Chapter 9

Emily Alcott.

I have to admit, I’m a passionate and sensual woman. Many who don’t know him as I do would be surprised that I’m married to a passionate and sensual man. He has his faults, like all men. One can hardly blame them, in view of the genetic handicap with which they’re all born, I suppose. Anyway. When we married, it took some time to overcome his upbringing and release the man I needed, but I’ve never looked back. Where was I? I’m easily distracted thinking of Basil. Oh, yes. Men and faults. Basil is straight as a die, honest to a fault, but he has some serious tunnel vision thanks to his family background. I suppose, to be honest, he’s a snob. In fact, I’m still amazed that he got over his prejudice to marry a woman who is a quarter Chinese. The fact that he did, gives me hope that I can break through the present impasse.

Our son, Patrick, was never a problem. I was surprised Basil didn’t object when Patrick insisted on entering the overseas aid arena. That’s where he was at the time we’re talking about – in some corner of Africa, taking his life in his hands with the local bandits/terrorists/freedom-fighters, in order to get food to the starving refugees. Actually, I think Basil is proud of him, although he’s too embarrassed to admit it. But to get back on the topic – Lisa. Basil, dear man, like most fathers of daughters, was, no, is, very protective. I was worried when Lisa reached puberty, that she would rebel against his restrictions – let’s be honest here, his controlling behaviour ... and become a delinquent, or sleep around indiscriminately. I was relieved that she conformed and maintained a high standard academically.

However, when she reached her majority without a serious boyfriend, I started to worry about that. I had no doubt that she inherited a passionate nature from her parents, but that passion seemed to be entirely sublimated into an academic career. I was happy that she seemed to have found a place in the world, but not that there seemed little likelihood of giving me grandchildren. Or, for that matter, that she had cut herself off from the ecstasy she could enjoy in a physical relationship.

I was unsurprised (if saddened) by Basil’s reaction to Lisa’s boyfriend, and determined I should meet the young man and form my own opinion. Lisa’s co-operation was very welcome, and I quickly agreed with her assessment of her fiancé. In fact, I was impressed and delighted. It did, however, leave me with an uphill task.

When I left Lisa and Rob, I rode the tram back to Meadowhall, and collected my car. The run back to Gainsborough was ... what can I say? I was driving at exactly the wrong time of day. What should have been an easy one-hour drive, took nearly two. When it was obvious I was going to be too late to cook, I pulled over and rang the Ingram Arms to book a table.

Basil wasn’t exactly angry when I got in, but he wasn’t happy. “I’ve been to Meadowhall,” I explained. “I told you I was going. But the traffic on the way home was horrendous. I’ve booked a table at the Ingram, rather than try to make something here. It’ll be nice to have a relaxed meal together, don’t you think?”

He didn’t say anything more, but just grunted sceptically.

We changed, and I dressed deliberately to rouse my husband. His mood would not survive a good meal, a couple of glasses of wine, and being sexually drained. Over dinner, I didn’t talk about what I’d been up to. In fact, I decided to not say anything at this point anyway. Instead, we discussed the Vicar’s last sermon, which had been particularly apposite to the current situation, but without overtly challenging his behaviour. As we neared the end of our meal, I began to tease him a little, with the intended result that he passed on dessert in favour of going home. (In our forties, it’s a continual struggle to avoid gaining weight. Fattening puddings aren’t completely off the menu, but we do try to avoid them).

Back at the house, I left a trail of clothing from the foyer to the bedroom without looking back at Basil. As intended, when I lay back on the bed, spread open, he was naked too, and went straight to my centre. I was pretty keyed up, and came quickly – twice, actually – before returning the favour. I always have two reasons for sucking my husband off. Firstly, I love to do it. Secondly, he lasts a lot longer the second time round, and I’m greedy that way.

By the time I was satisfied and Basil was drained it was quite late and I was almost asleep when he murmured, “Emily, Darling, you know I can never resist you in the end. When you get around to telling me what you want, just remind me of tonight.”

In the morning, Basil left for his office as usual, while I called a number Lisa had given me. I wasn’t sure if she’d be working, but I’d keep trying. She answered.

“Margaret Weatherby.”

“Doctor Weatherby, this is Emily Alcott, Lisa’s mother.”

“Well! How lovely! But please, let’s not be so formal. I’m Margaret. To close friends, I’m Marge; I’ll leave it to you to decide when, or if, we get to that point.”

I couldn’t think what to say to that for several seconds – long enough to be noticeable. “Thank you,” I managed. “The reason I’m calling ... Lisa tells me you and your husband enjoy a game of Bridge.”

“We do! It’s something of a passion for us. In fact, it’s how we met.”

“My husband, though I love him, has a few faults. He cannot yet see what a catch your son is for our daughter, and like most fathers of daughters, he’s over protective. You’ll begin to see our problem?”

“Does he not approve of our son?”

I sighed. “He’s a motorcyclist. He’s a member of a group which has forever been beyond the pale in my husband’s eyes. Basil can’t see beyond that. He can’t see the young man I met and liked very much the other day. I was hoping that meeting Rob’s parents would at least give him something to think about.”

“I see. So what do you suggest?”

“I was hoping that you and your husband would be our guests for the weekend. Defeat us at Bridge. Come to church with us. I’m certain that you and your husband will impress him enormously. My hope is that he will then have to rethink his opinion of Rob.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’m afraid Basil will lose his daughter. Rob is the first man ... she’s never shown any interest in any other men. Okay, she went on a few dates in school, but ... She talked to me about those, and I quite understand why she gave up then. If she and Rob don’t get together, well, I would be unhappy, but I think Basil will lose her anyway.”

“I see. Well ... I certainly approve of Lisa. I’m not sure any other woman could have got through his shyness, and she’s really something.”

“I’m glad you think so. So will you come?”

“I’ll talk to my husband, but I don’t think there’ll be a problem. If not this weekend, certainly another one.”

“Thank you.”

I didn’t expect an immediate response, but the call came a little after six, just before Basil got home.

“Emily? Margaret. James and I are happy to join you this weekend. Is it okay for us to arrive between six and seven o’clock Friday evening?”

“Perfect! We usually eat at about eight.” All I had to do then was tell my husband we had guests for the weekend...

“But I’m playing golf with the Rawlings on Saturday!”

“No problem. If Professor Weatherby doesn’t play golf, he can come with Margaret and me. I know Margaret will enjoy the town and the Old Hall*.”

*Gainsborough Old Hall is a well preserved mediaeval manor house and well worth a visit.

“Humph.”

“I expect we’ll have some of their excellent sandwiches for lunch and meet back here for tea. I’m sure the Weatherbys will want to join us at All Saints on Sunday. I’ve cued Anna, and she’s going to bake for tea, and she’s planning something special for Saturday dinner and Sunday lunch.”

For the first time I saw a glint of enthusiasm. Our housekeeper, Anna Hewson, is a gifted cook who only rarely gets the opportunity to show off her skills. Basil and I, well, we’re of an age where we have to be careful of our waistlines, and most evenings I cook our meal. Neither of us is as slim as we used to be, but neither are we overweight and out of condition. This was a good excuse to indulge to some extent.