Part 4 (1/2)

'What colour? I asked.

'All of them, he said, chucking eight into his trolley. 'Lets nip over to ”Gardening” and see if theyve got any metal ones. They can double up for ashes and Boxer.

The morning began to take on a slightly surreal feeling.

We got two galvanised buckets and queued up at the cash point. Russell pulled out his wallet and frowned.

'Problem?

'Im trying to remember which card is least likely to be rejected. Lets try the blue one.

Credit card rejection was a whole new world to me and I waited breathlessly for this new experience. But not today. With an astonis.h.i.+ng amount of electronic beeping, we were through.

Russell set off for the exit at only just sub-light speed. Thomas lingered. 'Well, he said, looking around one last time. ' Whod have thought it?

'Come on, I said, nervous about being left behind. I could easily imagine Russell driving off without us, lost in the excitement of freshly acquired buckets. There was a toot from the car park.

I expected to be driven home, or at least dropped off outside the post office, my day over with, but he turned the other way.

'Where are we going?

'Oh, Im sorry, did you have other plans? Its just its raining so hard I want to get back to catch the drips. But I can easily drop you wherever you want to be.

I certainly didnt want to go home yet. 'No, thats fine.

He speeded up again and we racketed down the lanes, through Whittington, and out the other side. He turned off just past the duck pond, up a narrow lane, and there was Frogmorton Farm, exactly as I remembered it from all those years ago.

A long, low rambling building of red brick here, and a bit of stone there, with many chimneys. Oddly shaped windows had apparently been flung at random across the exterior. Various outbuildings of strange construction and purpose huddled around a yard, which in turn opened into a large field.

The gate was open and we pulled straight into the yard.

'You dont want to go in through the front door, do you?

I shook my head.

'Good, because I cant get it open. This way.

We divided up the buckets between us and I followed him into the house.

I remembered the mud room and its distinctive smell of old wet coats and rubber wellies. I was hurried through and straight into the kitchen.

'What ho, Mrs C! Buckets!

It was Mrs Crisp. She was still here. She was a little plumper and a little greyer and her eyes were a little more unfocused, but here was another one who didnt look a lot different.

I remembered how she used to bring us biscuits and juice and how I thought she smelled funny until Aunt Julia came back from a 'ladies lunch one day, and I realised it was sherry. She turned away from stirring something on the stove, wiped her red hands on a tea-towel, and came forward.

'Miss Dove, its very nice to see you again. She took my buckets off me, much to my relief.

I smiled and nodded.

'No time to chat, cried Russell, making for the other door. 'Come on, Jenny.

She rolled her eyes. I took back the buckets and followed him out.

'Something smells nice, I said to Thomas. 'Do you think theyll ask us to lunch?

He gave me a funny look. 'Im certain of it.

Up in the attics I carefully placed my buckets over the damp patches. There were depressing but oddly musical drips. Russell sighed. I looked up. Here and there, I could see tiny c.h.i.n.ks of daylight.

'Its not so bad, he said defensively. 'The tiles can stay on. The undersides need filling and a waterproof membrane putting across the joists and itll all be fine again. But not until the summer.

'Because of the weather? I asked, glad to show off a bit of knowledge.

'No, thats when the rents due again.

I must have looked surprised.

'I rent most of my land to my neighbour up the lane. For his sheep. He brings them down off the moors in winter and for lambing. For which I expect theyre extremely grateful. I know I am. Anyway, this years rent will see to this, he gestured to the roof. 'At the moment Ive got other things on.

I raised my eyebrows.

'Decorating. Ive got the central heating in; that was last years rent. Quite a bit more than last years rent, actually. But thats done, so at least were warm now. When I get the roof done thats pretty well the last of the structural work. Now Im going to slap on two coats of magnolia all over, polish up the floors, and thats it until a chimney blows down, or I discover dry rot or something equally s.h.i.+tty. Would you like the tour?

I nodded with enthusiasm.

'Come on then. He seized my wrist and I was whirled away.

We started downstairs.

The kitchen was a good-sized room with terracotta tiles. Dressers filled with china lined the walls. A huge table with mismatched chairs occupied the middle of the room. Unlike Aunt Julias carefully co-ordinated designer desert, everything here was warm, comfortable, shabby, and smelled delicious. There was a huge, old iron-type range that also provided hot water.

'Big walk-in pantry over there. Through that door is Mrs Cs domain. No one ever goes in there. She has all her past lovers chained to the walls. Sometimes at night, when its all quiet, you can hear their piteous moaning. Its so sad.

She flapped a tea-towel at him. 'Go away. Lunch in thirty minutes. To me. 'You do like lamb and apricot ca.s.serole?

'Am I staying to lunch?

'Told you, said Thomas.

'Sorry, Jenny, I forgot to tell you.

'No, Mrs Crisp said. 'You forgot to ask her.

'Yes, that too. Jenny, would you like to stay to lunch?

'Dont even think about saying no, muttered Thomas.

We looked into the dining room, a big, sad room with the shutters closed. Russell pulled one back so we could see better, but it wasnt worth the effort. He pushed it back again.