‘New beau?’ asked Patrick, shutting the door as if he had every right.
She glared at him, wanting to unpeel his fingers from the latch. It was her door.
‘He’s a very good friend.’ She tilted her head, unable to block the rush at the memory of Devon’s kisses. ‘He’s been very kind.’
‘Kind. You’re naïve. Men like that don’t do kind.’
‘Men like what?’ Her hand dropped to Tess’s silky head.
‘Boorish, Neanderthal. Or is that what you’re into these days?’
‘I’m not into anything.’ She was conscious of the weight of the dog leaning against her leg. ‘Just because he’s not dressed in a Savile Row suit doesn’t mean that he’s not civilised. He’s a vet, so I’m guessing pretty highly qualified. He’s been a good friend.’
‘Really?’ Patrick raised one of his sculpted eyebrows. Did he pluck them? Or wax them like he did his moustache. She wondered what Devon would say about that. He’d probably take a fairly dim view of Patrick’s effete male grooming. Devon always smelt of outdoors, fresh, woodsy. His hair never looked brushed and was too long but he was strong and steady. An oak to Patrick’s reedy willow that bent with the wind of fashion and whatever trend was on the up.
‘Are you sleeping with him?’
‘Patrick, you should go.’ A tinge of heat pinked her skin. Tess licked her hand.
‘But we haven’t talked properly.’ Panic flashed in his eyes. ‘You’re still . . . you obviously need more time to . . . you know . . . get your equilibrium back. I can wait. I know we said six months but I . . . I was desperate to see you. Too soon. I should have been more patient. It was much more of a shock to your system that I realised. Let’s give ourselves some more time. Britta says you’ve started to do some exciting new stuff. Sounds cathartic.’
Ella felt the pain balling up in her chest. ‘You can’t bring yourself to say it, can you?’
‘To say what?’ Puzzlement deepened the frown lines across his forehead. ‘What do you want me to say?’ His mouth pursed. ‘Don’t you think you’re being over-emotional?’
She stiffened and the last tiny hope he might ever understand blinked out.
‘Get out.’
Patrick almost sprang back, wide-eyed with surprise. Tess jumped up and stood squarely between them.
‘Calm down,’ he said, his hands patting the air.
‘Calm?’ she bellowed, relishing the sensation of filled lungs and the release as she shouted, ‘You want me to be CALM?’
Ella took a step towards him. She probably looked like a mad woman, her eyes bulging, but she didn’t give a toss.
‘You can’t bring yourself to say or acknowledge it, can you?’ she asked, spite lacing her words. ‘We lost a baby.’
He looked at her, incomprehension written into every line on his face.
Her energy evaporated.
‘Patrick, we’re done. Get out.’
She’d lost any desire to explain. He didn’t deserve to know.
‘But—’
‘Out!’ She pointed to the door. He paused.
‘Now!’
Tess padded out of the kitchen and followed her back into the lounge where she collapsed onto the armchair, staring into the empty fireplace. Patrick would never know what he’d lost. Never understand that she’d had a precious life growing inside her or the overwhelming sense of loss when she miscarried the baby. It wasn’t hormones and being overemotional that made her wonder what the baby might have grown up to be like or whether the baby would have been a boy or a girl or what type of mother she would have been. All those things, she’d never know but one thing she did know. After months of uncertainty, it was relief to realise she and Patrick were over.
She burst into tears, letting these last few months of guilt, shame and worry come flowing out. Tess nudged at her and she put an arm around the dog, burying her head into the soft fur, giving way to full-scale sobs.
*
A loud groan from the kitchen roused her. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa, a trail of drool dampening her top. A second, longer, moan made her get up and investigate.
Tess lay on the floor, her head lifting and drooping. Next to her were the remnants of the beautiful Fortnum & Mason box. Truffle cases dotted like little brown flowers across the floor.
‘Oh no, you didn’t!’
Ella’s eyes darted from truffle case to truffle case, joining up the dots.
Shit, she’d eaten the entire box. That was a lot of chocolates. And . . . Bets had said they were poisonous for dogs.