‘Yes,’ said Tessa, ‘isn’t it great? Came in yesterday. Coloured suites are going to take off again big time, I’m sure of it. I’ve asked the boys to look out for them particularly. We had a lovely 1950s powder blue one last week which went back out very quickly.’
‘Excellent,’ said Tom, delighted to hear she was taking an active interest in the business. ‘Your instincts are always faultless about these things. What else do you think is going to be hot?’
Now that he was going to be away filming in the States for weeks at a time, Tom was really going to need Tessa to be properly hands on with the salvage yard again. Not just to get her out into the world a bit more, doing some PR stuff, but essential day-to-day management, overseeing the business.
As well as their long-term contacts in the demolition business, they had a good team of freelance dealers sourcing stuff for them, but the success of Hunter Gatherer had always derived from their personal input. Their taste, instincts and aesthetics. Good and reliable as Jack the manager was, Tom knew Hunter Gatherer would lose its special edge very quickly if they left it all up to him.
Tessa was still thinking how to answer his question about the next trend in salvage. She couldn’t just give a glib response, it was too important, something she needed to think through.
‘Well,’ she replied eventually, ‘copper’s going to stay strong and I think brass will follow on from that. Any kind of metal as long as it’s not chrome really … and raw wood more than shabby-chic flaked paint.’
Tom laughed.
‘I hope you’re keeping a note of these pronouncements,’ he said, ‘it’s just the kind of thing that will be useful for Rachel and Simon. Have you heard from him since the lunch, by the way?’
Tessa turned away, crouching down and pretending to be looking closely at a crate of Delft tiles. Not trusting her face.
‘No,’ she said, replying slightly too fast. ‘But Rachel has sent the contract through. I’ve printed it out for you to look at. I imagine it will all start happening, once we’ve signed that.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Tom. ‘That Simon’s not one to give anything away unless he’s sure he’s going to be paid for it, don’t you think?’
Tessa wondered how long she could carry on pretending to be interested in the tiles.
‘That’s rather what I gather from Rachel,’ she said carefully. ‘But the agency does have a matchless reputation for boosting design and interiors companies. That’s why Rachel wanted to work there in the first place.’
When Tom didn’t answer she looked over her shoulder to see him disappearing into the barn. Good. There was a lot of new stock in there, loads of fireplaces, overmantels and surrounds, which should keep him happily occupied for a while.
‘Whoa!’ she heard him exclaim, then his head popped out of the barn door. ‘Have you seen this Carrera marble number?’ he asked, his face bright with genuine excitement.
Tessa grinned, so happy to hear Tom sounding like his old self, not that phoney television stranger she didn’t know, and walked over to the barn to join him.
Rachel and Natasha were in the kitchen, clearing up from dinner, when Rachel’s phone pinged.
‘What?’ she said, as she read the text. ‘I don’t believe this! Bloody hell …’
‘What’s happened?’ asked Natasha, who was at the sink washing up saucepans.
She looked over her shoulder at her sister, who had sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, holding her phone on her lap and staring into the distance, a big frown between her eyebrows. She looked as though she’d been punched.
‘It’s Branko,’ she said.
Natasha snapped her head away again, staring down at the soapy water and wishing there was a lot more for her to wash up. There was only a sieve left, dammit. She couldn’t think what to say to answer Rachel. She had a horrible idea where this was going.
‘You won’t believe what he’s done …’ said Rachel.
‘Oh?’ said Natasha, as casually as she could muster.
‘He’s in Paris, right? Having a break,’ said Rachel. ‘He said he might be gone for two weeks, which was fine. I don’t have a problem with that, he’s so great with the girls and works so hard in all his other jobs, he’s earned it, but now he’s texted saying he’s staying another week “or long”, which presumably means possibly longer. What am I going to do?’
Natasha put a few things back in the sink and started washing them again. Oh god, oh god.
‘I could have been down here from the first bloody day Mum came out of hospital if he hadn’t been away,’ Rachel was saying, her voice rising in frustration. ‘Simon said I could take the whole of this week off to help, but I couldn’t take him up on it because Branko was in Paris and their dad couldn’t have the girls. And now I’m buggered for another week. Michael’s going to Dubai. I just can’t believe it. Branko’s always been so thoughtful and reliable.’
There was a catch in Rachel’s voice at the end, almost as though she might be about to cry. Natasha dearly wished she could be beamed up to the Starship Enterprise. This was all her fault. Why the hell had she meddled in Branko’s life? She was going to have to tell Rachel what she’d done.
The question was, should she do it now, while she was already upset, to get it over with, or tell her the next day, or even Sunday, so they could at least enjoy the weekend up until then … and for Joy’s sake? The last thing their mum needed right now was her daughters falling out when she was just recovering from surgery. She needed peace and calm and harmony for her cells to get on with their repairing.
Natasha decided to play for time.
‘What are you going to say to him?’ she asked, hoping Rachel’s answer might give her an idea what she should say next.
‘I honestly don’t know,’ said Rachel, sounding defeated. ‘I can’t yell and scream at him, because then he might not come back at all. God knows I’ve had enough other mothers trying to steal him from me, and I don’t even want to tell him about Mum because it will just give him the guilts and it’s not his fault that the timing is so catastrophic. There must be some reason he’s staying longer – maybe he’s met someone gorgeous? – and I don’t want to spoil that for him. I really love Branko and he deserves good things. But I really need his support right now. What would you do?’
Natasha stood looking out of the window, hoping her stricken expression wasn’t visible to Rachel in the reflection.
‘Gosh …’ she started to say, her mind flailing around, then something wonderful happened.
Joy rang the little bell on her bedside table.
‘It’s Mum,’ said Natasha, throwing the washing-up brush into the sink, ‘I’ll go and see what she wants.’
And she legged it out of the kitchen as fast as she could.
Saturday, 21 June
Cranbrook
Natasha was very relieved when she woke up late on Saturday morning to find that Rachel and Tessa had already gone out to do food shopping. She hoped they’d take a nice long time doing it, felt guilty for thinking that, but couldn’t help herself. She was still in an agony of indecision about what she was going to tell Rachel.
Yoga. That was the answer. It would clear her mind. She was about to do some stretches in the bedroom when she remembered there was a fully qualified yoga teacher lying in bed, bored stiff, downstairs.
Joy was delighted when Natasha came in holding the yoga mat she never travelled without. She could also see a slightly strained look on her youngest daughter’s face. The joy of the previous afternoon had gone. Something was bothering her and she needed to let it go.
‘Oh, what a good idea,’ said Joy. ‘Would you like me to talk you through it? Is some nice simple Hatha OK? I think that’s what you need, something balancing.’
Natasha nodded happily, spread her mat on the floor and lay down flat on her back.
‘Very good,’ said Joy. ‘Close your eyes and breathe deeply and slowly …’
Natasha melted into relaxation, Joy’s l
ow calming tones keeping her just the right side of sleep, until it was time to sit up. After that a series of fast sun salutations woke up her body and her brain, which seemed like a great result at first, but then, while she was trying to concentrate only on Joy’s instructions – she’d forgotten what a great yoga teacher her mother was – her thoughts started to get louder.
Why the hell had she interfered with something which affected Rachel’s life so fundamentally? She knew how hard it was for her being a single mum, trying to make a decent living when her ex gave her barely more than the minimum child support.
Natasha was well aware how much easier Rachel’s life had been since Branko had come on the scene and she had another huge pang of guilt when she thought of how much her nieces loved their manny. He was brilliant with them.
Why had she done it? she asked herself, looking at her strong flat stomach arched up in a bridge pose.
‘That’s beautiful,’ said Joy. ‘Put your hands under your back and see if you can lift up a little more, but mind your knees, don’t let them fall out to the side. Perfect, now hold that and breathe …’
It was just that Natasha could see the potential Branko had for opportunities that would change his whole life. He only needed to be the hot thing for a couple of years and he could build up a very nice nest egg which would set him up with something lasting – property, his own business. Surely it would have been morally wrong not to help that happen for him?
Joy’s voice brought her back into focus.
‘Do you think you can do it without the wall?’ she was asking. ‘Half-moon pose …’
‘I think so,’ said Natasha, getting into position, placing her hands on the ground in front of her, lifting one leg up straight behind her, then turning and raising her upper arm so she was balancing, on one hand and one foot, her body facing outwards. She fixed her eyes on the nose of some kind of weasel painted on the wall opposite and tried to stay in the moment, in her breathing, but still the thoughts came, poking at her.
Was she really thinking only of what was best for Branko, or was it actually some kind of power trip? Look! I can change your whole life, with just one wave of my mascara wand …
Plus the prestige within her industry of being the one who had discovered the new modelling sensation and racking up invaluable favour debt with one of the most important international model agencies? Not to mention the credibility boost with the likes of Karl Lagerfeld.
So had she done it for Branko – or had she really done it for Natasha? The thought was so horrible, she collapsed out of the pose, falling onto her yoga mat, sobbing.
Ah, thought Joy, a release. I knew it was needed.
‘Whatever’s the matter, my darling?’ she said, leaning over the bed as far as she could, which made her wince with pain. ‘Come and tell me.’
Natasha’s weeping had turned into proper gulping and wailing as the full shame at what she’d done to her overstretched sister washed over her. She could hear her mother talking, but couldn’t hear what she was saying until the sobs died down a bit.
‘I’m sorry I can’t come down to you, my love,’ Joy was saying, ‘so get up on here and tell me what’s wrong.’
Natasha lifted her head from what felt like the bottom of the sea and looked up at her mother’s concerned face. She immediately got to her feet, walked round to the other side of the bed and climbed on very carefully beside her.
Joy wrapped her arms around her youngest daughter and kissed her head. ‘Tell me what’s going on, my love,’ she said, in her so familiar voice with its slight northern bluntness still discernible, something Natasha found so comforting.
‘I’ve made a terrible mistake,’ she choked out.
‘We all make mistakes,’ said Joy, ‘and admitting you’ve made one is a large part of putting it right. Tell me what’s happened.’
Natasha looked up at her mother, her dark eyes full of tears. ‘You know Rachel’s nanny – manny – Branko?’
‘Yes,’ said Joy, cautiously.
‘Well, when we were all here that weekend I got talking to him and … the thing is … he’s really beautiful, he has amazing bone structure and I told him he could be a model.’
‘Right …’ said Joy, waiting for the really bad thing, which she knew Natasha hadn’t told her yet.
‘And then,’ Natasha’s voice had gone so quiet, Joy had to strain to hear it, ‘I introduced him to a model agent I know and now he’s in Paris being fitted for all the couture shows … and I never told Rachel about it, or asked her if she minded. I just went ahead and did it and last night he texted her saying he’ll be away all next week as well and Rachel is devastated … and she doesn’t even know that he probably won’t ever come back to work for her now. And it’s all my fault.’
She started crying again and Joy made soothing noises, pulling her head onto her shoulder, and stroking her hair.
‘There, there,’ she said.
This wasn’t what she’d been expecting at all. She’d thought Natasha was ready to tell her something deeper and more personal, perhaps about a married man – the situation Joy had long suspected was the reason for her youngest daughter not having a partner. The last thing she’d expected was something that affected one of her other girls. She’d just have to do her best to help smooth it over.
Natasha felt enormous relief at having confessed, and sobbed a bit more, but in more of a relieved, recovering way, than the painful racking of her first outpouring, so she was only hiccuping slightly when Rachel and Tessa walked into the room.
Tessa’s face lit up when she saw the two of them on the bed together. It looked so right. Rachel felt a bit piqued. Why hadn’t Joy ever asked her to lie on the bed for a cuddle?
‘You two look cosy,’ said Tessa. ‘I’m going to make us some tea and we can all sit and drink it together.’
‘I’ll make it,’ said Rachel, suddenly not wanting to be left alone with Natasha and her mum sharing their special moment.
She went out to the kitchen, putting away the food they’d just bought while she waited for the kettle to boil, glad to be busy. There were too many things she had to not think about. The money situation and the Branko nightmare vying for first place, each of them making the other more difficult to deal with.
Without Branko’s help it would be hard to do her job properly, which wasn’t great as she was still a little over a month away from the end of the trial period, and until she got that new-business bonus from Simon, she was too strapped to pay for any other kind of childcare.
The joy of the arrangement with Branko had been the simple barter set-up, with no money changing hands. It worked brilliantly for them both. Or it had until now.
Rachel went back into the library with the tray of mugs to find Tessa now also sitting on the bed, which wasn’t quite as bad as when it had just been Natasha.
‘Come and join us,’ said Joy, ‘I’m sure there’s another corner we can squeeze you onto.’
‘Oh, I’ll be fine on this chair,’ said Rachel, feeling too out of sorts to be so chummy-chummy.
Joy noticed and wondered if she already had an inkling what Natasha had done. Perhaps Branko had told her. Either way, the sooner she heard the truth the better. It was never good to let things like this roll on.
They sipped their tea and chatted about what they were planning to make for lunch and dinner until there was a natural pause in the conversation. Joy took a breath.
‘Rachel,’ she said in a tone of voice that made Rachel immediately sit up, ‘Natasha has something she needs to tell you. Go on, Natasha.’
Rachel looked more closely at her younger sister and noticed her eyes were red. She’d been crying.
‘I’m sorry, Rachel,’ said Natasha, her voice wobbling as she spoke. ‘It’s about Branko …’
Rachel stiffened. What was going on here?
‘The reason he’s in Paris is … I introduced him to a model agent and they’ve signed him. That’s why he’s in Paris. He’s doing f
ittings for the couture shows.’
‘You did what?’ said Rachel, bewildered. ‘Branko? Modelling? Have you seen how skinny he is? I’m always telling him his waist is smaller than mine.’
As she said it, seeing the look on Natasha’s face – what was it? some kind of weird awe? – she understood.
‘Are you telling me he’s going to be modelling women’s clothes?’ asked Rachel. As if that had any relevance to the bigger situation, she thought, even as she said it. Like what the hell am I supposed to do about childcare?
‘He might be opening the Chanel couture,’ said Natasha, her eyes wide.
Something in Rachel snapped. She stood up from the chair and threw her mug of tea onto the floor, where it shattered into pieces.
‘Oh, Chanel,’ she spat out, her voice vicious with sarcasm. ‘Well, that’s just fine then, isn’t it, Natasha? As long as it’s Chanel, it’s perfectly all right that I’ve got no fucking childcare. I’d hate to inconvenience darling Karl Lagerfeld and little Choupette with my paltry needs. Well done you!’
Tessa looked terrified, her hands automatically flying up to her head at the sound of the mug crashing down. Natasha started to cry again, clinging onto her mother’s shoulder.
Like the spoilt little brat she’s always been, thought Rachel. Running to Mummy crying whenever she’d done something wrong. And Rachel having to be the big girl and understand that Natasha was only little and allowances had to be made for her. Well, not any more.
‘Really, Natasha,’ said Rachel in withering tones, ‘that’s simply marvellous you helping Branko out like that. Aren’t you the lady bountiful? Dispensing your fashion blessings to the poor. Don’t you worry, I’ll be just fine trying to support my family on my paltry salary with no childcare – oh and we mustn’t forget, we’ve got the school holidays starting in just over a month. Won’t that be fun? I can take them to the office with me, my boss will simply love that. Not. Really, well done, Natasha. Top work.’
Secret Keeping for Beginners Page 20
