Dick Francis's Gamble - Felix Francis [86]
I also didn’t like the fact that Gregory knew that I was staying with my mother.
Mrs. McDowd not only wanted to know everything about everyone, she also liked them to know she knew it by spreading the information. The whole office would now be aware that I was in Gloucestershire, and probably half of Lombard Street too.
At about seven-thirty my mother insisted I open a bottle of champagne to properly celebrate Claudia’s and my engagement.
“I put one in my old fridge last night,” she said, “so it should be nice and cold.”
And it was.
I retrieved the bottle and poured three glasses of the golden bubbly liquid, then we each in turn made a toast.
“To a long and happy marriage to my Claudia,” I said, and we drank.
“To long life and good health,” Claudia said, looking at me. We drank again.
“To masses of grandchildren,” my mother said, and we all drank once more.
Claudia and I held hands. We knew without saying what we were each thinking. Oh yes, please, to all three of the above. But with cancer, it was all so unpredictable and scary.
“Have you told your father yet?” my mother asked.
“No,” I said. “You’re the only person that knows.” Not even Mrs. McDowd, I thought, knew this little secret.
“Aren’t you going to tell him?” Mum asked.
“Eventually,” I said. “But I haven’t spoken much to him recently.”
“Stupid man,” she said.
I knew she blamed him for the breakup of their marriage, but, in truth, it had been as much her fault as his. But I didn’t want to get into all that again.
“I’ll call him tomorrow,” I said. “Let’s enjoy our own company here tonight.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Claudia, raising her glass. So we did.
I thought about my father.
Seven years ago, when my parents had finally divorced and the big house had been sold, he’d taken his share of the money and used it to buy a boring bungalow in Weymouth, overlooking the sea. I’d only been there a couple of times since, although I’d seen him a few times in London for various functions.
We hadn’t been very close to start with and we were drifting further apart day by day. But I don’t think it was something that bothered either of us particularly. He hadn’t even called me when I’d been arrested and my face had been splashed all over the papers and on the TV. Perhaps my impending marriage and the possibility of grandchildren might help to revitalize our relationship, but I doubted it.
Claudia laid the dining table as my mother busied herself with saucepans of potatoes and carrots and the lamb roasted away gently in the oven. I, meanwhile, poured us all more champagne and let them get on with it, leaning up against the worktop and enjoying the last of the evening sunshine as it shone brightly through the west-facing kitchen window.
“Bugger,” my mother said.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“The cooker’s gone off,” she said.
“Is it a power cut?”
She tried a light switch, clicking it up and down. Nothing happened.
“Bloody electricity company,” she said. “I’ll call them straightaway.”
She rummaged in a drawer for a card and then picked up the phone.
“That’s funny,” she said, “the phone’s dead too.”
“Doesn’t it need power?” Claudia asked from over by the table. “Our cordless one does.”
“I’m not using the cordless,” my mother said. “This is the wired-in landline.”
Oh shit!
There was a heavy knock on the front door.
“I’ll get it,” said Claudia, turning away.
The power was off, the telephone was dead, there was a knock on the front door, and the hairs on the back of my neck were suddenly standing bolt upright.
“Don’t touch it,” I shouted at Claudia.
She turned to look at me, but she still moved towards the danger. “Why ever not?” she said.
“Claudia,” I shouted again, “get away from the door.”
I was already halfway towards her when the knock was repeated. And still Claudia moved towards it.
I grabbed her just as she was reaching for the handle.
“What on earth are you doing?” she said loudly. “Answer the bloody door.”
“No,” I said quietly.
“Why ever