Dinner at Joyce's

“Bernie go answer the door please I’m busy getting the salads ready.” Joyce called to her daughter, adding more softly to her sister helping her in the kitchen, “I do wish people wouldn’t arrive early. Wonder if I disturbed your Ben with Bernie?”

“Hello Mr Trelawney,” Bernie said. As she opened the door she got her first close look at her mother’s latest friend. He was a tall man, over six feet high, and broad in proportion, and he had a bluff, rough-and-ready face, all roughened and reddened and lined in his long years farming in his fields. His eyebrows were very black and moved readily, and this gave him a look of some temper, not bad, Bernie would say, but quick and high. "Come in please. I think Mom is still in the kitchen. ”

“That’s alright. I know I am early. I brought some things for her”

"Mr Trelawney do you play jazz?"

"Yes I do, how did you know?"

"I thought I saw you playing at the Basement."

“Its just a hobby of mine,” he said, and walked in. “Hello Joyce. How are you?” he kissed her cheek. “Hello,” he turned “you must be Joyce’s sister Andrea. I’m John Trelawney. How do you do?”

“I’m well thank you. Pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine Ma’am. Joyce I’ve got some wine and also a brace of woodcock and some duck for you. I know you’ll not want them tonight but I brought them.”

"That’s very kind of you," Joyce said.

"Not at all some hunters left them for me. Almost feudal dues for letting them shoot on the farm. Anyway I’ll go out and bring them in.”

He walked out. “Hey Joyce, who’s the gentleman farmer?” asked Andrea. “Not your normal sort of beau.”

“No he’s not. And he’s not my beau. But he is very nice. He is also very lonely. His wife died a couple of years ago. He has two boys. Both of them are at Princeton.”

Andrea whistled. “Classy. When you say he’s not your beau you mean you haven't bedded him yet? That’s so unlike you sis,” she giggled

"That’s enough of you Andrea," Joyce replied, throwing a wet towel at her sister.

"How did you meet him?”

“He was a county school commissioner and he didn’t like my book being a textbook. We had a pretty heated discussion at the Commission meeting. Later his wife asked me out to their farm. She said he had been rude to me. We “took tea” – very English of them. I got friendly with Elizabeth- she was his wife. She used to play golf with Sonia Rubin who is also coming to dinner tonight. Then after Elizabeth died I got to know him better.”

Trelawney returned laden with two large boxes which he put on the table.

“When you said you brought some wine I didn’t expect a case.”

"That’s alright Joyce. It's been in the cellar for a while. Hardly drink the stuff anymore. Don’t have many people home now. I’ll unpack it. Tell me where you want it”

He busied himself putting things away.

Andrea hovered over Trelawney as he unpacked the wine. "John, my sister tells me you’re a farmer, what do you grow?"

“Corn. Hay. Malting barley. I raise pigs and dairy cattle.”

“You said you had hunters on your land, you must have a big farm.”

"5400 acres. Big for round here."

“Mom, the Rubins are here,” said Bernie coming in to the kitchen.

“I’ll go and greet them,” Joyce replied.

Soon the dinner party was underway. Conversation flowed freely. Bernie who was sitting between Ben and Dr Rubin got up to clear dishes away for her mother. As she sat down again she felt her cousin’s hand brush her thigh.

"Bernie how is Gary going at college?” asked Sonia. “You know,” she said to the room at large, “Bernie’s boyfriend does our lawns and pool”.

“Well, thanks, Mrs Rubin,” Bernie replied feeling Ben’s hand creep to the inside of her thigh.

“What course does he do?” Andrea asked.

“Journalism, Aunt.” she replied blushing a little for Ben’s fingers were rucking up her skirt.

“What sort of a course is that?” demanded Trelawney. “There's no need for that at university all they need is to learn how to spell and write and read.”

“Well Mr Trelawney,” ventured Bernie “there's more to it then that, they need to learn to interview people, to research topics and there's all sort of specialities involved too” her voice trailed off as Ben, emboldened by her non resistance, slipped his fingers further up prising her legs apart.

“Balderdash,” retorted Trelawney “They learn that on the job.”

“But Mr Trelawney they are less likely to make mistakes if they know what to do first,” Bernie bravely continued, though she was blushing much more as Ben rubbed his fingers up and down the inside of her thigh.

“What makes you so knowledgeable about journalism anyway John?” Andrea asked.

“I own the Examiner,” he replied referring to the city’s daily newspaper.

“I thought you said you were a farmer” Andrea continued.

Before Trelawney could respond Sonia Rubin said “Bernie’s right. Journalism is much more then the old way of apprenticeship and learning on the job now, its beyond grammar and just writing. Anyway Gary wants to get into TV doesn’t he Bernie? Doesn’t he want to do documentary and feature films?”

Bernie did her best to reply with her cousin’s fingers now stroking her panties. “Yes Mrs Rubin he does and he is…”

“Are you saying my journalists are no good Sonia Rubin?” interjected Trelawney whose face was flushed, his eyebrows working.

“No I m not and anyway I asked Bernie a question.”

Bernie cleared her throat and replied, “Well he is doing a unit on feature films at the moment his major project is a film about 30 minutes long on career advice and how to get it. His lecturers are very pleased with it, one saying that its good enough to be released for schools.”

“Just like my book was, remember John?” cut in Joyce seeking to defuse the issue. “Anyway you’d have to agree that what Gary wants to do is not the sort of thing your paper would do. Bernie love, will you help me with the coffee? Let’s all go to and make ourselves comfortable on the lounge. John can we open some of those ports and tokays you brought round?”

“Of course. Look I’ve been boorish. Sorry. I talk too much. Let me make amends. Come out to the farm tomorrow for lunch. All of you. Please.” Trelawney asked standing up as Joyce and Bernie walked to the kitchen.

“Bernie are you alright dear?” asked her mother once they were in the kitchen. “You look flushed and your face is all moist. Its not that hot that you could have been sweating.”

"Um Mom Ben was…um playing with me. He had his fingers inside my thighs under the table.”

“What an impudent boy!” her mother chuckled. “We'll have to think of a payback.”

They served the coffee and the party continued. After coffee, the Rubins prepared to go.

Trelawney repeated, “I meant what I said. Come out to Hightrees. I’ll get Mrs Fisher to put on a roast for you all. Good country cooking. Love to show you the place. You too you kids. All of you are welcome.” said John as the Rubins left.

After they had gone, he helped Joyce clean up while her sister, her brother in law and her nephew went upstairs to pack as they were leaving tomorrow. “Joyce I am sorry I hope I didn’t wreck your party. It’s just that since Elizabeth died I can see myself becoming a sort of joke, a sort of cardboard cut out of John Bull, you know the old fashioned eccentric English land owner. Which is absurd. I’m an American. My family have been here for more then three hundred years.”

“No John its alright the party was good, no one minds a good discussion and that’s what we had”

“No Joyce its not alright,” he said quietly then slumped on a chair in the kitchen “I’m sorry I miss her so much” he began to cry, his head in his hands “Joyce, I’m lost without her.”

She sat down, her arm around him and pulled his head onto her shoulder “John she died two years ago. You have got to let go. You need to live again. You have so much to do, the farm, the paper, your other businesses, all your charity work.” She ran her fingers through his hair slowly.

“But without Elizabeth its like eating ashes.”

“She wouldn’t want you like this. Relax, take your coat and tie off. I don’t know why you always wear them anyway.” She slid her fingers under his coat, removed it and hung it on the back of the chair. She continued while unknotting his tie, “Elizabeth was full of life and she would want you to be the same. You can't live in the past all the time. You said yourself you were becoming some sort of joke. You'll be worse unless you let go. John, dear John, stay the night. Don’t be lonely for the rest of your life”. She caught Bernie's eyes as she walked toward the kitchen. She shook her head then jerked it upwards and towards the stairs.

Bernie got the message and walked upstairs to meet Ben coming down. “Not a good time. Mom’s with Mr Trelawney. He looks very upset.”

“Well it's you I wanted to see anyway.”

“Oh yes,” said Bernie “you don’t think you could get away with what happened at dinner do you?”