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A Good Catch by Fern Britton (31)

New Year’s Eve 2012

Jesse was woken by the weight of four paws kneading the duvet around his chin.

‘Bugger off, Tom.’ He pushed the fat rescue cat – which Greer had brought home without asking him – off the bed. Tom sat on the floor twitching his tail and looking astonished, before jumping up again, and this time wiping his wet whiskers across Jesse’s lips.

‘I said bugger off.’ Jesse took his arm from under the covers and caught Tom by the scruff of his neck, throwing him back onto the floor.

The bedroom door opened and Greer came in with a chink of mugs on the morning tea tray.

‘Is Tom up here?’

‘Yes,’ Jesse grunted with his eyes closed and his face pressed into the pillow.

‘Did he wake you up?’

‘Yes.’

Geer put the tray down and Jesse heard tea being poured. ‘Did you wake Daddy up? You naughty puss,’ she said to Tom, who was mewing loudly and pushing himself around Greer’s legs. ‘And did he throw you off the bed?’

‘He jumped off of his own accord,’ mumbled Jesse.

‘I think Daddy’s lying,’ said Greer, walking round to Jesse’s side of the bed and putting his mug of tea on the coaster on the mahogany bedside table. She bent down and kissed his bristly cheek. ‘Happy Anniversary, darling.’

He opened his eyes and squinted at her. ‘Happy Anniversary.’ He sat and yawned, rubbing a hand across his face. ‘Twenty years. That’s some bleddy time, in’t it?’ Jesse found it hard to believe that it was twenty years ago that he had walked down the aisle with Greer. Twenty years since he and Loveday …

‘Yes, it is,’ said Greer, getting into her side of the bed and pulling the covers up. She took a sip of tea thoughtfully and said, ‘I think we’re just about all ready for the party.’

Jesse groaned. ‘I ’ate bleddy parties.’ He already felt that his house was barely his own. It looked like something from a magazine rather than a real home where a man could be himself. He’d rather be down at the boat-house on the beach at Tide Cove. It was his domain. It housed lobster pots, fishing gear, all the small things that Freddie had made at school, which Greer did not want cluttering her pristine house, but which made Jesse’s heart swell with pride and love for his son.

Greer couldn’t hide her irritation. ‘Well, you only have to come and enjoy it. Everything else has been done for you.’

Tom jumped back onto the bed and nudged Greer’s hand. ‘Tom, you nearly spilt my tea. Be careful.’ She reached out a hand and stroked Tom’s ears. He began purring loudly.

‘That bleddy animal oughtn’t be allowed on the bed. ’Tis unhygienic,’ moaned Jesse.

‘He’s spotless. Besides, he’s been out all night in the cold and needs to warm up.’ Tom dribbled with ecstasy and, opening one yellow eye, gave Jesse a look of pure disdain. ‘He just wants a little affection.’ Greer held Tom to her and nuzzled him against her cheek. ‘Don’t you, Mr Tom?’

‘Mr Jesse could do with a little affection too,’ Jesse said, turning to Greer and giving her what he assumed was an alluring look. He put his hand on her thigh and slowly ran it upwards.

Greer was not in the mood. ‘Mind Tom. You’ll squash him.’

‘I don’t care.’ Jesse began his well-worn foreplay routine and started to nibble Greer’s ear. Tom, totally affronted, jumped off the bed and left the room, tail high.

‘I’ve got a mug of hot tea in my hands,’ said Greer pathetically, pulling away from her husband.

Jesse stopped the nibbling and took the tea from her. He put it on his side table and turned back to her. ‘There. No tea. No Tom. Just you and me.’ He restarted his nuzzling.

Greer attempted another diversion. ‘The florist is coming at ten. I haven’t got time for this.’

‘Don’t ’ee worry about that. I’ll be coming before him.’

‘Her. And don’t be crude. It puts me off,’ she scowled.

‘Come on, Greer. It’s been a while.’ He was on top of her now, whether she liked it or not. ‘And it is our anniversary.’

Greer went through the motions. Sex had never really been her thing. Her sex drive had always been at odds with Jesse’s. But she’d been dutiful. Nowadays she’d do anything to avoid it. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Jesse. She did. Very much. But all this physical stuff was, frankly, a bit of a bore. A chore. She’d asked Loveday once when they’d had a couple of glasses of wine on one of their infrequent girls’ nights out: ‘Do you and Mickey still, you know, fancy each other?’

Loveday had answered with passion. ‘Course! It’s the glue that keeps a marriage together.’

‘Oh. Yes. Absolutely.’ Greer had felt a deep sense of inadequacy and a feeling that she really must try harder.

*

‘That was lovely, wasn’t it?’ asked a satisfied Jesse, as he hoicked himself back onto his side of the bed.

‘Uha,’ Greer replied.

‘What’s the matter with you? Come, on, give me a cuddle.’ He put an arm around her and she was obliged to settle into his shoulder. She waited until his breathing became shallow and even, and then made her escape.

Without disturbing his slumber, she tiptoed to her new pride and joy. The en-suite wet room. This was what turned her on. Her interior design work. Her natural sense of style and feel for colour. The wet room was an oasis of Zen beauty. From the fat alabaster Buddha sitting beneath the waterfall shower, to the underheated Delabole slate on the floor. There was a mirror covering one entire wall and she glanced at herself. The light from the adjacent window, with plantation blinds providing moody shadows, played across her skin. She took off her silk Elle Macpherson chemise and carefully hung it on the padded hanger on the hook on the back of the door.

She looked intently at her still slender body from all angles. The pain she felt at Louisa’s death still had the power to take her breath away. It would creep up on her suddenly when she wasn’t expecting it. But, looking at her slim outline, she thanked God that she hadn’t ended up looking like Loveday. Loveday was fatter than ever and the size of her humungous breasts was just embarrassing. Greer had once asked her if she hadn’t thought of a breast reduction. Loveday, hurt and embarrassed, had said something about leaving alone things that God had intended.

Now, Greer switched on the daylight lamp surrounding the circular and magnified mirror above the basin. She checked her wrinkles and the tautness of her neck. She was satisfied. Finally she reached for the tweezers and plucked a couple of stray hairs from her brows and, horror of horrors, a wiry one from her chin.

Job done, she stepped back and took a last pleasing look at herself. Yes, the self-denial over Christmas had paid off. Her Donna Karan evening dress, all four thousand pounds of it, would fit like a glove.

*

The house was busy all day long. The florist, the cleaners and the caterers were finally all done by four o’clock.

At five o’clock, Loveday drove over with the twins, Becca and Bea, who had made the celebration cake as their gift.

‘Oh my goodness,’ exclaimed Greer, who had to admit that the confection looked rather good. ‘When did you girls get so clever?’

‘It is good, isn’t it!’ said Loveday proudly. ‘They’m loving their baking. I blame that Mary Berry and Mr Blue Eyes.’

‘Paul Hollywood,’ sighed the girls in unison. ‘We done what you asked for, Auntie Greer. Top tier white chocolate. Bottom tier dark with brandy-soaked cherries.’

‘And,’ said Loveday, grinning from ear to ear, ‘we found you something special to go on the top. Show her, girls.’

From out of one of the many shopping bags they’d brought with them, Becca pulled a smallish cardboard box. She thrust it towards Greer. ‘Open it!’

Loveday and her girls stood in harnessed excitement as Greer removed the rubber band then opened the lid, pulling away at some scruffy pink tissue paper. Resting inside were two hideous china figures.

‘’Tis a bride and a groom,’ squealed Bea.

‘It’s you and Uncle Jesse!’ panted Becca. ‘We got them in the charity shop over St Mawgan.’

‘It’s shabby chic. Just your thing!’ breathed Bea.

‘We washed them in a drop of Milton, so they’m clean,’ Loveday told Greer, thrilled with herself and her girls.

Greer didn’t know what to say. ‘It’s … the last thing I expected,’ she managed to blurt out, and kissed the girls, wondering how she could possibly avoid spoiling the beautiful cake by putting this worst bit of kitsch on the top.

‘Right,’ said Loveday, gathering up the various bits of baggage that she’d sprawled all over Greer’s immaculate kitchen table. ‘We’m off home to get ready. Kick-off is at eight o’clock, right?’

‘Right,’ confirmed Greer. ‘Drinks at eight, dinner at nine.’

*

Greer was dressed and looking perfect by seven thirty. She went downstairs to admire her beautiful home. Tide House always scrubbed up well. The candles, the Christmas tree, the flowers. It all looked ravishing. In the library and the drawing room the fires were lit, giving out a subtle and pervasive scent of pine. In the dining room the table, set for twenty friends and immediate family, shimmered with crystal and silver.

One of the four waiting staff stepped into the dining room as Greer was straightening an errant napkin. ‘Good evening, Mrs Behenna. You look very nice this evening. Can I get you a drink?’

Greer gave the young man a quick once-over, satisfied to see he was wearing the black linen shirt and trousers with long white apron that she had specified for all the waiting staff. ‘Thank you. You look very smart too … and yes, please, I’d like a cranberry juice.’

‘Of course, Mrs Behenna. Would you like a vodka in that?’ He gave her a cheeky glint.

‘No, thank you.’ She smiled. What a charming young man. ‘Too early for me.’

‘Not too early for me, though.’ Jesse stood in the doorway dressed in black tie. ‘Get me a large Scotch, would you, before the hordes arrive?’

‘Certainly, Mr Behenna,’ said the young man, gliding out of the room.

‘He’m bloody gay, ain’t ’im?’ remarked Jesse.

‘You sound just like your father.’ Greer tutted. ‘Please keep your sexist, racist opinions to yourself.’

Jesse walked into the hall and stood before the large gilt mirror that greeted all guests. He was fiddling with his bow tie. ‘Have I tied this thing right? Why you won’t let me have one on elastic, I don’t know. And this shirt collar is choking me, it’s so tight.’

Greer went to him and smoothed his tie and eased his collar. She looked at both their reflections. ‘We look OK after twenty years, don’t we?’

Freddie came down the stairs in an open-necked white shirt and tight blue jeans. ‘I’d say you look pretty good for a pair of wrinklies.’ He kissed Greer and hugged his father.

‘How come he got away with jeans and I’m dressed up like next year’s turkey?’

‘Because he’s young and he can get away with anything,’ replied Greer, gazing fondly at her son. ‘Freddie, would you get my camera for me? It’s in the drawing room on the ottoman. I think we need a family photo.’

*

Dinner was delicious. Seared scallops in lemon chilli butter, rib of beef with all the trimmings and a light syllabub with fruit salad and a cheese board to follow.

Greer excused herself from her father-in-law on her right and Mickey on her left and went to the kitchen to congratulate the staff, who were busy stacking the dishwasher.

‘Well done, everyone. Superb work.’

‘When do you want the cake served?’ asked the young chef, Danny.

‘Oh, I think mulled wine and cake in the conservatory after the fireworks, don’t you?’

‘Right-oh, Mrs B.’

‘Thank God it’s not raining!’

*

At five minutes to midnight, everyone had their coats found for them and they were ushered out, through the conservatory, into the front garden overlooking Tide Cove.

Freddie and Hal found Radio Four on the house sound system and wound up the volume so that everyone in the garden could hear the countdown to Big Ben.

‘… Three, two, one … BONG! Happy New Year!’

Mickey gave his wife a kiss and a cuddle. She still looked beautiful to him and Loveday hugged him back tightly.

‘They’ve put on a good show tonight, don’t you think?’ He nodded towards Greer and Jesse.

‘They always do, don’t they? Greer knows how to throw a good party,’ Loveday agreed.

‘Even Jesse looks like he’s enjoying himself.’

Loveday knitted her brow thoughtfully. ‘Mmmm.’ She hadn’t said anything, but she thought Jesse had been drinking a bit more than usual of late. He often worked long hours, but more often than not these days he seemed to have a bottle of whisky to keep him company as he pored over the figures.

‘It’ll be our anniversary soon,’ Mickey said. ‘Shall we throw a party?’

Loveday hugged him tighter. ‘Let’s just do something with the kids, shall we?’

‘Whatever you want, darling.’

As the kissing and the singing of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ gathered strength, a fusillade of rockets went up from the Cove. They were followed by Roman candles, flying lanterns, barrages and brilliant showers of diamond sparks.

*

Greer, tottering slightly after two glasses of very good Pinotage on very high L.K. Bennett heels, slipped her arm through Jesse’s. He smelled of whisky and fresh air and she surprised herself by finding him very attractive. More attractive than she had this morning, anyway.

‘Do you want to know what your anniversary present is?’ she asked him, resting her cheek on his lapel.

‘Go on then,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d forgotten.’

‘Well, you’ve forgotten mine,’ she said in a mock huff.

‘Ah well. That’s where you’re wrong. You had so much on today that I thought I’d surprise you tomorrow.’

‘Really?’ She looked up at him with the excitement of a little girl. ‘What have you got me?’ she wheedled.

‘Not telling.’

‘Give me a clue?’

‘No. But I’m getting it in the morning.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘So, what you got for me?’

‘We are going to get on the Whatsit Express and go to … Venice!’

‘Bloody ’ell, maid. That’s some bleddy ’oliday.’

‘Yes it is. Romance. Art. Museums. Architecture.’

‘Have they got any booze?’

‘Plenty.’

‘Well, that’s all right then.’

‘When are we going?

‘The weekend after next.’

Jesse frowned. ‘You’ll ’ave to put it off until after the end of the financial year. We’ve got too much on, and I’ll have to pull all the stops out if we’re to make the numbers.’

‘Oh, rubbish,’ Greer said. ‘You can manage a few days off, surely?’

‘I can’t. You’ll just have to give them a call and re-arrange the dates.’

The drink had made Greer argumentative. ‘I will not. I’m always making sacrifices for you and that company. For once, can’t you put me first?’

Jesse felt a dangerous darkness descend. ‘Put you first? I’ve always put you first, Greer. You, your family, the bloody business – and I’ve never complained.’

‘You have no right to complain.’ Greer was fired up now. ‘My daddy gave you everything you’ve ever had. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be just like any other fisherman down at the harbour: small time. Clovelly Fisheries have given you everything.’

As soon as the words left her mouth, Greer regretted saying them. The look on Jesse’s face was like nothing she had seen before.

He regarded her coldly. ‘Small time, was I, Greer? Not so small that you didn’t follow me around like a dog, grateful for any scraps that I threw in your direction.’

Greer drew a gasp at the words and put her hand to her mouth, but Jesse couldn’t stop himself. ‘Where would you be if it weren’t for me, Greer? Who would have married a stuck-up self-important frigid cow like you – you weren’t my first choice, you know that, don’t you?’

Greer rallied. ‘Oh, that’s right, Jesse Behenna, babe magnet. You’d screw any old scrubber down at the sheds. You’re lucky to have someone like me. You couldn’t even boil an egg without a mother or a wife to do it for you!’

Jesse was just about to let rip in response when Mickey and Loveday came up to say goodbye and thank them for a nice evening. Both Greer and Jesse clammed up immediately and Loveday and Mickey couldn’t help but sense the tense atmosphere.

‘We’re just off now, but wanted to say thanks for a lovely evening.’ Loveday gave her friend a huge hug and Greer responded with a tight smile.

‘Yeah, thanks, mate – here’s to the next twenty years!’ laughed Mickey, and drunkenly clapped Jesse on the back.

Jesse shook Mickey’s hand as Greer went off to find another drink.

‘Bye, Jesse,’ said Loveday, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

‘Twenty years,’ said Jesse, and held onto her for just a moment too long before they departed.