by Freya North
‘So!’ said Caroline.
And Stella knew what she meant. She nodded, shrugged and beamed at the same time. Caroline clicked her tongue and grinned. ‘Really pleased,’ she said. ‘For both of you – match made in heaven and all that. By the way, I saw your little lad with Lady Lydia. He was all but shooing us peasants out of her way.’
‘They rub along fine,’ Stella said. ‘It’s funny.’
‘Congratulations, by the way, on flogging the old place.’
‘Well, I hope I’ve done the right thing,’ said Stella.
Xander and Sandie were back and Caroline was introduced. The four stood and batted chit-chat between them like an impromptu game of badminton.
‘Xander, are you still coming for dinner tonight?’
‘Yep.’
‘Stella?’ Caroline asked. ‘Would you like to come too? You’re most welcome.’
‘Oh! Thank you. But another time, perhaps. Babysitting – you know!’
Sandie overheard this. ‘But darling, I can babysit.’ She looked at her daughter. ‘Will can come to me.’
‘Tonight?’
‘Yes, tonight.’
She thought about it. ‘But Will has an early start tomorrow – it’s a cricket match.’
‘Well, I can stay at yours then.’
‘No – I mean, I’ll come back. But yes, if you could babysit at mine, that would be perfect.’
‘No – and I mean, I’ll stay at yours,’ her mother said, unequivocally. ‘You needn’t worry about what time you get in, then.’ She paused and looked from Caroline to Xander to Stella. ‘In fact, you needn’t come back tonight. I’ll meet you at cricket tomorrow. I know where it is.’
It was as though her mother was facilitating a night of fornication for her daughter and, to Stella, it felt not just embarrassing, but really rather wrong.
‘You can stay on my futon!’ Xander said, assessing the situation and employing an appropriately theatrical tone as if the marvellous idea had just come to him.
‘There you are!’ said Sandie, winking at Xander.
‘Sorted!’ said Caroline, winking at Sandie.
‘Well – thanks very much,’ said Stella, regarding them all with wry suspicion.
They strolled through the fete together, with expensive stop-offs for Sandie at the home produce stand, the plant area and the greetings cards stall where the breeze caused the wares to flutter like caught paper birds. All the while, they kept an eye open for Lydia and Will. Ultimately, it was the PA system which alerted them to their whereabouts.
‘Ladies, gentlemen, girls and boys!’
‘That’s Will!’ Stella exclaimed.
‘Come to the dog show now! Lady Lydia of Fortescue is going to judge the dog show. Now! Roll up and come along. Now!’
‘Oh God, you don’t want him getting a taste for a public address system,’ said Caroline.
‘Too late,’ said Stella.
‘And he’s already got a taste for minor aristocracy,’ said Sandie.
‘A lethal combo,’ Caroline said.
They laughed and headed over to the dog show. Lydia, assisted by Will, stood in the middle while the very serious business of judging ‘Owner Who Looks Most Like Dog’ took place. In the end, after much whispering and pointing, Lydia and Will gave first place to a small girl dressed top to toe in black and white who’d been pulled around the ring by a black-and-white English pointer. Second prize went to a gruff old boy whose whiskers matched his schnauzer’s and third prize went to a flame-haired girl and her red setter. Next, Will and Lydia judged the obstacle race and gave the prizes on a completely subjective basis. Finally, the obedience competition which was such chaos that Lydia, who took this very seriously, was tempted not to give any prizes. Will, it appeared, managed to make her see otherwise.
‘I’ve had the best time,’ he said to his mum and her group. ‘I’ve been a judge.’
‘Five minutes,’ said his grandma, ‘then we ought to make a move.’
Will looked at his mother and tried to ask ‘Ten?’ His mum just gave him that annoying raised-eyebrow look which translated to don’t-argue-with-your-elders-and-betters.
Five minutes came and went. And then it really was time to go.
‘Sweetheart, Grandma’s going to take you home. And stay the night. And take you to the cricket match,’ said Stella.
Will looked perplexed. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ve been invited to a party,’ said Stella.
‘Whose party?’
‘My party,’ said Caroline. She assessed Will’s displeasure. ‘Sometimes I have parties for children, sometimes for children and adults. Very occasionally – like tonight – just for adults where we sit around and talk about the news and weather. You can come if you like.’
Will tried to be as polite as possible when turning that one down. ‘Why is Grandma taking me to cricket though? Where will you be in the morning?’
‘I –’ Stella wasn’t sure how to answer.
‘I said she could have a sleepover at my house as it might be a late night,’ said Xander.
This made sense to Will. He wasn’t entirely happy about it, but it did make sense. ‘Oh, all right,’ he said. ‘Bye.’
Caroline, Xander and Stella waved them off. Once or twice, Will looked over his shoulder and though Xander and his friend were strolling off, his mum was still looking his way and waved as soon as he turned. She was still standing there, waiting to wave, waiting for him to turn, after he’d made his grandma take the detour so he could bow goodbye to Lady Lydia (who assured him that getting the cars off her land was far easier than parking them there in the first place, so thank you for asking, young man, but no – we won’t require your assistance).
‘I’ll just say bye to Mum,’ said Xander when a couple of Caroline’s friends came over and Stella was being welcomed into their coven.
Audrey was doing a fine job rearranging what was left on the cake stall so that it still looked abundant. ‘You off?’ she said.
Xander sniffed his armpits and they both laughed at their oft-repeated skit. ‘I’ll drop by during the week,’ he told her. ‘Tell Dad.’
Audrey looked around her, wistfully. ‘It’s been a lovely day – a much better fete than last year’s.’
‘Strange though – isn’t it?’ They both watched Lydia, lording it over a gaggle of villagers. ‘End of an era,’ Xander said.
‘I’ll bet that phrase is doing the rounds at the moment!’ She regarded Xander. ‘But it is also the start of a new one – which needn’t be a bad thing, love. You do know that?’
He shrugged, nodded and, a little reluctantly, smiled.
‘Verity wrote to me last week – said she’d missed you when she was here,’ said Audrey.
‘I dropped her a line.’
‘I know,’ said Audrey. ‘She wrote that you’d told her about Stella.’
Xander looked surprised but his mother raised an eyebrow. ‘Verity tells me most things,’ she said. ‘She always has, remember. And she said how happy she was for you. Her very words were: He needs someone else to look after. I’m all grown up, after all. He seems to forget that. And I’m just fine.’ She looked at her son intently.
Xander placed his arm around her shoulders. ‘Mum – I’m not doing too badly myself.’
‘Finally, no one need worry about anyone.’
‘Apart from the fact that you leave your car and front doors unlocked.’
Audrey lightly scolded her son and busied herself with the cake display, making him pay full price for a scone.
‘You OK?’ Xander was at Stella’s side, running the back of his hand up her arm.
Will was gone from view now. Stella turned. ‘Yup,’ she said. Pure grown-up time until tomorrow morning. How luxurious. How – illicit!
‘Do you fancy building up an appetite before dinner?’ he asked.
And Stella replied that he was a dirty dog and Xander said he’d take that as a yes, then.
Chapter
Thirty-Two
As they walked back from dinner at the Rowlands’, Stella thought to herself how lovely it had all been. A warm and welcoming home, meeting people she had much in common with – and the surge of excitement from catching eyes with the man she was falling in love with, matched by the buzz derived from the approving looks from those closest to him. She felt proud of herself, as if newly aware of her merits. It was a heartening boost to a self-esteem that had been depleted over the years. She squeezed Xander’s hand as they strolled.
‘What’s that for?’
She shrugged. ‘For a lovely evening.’
He squeezed her hand back. They were passing the entrance gates to Longbridge.
‘God, it looks dark up there,’ said Stella.
‘Lydia’s plain mean when it comes to lights and heating. Lights are only allowed on at dusk – and heating only in October. Late October,’ said Xander.
‘But she’s always cold,’ said Stella. ‘She’s always standing with her back to one of those ancient electric bar heaters placed in the fireplaces. And she always has a cardi around her shoulders.’
‘Cardi,’ Xander laughed softly.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘She’s all on her own up there, Lydia is. I’m not sure I’d like to sleep alone at Longbridge.’
‘It’s not haunted,’ Xander told her, ‘despite seeing its share of sadness.’ He paused. This could get maudlin. There was no point, not any more. ‘But as for my place –’ He regarded the fleeting concern on Stella’s face before laughing. ‘Come on, let’s get home and play ghosts and ghoulies.’
‘Is that a euphemism?’ Stella asked.
‘Ghoulies, not—’
‘Yes, yes – I get it.’
Back at the cottage, after a cup of tea, they went to bed. They couldn’t wait to go. They cuddled and kissed and smiled and chatted. Sex was not on the agenda – they’d made love energetically before leaving for dinner. It was sleep. It was the notion of sharing their slumber at Xander’s place for the first time. It felt such a treat, such liberation for Stella to be away from home. And it felt simultaneously new, exciting, comforting, for Xander.
‘Are you warm enough?’ he asked, woozily.
She snuggled closer still. ‘Toasty,’ she said.
‘Night.’
‘Night.’
Stella woke in the small hours. Waves of adrenalin washed all vestiges of sleep away. She lay there awhile, telling herself not to be silly, to look where she was (she turned and gazed at Xander, sleeping soundly). She told herself everything was fine – reached for her mobile, checked she had a signal, checked there were no further messages than the one from her mum saying all was fine and not to worry. But it was no good. It was of little comfort. In the hazy shadows of a night-drenched room, it all seemed startlingly clear. It felt fundamentally wrong.
Though she left the bed as soundlessly as she could, in that perpetually cold room the absence of her body heat filtered through Xander’s dreams like an ill wind and woke him.
‘Stella?’
‘Oh. It’s fine. Ssh,’ she said, ‘go back to sleep.’
‘What are you doing?’
There was no reply. The room was curtainless but there was no moon and all he could see was the basic shape of her. ‘What are you doing?’ Xander reached for the bedside lamp. Flicked it on, squinted against the sudden harshness and was shocked to see Stella fully clothed. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Going,’ she said, quietly.
He sat up. ‘Going?’ He fumbled for the clock. ‘It’s three in the morning! What’s happened? Is everything OK?’
‘I just need to go.’
‘Go? Why?’
She looked down and then over to him. ‘It doesn’t feel right. I should be at home – be there when my little boy wakes up.’
Xander scratched his head. Just then, Stella reminded him of Verity’s childhood pony – a pretty little thing that seemed to like affection but if you approached too quickly was prone to bolt away. He waited, looking at her, his head tipped. ‘Will you talk?’ he asked. ‘Only – Will seemed cool about his grandma staying. About you staying.’
‘I know, I know!’
‘And your mum seemed happy to, er, facilitate your sleepover?’
‘I know!’ She was fretting.
‘Stella?’
‘It’s just – I’ve broken a very solemn vow I made to myself.’ The silence that ensued told her that Xander expected to be told what that was. And she thought about it. There was every reason for him to feel he deserved an explanation. ‘I just promised myself that I’d always be there for Will.’ She paused. ‘That I wouldn’t abandon him.’
Hard not to laugh a little. ‘You’re not abandoning him – you’re just with me, overnight. He’s snuggled up in bed, safe and sound. With your ma. You’ll see him first thing.’
‘It’s difficult,’ Stella croaked. ‘To explain.’
‘Do you want to try?’
His voice was so gentle and it just made her feel worse. She shook her head and Xander sighed, exasperated as she made for the door.
‘For God’s sake,’ she heard him mutter under his breath. Then the click of the light, the irritated scrunching of the duvet. Then nothing. She walked downstairs, cursing the old cottage for the squeaks and groans that accompanied her footfalls. Hovering momentarily by the front door, she then left, closing it as quietly as she could. With tears streaming down her face, she headed for her car. Sitting behind the wheel, she cried her eyes out. What was she doing there, at stupid o’clock? Why wasn’t she at home? Why wasn’t she back in bed with Xander? Why could she only be a good girlfriend if she was being a bad mum – or a proper mum and a crap girlfriend? Why was it so complicated? And then she yelled out into the private space of her car. ‘Why are you complicating things? I divorced you! I don’t even know where you are, you bastard! Why are you still complicating things?’
Abruptly, she stopped crying and stared at the shadowy curve of Tramfield Lane snaking its way into the night. Then she laughed, almost maniacally, before settling her breathing and cupping her face in her hands.
‘Why am I letting Charlie complicate things!’
It wasn’t a question. It was ridiculous. Ridiculous! She left the car, gave the door a hearty slam and chanted, ridiculous! bastard! fuck off! all the way back to Xander’s front door.
He heard the knock. Actually, it was a veritable drum roll of banging. He hadn’t been asleep, he’d been lying there, miffed, let down – and, truthfully, upset. It didn’t take long for him to slip on a pair of boxers, but still she hammered at the door. OK, OK. He pulled on a T-shirt as he took the stairs. Still she rapped. Her knuckles must be raw, he thought.
There on his doorstep, Stella looked both terrible and triumphant with her bed-mussed hair, tear-streaked face; shivering, smiling, wincing at herself.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘Sorry.’ She shuffled a bit. ‘Can I come in?’ She started crying again, looking at her shoes, shoulders heaving. Like she did that night when he rescued her from her drunkenness and the blind date man called Blimey O’Riley. ‘Please?’ She looked up at him. He ushered her in, not sure what to say and what he’d be hearing. ‘Can I have a cup of tea, please?’
‘I was going to suggest cocoa – but if you’d like tea?’
‘Cocoa!’ It was as if it was the most extravagant offer she’d ever been made.
She hovered nearby while he made it. He could sense it, but kept his back turned to her, unsure of why she was here, what had caused the hysterics, what he was about to hear. Was this to be a face-to-face Dear John moment? Or something else? He had no idea. He brought over the two mugs and sat down in the chair. Stella curled herself into the edge of the sofa closest to him, hands encircling the mug of cocoa as if she’d been out in the cold for ages.
‘You came back,’ he said evenly, taking a sip.
‘I did,’ she said.
Oh, how to say all
of this! How to say it so that it didn’t scare Xander off, repel him.
‘I –’ she began. ‘It’s difficult.’ They sipped thoughtfully. He’d made the cocoa just right – not ready-made hot chocolate, but bitter cocoa powder made into a paste with a smidgen of milk, lots of sugar and then stirred to perfection with milk heated to frothing. She looked at him over the edge of the mug. She loved him. That she knew. She’d tell him so. But first she’d tell him what she felt he deserved to know.
‘I married Charlie,’ she said. ‘Whom I loved in a passionate us-against-the-world kind of way. Swept off my feet. Charmed by him – all of that.’
‘Been there, done that,’ Xander said helpfully. ‘Laura.’
It did help. Stella nodded. ‘In the early days, it was fun, carefree – crazy. We’d gad off here and there, live the high life. He was charismatic, full of life, full of himself. I was sold. And then we married.’ She paused. ‘I was pregnant already.’ She paused again. ‘I didn’t mind that he didn’t seem enamoured with that, nor that he just said “Sure, why not” when I suggested marriage. I assumed it was a timing, planning thing – as Will was, well, unexpected.’ She broke off. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this.’ She broke off again. ‘It’s so awful.’ She wondered if she’d be able to see it through. She sipped, sipped again. If she kept sipping at this rate, there’d be nothing left – but mightn’t she need to take refuge in her mug later on? What to do. What to do.
‘Go on,’ said Xander.
‘Charlie. Had. Addictions.’ She paced the three words slowly, quietly, whilst staring fixedly at her lap. Eventually, she looked at Xander who was frowning.
‘What sort of addictions?’
‘In the main – gambling.’ She had to look at her lap again. ‘Though I guess you could say he did everything to excess. Drinking. Oh – I can’t.’
‘Christ.’
She took a deep breath. ‘And other stuff.’
‘Oh?’
‘Escorts.’
‘What?’
‘I haven’t told anyone about that. Please don’t tell anyone. I just told them about the gambling.’
‘As if that wasn’t bad enough.’
