The Perfect Happiness

by Santa Montefiore

  “Honey, Kate’s marriage exists on mistrust. As soon as they start trusting each other, the whole thing unravels!”

  “I think you have a point, Candace,” Kate conceded, draining her Bellini.

  “I’d love William to get a few sexy texts,” said Scarlet. “Then I wouldn’t feel so guilty when I get mine.”

  “You get sexy texts?” Kate rounded on her jealously. “Why don’t I get any?”

  “Really? Who from?” Angelica asked.

  Scarlet shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, loads of people. You’d be surprised. In my line of work I meet men all the time.”

  “Gay men,” said Candace. “I didn’t think the fashion world was in the business of straight men.”

  “I’m talking about the men behind the scenes. They’re very naughty! They have my number. It’s very easy to flirt that way. I’d never take it any further, but it makes me feel good.” Candace caught Angelica’s eye. Angelica dropped her gaze into the menu as the waiter came to take their orders. “It’s got nothing to do with what I feel about them, but how they make me feel about myself. Complete, unadulterated vanity,” she continued breezily.

  “You dark horse, Scarlet!” Letizia was impressed.

  “Not called Scarlet for nothing,” Candace added. “I’ll have crispy duck salad to start, then the chicken,” she told the waiter. “No mashed potato.”

  “So do you want to know what The Haggis said, or not? Soup to start, duck salad as a main course and make it big. I’m hungry.”

  “Ah, I see eating is a New Year’s resolution as well as altruism,” said Candace. “Now I’m surprised.”

  “Well, go on. We’re listening,” said Letizia. “Did you sneak a peek?”

  “Not exactly. I mistook Pete’s telephone for mine. They’re identical.”

  “Sure they are,” Candace commented under her breath.

  “Well, mine has a sticker on it, actually. But the ring tone’s the same, and he was in the shower, so I opened it and read it.”

  “And?” said Scarlet.

  “What did it say?” Letizia and Angelica asked in unison.

  “Hey sexy, you haven’t been in touch . . .”

  “In touch. That’s a good one,” said Candace. Kate didn’t understand. “Well, surely she meant that he hadn’t touched her for a while.”

  “Goodness no! She’s far too stupid to think up something witty like that.”

  “It doesn’t necessarily mean that Pete’s been cheating on you since he agreed to stay on the porch,” said Scarlet.

  Angelica thought of Jack on his porch and brightened at the prospect of seeing him again in only a few weeks. She glanced at Scarlet and knew that she could enlighten them a bit on the advantages of texting. In comparison to her, Scarlet was an amateur.

  “She’s stalking him,” said Kate.

  “I hope she’s not a bunny boiler,” Letizia added.

  “No bunnies to boil.” Kate laughed coolly.

  Candace looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You don’t seem upset?”

  “Valium,” said Kate simply, taking a calm breath and smiling serenely. “It’s a wonder what a teeny weeny little pill can do for one’s stress levels. Really, I’ve never felt better. Highly recommended.” They all stared at her. “Got you!” She laughed, but no one joined her. “Just a joke. You think I’d be so irresponsible?”

  “Honestly? Yes,” said Candace a little nervously. “At this rate your baby will come out laughing.”

  “Well, he’ll have a good sense of humor if he’s anything like his father,” Kate replied.

  “Which one?” asked Candace, then she added with a chuckle: “Or are they both comedians?”

  Angelica picked up the children from school in a good mood. She felt light-headed after three Bellinis, and happy to be back in her comfort zone. She was even pleased to see Jenna Elrich, whose suntan and sea-bleached hair were usually enough to deflate her joy. But her spirit was flooded with generosity, and she listened sympathetically as Jenna moaned about the beach house in Mustique and the chalet in Switzerland, the inefficiency of builders and decorators, and she didn’t mind a bit when Jenna told her how pale she looked. She had put Norfolk and Provence behind her and was looking forwards, to South Africa.

  When she got home, there was a man sitting on her door-step in a pair of khaki trousers and a blue shirt. Around his waist was a tool belt. As she approached, he lifted his eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Hi, love, I hope you don’t mind me hanging out on your doorstep for a moment?” His accent was East End, as was his affability. He didn’t look dangerous. In fact, his face was boyishly good-looking, with big blue eyes brimming with honesty.

  “Of course not,” she replied, smiling back politely.

  She unlocked the door and let the children run inside. She closed it behind her and threw the children’s backpacks onto the dining room table. The children ran off to the playroom. Just as she put the kettle on to make a cup of tea, the doorbell rang. She knew it was the man on her doorstep before she opened the door.

  “I’m really sorry to bother you, but I’m in a bit of a pickle. I’m a carpenter. I’m working on that building opposite.” He moved so she could see the house covered in scaffolding. “Big job, that is.”

  “I bet it is,” she replied.

  “Anyway, Steve has run off with my jacket by mistake. It’s got my wallet and phone inside. I’ve been waiting for him to come back, but it’s been an hour. He must have gone home without realizing.”

  “Oh, that’s awful. Do you want to borrow our telephone? My husband’s upstairs, I’m sure he won’t mind,” she lied, thinking that was the sort of thing Candace would do, if she was ever foolish enough to let a strange man into her house—which she most certainly wasn’t. But this man didn’t look dangerous.

  “That’s really good of you. Look, my name is John Stoke.” He put his hand in his breast pocket. “Here’s my card.” She looked at it. John Stoke, carpenter. Might be useful, she thought, if ever I need one. Which I most certainly will at some stage. She noticed his hands were big and rough and splattered with paint. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just call my mobile and see if he picks up.”

  Angelica showed him into the kitchen, where he pushed in the number. She made two mugs of tea. “Damn! He’s not picking up.” He sounded desperate. “I live in Northampton. I don’t even have money for the train. Would you mind if I call my wife?”

  “Go ahead. Milk or sugar?”

  He looked embarrassed. “You don’t have to make me a cup of tea.”

  “You’re freezing.”

  “Well, it is cold out there without a coat! Milk, two sugars. Thank you.” He rang his wife. “Hello, love, it’s me . . . I’ve been bloody stupid, Steve’s run off with my coat . . . Good question, he left his on-site, but it’s all locked up now. I thought he’d come back once he’d discovered his mistake . . . Yes, I’ll get home . . . I’m not sure, I’ll think of something . . . Yes, I know it’s Robbie’s birthday, I’ll make it, don’t worry . . . I’ll call you when I’ve worked out what to do . . . This nice lady has let me use her phone . . . She lives opposite the site . . . Yeah, I know, I’ll tell her . . . Okay, ’bye . . . She says thanks for looking after her old bloke!”

  “Not at all. Why don’t you call your boss?” She handed him his mug of tea.

  “I don’t have his number. It’s in my phone.” He shrugged. “I’m self-employed. I have a different boss every week.”

  “Look, how much do you need? I can lend you some money to get you home, and you can pay me back tomorrow. You’re working opposite, after all.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that! You don’t know me. For all you know I might run off and never come back.”

  “The small amount I have in my wallet won’t get you very far, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, it’s very kind of you. I feel bad, but I won’t refuse your offer, because I don’t know how I’m going to get home otherwise. It’s our Robbie’s birthday. He’s g
oing to be six.”

  “Same as our daughter.”

  “You know how much it means to be there.”

  “I certainly do.” She opened her handbag and delved inside for her wallet. “I have fifty quid. Will that get you home?”

  “That’s more than enough. I’ll pay you back tomorrow, I promise.”

  “I trust you.”

  “Thanks for the tea. Just what I needed. I feel much better now. It’s cold out there.”

  “You can’t go out in just a shirt.”

  “Oh, I’m strong. I’ll survive.”

  “But it’s freezing. I was wearing gloves and a hat, and I was still cold.”

  “But you’re a lady. I’ll bet you’re not used to laboring outside like I am.”

  “Why don’t you borrow a coat?” She marched into the hall and opened the cupboard where Olivier’s coats hung in a neat row. She pulled out a navy one. “I won’t tell him if you don’t,” she said with a grin. “Give it back tomorrow, and he’ll never know.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Go on. It’s subzero, and it’s only going to get colder.” She looked outside. It was already dark.

  “Well, all right. You’re really kind. Not many people like you around these days. People are so guarded. The world is a less friendly place than it used to be.” He shrugged it on. “Nice.”

  “Cashmere.”

  “Very nice.”

  She handed him the money. “You go carefully now, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I look like a real gent in this.” He laughed, and she opened the door. “I start at seven in the morning.”

  “I’ll be up. You know what children are like, and I have to get them ready for school. Just ring the bell. If I’m not here, give it to Sunny, my housekeeper.”

  “God bless you.” He smiled at her gratefully and thrust his hands into the pockets. “’Bye now.”

  Angelica felt virtuous helping out a stranger in need, and still a little tipsy. She called the children into the dining room to do their homework and forgot all about him in the pile of Kipper and Biff books and math. When Olivier returned, she didn’t bother to tell him. She certainly didn’t want to admit that she’d lent a total stranger one of his favorite coats. In the morning she was so busy getting the children dressed and down to breakfast that she didn’t give the carpenter a thought. They were late for school, distracted by the snow that had fallen in the night. It was only when she returned home that she remembered him.

  She expected Sunny to mention that he had dropped in with the coat and money. But Sunny said, “No one has rung the bell.”

  “How strange.”

  Sunny shrugged. “Perhaps he is over there,” she said, pointing to the building, teeming like a hive with builders.

  “I’ll go and ask them,” she replied, already feeling a little sick, expecting the worst, envisaging Olivier’s rage. She wrapped her coat around her and hurried across the street. The snow had melted on the road, but the pavement and gutters were still white—as white as her anxious face. She approached a builder standing in the doorway in grubby overalls. “Excuse me,” she said. The man looked her up and down appreciatively. “Is there anyone who works here called John Stoke?”

  The man frowned. “No John Stoke. John Desmond, but no John Stoke.”

  “Carpenter. Young, blue eyes. Charming?” She faltered a moment, before continuing optimistically. “Is there, by any small chance, anyone called Steve?” The blank look on his face made her stomach swim. “No Steve,” she murmured helplessly.

  “No Steve.” He smiled at her sympathetically. “Madam, have you been had?”

  19

  The outer world is a reflection of your inner, so focus on the beauty within you.

  In Search of the Perfect Happiness

  When Angelica called Candace and told her what had happened, her friend erupted into peals of laughter. “Oh my God, Angelica!” she exclaimed, catching her breath. “What on earth possessed you to let a strange man into your home? With your children in the house? Are you crazy?”

  “The builder opposite says he’s notorious. The clever thing is he never asks for money. He didn’t ask me once.”

  “But you offered anyway.”

  “I was being kind.”

  “I do love you, Angelica!”

  “I’m not loving myself a great deal this morning. And Olivier’s going to love me a lot less.”

  “You’re not to tell him!”

  “I have to . . . It’s his favorite navy Ralph Lauren coat. I am in such deep shit.”

  “You know what? I wouldn’t tell him. I know I don’t often advocate lying, but in this case, when his reaction is so predictable, I’d make something up. You lost it at the dry cleaner’s.”

  “That is believable.”

  “I’m not sure telling him the truth will do your marriage any good. Especially when you’re about to go off to South Africa.”

  Angelica ignored her insinuation. “How could I be so gullible?”

  “It’s not in your nature to be cynical.”

  “I even pretended Olivier was upstairs.”

  “So you didn’t totally trust him.”

  “I tried to think what you would do in the same situation.”

  “You know exactly what I would do. I’d send him down to the nearest pub to ask the publican to borrow his phone. A woman alone in the house with children? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “If he’d just run off with my money, I wouldn’t have minded. Whatever possessed me to give him Olivier’s coat? Why didn’t I give him one of mine?”

  “At least you were sane enough not to do that.”

  “I’m such an idiot.”

  “Don’t torment yourself! It could have been so much worse. He could have taken the children.”

  “Now you’re really frightening me.”

  “Good. Now you won’t be so naïve again. You can’t go around trusting people, just because they have nice faces and seemingly honest blue eyes.”

  “Do you think he’d been watching me?”

  “Of course he’d been watching you. He chose you because he knew you were a sucker.”

  “I hope he won’t come back.”

  “He’s too smart to make that mistake. But you have to go to the police and tell them exactly what happened. He’s probably working his way through Kensington and Chelsea. They have to catch him before he gets to Kate’s!”

  Angelica spent an hour at the police station on the Earls Court Road, telling a nice young officer exactly what had happened. It was of little consolation that the man was a notorious thief, preying on the kindness of women like her, who felt sorry for him. The fact that she had lost Olivier’s coat remained. However, she resolved not to tell him. She’d make something up when he discovered that it was missing. His wrath over her vagueness was a lot better than the alternative.

  She did, however, tell Jack. His reaction was unexpected. He didn’t laugh like Candace. His first thoughts were for her safety. “It could have been really nasty, Angelica. You mustn’t ever let anyone you don’t know into your home.” He sounded really anxious. “Promise me you won’t do that again!”

  “You can be sure of that. I can’t afford to lose another coat!”

  “Who cares about the coat! I care about you.”

  “You’re very sweet.”

  “You’ve got to take better care of yourself. Have you got good locks on your door?”

  “I think so.”

  “Don’t be vague and British about this. The world is a dangerous place.”

  “We live in a very safe area.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. Nowhere is safe. You have to put good locks on the doors, a camera outside so you can see who’s there, and don’t ever open the door without asking for ID if it’s a deliveryman. Don’t trust a van and a uniform. They can be copied as easily as a child’s fancy-dress outfit. Keep your wits about you.”

  “This isn’t Johannesburg.” S
he laughed, feeling a surge of tenderness towards him.

  “I thank God for that.”

  Inevitably, Olivier discovered the coat was missing a couple of days later. She said she’d ring the dry cleaner’s and find out whether they could locate it. “They can pay for a new one if they’ve lost it,” he said, then forgot all about it. Angelica was relieved.

  A couple of weeks went by. Now she was able to laugh about it, sharing the story with the girls, who teased her affectionately until Kate told a story about giving two hundred pounds to an Indian fortune-teller on Sloane Street who told her not to wear black on Tuesdays, and knew her mother’s maiden name and the name of her favorite flower. Who would have guessed red peonies, after all? He showed her photographs of his orphanage in Delhi, and when she said she had only twenty pounds in her wallet, he informed her politely that there was an ATM machine around the corner. Angelica’s story was forgotten, and Kate was back where she was happiest, at the center of everyone’s attention.

  Angelica began to pack for South Africa. She was so excited, laying everything out on the bed before folding her clothes carefully into her suitcase. It would be sunny and hot, so she packed pretty Melissa Odabash kaftans and white palazzo pants and sandals, and booked into Richard Ward for highlights and a pedicure.

  The children weren’t happy that she was leaving them, but she had managed to bribe Denise, their old nanny, to work the week with strict instructions to spoil them rotten. She felt a painful wrench at the thought of separation.

  The evening before she was due to leave, a policeman arrived at the door. Olivier was home. She was in the kitchen with Joe, listening to him read Harry Potter. Olivier happened to be in the hall looking through the post, so it was he who answered the bell. She strained to hear their conversation. Although she couldn’t make out every word, she picked up enough to know that Olivier was being told about the carpenter and the coat. She felt the earth give way beneath her and cursed herself for going to the police station. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? Joe pressed her to listen. She swallowed her anxiety and managed a smile of encouragement. “I’m listening,” she said. Joe read on, but Angelica wasn’t listening. She was frantically planning her excuse. She knew Olivier would be furious.