decided to ignore her. ‘Miss Haze and Mr Bearman, snuggled up over there in the snug.’ She toyed momentarily with the idea of sharing the hand-kissing incident and then decided to leave it out on the grounds that she was trying to maintain some air of maturity.
‘Honestly, I used to have the hots for her something dreadful,’ said Adie unexpectedly, pulling a lusty face and making smoochy sexy noises. ‘Double Drama, Friday afternoons—I’d got a permanent hard on. I had to get my mum to buy me a longer jumper. Can you remember she used to wear those little black ski pant things?’
‘Capri pants,’ corrected Netty, picking through the remains of Jan’s garlic mushrooms.
‘Very Audrey Hepburn. God, it was absolute agony,’ Adie said in a wistful voice, gazing off unfocused into the middle distance.
‘re ally?’ said Carol in amazement. ‘You had the hots for Miss Haze?’
‘Absolutely, yes,’ he groaned.
She stared at him: apparently the struggle to stop slipping back into the agonies of adolescence was hers and hers alone.
Adie blushed. ‘Well, just a little bit. Do you remember those black leather trousers she had? They were like a red rag to a bull as well. Little white angora sweater, those trousers, highheeled boots—you’d have had to have been made of stone or been dead not to have thought the whole outfit was incredibly horny. I thought it was all so cute…’
Carol didn’t say a word.
‘Maybe it was a leather thing, although you didn’t know about that then,’ Netty said.
Jan sniffed. ‘Lots of things you didn’t know then.’
Carol looked at her. ‘What’s with you two? Twenty years and you’re still bitching? How about we declare a truce this weekend?’
Jan waved her words away. ‘What, and spoil all our fun? Besides, Adie likes that kind of thing, don’t you?’
Adie grinned and then growled playfully.
‘I think we should be heading back to the hacienda,’ said Carol, glancing at her watch; hadn’t Miss Haze said that she was going up to the house too? They all looked at her. ‘Well, Diana is there all on her own,’ she added weakly. ‘And I’d promised to help—and everyone else should be there soon.’
‘Yes, sirree, Mother Teresa,’ said Jan. ‘And maybe Gareth’s showed up already. Don’t want you missing him now, do we?’
Carol reddened.
‘See,’ said Adie triumphantly. ‘I told you that Jan’s a cow. I’m not being singled out for any special treatment. It’s just that I’m just an easy target. She may still look like butter wouldn’t melt—but beneath that serene composed chic exterior beats the heart of Lucretia Borgia. I bet she enjoyed a bit of interior decoration as a way of unwinding between all the poisoning and torturing.’
‘Did Lucretia Borgia torture people? I always thought she was a straight-down-the-line poisoner—bit of a one-trick pony, re ally,’ said Jan conversationally, as if being compared to Lucretia Borgia was something that happened every day of her life.
‘I see you more as Cruella de Vil,’ said Netty. ‘I watched that film and thought: finally somewhere Jan can put her talents to good use. Although I suppose Adie is the closest thing we’ve got to a poor defenceless animal.’
Jan, deadpan, said, ‘Nah, I’ve never liked spots. I think I’d prefer something with a little tabby in it, or maybe tortoiseshell.’
Everyone winced and without a word got to their feet.
Tongues loosened by alcohol and food and a sense of relief that things hadn’t changed so very much after all, the four of them headed slowly back, laughing, teasing, still easy and connected up after all these years, meandering through the village, then in through the gates in Burbeck House’s kitchen gardens. Although they could hardly say they’d caught up, Carol thought—it felt more like they had just scratched the surface.
‘So what about you, Netty?’ asked Carol. They were walking side by side, Carol relishing the sound of their feet crunching over the fine gravel, the afternoon sun warming her face. It was a glorious day. There was a sprinkler set up in one corner of the walled garden and where the water arced, rainbows filled the air as millions of tiny droplets refracted the sunlight. It was one of those perfect moments that would linger in the memory.
Ahead of them Adie and Jan were talking, laughing; Carol laid down the images like good wine. Espaliered fruit trees hung on tight to the old brick walls, creating a rich green backdrop to row after row of beautifully laid out vegetable plots, herb gardens and asparagus beds. Just past an old-style wrought-iron greenhouse, figs and peaches and grapevines settled back against a row of pan-tiled sheds and drank in the heat and light. You didn’t have to be any kind of gardener to appreciate the tranquillity or beauty of Burbeck House’s kitchen garden.
‘What have you been up to?’ Adie said, swinging round and walking backwards. ‘We need to get the history all sorted before we get lost in the mêlée—so far we’re not doing very well at all. You either ‘fess up faster than that or I’m going to have to come bunk down with you lot after all.’
Netty lit up another cigarette and blew out a blast of smoke. ‘Well, in that case, I’ll hurry. I’ve got four hairdresser’s shops and beauty salons—all with nail parlours now.’ She extended her hands to show off a set of perfectly manicured undoubtedly fake talons. ‘Two ex-husbands, a daughter called Kirsten, who hates me, and a toy boy called Paul, who thinks the sun shines out of—well, all of me, to hear the way he goes on. Kirsten has a real problem with him.’
Jan perked up. ‘Which is?’
‘That he doesn’t fancy her.’
‘That’ll do it,’ said Adie, nodding.
‘And how old is he?’ asked Carol.
‘Twenty-seven next birthday,’ Netty said, almost defiantly.
‘Very nice if you can get it,’ said Adie, with a grin.
‘What about you then, golden boy? You’ve been very quiet so far,’ said Jan.
‘Only because I couldn’t get a bloody word in edgeways,’ he said, smiling still.
‘Well, now’s your moment,’ Jan fired straight back. ‘I mean, I know all about you but I’m sure your fans want to hear all the sordid details.’
He pulled a face. ‘There’s not a lot to tell, re ally. I was hoping that we’d hear all about you first.’
‘What, so you’re hoping for a big build-up, were you?’ laughed Jan.
Adie shook his head. ‘No, I was being gentlemanly.’
‘OK,’ said Jan briskly, as if her words and potted biography would clear the decks for his. ‘Well, I’m single.’ She flicked her long hair back over her shoulder as if defying anyone to comment. ‘I’ve got a Fine Art degree and an MA in textile design and had planned to teach but changed horses after graduation and now I design fabrics, do some styling for magazines—occasionally get some interior design work—and I lecture as well. I’ve got a re ally nice little place in Highgate.’ She paused. ‘That’s about it, re ally. I travel a lot, work, love my job—well, jobs. It’s a kind of patchwork of things that all tie in.’
‘It doesn’t sound like very much for twenty years,’ complained Netty, lighting up another cigarette. ‘Are these the U-certificate edited highlights? What about all the sex, drugs, and rock and roll, broken hearts, mad passions, significant others?’
Jan waved the ideas away, a row of bangles on her wrist tinkling like sleigh bells. ‘Sometimes, occasionally kind of, but it’s been a now-and-then thing. To be honest, I travel so much and am so busy that I don’t have the time. I kept thinking some day, one day—but