Love Life

by Nancy Peach

  “Of course. I’m not going to pry. Although I quite like it when you blather on, to be honest. I never know what you’re going to say next.” He crossed to the table and cleared a space for a plateful of toast, bacon, and eggs in front of her.

  “There. Eat up; you must be starving – it’s nearly eleven o’clock.”

  Tess realised that she was indeed ravenous. She hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of food earlier that morning when she came home, racked with anxiety about Morris. She helped herself to extra toast and Edward threw a couple of extra rashers of bacon in the pan.

  Although they chatted easily over breakfast, Tess remained wary of lowering her guard and was keen to ensure that she did not outstay her welcome; as soon as she’d cleared her plate away, she picked up her bag and thanked him again. She asked if he would like her to take his scarf to the dry cleaner’s, an offer he declined politely, and then she repeated her request for a total bill outlining how much she owed him. He assured her that he would arrange it and asked when she would next be in work.

  “I’m not sure how much longer Mum will be with you,” he said. “But if she is still at St Martin’s on Tuesday, I’ll see you then.”

  “Okay. Thanks again.” She made her way towards the door but he called her back.

  “Dr Carter?” He was leaning against the sink, a thoughtful expression on his face. “As you’re here, do you think I could ask a favour?”

  “Well, I’m really not sure.” She smiled and put her hand on her hip. “I mean, it’s not as if you’ve done anything for me, is it? Other than rescue my cat in the middle of the night and then cook me breakfast. On balance I’d say you can probably risk asking me a favour. Depends what it is, mind.”

  He laughed and brushed a crumb off the table. “You’ve done paediatrics recently, haven’t you?”

  “I have indeed.”

  “So, you’d know what children of different ages might like? As in, you’d have an idea about what would be fun and what might be desperately boring?”

  “Your niece and nephew?”

  “Yep. Would you mind…?”

  He walked towards the door without further clarification but she followed him into a large, high-ceilinged hallway with a sweeping oak staircase leading to the upper floors.

  “My mother has warned me about going upstairs with strange men,” she said as they climbed towards the first floor.

  “I just want to show you something; it won’t take long.”

  “Heard that before.”

  He laughed but both of them had flushed cheeks when they reached the top and it wasn’t entirely due to the exertions of getting there.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  They made their way along the landing to a large south-facing bedroom. The sunlight was streaming in through the sash windows onto a double bed with a blue-striped duvet cover and a large orange teddy bear sitting upon it. A poster of a sports car was tacked at a jaunty angle on the far wall.

  “What d’you reckon? Too babyish?”

  Tess was flattered that he wanted her reassurance. “The bear? For a five-year-old boy? No. It’s perfect.” She looked around the rest of the room. “Have you got a football about, or some Lego?”

  “Yes. Up in the attic. I’ll get them later. Good idea.”

  In the adjoining room he gestured towards a newly purchased Disney princess duvet covering a single bed with rails down one side, propping up two rag dolls. He raised his eyebrows, again awaiting her verdict.

  “How old is she?” Tess asked.

  “Annabelle’s three. Behaves more like a forty-something CEO of a large corporation, but amazingly only three.”

  “Perfect again,” she said. “I mean, I’m no expert, and they’re your family, but I think they’ll love sleeping in here.”

  “Great. That’s a relief. Thank you.”

  Tess caught sight of a range of framed photographs displayed on the chest of drawers and walked over to them.

  “Now that”—she pointed to a picture of a small boy in orange trunks, brown hair flopping across a scowl, arms folded—“is a strong look.”

  Edward smiled. “It certainly is. I was known for my mean and moody poses in my youth.”

  “Not keen on joining the Instagram generation then? Or have you mellowed in your old age? I can’t imagine you’re big into selfies.”

  “No, not really my thing.” He glanced across at her. “And I can’t say as I’ve mellowed – I’m still a grumpy bastard who takes himself too seriously. Anyway, you’re not exactly an active Instagrammer yourself. I’d had you pegged as a massive exhibitionist, but it seems not.”

  “Have you been online-stalking me, Mr Russell?” Tess was pleased to see a flicker of embarrassment cross Edward’s face as he realised the trap he’d set himself.

  “Nothing of the sort,” he muttered and crossed the room to look out of the window. She went to join him, seeing the gardens sweeping down in a gentle roll to the copse beyond.

  “Your niece and nephew are going to have a brilliant time. I mean, how could they not love being here?”

  “I know. It is beautiful, but I just want them to have fun.” He turned to look at her.

  “I don’t want to be the out-of-touch uncle, you know? The last time they came to visit I was working so much I think we just had one family meal together in a completely inappropriate restaurant that I’d booked, not having any idea about high-chairs or why a toddler and a pre-schooler might not be ecstatic about a seafood platter or steak tartare. I think my mother gave them fish-fingers as soon as they got home, but by then I’d gone to meet a client.”

  “I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself. It’s not easy to automatically know what to do.”

  “No, I know, but I’d just like things to be different this time, now that I’m virtually living back at home, and also because their granny might not be around for too much longer.” He looked back out of the window, leaning his hand on the frame. “Sorry, dragging the mood down.”

  Tess reached out to touch his arm, but stopped herself. “Look, I’m sure they’ll really enjoy themselves, and make lots of happy memories. I know it’s a bit trite but you don’t have to do anything special, just be around and spend time with them, and, I guess, be honest about the fact that your mum is unwell. You don’t need to give them too much detail, but kids can smell secrets a mile off.”

  He turned and their eyes met briefly in an acknowledgement of previous difficult conversations. Edward seemed to be about to say something in response, but thought better of it. Tess found herself wishing that he had shared whatever he was thinking at that moment. As always with him there was so much left unsaid. So many undercurrents and questions she wanted answered. But there had been a significant easing of tensions. In a way, the fact that they had both said such upsetting things to each other in the past few weeks freed them up to talk now with impunity. She no longer felt the low-level anxiety that one of them might misunderstand the other or over-react, she had much less fear of offending him here in his home surroundings, and wondered how much of the strained, tense demeanour she had witnessed in the hospice sprang from being in that environment. Usually it was the opposite; people often commented on how relaxing the hospice was, using words like “haven” and “sanctuary”, but perhaps for Edward it was none of these things. It was somewhere way out of his comfort zone, a place he didn’t understand, and his confusion put him on edge.

  She decided to capitalise on this new, easier atmosphere. “Did you want to talk about anything regarding your mum?” she said. “I mean, if you did, I am very happy to. I’m not sure if you feel it would help or…?”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s quite nice not to have to think about it today. But thanks for asking.”

  “No problem. Anytime.”

  They went back downstairs and Edward asked Tess if she wanted one more cup of tea before she headed home. He suggested they sat out on the terrace, it being such a lovely day, so she
made her way out to a stone bench just beyond the back door where the cocker spaniel, Toby, was stretching out in the sunshine.

  She slipped her feet out of her canvas shoes and idly stroked the dog with her toes, resting her head back against the warm yellowed stone of the house and feeling the sun beat down on her face and arms. After a few moments she became vaguely aware that in the kitchen a mobile phone was ringing. At the fifth ring she wandered over to the back door to investigate – perhaps Edward hadn’t heard his phone, and given the precarious state of his mother’s health it may well be urgent. But when she poked her head through from the cool shade of the utility room she saw him with the mobile in his hand, staring at the screen whilst it continued to ring out. Her eyes adjusted from the glare of the bright afternoon sun outside and she could see a tense expression on Edward’s face as if he were steeling himself to answer. He still hadn’t noticed Tess and she was about to say something when his expression changed, he gave a decisive nod, swiped the phone, and put it to his ear to answer. “Clara?”

  Tess backed away from the door, not wanting to alert him to her presence now that she knew who was calling. Her feet were still bare and she tiptoed across the cool flagstones of the utility room, past the coats and wellies and out onto the warmer, rougher surface of the garden terrace. She resumed stroking Toby with her toes whilst trying not to eavesdrop, although at one point she heard him say, “Look, I can’t talk about this now. I’ll call you later.” After this, she assumed he had ended the call because there was a silence broken only by the clinking of china and Edward swearing at one of the dogs who had clearly tried to snaffle an entire plateful of biscuits, before he emerged carrying a metal tray, closely followed by one of the setters, Gladys, who had the remains of a Jammy Dodger in her mouth. He placed the tray, with two mugs of tea and the plate of biscuits, down on a small wrought-iron table and glared at Gladys who was circling optimistically.

  “Clara called,” he said as he sat down next to Tess and passed her a mug.

  “Oh. Right. All okay?” She leant forward and took a bourbon biscuit from the plate while the setter eyed her resentfully.

  “She’s a bit stressed,” he said, looking over at Gladys. “Clara, I mean, not the dog. Although this one doesn’t like getting a telling off either.” He made a little gesture with his hand and Gladys trotted over to receive a conciliatory pat.

  “She’s got a lot on with work and she struggles a bit with the situation with Mum, to be honest. I told her you were here,” he said, looking sideways at her as he picked up his mug.

  “Okay.”

  There was a pause before he spoke again.

  “I just told her about Morris and, you know, what happened, and that you’d come round to say thanks. I didn’t really need to have said anything at all. She’s back in London. She’d have just assumed I was here on my own.” He turned to look at Tess again and held her gaze with his clear blue eyes. “But I don’t want to feel I’m having to watch what I say. I like things to be straightforward, out in the open. It’s not fair otherwise, is it?”

  Tess wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking her but made another murmur of agreement anyway. He leaned forward, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  “Look,” Tess said. “I can see why she’d be a bit put out, strange woman in your house, you know, especially given my behaviour the last time she saw me, it would make me a bit mardy. Maybe give her a call back later and explain? You’ve been really kind, with everything you’ve done for Morris; I’d hate for that to cause problems between the two of you. She’ll understand.”

  “I’m not so sure about that!” He gave a terse laugh. “She’s not the most understanding woman in the world.” He looked down into his mug as if the tea might hold the answers. “But you’re right. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, and nothing for her to be concerned about. It’s not as if there’s anything untoward going on, is there?”

  “No. Exactly.” She had a sudden flashback to their bodies squeezed together, his lips on hers, their feverish attempts to remove each other’s clothes, and her cheeks went crimson. “Nothing untoward at all.”

  A companionable silence fell between them as they both lifted their faces to the sun for a few moments and then, almost reluctantly, he extended a long arm and looked at his watch.

  “It’s almost two,” he said. “I haven’t seen Mum since yesterday evening, and I said I’d pop in today. I’d better head off.”

  Tess leapt up off the bench. “Oh God! Of course. I feel terrible.” She started gathering the mugs and putting them back on the tray with the biscuits. “Of course, you need to go and see her instead of providing me with a constant supply of food and drinks. I’m so sorry. You should have said earlier…” She broke off mid-sentence as Edward took the tray from her. The brush of his hand against hers seemed to startle them both and they paused, looking down at their still-touching fingertips before she released the tray.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Mum spent most of yesterday asleep. She is constantly on at me to go out and get some fresh air; she’s always worried that I’m looking peaky, or depressed, or stressed. When I tell her that I’ve had a lovely morning here with you and that the house is ready for Maddie and the kids, she’ll be overjoyed, honestly. I think me loitering by her bedside all day is not necessarily doing either of us much good.”

  Tess visibly relaxed and she slipped her shoes back on. “Well, when you put it like that,” she said, “it’s clearly me who’s doing you the favour.”

  “No need for the default sarcasm; it’s actually true – you have done me a favour. Today’s the first day in ages that I’ve felt, I don’t know, like a normal human being. Not worried about work, not worried about Mum…” He stopped and chewed his lip. “I mean, it really has been ages!”

  “Good!” she said. “And I’ve had a lovely morning, too. A little surreal, but lovely. Thank you.”

  They looked at each other for a few moments, smiling and squinting a little into the sun, both reluctant to move, but then the spaniel gave a noisy yawn from beneath the bench and the spell was broken.

  “Tess!” The television host was in her ear as she drove home. “We haven’t chatted for a few days, have we? It’s fabulous to see you’re doing so well.” He couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. “That fella from the blind date still seems keen. At least he seemed to find you moderately attractive? And now it looks like the amnesiac Adonis who barely registered your presence, other than to criticise your medical skills, is back on side? Although honestly, ‘surreal but lovely’? What were you thinking? Isn’t that a line out of a film?”

  Tess ignored him as she approached the suspension bridge.

  “Shame he still blames you for his mum stopping chemo though. He won’t have forgotten, you know. If anything goes wrong, it’ll be you he’ll hold responsible and all that gallant ‘pet rescue’ stuff will disappear.”

  She pulled up at the traffic lights and stared resolutely ahead.

  “And he’s got a girlfriend, so it’s not as if it makes any difference anyway…”

  She hummed a happy tune to herself, determined not to let the host get to her. She was tired, true; the night shift and adrenaline of the past few hours had caught up with her, but as she waited for the lights to change, she smiled, her thoughts drifting back to some of the conversations she and Edward had shared.

  “I just don’t want you making a fool of yourself, Tess. That’s all. I’m only thinking of you. After all, he’s bound to discover what a shabby little individual you are in the long run, isn’t he?”

  “Come on, Jane.” Tess spoke through gritted teeth. “Help me out here.”

  The lights changed and she started to make her way across the bridge, the Georgian townhouses of Clifton looming into view. Jane Austen gave a sigh of satisfaction. “So glad you called, my dear. I simply can’t abide your having to indulge the company of that odious little man a moment longer than necessary. He is exc
eedingly unpleasant.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. It’s no picnic having him in my head, believe me.”

  “Now, the other gentleman, Tess, dearest. He is an entirely different matter. One finds his company extremely tolerable. In fact, one finds oneself in quite a fever of admiration.”

  Tess wasn’t completely sure whether she meant Edward or Simon. She’d had multiple text messages from the latter enquiring as to Morris’s health, and he clearly felt terrible about not having been available to help last night. She suspected that he would have enjoyed playing the knight in shining armour, although that was a little unfair. He was really kind.

  “Far be it from me to presume to know how best to proceed.” Miss Austen’s voice was barely audible over the rhythmic beat of the tyres on the bridge. “Such matters are complex indeed and one must be prudent when considering potential obstacles and prior attachments. One must weigh up character, suitability, affection, admiration, and the potential for enduring love.”

  Tess raised her eyebrows at this and glanced down at the swirling depths of the Severn below.

  “However,” Jane continued in a murmur. “None of us wish to be in calm waters all our lives.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Simon took Tess to collect Morris from the vet’s a few days later, and as Henry had promised, he was much more mobile, although not very nimble on his feet. He didn’t appear to be in any significant pain though, and she followed Flo’s instructions to keep him away from stairs. She put a soft bed for him in the kitchen along with a litter tray that he tended to use with disdain, waiting until everyone else had vacated the room first. Kath thought it was hilarious: “Who knew the little fella would be so fastidious?” she laughed as Morris hovered near the tray and glared at her to leave.

  Edward had been true to his word and there was no bill to pay when she went to collect Morris. Flo was adamant that the account had been settled, although she was very grateful for the flowers and chocolates, and said that she would pass the cards and bottles of whisky on to Henry and Jumbo when she saw them next. Tess knew that she was going to have to push Edward into revealing how much she owed him. She suspected, having seen his family home, that a few hundred pounds was nothing to him, but for her it felt like a weight she had to remove.