Читать книгу Bed of Roses - Daisy Waugh - Страница 24

She can’t work after that. She can’t concentrate. There is a single-screen cinema in the centre of Lamsbury, musty and almost always empty, but still just about open for business. The moment she’s got rid of Robert, Fanny takes herself there, buys a ticket without bothering to ask what is showing, scans the cinema to be sure that he hasn’t followed her, settles down to lose herself in another world and immediately falls asleep.

Afterwards, she’s heading out through the foyer, feeling blurry eyed and incredibly hungry, when she bumps into Jo and her husband Charlie Maxwell McDonald, who is patiently re-explaining the film’s plot to his father, the General. ‘But they were different characters, Dad,’ he is saying (again). ‘There were three men, and they were all—’

The General catches sight of Fanny and immediately shouts out to her. ‘Hello, hello,’ he bellows. ‘Thought that was you, nodding off in the front row! Kept your shirt on this evening, have you, Miss Flynn?’

Fanny smiles patiently, turns towards him. Since that evening the General has said the same thing every time they’ve met. ‘I didn’t see you all in there,’ she says, and grins. ‘Didn’t see much of anything, actually. Was it any good?’

‘Drivel,’ the General answers, peering behind her. ‘As per usual. Made no sense at all. Didn’t miss a thing. Have you got your chap with you this evening, then? I can’t see him. Is he here?’

‘What chap?’ she mutters. ‘A chap? I don’t have a chap. Thank you. No. I’m on my own.’

‘On your own?’ echoes the General indignantly. ‘Attractive young lady like you!’

‘She’s been working so hard,’ interrupts Jo, tactfully, ‘she probably longs to spend an evening on her own for once. I know I do.’

‘Mmm?’ The General looks unconvinced. ‘Well, well, I dare say. Nice to see you, Fanny.’ He hesitates, on the point of marching onwards, but then in spite of what Jo says, he thinks she looks a little sad, a little lonely. ‘I say, Fanny,’ he adds, ‘if you’re not doing anything on Sunday, why don’t you come to lunch?’

‘Thanks—’ She looks ready to accept.

‘Oh, blast. Not this Sunday,’ he corrects himself. Turns to Jo. ‘We’ll still have that paranoid bugger staying, won’t we? D’you suppose he’ll ever leave?’

‘He says he wants to stay on at least another week,’ Charlie says.

Jo and the General let out simultaneous groans.

‘Well, next Sunday then,’ the General says. ‘Make it next Sunday.’

Fanny laughs. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’

‘And Grey McShane’ll be cooking,’ the General brightens a little. ‘Meat. He always cooks on Sundays. Which means of course that we’ll have the Ghastly Guestlies in loco. No way round it, I’m afraid. Wherever McShane cooks, the Guestlies tend to follow. But I’m sure you can cope. And God knows, they need diluting.’

‘Right then. Well, I shall see you then.’ Fanny hesitates, tries hard not to ask but can’t resist, ‘So, er – who d’you suppose you’ll have staying with you?’

‘Mmm? Oh, no one much,’ the General says airily. ‘We’ve got a couple of bores from the television just arrived, who seem to think I keep a mental file on every aspect of their fatuous “careers”. But they might have left by then. Fingers crossed. And a cold-fish adviser from Downing Street. Well, ex-adviser now. Ha, ha. Another raving ego maniac. As per usual. However. Mustn’t complain…You’ll have to sign a thing. Won’t she, Jo? Sorry. It’s ghastly, but we’ve come a cropper in the past. Things have turned up in the news.’

‘You don’t mean a “confidentiality agreement”?’ Fanny giggles. ‘General, I can’t think of anything more glamorous!’

‘Excellent. Jolly good.’ He looks at her thoughtfully. ‘Enjoying yourself down here, are you? Not too lonely?’

Fanny frowns. Enjoying herself? It’s the question she and Louis always ask each other; it’s their justification for always moving on. Enjoying her life in Fiddleford? She’s been too involved in it to wonder. Suddenly it seems a ridiculous question. She’s not even certain how to answer it. ‘Funnily enough,’ she says at last, ‘and in spite of many things – yes. I suppose I am.’ And the frown lifts, as if she realises the truth of what she’s saying for the first time. She looks up at the General and laughs. ‘Funnily enough, I love it here,’ she says again.

‘Good, good.’ He nods. ‘Well, maybe we should get Solomon Creasey over. Don’t you think, Charlie? He’ll have some Silent Beauty trailing along, of course. But not to worry. They come and they go. Have you met him, Fanny?’

‘Not yet. I’ve heard a lot about him.’

‘Noisy chap. Tremendous chums with McShane. In fact, I rather suspect they have some sort of a history together…Well. Excellent. We shall see you next Sunday!’ He turns away without waiting for her reply. ‘Charlie? Jo?’ They are arm in arm, and nobody can fail to notice what an outrageously handsome couple they are, how happy they look together, and how incongruous in the foyer of the musty old Lamsbury Classic. ‘Shall we get going?’ he says briskly, and he charges out into the darkness, awkwardly tactful, leaving the lovebirds to amble slowly behind.