‘Mr Edwards insisted you stay here until your bungalow’s recovered.’
Gwenny gave a raucous caw of agreement and snuggled up between Etta’s blanketed legs.
‘How did Mr Edwards find me?’ Etta asked timidly.
‘Trixie was worried you was driving to Weybridge. Valent tried your mobile number and when he got no answer he hijacked Woody before he got plastered like the others. Then they saw the Polo and your red shirt. So romantic, the papers want to talk to you. Brilliant to save Mrs Wilkinson, poor Chisolm will be hoppin’ to miss the fun.’
Etta let Mop Idol rabbit on and her tea get cold, totally distracted trying to remember the blissful thing Valent had said to her last night. Had she dreamt it? ‘Gallant Valent’, he’d been so amazing rescuing her.
‘Where’s Bonny?’ she asked.
‘In Bath.’
Etta looked out of the window. The valley steamed like a victorious racehorse, everything dripped. She could see lots of people with cameras and a television van beyond the gates.
‘Oh goodness.’
‘You don’t have to talk to them.’
‘My hair’s such a mess, and this red shirt.’
‘Borrow something of Bonny’s. A nice white shirt, she only wears things once.’
*
Having a quick shower however, Etta caught sight of an upright pink pig in the long bathroom mirror and realized it was her own plump body with its ‘dinner for one’ spare tyre.
Amid Bonny’s battalion of make-up, needed to create that natural look, she found a magnifying mirror, in which she could see a watery sun caressing the lines on her face, her crêpey breasts and the pleated skin on the inside of her arms. As she came out of the bathroom, she noticed a huge ravishing blow-up of Bonny hanging on the wall looking down the stairwell: naked but ‘tasteful, resonant and empowering’. After Bonny, how could Valent fancy an old biddy like herself ? She’d been such a fool over Seth, she must stop herself falling in love with Valent. Crumpets and Midsomer Murders with Painswick were all she could hope for. She must stop crying.
She had put on her clothes, including the red shirt Mop Idol had washed and dried, and was just wondering what to do next – take Priceless for a swim? – when Romy swept in.
‘We’re back, we’re back. We heard the news this morning and saw the papers. Of course it’s the silly season or they wouldn’t have made such a fuss, but we felt we couldn’t desert you – must have been frightening. The road’s cut off still so we can’t check the bungalow yet, but I’m sure it will be all right when the water goes down. Anyway, for the moment you must stay with us at Harvest Home.’
‘But I’m staying here,’ stammered Etta.
‘Mrs Bancroft’s had a terrible shock,’ said Mop Idol quickly. ‘She’s just lost her home. Mr Edwards insisted she stay.’
‘One must keep a sense of proportion,’ said Romy, who wanted a live-in babysitter to free up her and Martin for work during the summer holidays. ‘People in the third world are much worse off. Could we be alone for a minute?’ She opened the door. Reluctantly Mop Idol left them.
‘Valent is a very kind man,’ Romy waved a finger at Etta, ‘but you can’t stay here. Bonny’s coming home later. With her away on tour so much, they need their special precious time together. Remember how you got the wrong idea about Seth.’
Romy in fact had met Bonny in Bristol earlier in the week to discuss the WOO launch. During a lunch of lettuce, cucumber and plain yoghurt, Bonny had begged Romy yet again to get Etta off Valent’s back. ‘I’m fed up with her fawning all over him.’
‘It’s important to know when you’re not wanted, Etta,’ went on Romy. ‘It’s so undignified to throw yourself at men at your age,’ she added brutally. ‘So let’s get you over to Harvest Home.’
‘What about Gwenny and Priceless?’ whispered Etta.
‘Not invited,’ snapped Romy. ‘Priceless is Seth’s responsibility and Gwenny belongs to Pocock.’
When Valent rang Harvest Home to raise hell about the hijacking of Etta he was for once outsmarted by Martin, who thanked him profusely ‘for saving Mother’s life. If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking, things could have been serious. Afraid you can’t talk to Mother, she’s actually fast asleep. I think she felt safe the moment she got to us – she doesn’t want to take personal calls. The great thing is I’ve been down to the bungalow and the water’s dropping.