Christmas for Beginners - Carole Matthews Page 0,12
hormone surge. ‘I’m assuming that’s a good thing.’
‘It’s a wonderful thing.’
‘You can have too much love,’ I say.
‘You can’t,’ she replies. ‘I’ve been a desert for many years and Alan is my rain. I’m slaking my thirst.’
‘I think that’s nice,’ I say as I ponder the image.
‘It’s lovely,’ she states categorically. ‘You should be doing the same.’
‘I prefer little sips,’ I counter.
Little Dog barks excitedly as he follows Bev and me as we head towards my caravan.
Bev laughs. ‘Where is The Great Shelby, by the way?’
‘Filming. A Christmas special.’
‘Oh, smashing,’ Bev says. ‘Last Christmas found him in bed with Slack Sally who runs the café.’
‘Right.’
‘The village pub burned down too.’
‘Were the two things connected?’
She tuts at me. ‘Don’t be silly.’
Bev is a big fan of Flinton’s Farm, but I confess that I’ve still never watched Shelby’s soap. She does, however, insist on giving me a blow-by-blow account of nearly every episode and I struggle to keep up with the number of women in the fictitious village who he seems to have had affairs with. We did – on my one ill-fated visit – take our alpacas there to have a ‘starring’ role in the soap, but they behaved appallingly, running amok on the village green, knocking over actors and cameras with gay abandon. They were summarily sacked off the site before getting anywhere near the screen and have never been back since. Their moment of stardom was brief and traumatic for all concerned.
‘I can’t help but mention that Shelby’s hardly here these days.’ Bev frowns at me. ‘There’s nothing wrong?’
‘Other than the fact that he’s still allergic to all of the animals?’ We both smile at that. It’s a constant source of amusement – more than it should be – that someone who has made his living at portraying a farmer sneezes at the sight of a sheep and is, therefore, completely useless with any of the animals. To be able to help for just an hour he has to mainline antihistamine. When he spends any length of time here, his eyes take on a permanent red hue – not ideal for his television work. ‘It’s difficult for him. He has a lot on. I understand that.’
‘There’s always something. This or that keeps him in London. It sounds like a lot of excuses to me.’
I have no answer to that. I know it’s not ideal, but I don’t want to put extra pressure on Shelby. Our relationship is fairly new and, as such, we’re still finding our way to blend his life and mine. I’m simply grateful for the time that we have together.
Chapter Eight
We arrive at my caravan. Big Dog is snoozing in a patch of sunshine by the door and wags his tail in greeting, but can’t quite summon up the energy to get up and greet us. Bev fusses him before we both step over his bulk and go inside.
Bev shrugs out of her coat. ‘I remember the days when you could see your own breath in the old van. It was colder inside than outside. This is the bloody Ritz in comparison.’
I’d always viewed my previous caravan home as shabby-chic, but I have to admit that it was probably more shabby-condemned. Shelby refused to stay in it, mainly due to its lack of amenities and excess of dog hair. The first thing that Shelby did was order me a fancy-dancy mobile home which has all the mod-cons. I have a proper kitchen with a working oven and, miracle of miracles, a shower which produces hot water, lots of it – something I haven’t had for a very long time. Strangely, part of me misses the home-rigged, outdoor bucket shower that used to serve as my bathroom. This shower might have hot water, but it doesn’t come with a view of the valley beyond or the starry sky above me. Perhaps I am seeing with eyes that are more sentimental than realistic and should remember the freezing mornings when I cursed having to do my ablutions al fresco.
In my des-res van I also have central heating – which I am loathe to use in case it makes me soft, and only put it on to assuage Lucas. I’ve also got a posh bedroom that’s off-limits to anything with fur, which has definitely put out the noses of my dear doggies, but it does mean that Shelby can stay here when he wants to and still be able to breathe. There’s also another proper bedroom, which means that