by Della Galton
She rang the buzzer when she arrived and, as usual, it was a little while before she was buzzed in. Eric’s front door opened before she got there and he was standing on the other side of it, beaming. She’d half expected Brenda to have answered it, but there was no sign of her.
‘Thanks for coming, doll,’ he called over his shoulder as she followed him down the hall. He didn’t take her into the kitchen as usual but flung open the lounge door with a flourish. ‘Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Brenda.’
A smallish, roundish lady in a pink floral dress sprang up with surprising agility for someone in her eighties. She didn’t look too happy for an excited bride-to-be. In fact, she was scowling. ‘So, you’re the hottie what regularly comes calling.’ She looked Olivia up and down and raised her eyebrows. ‘My oh my, you’re even younger close up.’ She folded her arms and peered at Olivia’s face. ‘Prettier too. I’ve seen you from my window up above. Fixing your hair before you get to the door. Touching up your lippie. Sweet-talking my fella.’
‘Excuse me,’ Olivia said, taken aback.
‘Primping and preening yourself.’ Her eyes narrowed into a cat-like frown. ‘No better than you should be. And him a vulnerable old gentleman, completely at yer mercy.’
‘Stop it now, B,’ Eric said. ‘You know what we said. This is no time to get insecure. Not now we’re getting wed.’
‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ Brenda looked at him and then back at Olivia. ‘But I’m not so sure. I mean, you only have to look at her – all airs and graces and fancied up. How do you expect me to feel? How would any normal, nice, upstanding woman feel when confronted with her fella’s hussy?’
Olivia blinked, at a loss of how to respond. She was gathering herself to say that there had clearly been some mistake when Brenda took another step forward.
The old lady’s face was utterly deadpan. Then it crumpled and Olivia realised with relief that she wasn’t about to cry – she was just screwed up with the effort of not laughing, before finally caving in and collapsing with mirth.
‘I’m sorry,’ Brenda got out between bursts of giggles. ‘I can’t keep it up. You should see your face. Eric said you’d fall for it. I’m joking. Of course I’m joking, my dear…’
From behind her, there was the sound of snorting and she turned to see that Eric could hardly contain himself. He was suffused with laughter too, bent double and slapping his knees. In between snorts, he managed to get out the words, ‘I’m sorry, doll. I just couldn’t resist. My Brenda’s in am-dram. She’s good, isn’t she. You believed her there for a minute, didn’t you? Go on. Admit it?’
Olivia shook her head. ‘You old rogue – and there was me planning to give you a discount. For being such a loyal customer. I’m not so sure I will now.’ She arranged her face into a haughty frown. Two could play at this game. ‘In fact, I think I might have to put the price up. To make up for you wasting my valuable time. I do have other clients, you know. Clients who understand I’m a businesswoman not a target for ridicule.’
Eric stopped laughing and Brenda stepped forward and held out a petite hand. Gold and silver bangles jostled for space on her wrist. ‘I am sorry. Forgive me,’ she said in a voice that was much posher than her jealous fiancée one. ‘I should have said no. But he told me you’d got a great sense of humour and that you were lovely. And that you’d probably laugh.’
‘He was right,’ Olivia said, taking her hand and shaking it so that all the bangles jangled merrily. ‘It was funny. I’m teasing. I’m very pleased to meet you, Brenda.’
‘And I, you.’ Brenda’s eyes sparkled with fun. ‘May I offer you some tea?’
Olivia noticed a tray on a small table, set up with a blue china teapot, three cups and saucers, and a jug of milk. She bet they hadn’t come from Eric’s cupboard.
‘I’m impressed,’ she said, sneaking a glance at Eric. ‘I usually get a chipped mug in the kitchen.’
Brenda chuckled. ‘Typical bachelors. Well, don’t you worry, my dear. Standards have gone up considerably since we starting courting.’
Eric came across to her side and put an arm around her shoulder. ‘I’m learning.’ He rubbed his hands together and looked at Olivia. ‘Right then, let’s get down to business. Did you bring any samples?’
‘Eric Mintern, where are your manners. Let the young lady sit down first,’ Brenda admonished.
Eric gave a sigh of satisfaction as Olivia got out her box of samples.
‘Do the new improved standards mean there are plates to go with the cups?’ she asked idly. ‘Or shall we just get crumbs on the carpet?’
The next half-hour was a riot. Plates were produced and they tried the various samples, finally deciding on chocolate sponge cake.
‘I know fruit cake is traditional, but neither of us is a particular fan of tradition,’ Brenda confided. ‘And our families are more sponge eaters, aren’t they, Eric?’
‘They are,’ he confirmed, looking adoringly at Brenda.
In between bites of cake, Olivia learned that Brenda had two sons and four grandchildren. She also learned quite a bit about Brenda’s career. It turned out she had spent her entire life in the theatre.
‘I was a make-up artist to the stars,’ she said. ‘I originally wanted to act. I actually went to drama school, but I soon realised that it was much more fun being behind the scenes. Besides, I suffered from severe stage fright. I’d never have made the big time. I wasn’t that good really.’
‘You had me convinced just now,’ Olivia said.
‘The training never leaves you. I’ve been in a few am-dram productions. I usually get cast as a cleaner or someone’s stroppy mother. I’ve been a traffic warden a few times – I must have a stern face.’ She giggled. ‘Being behind the scenes suited me much better. It was perfect because I could fit it around bringing up my sons.’
Olivia didn’t often tell her cake clients about her second career, but she couldn’t resist. She found herself confiding in Brenda, and the old lady listened attentively, her eyes softening when Olivia told her about the Casualty part she’d missed getting by a whisker.
‘Chances are there was someone who knew someone or who was doing someone a favour,’ Brenda said. ‘There’s a lot of that goes on in every profession. The business is no different.’
It turned out she knew Clarice too. Everyone in the business knew Clarice. She’d been an agent for around forty years.
‘She has a reputation for being a very good agent,’ Brenda said, nodding. ‘As well as taking no prisoners. You wouldn’t be on her books unless she thought you had something special.’
‘Thanks,’ Olivia said, touched.
Their chat turned back to weddings. One of Brenda’s sons was a local hotelier who was licensed to hold weddings and so they’d get married and have their reception there.
‘It’ll just be a smallish affair,’ Brenda explained. ‘A few friends and family and an evening knees-up. We’d love it if you and your partner would join us for the evening do.’
Beside her, Eric was nodding vigorously.
‘I’d be delighted,’ Olivia said.
Olivia was glad she’d made them the final appointment of the day because in the end she didn’t leave until nearly seven.
She drove home with a warmth rising through her. No one could ever say her job was boring. Or that it didn’t give her huge job satisfaction. She’d also managed to do them a demon deal on the cake.
Back home, she crossed the car park towards her house. The smell of cardamom and other spices on the evening air was enticing. She was trying to decide whether she could be bothered to make something for tea or whether to give in to temptation and order a curry when she heard the slam of a car door. This was immediately followed by the sound of someone calling her name.
‘Olivia.’ It came again, along with the sound of hurrying footsteps.
She turned, curiously, and saw the man coming towards her. The dark, close-cropped hair and the long black coat that
Olivia had once dubbed his ‘hitman’s coat’ were instantly recognisable. It was her ex, Tom – the man she’d once thought was her soulmate. As he got closer, she saw that his face was anxious.
‘Tom,’ she said, feeling her heart jump in shock. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I sent you a couple of texts, and I called. I wasn’t sure if you’d got them.’ He drew to a halt in front of her.
‘I got your texts. When did you call?’
‘Only about an hour ago. I was passing.’ He put his hands in his pockets, stared at the ground and then back up at her face. She caught a waft of his familiar expensive aftershave on the evening air, which rocketed her back to the past. ‘You didn’t answer them.’
‘No. To be honest, I didn’t think we had anything left to say.’
‘I guess I’m not surprised you feel like that.’
‘But you still decided to come round.’ He looked a little thinner than when she’d seen him last. Maybe not quite as immaculate as she recalled, and he was bringing back painful memories that she wanted to forget.
‘Yes, I, er, hoped that…’ She had never heard him so unsure of himself. ‘Look, Olivia, I’m sorry. I know I behaved like a knob before and you’ve got every reason to tell me to do one, but would you just give me five minutes. Please?’
20
It was that word ‘please’ that swayed her. At least, it was the way he said it. Tom had always been so sure of himself, so confident, yet tonight he sounded unsure, defeated almost before he’d begun. She wondered, fleetingly, if this visit had something to do with his mother.
Olivia had always got on really well with Caroline Boyd. She was a no-nonsense, straight-talking kind of lady with iron-grey hair that matched her iron will. She’d been a headmistress for thirty years at a girls’ boarding school. When Olivia and Tom had split up, Caroline Boyd had been bitterly disappointed.
‘Oh my dear, I’m so sorry,’ she’d told Olivia. ‘The silly boy has never known what’s good for him. Give him time, if you can possibly bear it. I think he might change his mind.’
Shortly after that conversation, Tom had gone to Spain and then Olivia had met Phil. Even then, she’d kept in touch with Caroline for a while. It had worried her a bit that Tom was so far away because Caroline had never been in very good health. She’d had a couple of heart attacks before she was sixty and she wasn’t the kind of lady who ever asked for help. More the kind that was on hand for others and always said she was fine.
But when she’d started getting more involved with Phil, Olivia had let the contact drop. It didn’t seem fair to keep Tom’s mother hoping for a reconciliation when it clearly wasn’t going to happen.
Now, as Olivia let Tom into the house they had both once lived in, the house he had vowed he would never come near again, she really hoped this wasn’t bad news about Caroline.
She gestured for him to take a seat at her kitchen table. ‘What was it that you wanted to talk about? Is your mum OK?’
Still wearing his coat, Tom sat at the table and looked at her. ‘Thanks, Olivia. Mum’s fine.’ He rested his chin in his hands for a minute and took a deep breath. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m very well, thanks, Tom. Business is booming. In fact, I’m rushed off my feet, so I really don’t have very long to chat.’ Now she knew Caroline was OK she just wanted him gone.
‘No. Of course. Sorry.’
Blimey – this really was a different Tom to the one she remembered. He’d never been big on apologies either and that was the second time in five minutes he’d said sorry.
‘I won’t keep you long,’ he said. ‘Ten minutes, max, I promise.’
She sat down opposite him. ‘OK. I’m listening.’
He stared at the table for a few seconds, as though he were gathering himself, and then back up directly at her and she looked into the familiar dark blue of his eyes. It felt so strange sitting here opposite him – as if she’d skipped back in time and had ended up in her old life. Tom had always been what her mother and sister had called a heart-throb – Mum said he’d put her in mind of a younger Pierce Brosnan and Olivia was reminded of that heavily now.
He had definitely lost a bit of weight since she’d last seen him and it suited him. There was more grey in his hair too, but there was something else about him that wasn’t so easy to define.
When he spoke again, Olivia realised what it was. Tom had always been confident and he still was, but the underlying edge of arrogance that had never been that far from the surface – well, that seemed to have gone.
‘I’ve really missed you,’ he said quietly. ‘I realised that when I was in Madrid. I should never have let you go.’
‘I think it was the other way round, Tom, wasn’t it?’ Surely, he wasn’t going to rewrite history.
‘Yes, OK. Fair comment. But you know what I mean. I should have fought for you.’
‘We wanted different things,’ she reminded him. ‘Fighting wouldn’t have helped.’
He clasped his hands on the table in front of him. ‘Fighting’s the wrong word, you’re right. What I mean is that I didn’t realise… well, I didn’t realise what we had until I let you go. In fact, that’s an understatement. Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life.’
She began to speak and he put up a hand.
‘Please. Let me just say what I came to say and then I will get out of your hair, I promise.’
Olivia waited. She could feel a prickle of sweat running down the back of her neck and she realised she hadn’t taken off her jacket. Or maybe it was the stress of having him in her kitchen. The unexpectedness of it all.
Tom cleared his throat carefully. ‘When I was in Madrid, I had time to do a lot of thinking. I met a family there – Miguel and Nina – they were connected to the company I was working for, a jeweller’s. It doesn’t matter about the connection. The fact is I had a lot of contact with them and I grew to like them a very great deal and something happened over there that affected me hugely. Actually, it doesn’t really matter what that was either.’ He paused. ‘I’m probably not making much sense.’
He wasn’t, Olivia thought, and he was looking very serious for someone who kept saying things didn’t matter. His eyes told her that whatever it was he was trying to get out mattered very much indeed.
She gave him the benefit of the doubt and kept quiet and after a few seconds he continued. ‘They have a very different attitude to families over there. I suppose they do in a lot of Europe. I mean, I knew that already in a rational sense. In a cultural sense, if you like. But I guess when I was there, I slowly got to know it in an emotional sense too. But, more importantly, I started to feel it.’
He stopped speaking again and looked at her.
‘What I’m trying to say, Olivia, is that I made a mistake about not wanting a family. I do want children. I want them very much. But not just children for children’s sake. I want them with you and I came back to ask if you would give me – give us – another chance. Because I think that it was our opposing views on having a family that split us up and… well, that wouldn’t be the case now, would it?’
‘Wow.’ The word slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.
‘Before you answer…’ He held up a hand. ‘Please just do one thing for me. Don’t say no, out of hand. Just tell me you’ll think about it. I know it must be a shock, me turning up like this out of the blue. But I had to let you know how I felt.’
‘And now you have.’
‘Promise me you’ll think about it.’ He made a move to stand up and she stood up too. A few moments later, they were back at her front door.
‘I have to let you know, Tom, that I met someone soon after we split up.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘He’s an actor, isn’t he, and he works as a waiter.’
Of course he’d know. Just as she knew he’d gone to Spain with a woman.
‘He’s a maître d’ not a waiter and I love him,’ she said, meeting his eyes. ‘And yes, we’ve
got a great deal in common.’
‘He understands that part of your life better than I ever could. I get that. But he doesn’t have a decade of shared history with you, does he?’
‘You met someone too,’ she reminded him.
‘I did. But she wasn’t you.’ He touched her shoulder – the most tender, the most gentle of touches. ‘An actor won’t be able to support you like I can. Our children would want for nothing. I’ve rented a house, just along the coast. It’s on a clifftop – the garden runs down to a gate that leads out onto the coast path. It’s for sale – I’m renting with a view to buying. It’s a perfect place to bring up kids and to invite their grandparents to stay. There’s loads of room. Think about it, Olivia. That’s all I’m asking.’
And with that, he went. Olivia shut the door and leant against it, realising she was shaking. He had been in her house less than a quarter of an hour and she felt as though he had tipped her world upside down.
It was ludicrous. The whole thing was ludicrous – of course it was. Tom was ancient history. She had got over him a long time ago. Not in a million years would she take him back. It was crazy.
She realised she’d lost her appetite. She felt faintly sick. For a moment, all she wanted was to feel Phil’s warm arms around her. To be looking into his level gaze. She contemplated phoning him now, but something stopped her. She needed to process what had just happened. Think things through.
She tried Ruby’s number but instantly got an automated message, telling her that her sister was on another call. She disconnected. She couldn’t just sit here, feeling like this, all churned up and emotional. Maybe she should phone Aunt Dawn. She resisted doing that for the same reasons that she hadn’t phoned Phil.
Olivia glanced at the clock over the cooker. It was 7.45 p.m. Her plan for the rest of the evening had been to grab something quick to eat and chill in front of Netflix with an episode of Modern Family or Ginny & Georgia or something else that didn’t require much concentration.
