A Rural Affair

Perhaps not the moment.

‘Pas devant les enfants,’ Jennie agreed quickly. ‘Tell me later. Are you all right?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘You’re smiling in a funny way, like you’ve got a headache. Your eyes are all crinkled up.’

‘I thought it was attractive.’

‘No, it’s not. Oh – here, Archie did a picture.’ She thrust a still-wet painting into my hand then hastened round the table to where her daughter, on a stool, was tipping an entire packet of currants into the mixing bowl.

‘Not all of them, Hannah!’ she cried.

I left her to it, but her phone rang as I passed it in the hall. I stopped, Archie on my hip.

‘D’you want me to get it?’ I called back.

‘Please. And I’m not here. Hannah – darling, woah!’

I picked up the receiver. ‘Oh, hi, Dan.’

Jennie stopped what she was doing. Her back stiffened, hunched over the mixing bowl. She turned, in listening attitude, as I listened too.

‘OK, hang on,’ I told him. I cleared my throat. Put the phone to my chest.

‘He’s at the station,’ I relayed calmly. ‘But he’s had a teensy bit too much to drink, so he thinks the responsible thing might be not to drive home.’

‘Which station?’

‘Our station.’

‘I thought he was staying the night in Leeds?’

I replaced the phone to my ear. ‘She thought you were staying in Leeds?’ I listened. Turned back to her. ‘The meeting was cancelled because the media buyer’s mother was rushed to hospital. He just had lunch there and came back.’

‘Well, that’s something, I suppose,’ said Jennie grimly. ‘Bloody man took my overnight case instead of his. I’ve just found his, all packed and ready in the wardrobe. Idiot.’

‘That’ll teach you to have smart his and hers luggage,’ I told her.

‘There’s nothing smart about this marriage, Poppy. So he wants me to pick him up, does he?’ She said testily, her hands covered in sticky gloopy flour.

‘I’ll go,’ I said quickly, as her nostrils began to flare ominously.

‘Bloody man. So irresponsible. Why does he always have to get pissed? And then we’ve got another car sitting at the station – marvellous!’

‘We’ll both go,’ I placated her. ‘And then you can drive the other one back. Come on, Jennie, it’s not the end of the world.’

‘It’s the beginning of the end of the world,’ she grumbled, wiping her hands on a tea towel and grabbing her car keys. ‘Frankie!’ she yelled upstairs as she marched down the hall towards me. ‘Can you come and finish Hannah’s cakes? I’m going to get your father.’

There was a silence. Then: ‘I’m busy.’

Jennie looked fit to bust. ‘Just come down now and look after your brother and sister for me for two minutes!’

Frankie appeared at the top of the stairs. Her face was very pale.

‘Of course, Jennie. Whatever you say, Jennie.’

I followed Jennie down the path to my car.

‘She all right?’ I said lightly as I strapped the children in the back.

‘Frankie? No, she’s a complete and utter nightmare at the moment.’

I was silent. I never found her so. ‘Maybe she feels she’s a bit put-upon? Babysitting all the time? She does a lot.’

‘She’s their sister, Poppy, of course she does.’

‘Yes, but if she’s busy, you know, doing her homework or whatever …’

Jennie snorted. ‘Don’t give me that. She’s up there running up her mobile bill and gassing to her friends about how to pull a boy – or worse.’

I looked at her as we pulled out.

‘I don’t mean that,’ she mumbled. ‘You know I don’t mean that. But she’s tricky, Poppy. It’s a tricky age. And I