Haven't They Grown(23)
He also went round knocking on doors one day, trying to persuade people to see sense. Many of them did – chiefly, those who had most missed their evening pint or four while the whole-village boycott was in progress – and that was how Little Holling divided into two factions, the one led by my husband and the one led by the deeply obnoxious Val and Geoff Monk, who, now, turn and walk the other way if they see any member of my family heading in their direction.
Robin and Ruth, The Olde Jug’s new owners, have become our close friends, even though we no longer bankrupt ourselves eating their Sunday roasts and Friday fish-and-chip suppers every week. I’ve told Dom I know they’ll understand, and they will.
‘Well, I don’t,’ he says. ‘Why not ring Lewis from the car, if you don’t want to do it in our house?’ he asks as we walk across the green to the pub. It’s an odd-looking building: tall and narrow, with a white-painted brick frontage and red-painted stonework above and below the windows. It doesn’t look like a typical village-green pub.
‘With people strolling past, nosy villagers knocking on the window, dogs barking on the green?’ I say. ‘No thanks. I want to be in a quiet room, alone, where I know Zan and Ben aren’t going to stick their heads round the door and yell, “Can we go into town and get a Nando’s?”’
‘You’re building this up too much, Beth. Going to a special place to make the call …’
‘Dom, I’m nipping across the green, that’s all. I mean, here we are.’
‘You’re hoping and secretly believing that Lewis Braid is going to tell you something mind-blowing that solves everything, and you’re going to be disappointed.’
‘I want to be able to focus, that’s all.’
I’ve never said so to Dom in case it would sound disloyal, but I can’t concentrate at home – not on anything important that requires focus, not while Zannah and Ben are in the house and awake. That’s why I do my work admin late at night. Teenagers are even worse than nosy villagers when it comes to smashing through your carefully constructed boundaries.
The Olde Jug is quiet and smells temptingly of roast beef. Soon it will start to fill up with all those who have booked in for dinner. There are no tables in the bar area, and the restaurant part of the pub is relatively small – only one room, now with a conservatory extension which has enabled a few more tables to be added – and needs to be booked several weeks in advance. Little Holling folk complain furiously if they’ve found themselves eating near people who look as if they’re from Somewhere Else, even though there’s no rule stating that priority should be given to those who live closest.
Robin and Ruth live in a two-bedroom flat above the pub. They’re happy for me to use it to make my call, as I knew they would be. ‘Don’t even ask,’ Dominic says over his shoulder to Robin as we head upstairs.
‘He didn’t ask,’ I mutter.
‘Lounge or kitchen?’ Dom asks.
‘Kitchen.’
‘Shall we make a cup of tea?’
‘No. I’m ringing him now.’ I want to get it over with, whatever it turns out to be.
A few seconds later, I hear a voice I haven’t heard for twelve years. ‘Beth Leeson!’
‘How did you know it was me?’
‘International call. Actually, you’re right – as a hotshot CEO, I get loads of international calls.’ Lewis has always done this: mocking his own boastfulness at the same time as indulging it to the full. ‘But I’ve been waiting for you to call since I sent you my number. How are things? How’s Dom and the kids?’
‘Fine. We’re all fine. How … how are things with you?’ There’s a lag after each of us speaks.
‘Amazing, thanks. The kids are so American now, you’d barely recognise them.’
I close my eyes. When I open them, Dominic is gesturing for me to put my phone on speaker so that he can hear Lewis’s side of the conversation. I shake my head. The look I get in response tells me I’m being silly, but I don’t care. I’m not risking pressing a button that might cut Lewis off.
‘Flora’s doing great. Loves the climate here. Keeps saying she can’t believe she put up with the grey, gloomy English weather for so long. When are you guys gonna get your lazy asses out here to visit us?’
Another classic Lewis Braid move: making you feel guilty for not accepting an invitation you never received.
‘Do you ever come back to the UK?’
‘Yeah, when we can. We were back for Christmas, stayed with Flora’s parents. They’re still in their little place in Wokingham. Bit of a squeeze with seven of us!’
Seven. Lewis, Flora, Thomas, Emily, Flora’s parents … and Georgina. She has to be the seventh person. Still, no harm in checking …
‘How old is Georgina now?’
‘She’s twelve. Terrifying how quick time passes, isn’t it? Did you and Dominic ever have any more?’
‘More time?’ I’m confused.
‘No, more children. Though, come to think of it …’ Lewis laughs. ‘God, what I wouldn’t give for more time. Bet you’re the same. Remember before we had kids, how we used to spend whole days lying around by the river, or watching movies?’
‘Yes.’