‘Vince refuses,’ I explain. ‘I’ve tried everything. There’s no getting through to him at all.’
Alice runs a hand over her silver bob. For most of the journey so far she’s been pinging questions at me, seemingly fascinated to know more about my life. Thankfully, she hasn’t grilled me about my credentials or why I signed up to an agency for this kind of work.
Of course, the real Kate – or someone from the agency – could call her at any moment and apologise for the no-show at Euston. And then I’d be rumbled and Alice would be appalled – or, understandably, furious. Possibly even freaked out. And I don’t want that to happen. Already, I’ve decided I like her very much.
‘So it’s been like living in a strange kind of limbo?’ she suggests. ‘As if your mother-in-law might leap out from a cupboard at any moment?’
‘It sounds awful but yes.’ She really seems to get it – which triggers a whoosh of guilt over deceiving her in this way. I know what Vince would say now. That Idefinitelyneed an urgent appointment with Dr Kemp. That what I’m doing right now is far more serious than misusing Agata’s lemon balm as a salad ingredient or burning a quiche.
Yet I haven’t lied directly, or tried to extort money from her. When Alice goes to the loo I quickly google agencies offering companion services on a short-term basis. From what I can gather they seem to ask for full payment upfront. Hopefully, Alice will have paid them, so there won’t be an awful situation of her trying to payme.
I don’t want money. It’s not about that. All I want is to be useful and busy and far away from Sycamore Grove, just until the dust settles.
And then I can figure out what to do next.
Alice returns from the loo and resumes her direct mode of questioning. ‘So, d’you think you’ll go back to Vince when our three weeks are over?’
‘I’m not quite sure what my plans are,’ I say quickly.
‘Oh, I am sorry if I’m quizzing you.’ She seems to catch herself. ‘Max, my son, is always telling me off for being ridiculously nosy...’
‘It’s fine, honestly,’ I reply, thinking, as long as we avoid anything relating to therealKate, or the job she’d been booked to do, then I’m on reasonably safe ground. And actually, I’m flattered that someone as smart and accomplished as Alice is so interested in my life. When we moved to Shugbury, Deborah was the only one to ask what I’d done work-wise in London.
‘Ugh, dusty old museums,’ she’d said with a shudder. ‘I was always dragged around them as a child. I dreaded it.’ And that had been that. My nerves tingle a little when the same subject rears up now. However, Alice doesn’t seem surprised that my career has swerved from museum curation to this seemingly unlikely new direction.
‘I should have known about that,’ she chastises herself, ‘if I’d read your CV properly. But it was all such a rush after Max announced he wasn’t coming. I couldn’t be doing with Zoom interviews and there wasn’t time to meet anyone face to face. And anyway, I like to trust my instinct in these situations...’ I shift uneasily in my seat. ‘I think we should have a little toast, don’t you?’ Alice adds with a bright smile.
‘Er, yes. What would you like? I can go—’ I leap up, keen for a little respite from this crazy pretence. (Am I despicable in deceiving her like this?) However, Alice is in the aisle already, holding her hand in mid-air, as if stopping traffic.
‘I’ll go. I need to stretch my legs. You wait here with the girls.’
While she’s gone, I tell myself that, if all this becomes too much, I can confess and deal with whatever she throws at me. I’ll deserve it, after all. Meanwhile, I settle her dogs who are a little agitated by her disappearance, and only relax again when she reappears.
‘No champagne,’ she announces, looking crestfallen. ‘Only ready-mixed gin and tonics, but thereisice.’
‘Oh, lovely. Thank you.’ I pour mine over the ice cubes and take a fortifying sip. ‘So, tell me about growing up in Scotland,’ I prompt her, hoping to at least find out where we’re going as I haven’t felt able to ask. Of course, the real Kate would have known all the details.
‘It’s a lovely part of rural Perthshire,’ she starts. ‘But I was your typical only child stuck in the middle of nowhere. Lived in my own head most of the time. Loved books. They were all I cared about really. I was set on studying English literature, and when I was offered a place at St Andrews university my mother was horrified.’
‘Horrified?’ I exclaim. ‘Why?’
‘Because she had someone in mind for me to marry and expected me to produce a horde of children.’ She smiles wryly.
‘Wow. And you rebelled against that?’
‘I did. Went through university with no help from my parents. I was pretty much cut off,’ she adds. ‘The only reason I’ve inherited the house is because there was literally no one else to leave it to. Dad had passed away a few years before.’
I nod, not sure how to respond to this.
‘Did you ever go back? After you’d left for university, I mean?’
‘Occasionally,’ she replies, ‘hoping to make amends and then to show them that I’d finally given them a grandchild, even if they’d had to wait until I was thirty-five, which was geriatric back then.’ She sips her drink and smiles wryly. ‘The wedding cake lasted longer than my marriage. I brought up Max on my own, which was another reason for my parents to be horrified by me...’
‘I think it’s admirable,’ I say truthfully. ‘So, you were working throughout all this?’
‘Oh, yes. In academia. I adored the students – they were the best part. And belonging to a university, which is a bit like a family. A dysfunctional family, but a family all the same.’ Is there any other type, I wonder? She laughs, but her mention of family sparks another jolt of unease in me. What am I going to tell Edie about leaving her dad?
‘You know,’ Alice continues, cutting through my thoughts, ‘I’m so relieved I won’t be clearing out the house all by myself.’
