A Season in the West by Read Piers Paul

Author:Read, Piers Paul
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-11-11T00:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

After her lunch with Birek in the kitchen of her house in Lansdowne Square, Laura left for Risley. She fetched Lucy from school on her way out of London and her mood remained cheerful until the effects of the wine began to wear off, making her irritable and sleepy. She had to stop at a service area to drink some coffee to keep herself awake. They left the motorway at Hungerford and reached Risley at half-past five. Mrs Jackson was waiting in the kitchen with a simmering kettle ready to make tea. Lucy kissed this cosy lady and then ran up to her room to change out of her uniform while Laura, who now had a slight hangover, took her tea into the library where Mrs Jackson had lit a fire.

At seven she joined the other wives of bankers and stockbrokers waiting for their husbands in their Volvos, Mercedes and Range Rovers at Westbury Station. At ten past seven Francis arrived from Paddington and climbed into the car carrying his briefcase and a copy of the Spectator.

‘How was the drive down?’ he asked as Laura drove off.

‘Abominable.’

‘Jams?’

‘Bumper to bumper all the way.’

‘I was ready to take Lucy on the train.’

‘It was easier to take her straight from school.’

‘Why didn’t you come down this morning?’

‘I had things to do.’ She said this in such a way as to exclude any enquiries as to what these things might be.

‘Is there anything on this weekend?’

‘The Grays to lunch tomorrow, then dinner with the Hamptons.’

He nodded but said nothing. Sometimes Francis wished that their life in the country was less social – that the frenzy of a week in London could be followed by some repose; but he remained committed to the role that living at Risley had thrust upon him, and so was obedient to the invitations from those neighbours who relied upon the Londoners to liven things up at weekends.

That night, at least, they were to dine alone. Francis went first to kiss Lucy good-night, then changed from his suit into the old jersey and corduroy trousers that he always wore at Risley. Mrs Jackson had left a fish pie on the Aga and had set two places on the kitchen table. Since it was time to eat Francis skipped his usual glass of whisky but opened a bottle of Moselle. He drank most of it himself. Laura would only drink water.

Among the many advantages of living at Risley was the established circle of friends and neighbours. Some of these were the bankers and brokers whom Francis knew from the City or the Friday evening train; but others were friends from Laura’s childhood – her cousins the Distons, for example, but also girls from school or the pony club who were now wives and mothers like Laura. Of these she saw most of a pretty, cheerful woman called Emma Jenkins. Emma had a daughter the same age as Lucy. Every Saturday morning the two little girls went riding together from a stable in Pewsey while their mothers had a cup of coffee in the Red Lion Hotel.

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