“This bloody socialist government has buggered up this country now, banning hunting.”
“I’ve never ridden to hounds,” I said.
Her eyes lit up. “There’s nothing quite like it. It’s just such a wonderful experience. The horses and hounds love the exercise, and most of the time the bloody fox manages to bugger off. These silly sods in Whitehall are bending to the wills of mindless morons who’ve never set foot out of suburbia or their seedy council estates.”
“I think it’s the concept of causing unnecessary suffering by hunting any innocent animal. If there was any other motive apart from the death of the fox or stag, then I believe it would be more acceptable, but in this day and age, the whole perception of obtaining enjoyment from hunting and killing an animal for pleasure sits distastefully with many.”
She looked at me with a nasty frown on her face. “Are you opposed to hunting?”
I smiled, as I could see where she was going with this. She needed to find a reason not to like me.
“I find myself torn. On the one hand, there are traditions and livelihoods at stake, as well as the fact that farms with livestock are so often overrun by foxes. However, there is also the distasteful truth that the chase causes unnecessary suffering to the animals. I have nothing against killing vermin, particularly if the foxes are killing livestock or poultry, or culling deer if there is a genuine need, but I’m not sure it is morally correct to obtain pleasure from the chase and the kill. Having lived abroad for much of my life, I’m not very knowledgeable in things to do with this country, so I’d have to abstain in any vote.”
Sarah smiled slightly, as my answer was reasoned and balanced, so she couldn’t accuse me of being emotional about things I had no knowledge.
“You ought to go into politics, as that was a very sneaky answer.”
“No sneakier than the initial question. I also believe that everyone has a right to choose their lifestyle, without anyone forcing them to do things they don’t want to, or preventing them from doing things they want to do, as long as no one is hurt in the process.”
This time she laughed. “Oh, brilliant. How old did you say you are?”
“I didn’t, but I always claim to be old enough to know better and young enough to do it well.”
Sarah looked at me and, for a fleeting moment, her shutters came down. She granted me a brief sight of a very cold and calculating woman, but also of a woman who felt very alone and vulnerable. I knew at that moment that she was suspicious that I was not what I seemed.
However, she changed the subject completely and the moment was over.
She gave nothing further away that day, and we retired to bed at eleven in the evening after a pleasant supper. Sarah had relaxed a little, but not enough for me to attempt to obtain anything else from her. She’d given me a lot, so I now was convinced she’d arranged for Maxim to become involved. But if Maxim didn’t have him, so who the hell did?
John was rather embarrassed as we got undressed, sneaking off to the bathroom to change and allowing me to change in the bedroom. I was in bed when he returned, so he turned out the light as he got into his bed.
“Becca?”
“What?”
“What kind of a man are you looking for?”
“Who said I was?”
“Okay, if you were?”
I paused. The images of David and Mike floated into my consciousness. So did Jon’s image, and I smiled as they seemed to battle for supremacy.
One image lasted longer than the others, and it surprised me, as I had expected it to be Major Mike. Maybe I was changing more than I knew.
“Someone gentle, who cares and is kind, dependable and worships the ground upon which I walk.”
“I could do that,” he said, his voice quietly hopeful in the darkness.
“I know, but you don’t want to get mixed up with me, believe me.”
“I am old enough to know my own mind, you know?” He sounded cross.
“Jon, don’t misunderstand me, I do like you, but this is business. If it wasn’t for your predicament, I wouldn’t be here, so let’s wait and see what happens. Okay?”
“Everyone meets someone for a reason, does it matter what that reason is?”
“Probably not,” I admitted.
I rolled over, taking my phone from the bedside table. I sent a short text to David.
SORRY NOT TO CALL. TIED UP WITH WORK. THINKING OF YOU. WILL CALL SOON. XX R
I woke at three in the morning, slipping out of bed, quietly. The problem with old houses is that they creak. The floor-boards creak, the doors creak and even the furniture rattles on the uneven floor when you pass within eight feet, so ornaments and china announce your progress every few yards. It took me a while to get downstairs. I didn’t want to wake the dogs that were asleep, hopefully, in the kitchen.
I powered up the PC in the study, managing to access the system. I found nothing of interest, guessing that Sarah hadn’t used the computer for anything untoward. I searched the study carefully and, once again, found nothing. I returned to bed, none the wiser.
Sarah was already up when I got up, leaving Jon in bed. I dressed in jeans and a thick sweater, leaving my makeup off. Jon’s mother was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.
“Good morning, sleep well?”
“Yes thanks.”
“No Jon?”
“Still asleep.”
“How unusual,” she said with a knowing smile. “Bread is in the bread bin and cereals are on the dresser. Help yourself.”
I did as she said, sitting down opposite her to eat, conscious she was watching me.
“You aren’t what I imagined, you know?” she said.
“I’m sorry?”
“I mean, I always thought Jon would find a girl, but she’d be a timid, shrew like creature, who was interested in the same things as he was.”
“How do you know I’m not?”
“Rebecca, you can’t fool me, I’m a mother.”
I smiled, but was unsure what to say to her.
“I do have a theory, though. I thought of it last night when I went to bed,” she announced after a few minutes awkward silence.
“Oh?”
“He has a weakness for powerful women, who can control him and take charge.”
“Like you, you mean?”
She laughed at that. “Perhaps. In fact, you’re probably right. They say a man will always be attracted to a woman who is similar in character to his mother.”
“I wasn’t aware that I come over as powerful?”
She put down the paper and drank from her coffee mug.
“You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were just another pretty girl who spends all her time on clothes, makeup and chatting endlessly about inconsequential rubbish. I was wrong, but you are very hard to pin down.”
“Good, I would hate to be transparent.”
“Rebecca, I want to be honest with you. When you arrived I felt threatened.”
“Threatened! By me?”
“Yes. You see, despite being married for too bloody long, I’ve held this family together while Hugh has buggered about with his scientific mumbo-jumbo and rarely put in an appearance. I’ve seen to the children through illnesses, puberty and one crisis after another. When the silly basket decided to bugger off, what the hell was I supposed to do?”
“He’s buggered off?”
“Look, this is very complicated. My husband, whom, I suppose I love, is too bloody intelligent for his own good, but he has the common sense of a gnat. He invented something marvellous, but needed funding to make it work. He took it to the British government and they paid for most of the research. But it wasn’t enough, so without telling me he approached the Americans, offering them the invention, in return for the research funding the British were being so reluctant to part with. I was so angry, because it was the Americans who broke my family, years ago.