would I apply? I haven’t even looked to see what’s out there at the moment. I haven’t wanted to. I’ve been safe in my haven.
‘I don’t know,’ says Robert. ‘Let’s see what you come up with. Maybe you’ll perform a miracle.’
But he sounds unconvinced. He’s probably mentally choosing kitchen fittings for his luxury condos already. I see him glancing at our hand-drawn home page again, his eyes expressionless, and feel a fresh wave of mortification.
‘You know, we have tried to modernize,’ I say. ‘But Mrs Kendrick just wouldn’t do it.’
‘I’m afraid my aunt has the commercial nous of a teapot,’ says Robert flatly. ‘That’s not your fault, but it hasn’t helped matters.’
‘Where is Mrs Kendrick?’ asks Clarissa timidly, and Robert’s face creases slightly. I can’t tell if he’s amused or exasperated.
‘She’s hired a full-time computer teacher.’
‘What?’ I exclaim before I can stop myself – and I can see Clarissa’s jaw has dropped. ‘What’s she learning, exactly?’ I add, and Robert’s face creases again. I think he wants to laugh.
‘I was there when he arrived,’ he says. ‘She said, “Young man, I wish to be modern.”’
I feel simultaneously amused and chastened. Mrs Kendrick has been more proactive than any of us. If I’d known things were this bad, I wouldn’t have sat here defending our non-existent website and our quirky charming ways. I would have …
What, exactly?
I bite my lip, trying to think. I’m not sure yet. I need to get on top of this, quickly. I need to have ideas. If Mrs Kendrick can modernize, we all can.
Toby, I think suddenly. I’ll ask Toby, he’ll know.
‘So that’s my aunt’s contribution to the situation.’ Robert surveys first Clarissa, then me. ‘What about you? Any specific ideas other than erotica?’
‘Well.’ I rack my brains feverishly. ‘Obviously the website is an issue.’
‘We all know that,’ says Robert heavily. ‘Anything else?’
‘We need a decent sign outside.’ I pluck an old, buried thought out of my brain. ‘People walk past the house and have no idea what it is. We did try to suggest it to Mrs Kendrick, but—’
‘I can imagine.’ Robert rolls his eyes.
‘And we could do something creative?’ I’m feeling my way now. ‘Like … a podcast set in Willoughby House? A ghost story?’
‘A ghost story.’ He looks quizzical. ‘Are you going to write a ghost story?’
‘Well, OK … probably not,’ I allow. ‘We’d have to get someone to do it.’
‘How much income would it generate? Or publicity?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admit, losing faith in the idea even as I’m talking. ‘But it’s just the first idea of many. Many, many ideas,’ I reiterate, as though to reassure myself.
‘Good,’ says Robert, sounding unconvinced. ‘I look forward to your many ideas.’
‘Great.’ I try to sound bullish. ‘Well … you’ll be impressed.’
NINE
Everything’s got so stressful. It’s three days later, and I’ve just about had enough. Why is life like this? Just as you relax and start enjoying yourself, smiling, having fun … life looms up like a mean teacher in the playground, shouting, ‘Playtime is over!’ and everyone trails off to be miserable and bored again.
Dan is constantly strained but he won’t tell me why. He got home at midnight the other night and smelled of whisky. He sits gazing into the snake tank quite a lot, and his default expression has become a frown.
I joked yesterday morning, ‘Don’t worry, only another sixty-seven years and fifty weeks to go,’ and he just looked up blankly as though he didn’t get it. Then, when I said more gently, ‘Come on, Dan, what’s the matter?’ he sprang up and left the room, replying, ‘Nothing,’ over his shoulder.
How many divorces are caused by the word ‘nothing’? I think this would be a very interesting statistic. When Dan says, ‘Nothing,’ I get this jab of total frusture, like a little twisty knife. Frusture is my word for the exquisite fury that only your husband can give you. Not only are you furious, you feel like he’s doing it all on purpose, in order to torment you.
I raised this theory with Dan, once. I was – in hindsight – a bit stressed out. The babies had been up all night, in my defence. And I yelled, ‘Do you deliberately find the most annoying thing to say to me, Dan? Is this your plan?’ Whereupon he looked all hunted and said, ‘No. I don’t know. I wasn’t quite following what you said. You look really nice in that dress.’
Which kind of appeased me and didn’t appease me, all at once. I