In Love with Lori Ch. 04

"Ah, Mrs. Denham," I said; "that's because it's not really a barn; it just looks like one. Everything inside here belongs to you now, baby, I just want you to know that before we go in, do you agree?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"You know I never agree to anything without knowing what it is first, so quit screwing around, Davey; just show me what's in there or let's go back to the house; I need to eat, soon, so get a move on!"

Grinning at her forthrightness, I slid the door open, and Lori gasped at the sight; there, in silent, gleaming splendour, was my father's car collection, cars I remember him and Charlie tinkering with, revving-up, and occasionally disappearing for hours on end in. I ran my hand over my favourite; my great-grandfather's green Bentley Speed Six, bought new by the old boy in 1933. Next to it was mother's British Racing Green 1951 Jaguar XK120 C-type, a wedding present from my grandfather, always kept gleaming, but never driven by her; instead, she drove the low-slung shiny yellow Triumph Stag parked next to it, still looking for all the world like it was in the pits at Le Mans or ready to take a stab at the Nurburgring. My father's everyday car, a white 1973 Jensen Interceptor was parked next to that, and over in the corner one of my father's favourite cars; his British Racing Green 1972 Morgan 4/4 Tourer, still looking new and ready to roll; he and Charlie used to spend all day in or under that car, then disappear in it to a pub somewhere and talk about it. Another of their projects, a half-completed restoration of a 1960's Lister-Jaguar racer was sitting on stands, all the parts and body panels piled in a pair of trailers next to it. Parked a little way from it was Charlie's own favourite; a red 1959 Austin Healey Frogeye Sprite with the detachable hard-top that I remember he and father zooming around the country lanes in wearing their RAF leather flying jackets and looking very dashing. Lori was taken by the red 1963 Mini Cooper S with the white roof standing by itself, running her hand over the gleaming paintwork.

"It's so cute, Davey, what is it?" she smiled.

"We think that's a Monte Carlo team car," I replid, "you can just see the fade-marks in the paintwork over the radiator grille where the Monte Carlo 1964 crown decal was. I don't know if Paddy Hopkirk actually drove it, but the other two that won Monte Carlo in 1964 are at the Heritage museum in Gaydon; this is probably one of the reserve cars, that's why there's no number on it, just white panes; father found it in a barn, I think.

Lori was lost in wonder, looking at all that classic street steel, and I led her round to the two motorcycles parked side by side off in one corner. She looked at me quizzically as I sat astride one of the bikes, a classic Norton Commando 'Interpol' model, my father's machine, and patted the saddle of the other bike, a much more glamorous machine in gleaming red and pearlescent ivory metallic paint and a profusion of chromed and stainless steel. Lori looked strangely at me but sat sideways on the saddle, her hand on the tank.

"Davey, were these your father's as well?" she asked, and I smiled to see her perched so awkwardly on that bike saddle, the bike I'd wanted so much when I was a boy.

"This was my father's bike," I replied, patting the tank. "That one you're sitting on, that's a 1979 Harley Davidson FLH Shovelhead. It was Charlie's bike, his 'hog' he used to call it, and it always made me laugh to hear something so beautiful called a hog; I know now why, but then it just seemed wrong to call it such an odd name. I wanted that bike so much when I was a little boy, and he always promised me that one day he'd get me one. After father died, he put it away in the old barn and never rode it again."

Lori traced the shape of the tank, the sweep of the bars, the bright slick chromed binnacle down the centre line of the bulbous tank with the tips of her fingers, her lips moving silently as she saw things I couldn't see, talking to someone I couldn't hear, but she clearly could; the bike was talking to her, telling her about her father, about the man I'd loved as a father too, and still missed every single day.

"This was daddy's bike?" she murmured, and I nodded, not wanting to speak and break the spell. She smiled as a single tear ran down her cheek and splashed on the tank, where she wiped it off with her jacket cuff, her eyes still unfocussed and far away, still seeing something I couldn't. Her head lifted and she smiled brightly at me, holding out her hand for me to help her up. As I did, she hugged me tightly.

"Thank you Davey!" she whispered, "Now I can truly say goodbye to them both at last! Thank you for bringing me here to see where she came from, and for letting me see this, and for keeping it so well for him!"

My heart was overflowing with love for my beautiful sister.

"Baby-girl, I know he was your father, but he was my dad too, just when I needed one most; he knew I'd come back here one day, and so he left me this part of himself to have when he was no longer around. You don't have to thank me; I should be thanking you; for saying yes, for having my baby, and for coming home with me; now you're here, you can have this gift from him as well; it's big enough to share, you know! Everything else here are just toys my father left behind; nothing here really means anything to me, none of them except that red motorcycle; that was something from Charlie, my dad, a message to say he'd always be around when I needed him. And now it's a message to you, too, that he's still here, sitting there when we need him."

Lori turned to look back at the motorcycle, her hand once more tracing along the polished handlebar, before patting the tank once, then turning to me and smiling.

"You're right, Davey, it is a message; I can feel him when I touch that bike, I can put my hands where he put his; as long as that bike's around, he's around. That's good. And now, let's go find something to eat, I really am famished, and so is poor Jimmy, by the look on his face!"

I locked the barn again and we strolled over to the house, to find Jimmy and Rosie waiting for us looking slightly less ill at ease and more relaxed. Lori announced that it was time we had something to eat, she was starving, and I was paying. Rosie mentioned that the local pub, The White Hart, did fairly good pub food, and offered to accompany us, with a shy look at Jimmy, who immediately took the hint, so we all piled into the car and Rosie directed us to the pub in question.

The food was good and filling, Lori in particular discovering she absolutely loved Shepherd's Pie. Rosie asked us to detour over to her home, as she knew her mother would want to see us. I was more than happy to comply; my Aunt Sybil was a happy memory for me; tall and dark blonde, with golden-brown eyes, a captivating smile, and never too busy to sit and play with me, or show me how to draw a cat, or a donkey, or a wizard; she was an illustrator of children's books, and there was a collection of her watercolours on the wall in the small library, a present to me when I was born.

Aunt Sybil was just as I remembered her; same hair, same smile, same eyes; I remembered her as being so much taller, but then, I suppose, from the perspective of a five-year old, everyone is impossibly tall. I was surprised to discover how much I'd missed her, this lady who was so much a part of my childhood, a lump in my throat when I greeted her for the first time in over 20 years. She seemed to be feeling the same way, and so we just looked at each other while memories crowded and hustled together. After an eternity, Sybil turned to greet Lori warmly, noting how much she looked like my mother, saying how I must have searched far and wide to find a girl who looked so like her, and Sophie, of course...

It took all my willpower to not flush guiltily as my aunt compared Lori to mother and Aunt Sophie, although I did get one or two penetrating glances and slightly raised eyebrows from her. After a while I noticed Jimmy was missing, so I excused myself and went out to look for him, finding him sitting in the car. When I asked him what on earth he was doing out there, he looked at me strangely.

"Doc...David, it's obviously a family thing, I'd be intruding, so if it's all the same to you, I'll wait out here; it's a fine day, I might have a snooze in the car, you carry on, I'll be fine."

I pooh-pooh'd that, and suddenly Rosie was there to back me up.

"Jimmy, will you please come in and meet my mother, I know she'd like to meet you!"

Jimmy caved in at that, just as obviously smitten with her as she was with him, so I left them there so Jimmy could escort her back inside. When I introduced Jimmy and the circumstances under which he came to be working for us, Sybil grinned broadly.

"I did see the story in the newspaper this morning, well done, young man, I do hope you didn't hurt that boorish oaf too badly; I know what a Royal Marine is capable of, my father served with the Commando's during the war!"

She smiled as she said this, relaxing Jimmy a couple of notches, and Rosie visibly preened, smiling at Jimmy and getting a shy smile back. Sybil turned to me.

"Apropos of which, your Aunt Bella was on the telephone early this morning, fulminating about that story, ranting on about how you were dragging the Denham name through the mud, and how she was going to give you a piece of her mind, and so on. Lord knows, I try to find something nice to say or think about my mother-in-law, but I just can't help feeling we'd all be better off if God would just quietly drop a gas-stove on her! It's a complete mystery why that old bag is still up and around haunting decent people; why she can't just do the decent thing and fall off a cliff or get herself abducted by aliens is quite beyond me...! Anyway, David, be warned, Bella and probably your Aunt Maude and those loathsome daughters of hers will be descending on you at some point, so stand by to repel boarders!"

My heart sank; Maude was the daughter of my grandfather's cousin, and her two horrible daughters Lavinia and Jennifer, Vinnie and Jeni for short, had made my life miserable when I was small, so much so that mother had eventually banned them from Denham Hall, which apparently caused no little friction in the family; apparently Maude regarded the Hall as her ancestral home (although none of her family had ever actually lived there, as they'd married into an off-shoot of the family) and had taken loud and vocal exception to being barred from it. I couldn't really understand it; why would anyone want that creepy mausoleum?

I used to get nasty letters from her forwarded to me demanding that she be allowed access to the place, but the trustees were of the opinion that she just wanted to pillage the place, so enforced the ban mother had stipulated when we left for America and denied her access for any reason, even serving her with a Court order banning her from coming any closer than 500 meters, with a similar injunction being handed to her daughters; as far as the Trustees were concerned, she wasn't me, so she and hers had no right to be there. If she'd been nicer about it, I'd have probably handed her that grotesque place, with my blessing, and let her have the headache of trying to keep it from collapsing...

Sybil watched me as all this ran through my head, her expression showing she knew exactly what I was thinking. Rosie had also been a target of Vinnie and Jeni's malice, which hadn't exactly endeared them to Sybil or Uncle Jerry, who'd had to have a sharp word with his cousin about her daughters' behaviour. I think it's obvious by now that most of my family were not the sort of people I would be socialising with any time soon. Sophie had been right to warn Lori and me to keep away from them.

All too soon it was time to go back to the Hall, Rosie electing to come back with us 'to help out', but it was obvious she just wanted to spend more time with Jimmy; she even climbed into the front passenger seat, even though the limousine had more than enough seats in the back. We definitely needed get ourselves sorted out for what could be a prolonged stay; I was on indefinite leave from the hospital, but I needed to get back soon, so Lori needed to start thinking about what kind of house she wanted, and where.

Richard would be retiring soon, and he and Aunt Sophie owned a house in Little Brooking, a village about 10 miles from Denham Hall, so I suggested we pick up a local directory and start calling Estate Agents to start setting up some appointments to view properties near there that fitted her requirements. I asked Lori what she wanted in a house.

"Davey, I want something old, but not decrepit,something interestingly ramshackle I think, in need of some TLC, but with some age and solidity about it, something we can make our own. It must have at least four bedrooms, big gardens, and lots of trees; I want our kids to have somewhere to hunt dragons and be Robin Hood too. We'll also need outbuildings, a worker's cottage or coach-house like the Hall, somewhere for Jimmy to live, as you promised him. I also think we need to start thinking about removing and storing the things in the Hall before they start disappearing, and daddy's bike and your cars are going to need somewhere safe too. If there are some apple trees and a duck pond so much the better!"

I looked in wonder at her; my glamour-girl was becoming a home-maker, her eyes shining as she ticked-off the things she thought the perfect country home would need to make it our own. She grinned back at me.

"Well, you asked, I told you! Anything you want to add to the list, Doctor Man?"

I pulled her close and kissed her.

"You forgot a nursery and a playroom for this baby and all the others I want to have; I want this house filled with kids, and toys, and big soft chairs and big floppy dogs, with big fireplaces for them to lie in front of on cold evenings!"

Lori smiled happily.

"I think I'm going to like living here!"

We arrived back at the house to find a large old car waiting at the top of the lane, Maude's car, scrupulously outside the limit laid out in the Court Order, and as we swept past, I caught a glimpse of Bella, a face once seen never forgotten; mother had once confided that Bella was final proof that the undead really did walk the earth...

Jimmy looked back at me, wanting to know if he should stop, but I shook my head; I was in no mood to expose my darling wife to the full gruesome reality of what a lifetime of being a bitter old trout could turn a person into, and from the look on Rosie's face, she was no mood to meet her grandmother either; all I remembered clearly of Bella was that she was a thoroughly unpleasant old woman, and apparently time hadn't mellowed her, if Rosie's expression was anything to go by.

Jimmy parked the car and jumped out to open the door for Rosie, making Lori and I grin at each other, then he opened the door for Lori, handing her out with a small apologetic grin. Lori was trying her best to not notice the increasingly intense looks he was exchanging with Rosie, who looked back up the lane and nudged me.

"David, battleaxe alert; look what's coming in for a landing!"

I followed her gaze and there was Bella, hobbling down the lane toward us, with an expression on her face that would have soured new milk.

Rosie's face twisted into a grimace of dislike, Jimmy noticing the change in her and moving to stand slightly in front of her.

"Problem, Doc...David?" he murmured.

Rosie fielded that one.

"She's my grandmother, David's Great-Aunt Bella, and she's an obnoxious old cow; daddy couldn't stand her; he used to say she must have blackmailed my grandfather into marrying her, there's no other explanation, and that grandfather deliberately died just to escape from her; there have been times when I really did believe that. She's just rude and nasty to everyone, she's a disgusting old snob, and she hates David's family for having what they have; she truly believes it should all belong to her; she's got that in common with Maude; that's her car all the way up there; thankfully we won't see her, she's banned from coming closer than 500 metres!"

We stood and waited while the miserable old bat staggered up the lane towards the house; I wondered aloud why she didn't just swoop in on her broomstick, making Lori and Rosie giggle. The old woman obviously heard us laughing, and some instinct told her it was her we were laughing about, which only served to tighten an expression you could already have used for a Hallowe'en mask.

As she approached closer she was able to see me more clearly, and the expression changed to one of active dislike; I didn't care; as far as I was concerned, she could turn around and bugger off, she wasn't welcome here. Then she saw Lori, young, beautiful, tall, shapely, all the things she wasn't, and her normally malicious expression intensified, becoming even more annoyed when she spotted Rosie.

"So you came back, David!" she wheezed, and I nodded; I wasn't going to mince words with this old harridan, all I wanted was for her to go, now.

"Hiding here, are you? I saw the photographs in the newspapers, you're a disgrace, brawling in public over this...this...girl, whoever she is!"

OK that did it.

I stepped forward, making her step back, her expression suddenly less confidently malicious as I loomed over her.

"First of all, you're trespassing, so clear off. Secondly, that 'girl' is my wife, and finally, since when has my behaviour, good, bad, or indifferent, or that of any member of my family for that matter, been any of your damned business? I reserve the right to protect my family in any way I see fit, and as you're not family, you have no right or place to comment. Please leave, we're busy and I have no time to stand her and bandy words with the likes of you. Go away, Bella!"

Her eyes bulged with fury, and she sputtered, trying to say too many things at once, at which point Rosie stepped in.

"What do you want here, Bella? I mean, really, what did you hope to achieve? David's right, you have no place here, and no right to be here; anyway, shouldn't you be in your coffin during daylight hours?"

Bella's face turned an interesting shade of purple as she sputtered, and for one hopeful instant I really, really thought her head was going to explode.

"How dare you speak to me like that, you insolent little nobody? I am your grandmother, and you will address me as such! And as for you, David Denham, I'm sure the press would be very pleased to find out where you and this so-called wife of yours are hiding!"

Rosie grinned at her.

"Why don't you tell them, Bella? While you're about it, why don't you tell them about your father, or your wonderful uncle?"

She turned to me, still grinning.

"She tells everyone her family was in shipping; the truth is, her father was first mate on a night-soil boat, digging the stuff out of outhouses for the tanneries to make leather dyes; he shovelled shit for a living. And as for her uncle, he was locked up after the war for being a profiteer, a black-marketeer, and a pimp; I'm sure she'd be happy to share that little snippet with the press as well, I know I would, given half a chance!"

Bella had gone pale as Rosie spoke to me, and then Rosie turned back to her.

"Go away, Bella; this is not your family, and no-one here wants to hear what you have to say; David and his wife want to settle-in, and you're holding them up. Why couldn't you just be nice, just this once? Why did you and that dreadful Maude creature have to come down here and confront David? What for? He's done nothing to you, so what are you so het-up over?"

Rosie turned her back on her and walked away before Bella could reply, slipping her arm through Jimmy's as he escorted her back to the house.