Chapter Seventeen

Funny, isn’t it, how a simple question can make itself so hard to ask? I sat there in the dark, eyes front, while my mouth became drier and drier and my brain churned the words into meaningless syllables inside my head. The French film playing on the screen, the feel of Luke’s arm behind me, even the taste of the reckless brandy cocktails that I’d drunk, none of it seemed real. It should have been easy – all I needed to do was to ask Luke outright. But the more time that elapsed between his picking me up and my framing the sentence, the more difficult it became to form those flittering, elusive words into the required order, and the more nervous I became.

‘Are you all right?’ Luke whispered as I shifted and fidgeted about in my seat. ‘Aren’t you enjoying the film?’

‘It’s fine,’ I hissed back, my stomach pure acid.

‘What’s the matter then?’ He had his mouth almost against my ear, the feel of his breath on my neck made little goose pimples break out all down one side of my body. ‘You’ve been quiet all evening.’

‘It’s nothing.’

On screen, a dishevelled yet sexy Frenchman was berating his girlfriend for some imaginary misdemeanour while she yelled and slammed plates into the wall. I wished I had her guts.

‘Are you sure?’

Luke’s hand stroked down my bare arm and more goose pimples joined the ranks. My heartbeat was thundering and my brain was playing chicken with the phrases passing through it. ‘I’ – swallow, swallow, wipe sweaty hands along seat – ‘I was just wondering.’ Okay, still not too late to back out, pretend confusion at the plot of the film.

‘Mmmmm?’ His attention had wandered back to the screen, not surprisingly, because the girlfriend had now taken most of her clothes off and was being consoled by another woman, who was also wearing very little.

I felt sick. ‘Just wondering … did you get my text?’

‘Oh? Why do you ask?’ Suddenly Luke’s attention was on me, fully. His eyes, black in the gloom, searched my face.

‘I tried to get in touch with you last night and I rang the Moat House. Your mobile kept going to voicemail, and I couldn’t think of any other way.’ I spoke quickly, the words running into each other like panicked sheep. ‘The receptionist told me there was no Luke Fry staying there.’

He smiled. ‘My phone was out of charge and I can’t find my charger. Probably somewhere in the wreck that is the showroom. Yeah, I moved out a week or so ago.’ His attention floated back towards the film, his voice offhand. ‘Work was a bit slow on the showroom because the builders weren’t always turning up on time, so I thought I’d go and stay on site for a bit to chase them up.’ A hesitant glance my way, and I felt stupid, as though I’d been caught out being the paranoid fiancée. ‘You’re not upset, are you? I didn’t say anything, but it was really important that I was on site, particularly first thing in the mornings when the bloody men sometimes don’t get started until ten, eleven o’clock. Being there, I can chivvy them along as soon as they arrive.’

Oh, pure, pant-wetting relief. My whole body leaped with joy at this simple, straightforward explanation. ‘But the hotel? What was the problem there?’

‘I bet it was a new receptionist. They change over every couple of weeks. The one you spoke to probably hadn’t ever seen or heard of me.’ A few more moments of Gallic passion elapsed before our eyes. There’s something about a twenty-foot-high threesome that’s a bit off-putting. ‘Were you worried? What did you want me for?’

‘When the Moat House refused to acknowledge that you existed, yes, I was worried. But it’s fine. I got Jazz to give me a lift in the end.’

‘Jazz? Isn’t that your ex?’

‘Um. Well.’ I tried to remember how much detail I’d gone into about my imaginary bad breakup, whether I’d actually said that Jazz had been the other party.

‘You haven’t been … I mean, he’s not back in your life, is he?’ Luke watched me earnestly now, raking his hair away from his face, looking vulnerable and scared. A hand grasped my arm, almost pulling me from my seat. ‘Promise me, Willow, you’re not seeing him again?’

‘There’s nothing going on between me and Jazz, I promise,’ I said as sincerely as I could. After all, it was true. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you, Luke.’

‘Okay. I believe you. I know you wouldn’t fool around behind my back.’ Another glance, flicking between the screen and me. ‘Look, I dunno about you, but this is making me horny as hell. What about getting out of here, shooting across the river and christening those new wooden floors?’

I let him pull me to my feet giggling and we ran out of the cinema and all the way to the flat, where the laminate flooring received a baptism of fire. Relief made me passionate and his minor insecurity seemed to provoke Luke to ferocity. In the event, there wasn’t a room in our home-to-be that didn’t witness sex of flame-thrower intensity.

‘Take me to the showroom.’ I was emboldened by our lovemaking. ‘I’ve never even been there.’

‘It’s an old building site. Honestly, nothing to see.’ Luke propped himself up against the wall where we’d planned our bed would go. ‘Bulldozers and holes in the ground.’

‘There must be a bit of a building though, if you’re living there. Go on, show me. Take me over there now.’

‘Now?’ He looked a bit flustered. ‘But, really, Willow, there isn’t anything interesting going on.’

‘I still want to see. After all,’ I played my minor trump card, ‘if I’m putting money into the business, I at least want to see where it’s going to be.’

‘Weeellll, okay. But it’s a bit late now, isn’t it? Won’t you be wanting to get back and find out how your sister is getting on?’

‘Oh, sod, yes, I’d better.’ I thought of Bree, up at five this morning, walking the dogs in the park. Her misery and confusion had translated into furious overactivity. I worried she’d do herself some kind of homemaking mischief.

This time the Morgan was back in evidence, and Luke left me soundly kissed on the doorstep. I felt seven stone lighter than I had when I’d gone out. Relief made me bountiful, understanding, blissed out – capable, even, of dealing with Ash.

‘Hello, everyone, I’m home!’ I trilled like the bird of happiness soaring over the pink pastures of pleasure. ‘How are we all?’

Ash, who was the only visible recipient of my delight, just grunted and carried on reading, sprawled skankily on the leather sofa.

‘How’s Bree?’ I lowered my voice to ask.

‘Cleaning Flint’s bathroom, last I heard.’

‘Do you think we should let her do all this? I mean, it might be bad for her, or the baby.’

Ash raised his head and made a sweep of the living room with one hand. It was immaculately tidy. Even a pile of old newspapers I’d been meaning to take to the recycling bin for the last few weeks was gone. ‘Look,’ he drawled, ‘the carpet has a pattern. Who’d have thought?’

‘All right, point taken.’

‘So, we ought to make her rest more, but just let her finish cleaning the place first, yeah?’ Ash moved his feet to let me sit down. ‘Besides, you know what she’s like for jumping up and down over bits and pieces. Oh, and Cal was asking how your laptop’s been performing since he had his wicked way with it.’

‘It’s been fine.’

‘Give him a call, will you? He’s driving me crazy. I think he gets off on thinking about you.’ A pleasant, warm feeling crept through my stomach, like a delayed-action vodka. All right, I was spoken for in the firmest way possible. But even so, it was encouraging to know that men still found me attractive. ‘But then,’ Ash went on, ‘he doesn’t get much action. He’d fancy anything that talks to him nicely. Even a scraggy bitch like you.’

The bird of happiness mutated into the vulture of viciousness. ‘Yeah, and I notice you’ve been home a lot more since you came back from Prague. Waiting for the antibiotics to start working, are you?’

‘Bitch.’

‘Prick.’

‘Ah, the joy of family life,’ Flint remarked, walking in on our bickering session carrying a huge stack of files in a plastic box, obviously on his way to the recycling bin with the remains of his previous life. ‘I’ll bet Bree decides to stick at one child.’

‘Well, Paddy’s not going to help her out if she decides she wants another, is he?’ I rummaged around in my bag for my phone, then put it down on the table, to shove all the rubbish back into my bag. I really needed to clear out this bag. Or – lovely thought, buy a new one …

‘No, thank God,’ Ash said. ‘If this one turns out to be anything like him, can we stuff it back in again?’

‘Excuse me, you are not stuffing my child back in anywhere.’ Bree came into the room on the tail end of Ash’s remark, with her hair tied up and wearing a neat circa 1950 apron tied around the bulge at her front. I hoped she hadn’t heard my observation about Paddy. ‘Will, could you give me a hand to untie this please?’ She turned and presented the strings of the apron. ‘I can’t reach around the back.’

As I scrabbled at the too-tight knot, Flint dumped his box of files onto the table. ‘Let me do it.’

‘Flint.’ I looked up.

‘What?’

‘Have you put all that stuff down on top of my phone?’

‘Um. Whoo, sorry, Will.’ A tentative sideways movement of the files, like clearing the rubble from an earthquake victim. ‘Oh dear.’ The cracked screen was crazed into a hundred little pieces and we all stared at it. ‘Can you tape it up?’

‘I’ll tape you up.’ I sighed. There would be no more saucy night-time texts to or from Luke until I could get the screen replaced. Or he got a new charger, whichever came first. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘I’m going to give the dogs their last walk.’ Bree stretched her back. ‘Either of you two coming?’

Ash just sniffed flamboyantly and spread himself farther along the sofa. ‘I’ll come,’ Flint said. ‘If we can go up to the allotment.’

I left them quarrelling quietly about how far two elderly spaniels should be expected to walk in a day, and hastened upstairs. This was my best opportunity to get an undisturbed bath, and I intended to make the most of it.