Andrea was in the kitchen with Eva when the doorbell went yet again.
‘I’ll get it,’ David offered, coming through from the conservatory, where he’d been listening to Elgar’s cello concerto, which was beautiful, but a little reflective and melancholic, in Andrea’s opinion.
‘Thanks.’ She smiled appreciatively, still holding the gorgeous silk crêpe de Chine 1920s wedding dress Eva had brought in front of her.
‘Suits you,’ David said.
‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Andrea smoothed the dress over her silhouette. It was Eva’s mother’s gown apparently, quite exquisite – and would be madly expensive to purchase.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked Eva, overcome by such open generosity. It was a wonderful gesture, offering the dress to help kick-start Andrea’s Second Chance Designer collection, but she was concerned Eva might regret it.
‘Positive,’ David assured her, his eyes sweeping over the graceful, diaphanous outline. ‘Cream is definitely your colour. So when do I get the pleasure of seeing you in it?’
He gave her another appreciative once over and then, smiling, headed for the hall.
‘Good Lord.’ Eva’s jaw dropped. ‘Andrea, my dear, you’re not …’ She moved closer, glancing nonplussed toward the door where David had just left. ‘You and he are not …’
Getting the gist, Andrea laughed, astonished. ‘No, we are not. We’re just friends. I’ve only moved in with him temporarily, Eva. Honestly.’
‘Who’s moved in with whom?’ asked Dee as she struggled in from the hall with the vacuum cleaner.
Eva dashed over to help her, despite her dippy hip. ‘Andrea,’ she imparted, ‘moved in with the good doctor.’
‘Has she?’ Dee’s eyes pinged wide, and then almost flew out on sight of the dress. ‘You’re getting married?’
‘No, I am not,’ Andrea stated adamantly. ‘It’s Eva’s dress, Mum.’
‘Humph, well no one in their right mind is going to marry Bunty, darling, are they?’ Dee scoffed. ‘And she’s not going to fit into that tiny little thing, unless she has radical surgery.’
‘Mum!’
‘I’m just saying.’ Dee smiled innocently and then walked in the opposite direction to Eva with her bit of the vacuum. Deliberately, Andrea suspected. ‘It’s Eva’s mother’s wedding dress, Mum. Eva has very kindly offered it as part of our Second Chance Designer collection.’
‘We’re thinking of advertising,’ Eva picked up enthusiastically. ‘We thought we’d invite people to bring along their glad rags, which we’d sell on for a percentage of, and, hopefully, they’ll have a browse of the stock while they’re there.’
Andrea smiled. Ooh, she was glad to have Eva on board. ‘It’s a splendid idea, Eva. We don’t have much of a stock yet, but …’
‘We could start at home, right here in the village,’ Eva went on, warming to her idea. ‘Ask people to have a rummage in their wardrobes and—’
‘Codswallop,’ said Dee, rudely bursting Eva’s bubble.
Eva stared at her. ‘Beg pardon, my dear?’
‘What’s the point of collecting a load of old jumble when we haven’t got room to swing a cat?’ Dee rolled her eyes at Eva and then turned her gaze on Andrea. ‘And why Bunty’s help and not mine?’
Andrea blinked at Dee surprised. Oh, dear, was her mum jealous? ‘It’s not just Eva participating, Mum. It’s a joint enterprise, remember? You’re involved, too. We’re going to run it to—’
‘I have posh frocks.’ Dee abandoned her vacuum and belligerently folded her arms. ‘Whole wardrobes full.’
Andrea glanced mournfully at Eva and then dropped her gaze to the dress she was still holding to her.
‘But you don’t, do you, my dear,’ Eva pointed out gently. ‘They’re … Well, they’re probably a bit wet, from the fire hose. But you never know,’ she went on jollily, ‘we might be able to salvage some of your stuff.’
‘Oh, Mum …’ Andrea noticed her mum’s eyes filling up, despite the petulant pout, and her heart ached for her. She wasn’t feeling jealous. She was feeling expendable, vulnerable. Two homes lost in such a short space of time, and Dee so missed her own cosy little cottage. It was just so unfair. Silence ensued for a second, where Dee would normally have a sharp answer, until someone said from the doorway, ‘I’ll take a look for you tomorrow, Dee.’
Andrea’s head snapped up. ‘Jonathan?’
David tried to dismiss his feelings of disappointment as, intrigued, he looked over at the hitherto missing man in Andrea’s life. Andrea’s expression – which was more overwhelmed than overjoyed – added to his curiosity.
‘Can I take your coat?’ he offered, waiting for a discreet moment to step between the reconciled couple, who’d come into the hall to talk.
‘Oh, yes. Thanks.’ Jonathan nodded distractedly, shrugged out of his overcoat and handed it to him.
A wool and cashmere coat, David noted as he hung it on the coat stand, tastefully cut and reasonably expensive. As was the suit, which told David the guy was successful at whatever it was he did for a living.
‘God, Andrea, what on earth happened?’ Jonathan turned back to Andrea, looking bewildered as he stepped towards her.
Andrea stepped back a little. ‘Jonathan,’ she started, searching his face, her expression now one of incomprehension, ‘I …’
‘What happened, Andrea?’ Jonathan repeated urgently.
Her house burned down, sunshine, David thought scathingly. He couldn’t help it. If the man was as concerned as his tone and demeanour might indicate, where the hell had he been?
Jonathan reached for Andrea’s hands, which put David in the awkward position of having to stay where he was by the front door.
‘There was a fire. It—’ Andrea started, looking flustered.
‘Good God, Andrea, I can see that much!’ Jonathan cut in sharply, which did nothing to endear him to David. Tense the man might be, but there was no call for condescension.
Jonathan breathed deeply, obviously trying to calm himself. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
Andrea nodded. ‘Yes, I think so.’
‘The kids?’
Andrea nodded again, all the while looking troubled. Looking at Jonathan as if it was him she was troubled by, which puzzled David.
He wasn’t sure why, except … In a world where there were no excuses any more for not being in communication with people, why didn’t Jonathan know there’d been a major catastrophe that could have ended in tragedy? Which begged the question, where had he been? Even if he’d been away on a business trip, which the suit might indicate, he would have tried to contact his family, surely, and realised something was seriously wrong?
‘Thank goodness.’ Jonathan’s body language relaxed some. He moved closer to Andrea, attempting to rest his forehead on hers.
Andrea did pull back then, noticeably. ‘Jonathan, where have you been?’ she asked quietly, scanning his eyes for answers.
Jonathan dropped his gaze. ‘Not where I should have been.’ He closed his eyes briefly, before looking back at her. ‘I … had an accident, Andrea. When you rang me, I—’
‘What?’ Andrea’s expression was now one of alarm, swiftly followed by guilt. ‘Oh my God.’ She squeezed her eyes closed.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Jonathan said quickly. ‘Someone ran into me. I’ve been at the hospital since and I—’
‘Hospital?’ Andrea looked horrified.
‘I’m okay,’ Jonathan assured her. ‘It was just a concussion.’
Must have been one hell of a concussion, David thought cynically, as Andrea shook her head, clearly trying to assimilate.
‘I did try to ring you, Andrea,’ Jonathan insisted, ‘as soon as I was able to. When I couldn’t get you on the landline or your mobile, I was worried sick. I had no idea …’
It explained the business suit and the lateness in the day, David supposed, if he’d been taken to the hospital in it. Still, somehow, his story didn’t ring quite true. Wo
uldn’t he have tried to get hold of her at the school? Tried to find out if the kids were where they should be, whether Chloe was at nursery? David would certainly have done. And would a man’s first priority on reaching the village to find his house a blackened shell be to poke around in the ruins before checking up on his family?
David doubted it. Even if one of the neighbours had told him Andrea and the kids were safe, he would have sought them out, surely, rather than go straight to the house, which he had. The guy’s coat reeked of charred wood and smoke.
Andrea was wavering, David could see by her expression, now somewhere between shock and sympathy, but he didn’t believe the man’s story was the whole story. As a GP he’d learned to read the signs when people were lying: in need of a sick note maybe, or too embarrassed to say what the real symptoms were, possibly. Whatever, you learned to spot less than the truth, and Jonathan was telling it, which might well mean the man was bad news.
David narrowed his eyes. Had he cheated on her? Been cheating on her? No, he didn’t think so. The guy looked as guilty as sin, but – he watched carefully as Jonathan folded Andrea into his arms – whatever it was he was guilty of, he did love her. That much seemed apparent.
David glanced down, struggling, he realised, with an uncomfortable pang of jealousy. He ran his hand over his neck and tried to dismiss it. He was envious of what this Jonathan had, that was all, a whole family. Someone to come home and tell his troubles to. All of which David had had, until he’d chosen to throw it away.
And the man’s family didn’t actually have a home any more. David pulled himself up sharp. Talk about petty and judgemental. However neglectful Jonathan appeared to have been, it really wasn’t his business. He should go, at least give them a little privacy. ‘Do you mind if I, er …’ He nodded past the couple to the lounge.
‘Oh, sorry, David.’ Andrea stepped quickly away from Jonathan, who was now looking David up and down, a quizzical look in his eye.
‘David Adams,’ David introduced himself. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Jonathan shook the hand David offered, his expression communicating, right, and you’re who, exactly? He couldn’t blame him for that. The man had a pretty, witty, courageous woman in Andrea. David just hoped he appreciated her and didn’t take anything for granted, only to wake up one day and find that he’d lost it.
‘Jonathan Eden. Thanks for taking care of them,’ Jonathan said, letting go of David’s hand to drape an arm proprietorially around Andrea’s shoulders.
‘It’s been a pleasure,’ David assured him, squeezing past to the sanctuary of the lounge. You might be wise to take better care of them yourself in the future though, he couldn’t help thinking.
Chapter Twelve
Sophie padded bleary-eyed from the bathroom towards the bedroom, determined to make the most of the weekend and crawl back into bed. She had loads of texts and Facebook messages to reply to, which she supposed she could do on David’s PC, but … later, she decided, going through the bedroom door. The prospect of luxuriating in the double bed without Chloe stuffing the new Igglepiggle Ryan had bought up her nose and Gran’s freezing cold toes was just too tempting.
Yawning, Sophie turned to close the door, and then stopped. ‘Er, Gran, what’re you doing?’ she asked patiently, with undertones of exasperation.
‘Hiding,’ Dee said, from her position pressed against the wall behind the door.
‘Right.’ Sophie sighed. ‘Like, who from?’
‘Him,’ Dee imparted unhelpfully, and then peeled herself from the wall to march purposefully to the dressing table.
‘Who?’ Sophie twizzled around to follow her progress. ‘David?’
‘David who?’ Dee asked, opening a drawer, stuffing something inside it, then extracting it again and stuffing it in her pocket. She then dragged the stool from under the dressing table over to the wardrobe, Sophie looking on, perplexed.
‘David, the guy who lives … Never mind.’ Sophie shook her head, then puffed up her purple fringe in a baffled sigh as Dee perched herself precariously on the stool. ‘Now, what’re you doing?’ she asked, peeved. So much for chillaxin’.
‘Going home,’ Dee announced, tugging a holdall from the top of the wardrobe.
‘Gran, you can’t.’ Sophie yawned and headed wearily towards the bed.
‘Oh, yes, I can,’ Dee insisted, plopping the bag on to the floor and climbing creakily down after it.
‘No, you can’t, Gran. It’s burned down,’ Sophie pointed out as she peeled back the duvet, ready to dig herself bodily under it if that’s what it took to get a little peace around here.
‘Not that home. My home.’ Dee plonked the bag in the space on the bed Sophie had made and then peered around, presumably for something to pack in it. ‘Now, where are my clothes?’
‘Ooooh! Gran! You’ve got no clothes.’ Sophie slapped a hand against her forehead, utterly frustrated. ‘They’re in the house that got burned. And you haven’t got a house because someone else has bought it! Now stoppit!’
‘Have they?’ Dee looked around the room as if the buyers of her house might appear from the ether.
Also looking watery-eyed, Sophie noticed, and felt a bit bad. ‘They’re renovating it, Gran,’ she reminded her, more gently. ‘Come and sit down, hey?’ Sophie plonked herself on the bed and patted the space next to her. ‘Take the weight off your feet, yes?’
‘Well … just for a minute, then. My bunions are playing up a bit, I must admit.’ Dee shuffled closer and sat on the edge of the bed.
‘Gran, I know you miss your home,’ Sophie started hesitantly, ‘but, well, you can stay here, with us, can’t you, until we can sort ourselves out somewhere nice?’
‘Oh, no, I can’t do that.’ Dee turned to look at her, her opaque blue eyes wide and aghast. ‘He’s going to do away with me. He might do away with Eva, too, if I don’t hide it. She’s an irritating cow, with her grow your own mentality, stuck in a time warp if you ask me, but I can’t allow him to do that.’
Bloody hell, she really has lost it. Sophie knitted her pierced brow. ‘Hide what, Gran? Who’s going to do away with you?’ she asked carefully. ‘The doctor?’
She reached for her gran’s hand, the tissue soft skin over which was almost translucent and mapped with blue veins. Sophie hadn’t really noticed before.
‘No, not him.’ Dee looked at Sophie as if she were deranged. ‘Jonathan. He’s up to no good, that one. You mark my words.’
‘Jonathan? Don’t be daft, Gran. He’s a bit shouty and moody sometimes, but he’s all right.’
‘Not,’ said Dee, her chin set defiantly. ‘And I’m not daft.’
Sophie adopted her best contrite expression. ‘No, course not. So you gonna share then, or what?’
‘Share what, dear?’
‘No, Gran.’ Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘I meant, tell me why you think Jonathan’s trying to do away with you.’
‘He’s being nice to me,’ Dee said, with a resolute little nod. ‘Made me a cup of tea and offered me a biscuit.’
‘Rrrright.’ Sophie flopped back on the bed.
‘He’s never nice to me,’ Dee went on, regardless of her prostrate audience. ‘He thinks I’m a dotty old bat. Wants to get shot of me. He knows I know, you know?’
‘To a nice care home, Gran, where they have people to look out for you.’ Sophie dragged her poor deprived-of-sleep body back up from the bed. ‘He’s not trying to do away with you, I’m sure.’
‘So why is he being nice to me, then?’
‘Because …’ Actually, Sophie had no idea. Jonathan, she had to admit, had about as much time for her gran as she did. ‘Because we’ve all had a really traumatic experience, so he’s trying not to upset us.’
Yes, that sounded about right. And Gran was, like, really, really old, so maybe Jonathan felt a bit guilty, since he did have a rant about how mental Dee was sometimes.
‘Come on, Gran.’ Sophie gave up on her snooze time and got to her feet. ‘I heard the Save
the Kellys Committee delivering stuff earlier. Let’s go and get first dibs before Ryan nicks all the best stuff.’
‘When did she ring them?’ David heard Jonathan in the kitchen as he came down the stairs. Having spent the night on the sofa at his mother’s, it seemed Jonathan was keen not to stay away from his family for too long. Now he was finally here, that was. For some reason David still couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t add up though.
‘I’m not sure,’ Andrea answered over her shoulder as she came into the hall. ‘She was trying to move her investment withdrawal along in your absence.’
‘Some technical error, probably,’ Jonathan said. ‘I’ll pop around later and see her.’
‘Do,’ Andrea said. ‘Eva might appear to be self-sufficient, but she is getting on a bit, Jonathan. I’d hate to think of her being passed around some call centre.’
‘Good morning.’ David caught Andrea’s attention as she headed for the lounge.
‘I’m not sure you’ll think it’s so good when you see the state of your carpet.’ Andrea eyed the lounge door worriedly. ‘It’s covered in bags full of castoffs, I’m afraid. Mine for the dubious pleasure of sorting through.’
‘Uh-oh.’ David did his best to look serious. ‘Better not let your mother loose with the Dyson, then.’
Andrea laughed. ‘No. And you’d better not stand there for too long either. She’ll be giving you a quick spring clean if she spots you.’
David smiled. ‘I’ll make sure not to.’
‘There’s coffee on,’ Andrea said, heading off to her task. ‘I would have started breakfast but … ’ she trailed off, throwing a mock-accusatory glance back at him.
‘I like my space,’ David finished. ‘Remind me never to be territorial again.’
It was nothing to do with territory, actually, more to do with cooking breakfast together being too stark a reminder of family life as it had been. He hadn’t been able to tell Andrea that yesterday, of course. Somehow, he felt he could now. He walked into the kitchen, still smiling. She was looking better, he’d noticed. Less tired. More bubbly. That was good.
Learning to Love Page 13
