by Jill Mansell
‘Great,’ said Harry. ‘Although if I run out of milk, I just drink it black.’
Didn’t she know it. Layla watched as he examined the bed linen she’d chosen for him, a matching set of sage-green Egyptian cotton sheets, pillowcases and king-sized duvet cover.
‘Eight hundred thread count.’ She stroked the beautiful sheets, so much nicer to sleep on than the bobbly purple polyester ones currently in use on the bed.
He pulled a face. ‘Should we count them to make sure they’re all there?’
‘Only if you really want to.’ She gave him another hug. ‘Do you like everything?’
‘You bought far too much.’
‘I love giving presents.’ Yes, maybe she’d gone over the top, but they were all things he needed, and they made life so much more enjoyable. Matching cutlery! A gorgeous cashmere sweater and delicious aftershave that didn’t smell of toilet cleaner! Lovely new goose-down pillows!
‘You’re amazing. Thank you so much.’ He ran a finger over the outline of her mouth. ‘I love you.’
Layla gave a shiver of joy; he’d said it at last.
‘Is it too soon to be saying that? I can’t not tell you.’ Harry shook his head. ‘It’s the truth.’
Her heart swelled like marshmallow in a microwave. ‘It’s not too soon. I love you too.’
Later that evening, after they’d finished their pizzas, Harry took out his phone. ‘Have a look at this. What d’you think?’
She found herself gazing at a photo of a motorbike, a black and silver Yamaha according to the description beneath it.
‘Five hundred CC, four years old, eight thousand miles on the clock. Three grand.’
‘I know nothing about motorbikes. Are you going to buy it?’
‘I don’t know if I can afford it. But it’s definitely something I need. I mean, a pushbike’s good for getting around, but at the moment I’m spending more time getting to my clients than training them. It just makes sense to be able to travel further and faster than I’m doing right now.’ He grimaced. ‘The money thing could be a problem, though.’
‘You could apply for a loan, get a finance agreement,’ said Layla.
‘Except I’m self-employed. The only companies who’d take me on are the loan shark kind, and no way am I doing that.’
She knew all about his parents’ problems; it was their dealings with one such company that had landed them in such massive debt last year. Harry had been forced to use up his entire savings in order to bail them out.
‘Is that why you’re seeing them tomorrow? Are they able to pay back some of the money you lent them?’
He shook his head. ‘They can’t, and I wouldn’t ask them. They had no idea they’d end up getting into such a mess financially. I’m going to see them because I love them, not to pester them for money. Mum’ll have knitted me a jumper and Dad will give me a ten-pound voucher for Top Man, and I wouldn’t want any more than that.’
He was fighting back the emotion; Layla knew how much he loved his parents. She gave him a hug. ‘They’ll be so happy to see you.’
He nodded. ‘They will.’
‘They sound great.’ Hopefully she’d get to meet them one day.
‘They’re amazing.’ He gazed once more at the motorcycle on the screen, then switched off his phone.
An hour later, he said, ‘I’ve got something to ask you. And I don’t want to have to say it, but . . . well, it’s kind of personal.’
A sense of foreboding began to unfurl in the pit of her stomach. ‘What is it?’
‘No, don’t worry. Doesn’t matter.’
After a few seconds, Layla said, ‘Go on.’
‘You might not like it.’
‘Ask me.’
‘OK, but you can always say no.’
Here it came. Layla braced herself. If it was a request to lend him the three thousand pounds for the motorbike, she would have to say no. It was too much, too soon . . . please don’t let him ask it . . .
‘OK, don’t hate me.’ His beautiful dark eyes were apprehensive, his thumb anxiously stroking the back of her hand. ‘But do you still have the receipt for the coffee maker?’
Oh thank God. She gave a shaky laugh of relief. ‘Hello? I’m an accountant. Of course I’ve kept the receipt.’
‘I feel terrible, but would you mind if I took it back? It’s just, I wouldn’t really use it, and if I’m trying to get some money together for a bike, it’d be a real help.’
Layla was filled with remorse. She’d known he might not want to use a coffee machine; it had been for her own benefit really. It was on a par with giving someone a kennel when they didn’t have a dog. ‘I don’t mind, I promise.’
‘Sure?’
She gave a reassuring nod and ran her bare foot along his shin. ‘I’m glad you said it.’
Harry looked hopefully at her. ‘Are you?’
‘Yes!’
‘It’s just that getting myself some transport has to be my number one priority.’ He tapped the purple polyester that was so bobbly it drove her to distraction. ‘And I already have a sheet. So if you really mean it, maybe we could return the stuff for the bed too.’
Chapter 31
‘I know, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.’
Benny was in the kitchen and Ingrid was sitting outside in the shade with her laptop, preparing for tomorrow’s meetings in Copenhagen. The windows were wide open and he assumed she was speaking on the phone to her daughter, until it came back to him that Birgitte had called last night from Johannesburg.
He made Ingrid one of the tiny cups of espresso she always drank and carried it out to her. ‘Who was that you were talking to?’
‘Hmm?’ She flipped her ice-blonde hair back from her forehead and tapped a few words into the document on the screen. ‘Oh, it was Birgitte.’
‘Was it? Just before you hung up, you asked which hotel the two of you were booked into.’
She gave him a mocking look. ‘Benedict! Were you eavesdropping on my private call?’
‘The windows were open. It was hardly private. And you weren’t on the phone to Birgitte.’
‘You caught me out. Gold star for M’sieur Poirot.’ Her blue eyes regarded him with amusement. ‘And I think you can probably guess who I was speaking to.’
The sensation inside Benny’s chest was akin to a distant door closing. Not being slammed shut, but being closed carefully and firmly. Overhead, birds sang, and as he stood and looked down at her, he heard a dog barking, a car beeping its horn over on the high street, small children shouting happily as they made their way to school.
‘Sven.’
‘Correct.’ Ingrid took a delicate sip of espresso. ‘Two gold stars.’
‘You told me it was over.’
‘And when I said that, it was true. Oh come on, you aren’t stupid. You know, you’ve always known.’
Had he? He’d suspected it, certainly. Had on occasion chosen not to ask a question he might otherwise have asked. Because he didn’t want to be branded as jealous, suspicious and too boring for words. Suburban, that was what Ingrid had accused him of being when the on-off affair had first come to light. Bourgeois was another word.
I’ve been such an idiot. Benny imagined a different kind of life, an easy, happy one without distance, deception and a partner who didn’t care much about anyone else at all, so long as she was able to carry on doing whatever she wanted to do.
Sometimes being suburban and old-fashioned seemed like a good way to live.
‘You have fun in Copenhagen with Sven.’ He paused. ‘When you get back, you can move in with him.’
Ingrid heaved a sigh of annoyance. ‘I would, like a shot, if only he’d leave his hideous whining wife.’
The best thing about afternoon naps was the dreams, Red had discovered. These days he almost always woke up remembering them. And they often featured Mel, which was a bonus.
He opened his eyes now, his beloved wife still fresh and vivid in his mind. In his
dreams they were both young and healthy – another bonus – and the connection between them was as strong as it had ever been. Was she appearing more frequently these days because he was thinking more often about her? Or could it be that she was paying him these subliminal visits to let him know that she was waiting for him and would be there when the time came for him to join her?
The phone at his side buzzed to remind him that Shay would be here any minute now, and that he’d be bringing someone with him. Right, better get downstairs. Rosa had gone over to see Layla, so he needed to unlock the front door.
The knock came just a few minutes later. And there on the doorstep, with Shay standing behind her, was the new girlfriend, the one off the telly.
‘Hi, I’m Caz! I’ve been dying to meet you!’ She gave him a hug then let out a yelp of dismay. ‘Oh God, I can’t believe I said that. I’m such a klutz. Sorry, it’s just that I’m in love with your son and my brain’s gone doolally. I can’t think straight any more. Oh, but look at you. I know you’ve been through the mill, but there’s still a twinkle in your eye. Shay’s told me so much about you! My uncle Eddie was always in and out of prison too – he was a naughty boy just like you. I can’t wait to hear all your stories!’
By the time they left an hour later, Red was exhausted. Caz could talk, he’d give her that. And she was clearly besotted with Shay.
He poured himself a small glass of Valpolicella and switched on the TV for company, allowing the day’s news to wash over him. One good thing about dying was not having to worry about world events that might take place years from now.
The bad thing about dying was knowing you’d never find out what happened to family and friends after you’d gone. He wouldn’t live to see Shay settle down and hopefully have a family of his own. He’d had the idea in his head that he could give fate a nudge in the right direction, but it wasn’t showing any sign of working out the way he’d planned. It had been a long shot, admittedly. In his mind’s eye, he’d even conjured up the end result and imagined himself telling the two of them that this had been his master plan right from the start.
So much for wishful thinking.
Caz seemed like a nice girl, at least. A bit noisy and over the top, but with a good heart. And who knew, she might end up being the one for Shay. Maybe they’d have beautiful blonde-haired children and be as happy together as he and Mel had been.
Red tilted his head back and closed his eyes, picturing a future that was yet to happen. If Shay stayed on in Elliscombe and had kids, and Didi and that fellow of hers did the same, maybe their children would all attend the same school. And just occasionally, every now and again, Shay might cast a glance in Didi’s direction, and she might do the same . . . and the two of them might wonder if things should have turned out differently.
Maybe, twenty-odd years down the line, when their children were grown and their marriages had crumbled, they might finally figure out where they’d gone wrong and do something about it.
Better late than never, eh?
Red exhaled. Except he wouldn’t fucking well be here to see it and tell them he’d been right all along.
Chapter 32
A week later, Rosa bumped into Benny Colette as she was leaving the Co-op with three bags of shopping.
‘Hi!’ He beamed at her. ‘How have you been? Haven’t seen you in the garden recently. Not that I’ve been looking . . . God, sorry, that makes me sound like a right nosy parker. I wasn’t trying to spy on you, I promise.’
‘Don’t apologise.’ Rosa laughed at his mortified expression. ‘I haven’t been over for a while.’ She hesitated, wondering whether to tell him about her humiliating encounter with Ingrid. Maybe not. ‘Everything OK with you?’
‘Everything’s great. Well, Ingrid’s moving out, but that’s fine too.’
‘What? When did this happen? What went wrong?’
He shrugged. ‘Who says it went wrong? Maybe it’s all gone right.’ He paused. ‘Look, d’you fancy a coffee? Would you have time?’
‘Plenty of time.’ Red was over at Hillcrest with Shay and Caz. ‘We could try the new café on the square.’
‘OK, though I’d prefer my place.’ He was already backing out of the shop.
‘Didn’t you come in to buy something? May as well pick it up while you’re here.’
But Benny shook his head. Wryly he said, ‘I only followed you inside so I could accidentally bump into you.’
Rosa hid a smile; from the way he’d acted, she’d kind of guessed as much.
Back at Compton House, by mutual agreement they didn’t attempt to do battle with the complicated coffee machine. When they were seated at the kitchen island with their mugs of Gold Blend, Benny said, ‘Does it feel weird, being back here?’
‘A bit. But it’s all completely different now. It feels different.’ All the walnut fittings had been ripped out, replaced with ultra-modern units in shades of palest grey. ‘Is Ingrid definitely not here?’
‘She’s visiting a client in Madrid. Back tomorrow night. Coming back,’ he amended, ‘and moving out the next morning. Can’t wait.’
‘You might change your mind.’
‘I won’t.’ Benny was firm.
‘What happened?’
‘She’s been seeing someone else.’
‘Oh no, I’m so sorry.’
‘These things happen. It’s not the first time.’ Benny grimaced. ‘Or the second or the third. Sven’s an old boyfriend. They’ve been sleeping together on and off for years, but he’s married. When Ingrid first moved in with me, I think she only did it to teach him a lesson, to make him jealous and realise that he needed to leave his wife. Except it didn’t happen. I was an idiot, I know that now. I thought she needed to get him out of her system and then she’d be able to settle down with me.’ Drily he added, ‘Because that’s how gullible I am. But the last couple of years haven’t exactly been great. And that’s an understatement.’
‘This is so sad.’ She might not be a fan of Ingrid, but Rosa’s heart went out to him.
‘Sad in one way,’ he admitted. ‘On the bright side, it means I’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea that sooner or later we’d be going our separate ways. Honestly? It’s kind of a relief.’
‘Well in that case, maybe we should celebrate. If I had a bottle of champagne right now, I’d open it.’ Rosa held up an imaginary glass and clinked it against the imaginary glass in Benny’s hand. ‘Cheers! Here’s to you and to the start of your fabulous new life!’
‘There’s a bottle in the fridge.’ Benny made to slide down from his stool. ‘Shall I open it?’
‘Oh gosh, I’m supposed to be working this afternoon. I have a doll to finish.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘Just one glass wouldn’t hurt, would it?’
‘Go on then. You’re a terrible influence.’
He fetched the bottle and a pair of non-invisible glasses. ‘Who’s the doll for?’
‘A three-year-old boy in Singapore. Poor little chap was born without arms.’
‘Did you ever hear from that woman again? The one with the granddaughter?’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake, get away!’ Flustered, Rosa batted her hand at a wasp that had landed on the table. She’d posted the doll off to Pamela Baker by recorded delivery and had kind of expected to receive a thank-you letter, but nothing had arrived. Oh well.
‘I know what we said to you at the time, but I did feel a bit bad about it afterwards.’ Benny’s smile was rueful as he tore the foil off the top of the bottle and loosened the wire cage. ‘It’s a shame you threw those letters away, because I kept thinking afterwards, what if it wasn’t a scam? If you still had the address I’d have paid you to make the doll and send it to her.’
Pop went the cork; they both jumped as it ricocheted off the ceiling, and Rosa clapped her hands in delight.
‘If Ingrid was here now,’ said Benny, ‘she’d be shaking her head. Apparently letting the cork pop is what common people do.’
‘It
’s my favourite sound in the world.’ Rosa beamed at him. ‘I love it. And if Ingrid was here now, I wouldn’t be here at all.’ When the champagne had been poured, she said, ‘Here’s to happier times ahead.’
‘Cheers.’ Benny’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
‘And I’m so glad you said that about the doll. It’s nice that you wanted to pay for it.’
‘Why are you looking at me like that? Do you still have her address?’
She nodded. ‘I have her address.’
‘Yes!’ Benny was delighted. ‘I’ll give you the money. Let’s do it.’
He really was a lovely man. Warmed by his change of heart, Rosa took a sip of Veuve Clicquot and confessed, ‘I already did.’
He started to laugh. ‘You sent it? I might have guessed. I bet the grandmother was over the moon.’
Rosa shrugged and broke into an unrepentant grin. ‘Let’s hope so. I haven’t heard back.’
He winced. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘I know. Don’t tell Red, I’ll never hear the end of it.’
‘And don’t you tell him what I said either.’ By way of a pact, Benny touched his glass against hers. ‘He’d call me a bloody soft touch.’
It was the second day of September and their time together was up. For now at least.
‘Your car’s waiting outside.’ Shay attempted to disentangle himself; Caz was clinging to him like a baby koala.
‘I don’t want to go. Don’t make me!’
But it was kind of necessary that she did. Filming was due to begin the day after tomorrow in Toronto, and the director wouldn’t be thrilled if his lead actress was a no-show.
‘Come on.’ He led her down the centuries-old oak staircase. ‘You’ll love it once you’re there.’
‘I won’t! I want to stay with you . . .’
‘I’m going to be working sixteen hours a day.’
‘Will you miss me, though?’
Shay’s mouth twitched. ‘Of course I’ll miss you.’
She kissed him on the staircase, then again on the pavement outside the hotel. The chauffeur opened the door to the car and Caz gave Shay one last desperate kiss before clambering inside and loudly proclaiming that life was unfair and she was so miserable she just wanted to superglue her mouth shut so she couldn’t even act.
