Dick Francis's Gamble - Felix Francis [101]
But what could I do? I was trained and qualified only to be a financial adviser. But what I wanted to be most was a jockey or a rodeo rider or a free-fall-skydiving instructor or a crocodile fighter or . . .
Bugger my dodgy neck.
My mother interrupted my depressing thoughts by asking me what I wanted for lunch.
“What have we got?” I asked.
“Jan said we can use whatever we want from the fridge or from the larder.”
“So what is there?” I said.
“Come and have a look.”
In truth, there wasn’t very much to choose from, just a few low-calorie meals-for-one in the freezer, with more bare shelves than anything in the larder. Old Mother Hubbard would have felt quite at home.
“Time to go shopping,” I said.
So the three of us piled into the unremarkable blue rental car and went to a huge supermarket on the outskirts of Newbury in order to fill the empty spaces in Jan’s fridge and larder. It was the least we could do as uninvited guests.
While Claudia and my mother went from aisle to aisle, loading two large trolleys with mountains of food, I was banished by them to the clothing section.
I browsed through the rails of shirts and trousers, jackets and suits, but, sadly, this particular supermarket didn’t stock bulletproof vests.
17
Sunday was, indeed, a day of rest.
The trip to the supermarket had almost been too much for Claudia, who was still far from well after her surgery.
“Don’t try and do too much too soon,” Dr. Tomic, the surgeon, had said. “Plenty of rest is needed to allow the abdominal wall to mend.”
He hadn’t mentioned anything about running up stairs, shouting at gunmen or food shopping, but he probably wouldn’t have approved of any of them.
“You stay in bed today,” I said to Claudia. “I’ll fetch you some breakfast.”
She smiled and closed her eyes again as I went out.
Jan was already downstairs making toast.
“My God,” she said, going into the larder, “we’ve even got marmalade!” She turned around and grinned at me. “I can’t remember when I last had so much food in here. I’m completely useless at cooking. All I can do is heat things up in the microwave. But you really shouldn’t have bought so much.”
“Consider it our rent,” I said.
“You don’t have to pay rent, lover boy,” she said, coming back out of the larder and opening the marmalade. “You can pay me in kind.” She laughed. “Except I now know I have no chance of that.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be,” she said. “I think Claudia is really lovely. You’re a lucky man.” She paused and breathed deeply. “And I suppose I’d better stop calling you lover boy.”
There were tears in her eyes. I went over to her and gave her a hug. There was nothing to say, so I didn’t speak, I just held her tightly until the moment had passed.
“Life can be so random,” she said, stepping back from me. “When I was married to Stuart, all I wanted was to divorce him and keep half his fortune. Well, I’ve done that, but—and I know this sounds crazy—I miss him. I even miss the god-awful rows we used to have. Now, with Maria away at college in London, I’m just a rich, lonely old spinster.”
“But you must have masses of friends,” I said.
She looked at me as she spread the marmalade on her toast. “I have plenty of acquaintances but no real friends. Racing is so competitive that I find it difficult to make any true friends with racing people. Of course, I know lots of them round here, other trainers and such, and I see them at the races, but I’m not a member of the village dinner-party set. All my friends were Stuart’s friends, and when he went, they went too.”
“Well, it’s high time you met some more,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
She laughed again but only briefly. “That’s not as simple as it sounds, and finding someone to satisfy one’s needs is far from straightforward, I can tell you. You chaps have it made.”
“In what way?” I asked.
“If a man wants sex, he can just go and buy it from some girl on a street corner or in some lap-dancing club,” she said. “It’s not so easy for a middle-aged woman.”
I stood there slightly dumbstruck.