In a Country Garden
Page 37
And then he’d kissed her goodbye and they’d both promised to keep in touch, but she’d known it was a lie. He was twenty-one and had just found his feet at Oxford. He was attractive and, now that he’d lost his initial shyness, charming. He would be devoured alive by some clever, pretty girl who came from a background like his own, not a council house in Nottingham.
Angela had tried not to resent her mother, to accept that she had always been fragile, but there had been some small part of her that thought if she had been in her mother’s place she would have done anything to avoid ending her daughter’s brilliant university career before it had really begun.
Of course she had heard of Stephen’s enormous success since that day. His name often came up in the financial pages, which Angela read avidly, or at least had done until now. The ache, just a dull background pain, suddenly roared out at her. She’d lost her business to the Tuan Corporation of Singapore and when she was twenty-one she’d lost Stephen.
At last the beauty of the day struck her and she almost laughed. It was as if some piece of grey rain-soaked scenery had been rolled away and another rolled into its place of bright blue sea that matched the sky, with small puffy clouds and a child’s yellow sun.
She turned back to her room wondering what to wear. Seen in daylight the room was truly spectacular, like the bridal suite in some grand hotel. The unfamiliar thought struck Angela that perhaps it had been a little selfish of her to simply co-opt the best room. She was so used to fighting for what she’d achieved that it didn’t leave much room for considering others.
She remembered the other rooms that Sylvie and Monica had been left with and shuddered. Sylvie didn’t even have her own bathroom! Maybe she’d wait a few days and then offer to swap. There was a good chance that by then they’d be settled, thank her for the kind offer, and stay put.
Sylvie climbed out of bed and stretched. There was hardly room to swing a cat in. What a stupid expression. Had anyone, apart from in The Beano, ever tried swinging a cat? Today she’d find another room even if it was the bloody stables.
She did her five minutes of Pilates, boring as hell, but it did seem to help once you’d reached the big Six-Oh. Not that Sylvie ever admitted she had.
She brushed her springy hair and selected one of her silk tops. She had these in countless colours which she matched with jeans and sandals and she was ready to go. If she had to dress up it was ankle-length silk, which she also possessed in endless different shades. This was Sylvie’s look, known to everyone in the decorating world, almost as familiar as her colourful interiors.
She opened the shutter and closed it almost at once. Too bright. With her naturally olive skin and Middle-Eastern appearance the sun meant less to her than most people since she never needed to sunbathe. She was glad the rain had stopped for at least one reason. It made her hair go frizzy. In Los Angeles they even had a hair-frizz factor on the TV weather. Sylvie greatly approved.
She checked to see that the purple Chanel nail varnish she always wore on her toes hadn’t chipped, remembering all of a sudden that it was called Vendetta – which, for some reason, made her think of Angela.
OK, so Angela Williams was an uppity bitch but if they were both going to stay in the same house, maybe she’d make a slight effort to be friendly. At least give her one chance and take it from there.
There was a small chip on her third toenail and it almost undid her.
Tony used to paint her toes. It was a jokey ritual of theirs. She would be the haughty duchess and he the humble but sexy manservant. It often ended up in bed with her nail varnish all smudged, but she’d never minded.
She wondered what he was doing now. Had Kimberley’s family accepted him as the prospective son-in-law even though he was probably older than her father?
She found the thought only made her want to cry more and she told herself sternly to pull herself together and go and have some breakfast.
In a Country Garden
Maeve Haran is a former television producer and mother of three grown-up children. Her first novel, Having It All, which explored the dilemmas of balancing career and motherhood, caused a sensation and took her all around the world. Maeve has written a further twelve contemporary novels and two historical novels, plus a work of non-fiction celebrating life’s small pleasures.
Her books have been translated into twenty-six languages, and two have been shortlisted for the Romantic Novel of the Year award. She lives in North London with her husband (a very tall Scotsman) and a scruffy Tibetan terrier. They also spend time at their much-loved cottage in Sussex.
Also by Maeve Haran
Having It All
Scenes from the Sex War
It Takes Two
A Family Affair
All That She Wants
Baby Come Back
The Farmer Wants a Wife
Husband Material
The Lady and the Poet
The Painted Lady
The Time of Their Lives
What Became of You, My Love?
The Way We Were
An Italian Holiday
Non-Fiction
The Froth on the Cappuccino
(republished as Small Pleasures to Save Your Life)
First published 2018 by Pan Books
This electronic edition published 2018 by Pan Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
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www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-5098-6652-6
Copyright © Maeve Haran 2018
Cover illustration by Sarah McMenemy
The right of Maeve Haran to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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