‘I’ve brought my case. You don’t mind if I go out tonight though, do you?’
Amy had noticed that Claudia was wearing a pretty print dress and heels, her long hair, which was usually scraped back into a bun, brushed and loose.
‘Course not,’ she smiled. ‘Are you going anywhere nice?’
‘Just for a drink and something to eat.’ Claudia blushed, and Amy sensed gossip.
‘Ah, a date.’
‘Not really. Well, maybe.’
‘You make me nervous every time you say that. Our beloved Claudia is going to go off and meet someone fabulous and have lots of babies and leave us for ever.’
‘I only met him on Saturday. I wouldn’t be too worried yet.’
‘You deserve someone amazing,’ Amy said, settling a maternal arm across her nanny’s shoulders.
‘Here’s hoping,’ Claudia said, and picked up her handbag.
In the few seconds after the front door had closed behind her, the place was silent except for the quiet rise and fall of Amy’s breath. She went to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of rosé, opened a couple of evenings before and still cold and crisp.
Pouring a large measure into a wine glass, she went and sat on one of the big sofas in the living room, not bothering to turn on a light, enjoying the peace and stillness and the soft grey light that slanted through the glass onto the walnut floor. Even, so, it was hard to settle, hard to ignore the sensation that she should be doing something. The Mode application wasn’t going to write itself, and if it was going to be done in the next two weeks, she’d have to work on it in Provence, which meant sorting out old copies of the magazine to take, and loading her laptop with images and ideas she kept in all sorts of places – in her study, her desktop, in notebooks scattered around the house . . .
‘Hello?’
A voice woke her up. She opened her eyes and peered through the dim light.
‘David? You scared me.’
‘Why are you in the dark?’
‘I must have dozed off. What time is it?’
‘Almost nine thirty.’
She stood up and gave him a lazy kiss on the lips. ‘Hard day?’ she asked.
‘There were lots of odds and ends to tie up. But if working late means I don’t get hassled all holiday, it will be worth it.’ He stroked a curl of hair behind her ear. ‘What about you?’
‘I couldn’t get out of the office quick enough,’ she whispered, kissing the curve of his neck.
‘Why don’t I get this homecoming every night?’ David asked.
‘House guests for a start,’ she said playfully.
‘Has she gone?’
‘She’s out. Claudia’s staying here tonight but she’s gone to meet a friend, and Tilly’s asleep.’
‘Which makes just the two of us . . .’
‘At last,’ she said, undoing his tie. She pulled the length of silk from around his collar, and as it fell to the floor, they started to kiss. His hands came around her back and he unzipped her dress, practised fingers unhooking her bra in one easy movement.
For a moment she was reminded of the days before Tilly, before their big house in Notting Hill, when they had both worked hard and played harder. Between client dinners and corporate networking they had had fun together. Parties, clubs, restaurants, and sex. Lots of it.
Sometimes it was hard to believe that they had once checked into hotels in the City because they’d wanted each other so urgently, or that they had woken up in the night three, four times, just to make love. These days, the only time Amy got up mid-slumber was for a pee, and hotel stays were at family-friendly resorts with kids’ clubs and artificial lagoons rather than rain showers for two and room service that brought you breakfast in bed.
Her dress slid to the floor and David fumbled with his belt. His lips crushed her mouth and she held his face in her hands, hungry to drink him in. Desire had taken her by surprise, but as she closed her eyes and groaned softly, she knew she wanted nothing more than to feel her husband inside her.
‘Now,’ she panted, falling back on the sofa, pushing down the thin lace of her panties and kicking them off onto the floor. David, naked now except for his unbuttoned white shirt, positioned himself on top of her, easing her thighs apart to enter her. She kissed his nipples and pulled him close as their bodies moved in rhythm, slowly at first, then faster and faster until she felt the fire collect in her belly. Sweet, tight longing.
‘Still got it,’ he smiled. ‘Why don’t we do that more often?’
‘Apparently Max’s villa has a guest cottage.’
‘Want to be out of earshot, do you?’
‘Well, if you’re going to insist on being naughty . . .’
‘We’d better get dressed,’ he said reluctantly.
‘But I’m enjoying myself.’
‘And then before we know it, there’ll be a jangle of keys in the lock and Josie will walk in.’ He said it light-heartedly, but the thought of Josie finding them like this – naked, post-coital – the thought of her seeing David’s cock, made Amy feel cold.
‘Come on, let’s go to bed,’ said David. As he stood up, she could hear her phone vibrating in her bag.
‘It might be—’
‘It won’t be work,’ he said firmly. ‘Not at this time. Besides, we’re on holiday. They can get used to doing without you. You’re never going to go off grid in Provence if you can’t resist them now.’
She forced herself to let it ring out. ‘See,’ she smiled. ‘I can do it.’
Her husband looked magnificent in the dark. Biannual triathlons kept him muscular and fit, and his handsome, regular features gave him an impressive silhouette.
‘I love you, Amy Parker,’ he whispered, and she smiled into his shoulder. She didn’t hear her married name spoken out loud very often. She’d loved David for so long, years before they had reconnected after university and started dating, and sometimes she still had to pinch herself that he loved her back.
‘I love you too, David Parker.’
This time it was his phone that started to ring.
‘Do you think someone wants to reach us?’ she said.
‘I’d better answer it . . .’ David frowned as he fished his mobile out of his jacket pocket. ‘It’s Claudia.’
‘It had better not be FaceTime,’ Amy mouthed, glancing at his cock.
He put the phone to his ear, and his frown deepened.
‘Get dressed,’ he said, ending the call. ‘See if Josie’s on her way home, or else we’ll have to get Tilly up.’
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Amy, sensing trouble.
‘Claudia’s been mugged. She’s on her way to hospital.’
The hospital was surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. Perhaps it was too early for the booze-fuelled casualties, thought Amy, wondering how long it would be before she could get home. Josie had returned ten minutes after they had got the call from Claudia, but Amy knew that if Tilly woke up and discovered that her parents weren’t at home, she would get fretful.
‘So what do you think happened, Sergeant?’ asked David.
‘From what we’ve been able to gather so far, it seems Miss Smit was walking along a back street from the Tube when someone came up on a moped and grabbed her handbag. It happened fast and she’s understandably pretty shaken and can’t really remember anything more specific. A passer-by spotted her and called an ambulance.’
‘Weren’t there witnesses? The streets are pretty busy on a Friday night.’
The policeman shook his head. ‘It was a secluded area: Garden Terrace, which I believe is about five minutes from your home address. It’s pretty typical, I’m afraid. The muggers loiter around affluent areas – rich pickings, but quiet and out-of-the-way. In some ways, she’s lucky.’
‘Lucky?’
‘There’s been a spate of a
cid attacks lately. They can be really nasty.’
‘Can we see her?’
Claudia was sitting grey-faced and groggy in a hospital bay, her arm already set in a cast. Her flatmate Maria, a Spanish nanny, was sitting with her, holding her good hand. Amy sat down on her other side.
‘My handbag’s gone,’ said Claudia, still visibly shaken.
‘We can get you another one,’ said Amy, touching her shoulder. ‘All that matters is that you’re okay.’
‘I can’t come to Provence,’ Claudia said, stifling a sob.
Amy didn’t know what to say. ‘Maybe we can change your flight.’
‘I’ve got a cast . . .’
‘I’m sure you can fly after a couple of days.’
‘How can I work like this? How can I drive? Look after the kids?’
Amy didn’t want to seem insensitive and agree with her, but she was right. She wasn’t going for a holiday; she was going to work, and she couldn’t do that with a cast on her arm.
A doctor came through with a clipboard and stood at the end of the bed. David introduced himself and asked him to explain Claudia’s injuries.
‘Well, the fracture of the wrist is fairly minor. But I’ve looked at the X-rays of the ankle, and the break is on the fibula, which may mean surgery in the next few days if we want it to heal properly.’
Claudia started to cry.
‘There’s nothing to worry about. You’ll need a cast boot for five to six weeks afterwards, and a few sessions of physio, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be back to normal by mid-October.’
Amy felt her heart start to thump in panic. She couldn’t afford Claudia to be out of action for so long. The Provence trip would keep them away for three weeks, but September was busy: four fashion weeks and the gala dinner, as well as the Mode application.
She felt dizzy under the hot lights.
‘Are you absolutely sure she needs surgery?’
‘I’ll have to speak to my colleague and get his view. If we can reset the bone through a procedure called closed reduction, then surgery isn’t required and recovery time could be quicker.’
David and Amy walked away from the bay to get a coffee from the drinks machine. Amy knew what they were both thinking, so she thought she might as well speak up first.
‘We can’t go to Provence and leave her like this,’ she said, almost downing the hot liquid in one.
‘We can’t miss the trip because she’s broken her ankle,’ David replied. ‘We’ll all just be sitting around miserably. Besides, before Max and Claire’s nanny decided she was going back to Spain, Claudia wasn’t even coming.’
Amy looked at him sharply. ‘Of course, it’s much more important that Claudia gets plenty of rest,’ she said.
‘Wouldn’t be much use picking Tilly up either,’ said David.
‘Maria said her mum is going to come over from Amsterdam.’
‘Let’s make sure we pay for that,’ said David, as if it was letting them off the hook.
It was 5 a.m. by the time they got home. It felt too late to sleep, as if they should push on through. They sat down at the kitchen table and Amy poured them glasses of cold juice from the fridge.
‘It’s just horrible.’ She put her hands to her face. They were cold and smelled of disinfectant, so she cupped them round her glass.
Claudia’s ankle had been reset manually, but the hospital wanted to see her again within the week to make sure it was healing properly. Which made the situation better than they had first thought, but still, it had been an upsetting and unsettling evening, not least for Claudia herself.
‘I wonder if Max is up,’ said David, looking at his watch. However much concern they felt for Claudia, this was an awkward situation in that Max had been insistent that a nanny come with them to Provence.
‘What’s the point of having the best wine cellar in Lourmarin if we’ve got to spend the whole bloody time babysitting?’ he’d said when the idea of the trip had first been suggested.
Amy hadn’t wanted to say that being on holiday with your own children wasn’t exactly babysitting, but she had to admit, the thought of spending a lazy three weeks somewhere beautiful, with great rosé, a stunning pool and the company of good friends, did sound better with the prospect of childcare.
‘Claire said he’s been worried about a paunch and is out running at six every morning, but I’d still leave it half an hour,’ she said, making herself a Nespresso.
‘Maybe there’s a local hotel with a kids’ club that can ship someone out to the villa for a few hours every day.’
‘We don’t want strangers looking after the kids, David.’
‘You’re right,’ said David, rubbing his cheeks. In the cool light of the early morning, Amy noticed how weary he was looking. Two big back-to-back M&A deals had meant ninety-hour working weeks, and the stress was beginning to catch up with him. He’d never been much of a drinker, but lately she’d noticed that he’d gone from the odd drink in the evening to two or three glasses of whisky as he sat in his study watching Bloomberg, keeping track of the markets.
‘It would have been nice, though. Someone to just whisk the kids off for a while.’
Amy nodded in quiet agreement. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to swim in the pool with Tilly, or play hide-and-seek among the cypress trees, but Claudia being at the villa would have given them both a break. In Amy’s case, it wasn’t even to spend a couple of hours chilling on the terrace. She had the Mode application to do, and if she was going to do it justice; if she was going to give herself a real shot at the job, she was going to have to spend much of her free time working.
She heard footsteps in the hall and a figure appeared at the kitchen door. Josie was wearing white cotton pyjama shorts and a little vest, her long hair falling over one shoulder. Amy wondered how it was possible to look so pretty when you had just got out of bed.
‘How’s Claudia?’ she asked.
‘Broken wrist and ankle, and very shaken up.’
‘Poor thing,’ she said with a grimace. ‘Did they catch who did it?’
Amy shook her head. ‘No. It was a moped attack. They just disappeared into the night. But the police are involved, so with a bit of luck they’ll track the little bastard down with CCTV or something.’
‘Thanks for looking after Tilly,’ said David. Amy noticed that he didn’t look at her.
Josie smiled and twisted her hair. ‘No worries. She didn’t even wake up.’
She turned as a small sleepy-eyed face appeared behind her.
‘I want some breakfast,’ said Tilly, her voice muffled by the soft toy rabbit she held close to her mouth.
Josie scooped her up so she sat on her hip. ‘I was just telling Mummy and Daddy you were asleep. It’s still the middle of the night,’ she said, giving her a squeeze.
‘But everyone is up. And it’s light.’
‘Come on, sweetheart, I’ll take you back to bed,’ said Amy, standing up.
‘No. We’re going on holiday. I want some juice and then I have to put Mr Rabbit in my bag.’
‘Is Mr Rabbit going on holiday too?’ smiled Josie, pushing the toy’s head up and down in a nod.
‘Of course he’s coming,’ said Tilly in surprise.
‘In which case,’ whispered Josie, ‘maybe we should go back to your room and pack his case too.’
David waited until the footsteps had disappeared upstairs.
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Josie, of course. Why don’t we take her instead?’
Amy hesitated. ‘I don’t know . . .’
‘Why not?’
‘David, we’ve had her here for two weeks already. I was looking forward to it being just the three of us again.’
‘But it won’t be anyway, w
ill it? Not at Max and Claire’s villa.’
Amy didn’t say anything, trying to rationalise why she felt herself resisting, why her husband was persistent, but she could come up with no decent explanation.
‘She’s not some random stranger; she’s your best friend’s daughter. She’s been great at the office, she’s great with Tilly . . . and God knows we need the break. Why don’t we just ask?’ said David.
Amy thought of the amount of work she had to do in Provence. The features ideas, the mood boards, the due diligence. She was going to be busy, and knew they needed some help if David was going to get the relaxation he needed.
She sighed and flapped her arms against her sides. ‘Sure, why not?’
David went to the bottom of the stairs and called for Josie to come back down. She returned to the kitchen holding Mr Rabbit, and stood there until Amy spoke.
‘Obviously Claudia can’t come to Provence any more, so we were wondering if you’d like to come instead.’
She watched the younger woman’s reaction. Surprise, confusion, delight.
‘You really want me to come? To Provence?’
Amy felt her jaw clench but told herself this was the right thing to do. The right thing for everyone.
‘It’s not a holiday,’ chimed in David. ‘You’ll be looking after the kids. Tilly and our friends’ two children. But the house is great, the people are nice. Of course, if you’ve got something else you have to get back for – a job, a boyfriend – then we totally understand.’
‘No way! This is the best opportunity ever. I can cook and clean and I even have my driving licence if you need me to run errands. The only thing is, my passport’s in Bristol and I thought you were getting a lunchtime flight.’
David put up a hand. ‘Let me see if I can switch us onto a later flight and we can get the passport couriered over. I’ll ask if we can transfer Claudia’s ticket into your name as well. Saves us buying a new one.’
Tilly scampered into the room and grabbed David’s legs.
‘Tilly, Josie’s coming to Provence with us. What do you think about that?’
‘Hooray,’ squealed the little girl, peeling herself off her father and transferring her affections to her new friend.
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