Famous (36 page)

‘Would you like to come on a picnic with me?’ he asked.

‘A picnic?’

A picnic? Did they still exist? And did people really go on them? Surely not these days?

‘Um…okay,’ I replied. ‘Where to?’

‘How about the river?’

‘The river?’

‘There’s a river about five k out of town. It’s very pretty. Trust me.’

Obviously I looked a little unsure. ‘Sounds nice,’ I replied.

Although a picnic was a bit prehistoric for my liking, it had to be better than sitting in the dusty hovel by myself.

‘How does Sunday sound then?’ asked Ethan.

‘Fine,’ I replied. Lord knows I’d no other plans to speak of.

‘I’ll swing by and pick you up at twelve o’clock. Please don’t bring anything, I’ll have it sorted.’

‘See you on Sunday then, Jane,’ he said. He gave me a cheeky smile and a wee tip of his cowboy hat.

At that point Elsie hurried over to me.

‘Sooo…he’s a lovely boy, that Ethan?’ she said with a wink.

Apparently she was asking me a question. I declined to answer.

He was hardly a boy, I thought to myself. He was at least thirty.

‘Wonderful family.’ Clearly Elsie hadn’t finished. ‘His mother was one of my closest friends. A gorgeous woman she was.’

Was?

‘Did she die?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Ten years ago. Cancer. A real tragedy it was. He was a real mummy’s boy too. Loved her to bits.’

Losing a parent in your twenties was far too young, I thought to myself.

As irritating as my mother was, it would be devastating if anything actually happened to her.

I said my goodbyes and drove home to my dilapidated habitat. A picnic with a farm boy? It was a bit 1950s for my liking. But what the hell else was I going to do this weekend? Apart from go insane from boredom and loneliness of course.

I walked back into the cabin and immediately poured myself a glass of wine, collapsing onto the lumpy couch. Line dancing. I had been line dancing. As I attempted to recover from the ordeal the phone rang. It was Mands.

‘Howareya chook? How’s life in the whippidy-wops?’

‘Oh…so so,’ I replied.

If only she knew.

‘How’s the smoke?’ I asked.

‘Good. Just been to the launch of Elle’s new knicker range. Cocktails, celebrities, undies, the usual.’ She paused.

‘Whatcha been doing? You sound puffed.’

‘Um…nothing,’ I replied. ‘Nothing at all.’

At least nothing I would ever be telling her about.

‘Been shagging that foxy Ethan again?’

Foxy? Why did she think he was foxy? Sure, he wasn’t ugly. Well okay, he was pretty cute, I guess. But he was still a farm boy. A farm boy who wore plaid shirts.

‘Very funny,’ I replied.

‘Might as well,’ said Mands. ‘It’d help stem the boredom.’

‘How much does the world hate me today?’ I asked, changing the subject.

‘Not very much at all,’ replied Mands. This was a relief.

‘In fact the only picture of you today was on page four of the
Telegraph
. And they only put it in because Alistair scored two goals. If he hadn’t scored the goals I don’t think you would have been in there at all.’

This was very good news, although bad news about the goals of course. Clearly our rendezvous wasn’t affecting his ability to play football, which was a shame.

‘But,’ she added. ‘It looks like we’re out of the World Cup anyway.’

‘Really?’

This was fabulous news. I only hoped Alistair was suitably devastated. Perhaps he would even get lynched at the airport on his return?

‘Although the team did well,’ continued Mands. ‘Got to the semi-finals. Great effort.’

‘Oh.’

I guessed he wasn’t going to be lynched then. Probably get a bloody ticker-tape parade up Queen Street instead, the bastard.

‘And Tiny Tits wasn’t in the paper either,’ continued Mands.

‘Good.’

Every time Tiny Tits was in the paper they invariably threw in a photo of me for good measure, regardless of what it was she was doing at the time.

‘I did a drive-by of your apartment too,’ said Mands. ‘There were only two pests at the gate. Looks like the rest have given up on you.’

‘Fantastic,’ I replied. And it was.

Although, there was a very small glittering disco ball part of me that missed the attention. That missed being photographed and chased. That missed being recognised. The same part of me that liked being called a ‘trendsetter’ and a ‘clothes-horse’.

‘Looks like things are finally settling down,’ said Mands. ‘You’ll be coming home soon,’ she added. ‘I just know it.’

I decided that if Ethan already knew enough about me not to need to ask my address, then it was in my best interests to find out more about him before Sunday.

So, the next morning I probed the subject, during my morning-tea ritual. It didn’t require much probing at all, as Elsie could happily talk about Ethan until the cows came home, which is what cows tended to do in these parts.

‘What does he do?’ I asked.

‘Ethan? Why he’s the town vet, love. And not just for our town. He’s the best vet for miles.’

A vet? Interesting. I’d never met a vet. I knew they did stuff with animals, but that was about the extent of my knowledge.

‘And he was born here?’ I asked.

‘Born and bred. Apart from his years away at school and university. And travelling of course.’

So young people in this town did travel? I thought to myself. Probably an attempt to get the inbreeding down. Whole town chips in to pay for the plane ticket type of thing.

‘Does he have any siblings?’ I enquired.

‘Just the one sister, Anna. She’s married to Marty, he’s a farmer.’

‘And where does Ethan live?’

‘He’s got a beautiful little cottage on his parents’ farm.

Looks after the place for his dad, even takes care of Sally’s garden. Sally, that was his mum. Big farm it is too, one of the biggest in the whole region.’

‘So why isn’t he a farmer like his dad?’ I asked.

‘Oh, he’s a good farmer alright, he just loves looking after the animals more. Plus, they’ve got a manager who looks after the farm for them these days. Greg, that’s his name. Lovely bloke he is too.’

It seemed every bloke around here was lovely, if you took Elsie’s word for it.

At twelve o’clock on Sunday, true to his word, Ethan arrived to pick me up. It was a beautiful day for a picnic. Clear blue sky and no wind.

‘Nice car,’ I said noting his Land Rover. ‘My mother would like it.’

‘Really?’ he replied. ‘Then I think I’d like your mother.’

‘Don’t count on it,’ I replied.

‘Nice car,’ he said, looking over at my Mini. ‘A good solid country vehicle if ever I saw one.’

‘I’m actually from the city,’ I replied. ‘Can you tell?’

‘Not at all!’ he laughed.

‘I’ll just grab my bag,’ I said, walking back into the cabin.

‘And I’ll just be nosy,’ he said, following me inside. ‘Don’t mind me.’

I really wished he wouldn’t. Although it wasn’t a date I still had no desire for him to witness my primitive surroundings.

‘Little different to my city pad,’ I explained as he glanced around.

‘Bet it is,’ smiled Ethan.

I noted the case of champers still sitting beside the dining table and inwardly cringed. But at least I’d had the foresight to hide the box of sex toys.

We drove straight to the river on the opposite side of the village. It was a beautiful spot, calm and tranquil with crystal clear, flowing water, framed by sweeping trees and green grass. And no other people to be seen. Ethan laid a rug out on the grass and unpacked the gorgeous-looking picnic basket he’d brought. There was smoked salmon, olives, cheeses, French bread and a delicious bottle of pinot gris.

‘Where did you manage to find this gem?’ I asked, tasting the wine.

‘There’s a couple of great vineyards about half an hour away,’ replied Ethan. ‘I usually just go and stock up there.’

‘Wow,’ I replied, very surprised to learn there were vineyards within striking distance of the village.

‘Perhaps we can go to one of them for lunch one day?’ he suggested.

‘Sounds great to me,’ I replied. The only thing that came close to being in the city when you weren’t was a good country vineyard. It was a happy consolation.

‘Sooo Jaaane,’ drawled Ethan. ‘White med ya move ta these here purts?’

I had to laugh at his country accent.

‘Well cowboy, I just needed a break…I guess.’

‘From work?’

‘From everything.’

‘What is it that you do?’ asked Ethan.

‘Advertising. Account manager.’

‘Sounds important.’

He could sense I didn’t really want to talk about why I’d left the city, and didn’t pressure me with any more questions. Instead we tucked into the delicious spread laid out before us.

‘Would it be rude if I had a quick fish?’ asked Ethan, when we had finished lunch. ‘There’s a few trout in this river.’

A fish? In the river? It was a bit of a farm-boy cliché, wasn’t it? I wondered when the woodland creatures were going to come out of the forest and dance about on the grassy bank.

‘Not at all,’ I replied.

I lay back in the warm spring sunshine as Ethan cast out into the river directly in front. The sun felt gorgeous on my skin, and my head felt clear of any thoughts, as I stared up into the blue sky. I was truly relaxing, and it felt strangely wonderful.

‘Jane, come and have a look at this!’ shouted Ethan, a short while later.

I walked to the water’s edge just in time to see him winding in a big beautiful silver fish, flapping wildly. It was the first time I’d seen anyone catch a trout. It was so shimmery, and beautiful.

‘Have you ever eaten baked trout?’ asked Ethan.

‘Don’t think so,’ I replied.

‘Then I think this one’s a keeper,’ he laughed, hooking it into his net. ‘As long as you come round to my place tomorrow night and help me eat it of course?’

‘Deal,’ I replied, watching him handle the fish with ease.

The clear sparkling blue of the river was the exact same colour as his eyes.

Get a grip! I told myself. Just because there’s slim pickings in this rural outpost, there’s no need to let your city standards drop.

We whiled away the rest of the afternoon, chatting in the sunshine, until the sun turned to shade. It felt wonderful to be sitting in the long grass, beside the river, without having anywhere or anyone to rush off to. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent an afternoon just lazing about in the country sun, if I ever had. I certainly hadn’t been on a picnic in recent years, not that I could remember anyway. It was nice chatting away to Ethan about all sorts of things, without any uncomfortable or awkward silences. I asked him all about his work, and family, and he filled me in on the village inhabitants. The ones who were quirky (but sweet) and the ones you should avoid at all costs.

‘Elsie appears to have taken me under her wing,’ I confessed.

‘I’ve noticed,’ said Ethan. ‘That’s not such a bad thing. I’ve been under her wing for years.’

‘Have you?’

‘Her and Bob couldn’t have children, so my sister and I became their substitutes. And when my mother died, well Elsie just sort of took over that role.’

‘You don’t mind?’ I asked.

‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘She’s a wonderful woman.’

‘And your father never married again?’

‘No. The old codger’s too stuck in his ways to turn on the charms again. Plus, he and my mother were together for so long I don’t think he’d know how to.’

‘Were they both from here?’ I asked.

‘Yep, grew up next door to each other.’

‘My God, that is a long time.’

‘So, tell me about your family,’ urged Ethan.

‘Where do I begin?’ I replied. ‘Well…my mother’s a full-time feminist…my father’s a housewife…and my sister used to be a lesbian.’

‘I think you should pitch that one to a network,’ he laughed.

‘Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,’ I replied.

When dusk came along and the temperature dropped Ethan drove me back to the cabin, asking me if it was okay if he invited his friends Mack and Abbie along for dinner tomorrow night too.

‘Of course,’ I replied.

It would be good for me to get to know some other people while I was in this rural prison, I thought to myself.