a matter of fact. You always were her favourite.’ He chuckled softly. ‘And she would have expected you to sell it. I’m told it’s worth a few bob.’

‘Oh, Edward –’ Rufa’s mind had flown straight back to the Marrying Game. The brooch might be worth enough to bankroll her assault on London, without her having to sell the car. Edward needn’t know how his gift had been invested, until he got the engraved wedding invitation.

She sidestepped her guilt by telling herself that his mother would have supported her. She had liked old Mrs Reculver – a brisk, horsy lady, who had died five years before. Edward’s mother would have considered marrying money a positive duty for a well-born but impoverished gel. She had not shared her son’s Roundhead views of class and inheritance.

She smiled at him. ‘Thank you.’

Edward kissed her forehead. ‘Merry Christmas.’ He tweaked her nose, as he used to do when she was a small child. ‘And don’t you dare tell the others.’

Before he left, with Roger, to drag the pond for Berry’s keys, Edward carried in his official Christmas gift to the family – a large box of assorted bottles. Rose yodelled with joy and gave him a stifling hug. After he had gone,
however
, she did remark that it was like being rewarded by God for self-denial.

‘He set unto them a test, and they failed it not – Yea, they bought not gin, and they were pleasant in his sight.’ She poured a handsome shot of Gordon’s into the nearest glass.

Lydia and Selena had come down to the kitchen, lured by the sound of company and the smell of onions. Lydia was radiant, because Linnet was asleep and Ran’s latest girlfriend had left him. She organized more glasses, while Selena put her book down long enough to uncork a bottle of Barolo.

The door opened. Very slowly and cautiously, Berry crept in. He was tall, with an ample stomach. His borrowed brown corduroys did not do up at the waist, and the gaping flies were only partly covered by a billowing pink jersey. His brown hair had dried into a hearth brush, and the seam of the trousers went right up his crack.

They all collapsed in howls and screams of laughter. As Rufa said later, it might have been sticky, if Berry had not been such a good sport. After a moment of amazement, he grinned, and hitched up the trouser-legs, to heighten the comic effect.

Suddenly, miraculously, it felt like a real Christmas. The kitchen was crowded with laughing people, as it had not been since the death of the Man. Berry had stopped being startled by this peculiar family. Now, he remembered only that they had lost their father – in horrible circumstances – and were about to lose their home. The girls were eye-poppingly gorgeous, but there was no self-interest in Berry’s longing to comfort them. He even decided that he felt fond of Ran.

The soup, plentifully peppered and onioned by Rufa,
made
the room dim with its savoury steamings. Berry helped to lay the table with bowls and bread board, and his high spirits had quite a loaves-and-fishes effect on the quantities. He discovered none of the family liked dry sherry, and poured half Reculver’s bottle of Tio Pepe into the soup.

Warmed by the alcohol, which they were hoovering up at an incredible rate, they began to sing carols. At some point, after they had seen off all the soup and two loaves of bread, a piece of paper appeared under the door to the stairs.

‘Oh God, it’s Linnet,’ Rose said. ‘We’ve woken her up, and now she’s dropping leaflets.’

The note said: ‘WAT IS THAT OPORLING RAKET?’

Lydia, dreamily sozzled, leaning against her ex-husband, sighed. ‘Mummy, couldn’t she –?’

‘Go on, then.’ Rose was full of gin-flavoured indulgence. ‘Go and let the little blighter in. It is Christmas Eve, after all.’

Ran leapt up to open the door, and returned to the table with his daughter in his arms. She wore her blue duffel coat over Barbie pyjamas, and carried a Ressany under each arm. She settled on Ran’s knee, a starchy little infanta.

‘Who’s that man in Granny’s jersey?’

Berry got on famously with Linnet, because he did not make the fatal mistake of altering his manner when he talked to her. He related the story of his lost car keys as if she had been one of his colleagues at the bank, and she listened enraptured. Rufa, who judged everyone by the way Linnet reacted to them, rewarded Berry with an unsolicited cup of tea.

She was arguing with the others about opening the brandy, which she wanted for tomorrow’s pudding, when Nancy returned from the Dents. She rushed straight to the range, wriggling out of her coat.

‘It’s bloody freezing out there. Look at my nipples – standing out like a couple of bottle-tops.’

She thrust out her chest, and everyone looked at her nipples.

Rufa said, ‘You’re back early.’

‘Yes, thank God. The Dents are driving to some posh Midnight Mass, absolutely miles away. I escaped before they could make me go with them.’

She noticed Berry. Her lips curved into a lush smile. ‘Hello. I’m Nancy. You must be my Christmas present – oh girls, you shouldn’t have.’

‘Shut up, don’t tease him,’ Rufa said, laughing. ‘His name’s Berry. He was at school with Ran.’

‘And he’s really nice,’ Linnet said. ‘He whispered in my ear that while he was in the pond, he did a wee.’

There was a great shout of laughter. Berry’s round face flushed puce.

In a slow, puzzled voice, Nancy asked, ‘Why can’t we deliver presents at Melismate, Father Christmas?’

And in a deep, plummy voice, she said, ‘Sorry, reindeer – there’s a naughty little girl who won’t go to sleep.’

Linnet commanded, ‘Make the Ressanies say it’s all their fault.’

Deep voice: ‘How dare you cast aspersions on those innocent bears? Off to bed with you!’

Ran stood up, squeezing Lydia’s shoulder with one hand. ‘I’ll take her up, darling.’

‘Well, I’m not going,’ Linnet said testily. ‘Why this
fixation
with going to bed? What’s the point, if I’m not even tired?’

‘Come on, madam. You’ve had a good innings.’ Ran gathered his daughter into his arms. ‘Kiss your hand to everyone, and say Happy Christmas.’

‘Happy Christmas.’ Linnet kissed her starfish hand, then added, ‘Wait – I’d very much like to actually kiss the man who weed in the pond.’

Ran carried her over to Berry. Everyone tried hard to contain any insulting laughter, but Linnet was very much on her dignity as she dropped a queenly kiss on Berry’s cheek. Ran had made one of his sudden transformations. The deserted lover was now, magically, a considerate husband and father. After he had sweetly borne the child out of the room, Rose and Rufa exchanged glances of deep scepticism.

Nancy said, ‘Ma Dent saw the bookshop woman crying in a wine bar. Do I take it she’s left him?’

‘You missed his suicidal grief,’ said Rose.

‘What a shame. I always enjoy that.’

‘Never mind,’ Selena said. ‘There’ll be another one along in a minute.’

‘Bitches.’ Lydia was plaintive. ‘He’s trying to be cheerful, and it’s all for Linnet’s sake. So you shouldn’t be so mean.’

Nancy tipped another friendly smile at Berry. ‘I wonder who’ll be next? The field is narrowing somewhat.’

‘That old hippy in Bangham, who sells crystals,’ predicted Selena. ‘I swear she fancies Ran.’

‘You utter bitches!’

Rose was laughing so hard that she was sliding off her chair. She collected herself, with a boozy sigh. ‘Don’t be
silly
, you know we all adore the Village Idiot. I’m going to nominate him for Village Idiot of the Year.’

At a quarter to eleven, Edward and Roger returned, in triumph.

‘I’ve driven a new BMW, I can die happy,’ Edward said, holding up Berry’s keys. ‘And I filled your car with petrol, Rufa – you mustn’t let it get so low.’

Unseen by him, Rose made a gargoyle face.

‘Thanks,’ Rufa said mildly. She touched Berry’s arm. ‘Look – you’re free.’

Berry tore his eyes off Nancy with such an effort, you could almost hear it. ‘Sorry?’

‘Your keys.’ Edward forced them into his hand. ‘You can go.’

‘Oh, don’t!’ Selena cried.

Berry said, ‘I’ve no intention of going. I just need to fetch something from the boot.’

The cold cleared his head, but did not bring him back to his senses. He had lost those the moment he saw Nancy. He was elated, terrified, newborn. She was a red-headed goddess, with breasts he wanted to lick. He had never realized sexual desire could be so urgent, or so specific. He had fancied women before, naturally. But this was beyond fancying. Within seconds of seeing Nancy, Berry knew exactly how he would make love to her.

Good God, what had she thought of him? One glimpse of her hard nipples, under that clinging black dress, and he was burbling like a Flowerpot Man.