19. Muscadet
A steely little number. Served chilled.

“Oh Gaynor!” Down in the wine bar kitchen, Sarah put an arm round her, a coffee in front of her and a tissue in her hand. “What have you been doing?”

Gaynor wiped her eyes, feeling about seven. She gave Sarah the edited highlights.

Sarah put on a pair of the thin rubber gloves that always reminded Gaynor of gynaecologists.

“Well, you’ve just got to forget all that. For God’s sake don’t make it any more complicated than it already is. It’s crazy to have an affair yourself when you’re all in turmoil with Victor. How’s that going to help anything? And if you and Sam are not even getting on…”

Gaynor said nothing. Something had stopped her telling Sarah the full story and she didn’t have the energy to go into more detail. She picked up her coffee. “He’s been very good to me.”

Sarah began to take plastic boxes from the fridge. “Maybe, but I think you should be making an effort with Victor.”

“For God’s sake,” Gaynor exploded. “You are like a bloody stuck record. I have made an effort with Victor until I’m blue in the face. I am one big, walking, fucking effort! Right now, I’m upset about Sam!”

Sarah tipped grated cheese into a large bowl. “If you ask me,” she said firmly, “having a row with him is a lucky break. I think that’s telling you something. To go home and sort things out once and for all.”

“Look,” said Gaynor loudly, stopping as Charlie appeared down the stairs.

“Can we have some crisps, Mum?”

Sarah shook her head. “No, go back up to the flat. I’ll come and make you something in a bit.”

“I don’t know what time Claire’s going to be back,” Sarah said to Gaynor when Charlie had trailed away. “I know that dog’s important to her but I’m trying to look after three kids here.” She put a large carton of milk on to the work surface with a thump. “Bloody teacher-training days! Susannah’s away and my mother’s tied up with her Quilting Convention. It’s all getting a bit much! Now about Victor…”

“Don’t you get it? He doesn’t want to know.”

“What I’ve come to say,” piped up Bel sweetly from the doorway, “is could I have some crisps please?”

Sarah swung round. “Did Charlie send you? Go and say Mummy says NO and she’s getting cross.”

Gaynor put a hand out and drew Bel on to her lap. “They can have a couple of packets can’t they? We’ve got boxes and boxes of them.”

“No, they can’t,” said Sarah sharply. “Charlie’s been eating too much rubbish. He won’t eat his lunch and then he’ll be bouncing off the walls all afternoon.”

Gaynor stroked Bel’s hair. “Thought it was blue smarties that did that – not a bag of cheese and onion.”

“Thank you for that expert advice,” snapped Sarah. “How many children have you got?” She immediately put her hand to her mouth. “Oh Gaynor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

“It’s OK.”

“Pleeeeeese can we?” whined Bel. “Mummy? Crisps?”

“One packet between you. Go on, get them and take them upstairs!” Sarah ran her hands through her hair when Bel had gone, and looked at Gaynor. “It’s not OK – that was really insensitive. I haven’t even asked – are you still upset about Chloe?”

Gaynor shrugged. “I haven’t been thinking about it. Though she’s itching to come down for a weekend, so no doubt it will raise its ugly head again soon.” She paused. “I don’t know if I feel a bit pregnant myself.” She winced at the way she’d blurted it to Sam. “I’ve been waiting to come on, I’ve got sore breasts and stuff – but nothing happens.”

“Take a test,” said Sarah.

“No, I won’t be. I’ve been here so many times before – all hopeful and then a couple of weeks later my period starts. I’ve just got a funny cycle. I stopped even bothering to test in the end – I think there’s still a kit in the bathroom cupboard, probably well past its sell-by date. That way I could keep the fantasy up as long as possible before I got disappointed again.”

Sarah squeezed her arm. “It could still happen.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m even ready for children – I still feel like a child myself…” She thought of the feel of Sam stroking her hair. “I want someone to look after me.” She laughed self-consciously. “Never mind caring for a baby twenty-four-seven. Sam said…”

“That’s the appeal of Sam,” said Sarah. “He’s listening to you. Giving you some attention when Victor isn’t. But you hardly know him…”

“I know him very well. We’ve talked for hours.” And we have made passionate love and he knows me and turns me on and I think about him all the time…and can’t imagine life without him …

“Sam’s a red herring,” Sarah said firmly. “You’ve got to sort your marriage out one way or another.” She picked up a large shiny garlic clove and pushed it into the crusher, closing the steel press down on to it and watching as the white sludge dripped into the bowl below. “I assume,” she enquired primly, “from what you said about pregnancy, that you and Victor are making love again?”

“Only occasionally. He had a sudden flurry of interest after we’d had a nice evening with Lizzie – we all got drunk and had a few laughs and he was all over me when we went to bed, but since then…”

“There – I told you.” Sarah was triumphant. “That’s what you need. Some fun and laughter. He’s probably stressed out of his mind at work and just needs to relax. Organise some nights out with people he likes. Dress up, flirt with him…”

“You sound like bloody Dear Deirdre – you’ve missed your vocation. You should be on Trisha doling out advice!”

“Anything would be better than this place. It’s doing my head in.”

She reached up to the shelf over the freezer and pulled down a foil pack of pills. “Not to mention making it hurt.” She emptied two tablets into her palm and picked up her glass of water.

“You get too many headaches,” said Gaynor. “I wish you’d go to the doctor.”

“There’s nothing really wrong. Just a tension thing,” Sarah smiled. “Really – these will get rid of it and I’ll be fine.”

As if to prove it, she smiled when Charlie reappeared ten minutes later. “Your Auntie Gaynor says I should let you eat whatever you want,” she said. “So you can take that cheese and crackers upstairs and share them with Luke and Bel.”

Charlie grinned and put his arms round Gaynor’s waist. “Thanks Gaynor!” “But if you don’t eat your broccoli, you’re in trouble,” Sarah called after him as he went back up the stairs. “They’re lovely, your kids,” Gaynor said, “so affectionate.”

“I know. And I’m just not there for them at the moment,” said Sarah ruefully. “I think that was the problem with Charlie – Paul being an unreliable sod but also me simply not being there enough to make up for it. He likes Susannah and my mother’s usually around but it’s not the same…”

“Can I do something to help you have more time off?”

Sarah smiled. “Next week, maybe? Perhaps you can work Tuesday night … Oh hello!”

She broke off as Claire pushed open the swing door. Then frowned. “Claire what are you doing? You can’t bring them in here.”

Henry and Wooster were both on leads. They sat obediently on the kitchen floor behind Claire, who looked defiant. “I’ll tie them up in the cellar. I can’t leave them at home. Henry’s not well – he’s had blood tests and I’ve got to keep an eye on him.” For a moment it seemed that Claire, unbelievably, might be about to cry. “And Wooster will pine if I leave him at home alone.”

Sarah shook her head. “I’m sorry about Henry,” she said firmly, looking at the two Airedales, who looked back longingly. “But you know very well we can’t have dogs anywhere near the kitchen. You go home and look after him and we’ll manage. Won’t we, Gaynor?”

“Sure.” Gaynor forced a bright smile. “We’ll be fine.”

Claire shook her head. “I need to be here,” she said “We’ve got a delivery coming and there’s the menu for Beaujolais Nouveau Night to sort out and the blackboards to do and …”

“And we can deal with it!” Sarah’s voice was sharp. “For goodness sake, Claire, you’re not the only one who can do things, you know. I’m perfectly capable of handling it all. I’ve already written out the menu and Gaynor can do the blackboard. Now go home. You haven’t had a proper day off since we started. Have one now!”

Gaynor looked from one of her partners to the other. For a moment she thought Claire was going to start shouting but then she suddenly seemed to slump.

“OK. If you’re sure,” she said. “I can ring Jamie and see if he can get an early train and maybe my neighbour would come in and sit with them, she has before. I could come back later…”

Sarah crossed the room and put a brief arm across Claire’s shoulders. “Just go home,” she said quietly. “Gaynor and I will deal with everything.”

“Right,” she said, when Claire had reluctantly gone. “And now we’ve got to. I’ll call Jack and get him to come in tonight, and you can go do your artistic bit with the blackboard.” Sarah looked at Gaynor. “It will keep your mind off things,” she said briskly. She held out a piece of paper.

“‘C’est arrivé’ in big letters across the top and then the special menu beneath. I thought we’d do French Onion Soup, Coq au Vin and Boeuf Bourguignon, maybe Tarte Tatin… Are you listening?”

“Yes, sorry.” Gaynor took the paper and looked at it. She wondered what Sam was thinking.

Sarah was watching her. “Come on, Gaynor, we’ve got to get on.”

“Yes I know. I’ll get it…” She jumped up as, above in the bar, the phone began to ring.

“I think the answer-phone’s still on….”

They heard it cut in as Gaynor pushed open the swing door and Claire’s cool efficient tones floated down the stairs asking the caller to please leave a message after the tone. Then the click as a receiver was replaced.

“Talkative,” said Sarah. She gathered up a pile of glass cloths and followed Gaynor up the stairs. “There are a couple of other messages on there. I haven’t had a chance to listen yet. Can you write them down?”

Gaynor flicked the switch and reached for a pen, as a giggly female voice sounded. Hen Party ? Gaynor wrote. December 5 ^th . Table for seventeen .

“Oh joy,” said Sarah, folding the cloths and putting them away in the cupboard beneath the optics. “Dildos at dawn…”

They both laughed. Then froze as the next message came on and a now-familiar voice began to speak. “You’ve really done it now, Carrot-top, you ugly bitch. You’d better

watch your back…”

It was Gaynor’s turn to get the tissues out. She shooed the kids back to the TV, made sure the door up to the flat was firmly shut and stood by feeling helpless as Sarah sat down at a table and burst into tears.

“And Richard’s away tonight,” she sobbed. “I’ve got to stay here on my own with some bloody madman after me…”

“I’ll stay with you,” said Gaynor. “He’s just some twisted perve. He’s not going to do anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” cried Sarah. “It’s me he’s got it in for!” She tugged at her hair. “Carrot-top. Oh God,” she said through fresh tears. “What I have done to deserve this?”

“Nothing.” Gaynor was picking up the phone. “And I’m going to call the police and make them do something.” She wished she could call Sam and ask him how best to do that. At the thought of him, her stomach twisted. Forget him, she told herself firmly. Look after Sarah.

She waited impatiently for the phone to be answered at the other end.

“Yes, hello,” she said in the crispest voice she could muster. “I want to talk to someone about threatening phone calls…”

Sarah was out on the pavement calling Richard on her mobile when Gaynor came off the phone. She still looked white. “He says I can stay at his place with the kids until he comes back, but…”

Gaynor nodded. “Or you can come to me. We’ve got lots of room.” She closed her mind to what Victor would think of it being filled with three children. “You’re very welcome.”

“I know, thank you. But it’s a lot of palaver moving three kids about and…” Sarah bit her lip, “I don’t want to be driven out of my own home.” She looked at Gaynor with huge eyes. “I might be afraid to ever come back.”

“Then I’ll stay the night with you.”

Sarah looked at her gratefully. “Thanks.” She looked up in surprise as the wine bar door opened.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be leaving for Bristol.”

Richard shrugged. “I told them l had an emergency.”

“What did the police say?” Richard asked Gaynor, as she lined up three cups beneath the espresso machine.

She pulled a face. “The usual. Said they’d look into it, send someone round. I laid it on thick – single mother, living alone, three children etc.”

Richard glanced round to check Sarah wasn’t in earshot. She was still upstairs with the children.

“Phone them again,” he said. “Tell them if they don’t trace that number today and get round here to tell Sarah they’ve done something about it, you’ll be calling the local paper.” He smiled grimly. “The Thanet Times would fall on a story like that. Police won’t lift finger to help defenceless mother? Great stuff.”

Gaynor poured a little milk into his coffee and handed it to him. “Do you want sugar?”

Richard shook his head. “The editor’s a friend of mine. He’d enjoy phoning the sergeant in charge with a few pertinent questions. Put a rocket up someone…”

It was difficult to imagine anything moving PC Robertson very fast. He arrived about four p.m., grinned at Sarah and Gaynor as if this was all a rather jolly state of affairs and seemed in no hurry to tell them much at all. He burbled on happily about obscenities and the telecommunications act and looked around the bar and said what a nice place it looked and perhaps one evening he would bring his wife. Gaynor gave him her most winning smile. “And we’d be very pleased to see you. Anyway, have you..?”

“Caught him?” finished Richard.

PC Robertson guffawed. “I have been to see the individual concerned and made it quite clear they are committing an offence,” he announced proudly. “They have been warned of the consequences of continuing with their actions. I don’t think they’ll be doing that again.”

“Who is it?” Sarah was grim-faced.

PC Robertson consulted his notebook. “I’m not really at liberty… we wouldn’t necessarily, usually…”

“Look!” Sarah’s voice rose. “I need to know who it is. We need to know. We’re running a business here that’s open to the public.” She gestured around her. “Anyone can walk in. This man could come in here, cool as he likes, and order a drink and if he does I want to be able to bar him. I’m frightened,” she said, her voice suddenly breaking. “I’m frightened for my children…”

PC Robertson cleared his throat, suddenly serious. “I don’t think there’s any need to worry about that. I think we’ve put a stop to it.”

Sarah walked away and sat down at one of the small tables, apparently unable to speak. Richard went and sat beside her. “The girls need to know what they’re dealing with,” he said, taking Sarah’s hand. “It’s only fair.”

Gaynor remained standing and looked the policeman in the eyes. “We really do need to know who it is,” she said softly, keeping her face fixed on his. “We’d be very grateful.”

He looked at his notes again and cleared his throat. “The line used to make the calls is in the name of a woman. Do you know a Miss Tania Wilkins?”

Sarah and Gaynor gazed at each other, mystified. Both shook their heads.

Behind them, Richard put his in his hands. “I do.”

“Poor Richard,” said Sarah, as they got ready to open that evening. “No wonder he’s so wary of relationships. Apparently he and Tania had a brief fling a couple of years back and she’s still plaguing him. Every time he’s seen with another woman she somehow finds out and makes obscene phone calls to him in the middle of the night. When she suddenly went quiet this time, he thought she’d finally left him alone – never dreamed she’d go for me instead.”

“Bloody hell,” said Gaynor. “She sounds seriously scary.”

“Yeah – Richard says she’s a bunny boiler all right.” She suddenly laughed. “Thank God she didn’t get hold of Scarface.” Sarah wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m getting hysterical.”

“I’ll slap you if you get any worse,” said Gaynor. “This bloke of hers must be pretty simple to have gone along with it. Imagine making calls like that!”

“Well, he’d be very stupid to do it again now he’s been threatened with prosecution.”

“Have they ever been in here?”

“Richard says Tania came in once when he was here but turned on her heel and walked right out again. She’s obviously seen us out together or found out he’s been staying here.”

“What does she look like?”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Descriptions are hardly Richard’s forte. Big hair, mad eyes and lots of lipstick, as far as I can work out.”

“Sounds par for the course.”

Sarah walked across the varnished floor and turned the Closed sign to Open. “How are you now?”

Gaynor straightened the beer mats. “I don’t know.”

Sarah joined her. “Remember what I said. Forget Sam and concentrate on Victor. Have another go. Organise a night out.”

“Much use it will be. I may as well give up on the pair of them.” Gaynor picked up the ice bucket. “I’ll go and fill this.”

Sarah remained where she was, blocking Gaynor’s path, glancing at the couple just coming through the door, before speaking in a low voice.

“Gaynor, it’s horrible getting divorced. Having to end my marriage was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. Don’t you give up on yours just yet.”

Gaynor tried to slide round her to the top of the stairs. “But Sam…”

Sarah put a hand out to stop her. “He hasn’t contacted you this afternoon to make up, has he?”

Sarah was being kind. She tried to give Gaynor a hug. But, feeling the lump rise in her throat, Gaynor slipped away and began to walk down the steps to the kitchen.

No, he hasn’t.