Lots of love,
Gracie xxxx
November 1999
Dear Nina
Hi from Charlotte-in-Chicago!! Thank you SO much for sending all the Australian bits and pieces over. My now not-so-little charge Ethan’s presentation at his high school was fantastic. He went straight to the top of the class. Yes, I can hardly believe I’m still here myself. When I took the job I thought it would be for a couple of years before I got sick of him and he got sick of me, but we’re great friends still. Not that he needs me looking after him as much these days. He’s growing up so fast. (He’s fourteen now, a teenager. I can hardly believe it.) I don’t know if Mum told you, but I’ve branched out a bit in the past year. I had lots of spare time when Ethan was at school and so I started to think what would be the best way to fill it. Nothing like having an internationally successful businessman as your boss! The long and the short of it is, Mr Giles and I have gone into business together. Well, I’m doing the work and he’s funding it, but it’s still a partnership. I told Mum it’s all her and Dad’s fault. They’re the ones who gave me this English accent and it turns out an English-accented nanny is quite the thing here in Chicago. Very posh and lah-di-dah, it seems. I’m no expert, I made it up as I went along with Ethan but we spent so much time with other nannies I found out all the horror stories as well as all the best things. So I’ve started training nannies myself! I’m going to take it slowly, just do it via word-of-mouth to begin with, but then that seems to be the way the nanny network operates.
You’ll have heard all the rest of the Templeton news from Gracie, I’m sure. You do realise you are her surrogate mother and big sister and best friend rolled into one?? I should be grateful to you, and I am. Sorry if this sounds sour. I always felt a bit guilty leaving Gracie back then, especially after they went back to London and things, well, fell apart with Mum and Dad. But she sounds so happy at the moment. Her school results have been so brilliant and she can’t wait to go to university next year. She hasn’t stopped talking about your Tom either, by the way. The local London boys don’t stand a chance with her compared to him. (I keep asking her about her love life and she tells me all the boys she meets seem too immature and anyway, there’ll be plenty of time for that when she’s finished her studies! Gracie really does amuse me sometimes.) She sent me over a bunch of photographs she took when Tom was staying with them – you’ve produced quite a hunk, haven’t you, if you’ll excuse my American slang! The female attendances at cricket matches will skyrocket the second they put him on the national team.
Mum tells me you still refuse to move into the Hall. Unbelievable. If it was me, I’d have been in there like a shot. But she also told me you’ve managed to rent some of the rooms out. That will help matters, I’m sure. Every little bit helps.
I’m getting worse than Gracie now, divulging family secrets. Better shut up while the going is good!
Thanks again for all the koala and kangaroo toys, and especially the didgeridoo. You should have seen the postman’s face when he delivered that!
Love from Chicago,
Charlotte xx
To: Nina
From: Eleanor Templeton
Date: February 2000
Dear Nina
I could feel your pride bursting off the computer screen! What incredible news for Tom, and for you too, for him to be offered a placement at the national cricket academy – many, many congratulations from us all! And I think it is a fantastic idea of his to do some travelling at the end of his eight months there, and how wonderful that he plans to head in our direction again. I do hope he makes it to London and please tell him there is always a bed here with us. Lots of the sons and daughters of my fellow teachers at school have done the solo-backpacking-around-the-world thing, and survived to tell amazing tales, so please don’t worry too much.
We spoke about it on the phone, I know, but I also wanted to say again how grateful I am for the way you handled the situation with the meditation clinic people. How ironic that people concerned with peace and clarity in modern life should turn out to be sneaky businesspeople. Henry assured me via his lawyer (sadly that is the only way we communicate at present) that he has deposited another sum of money in the Hall account this week, so please be sure to use that to pay for any cleaning or maintenance work you feel needs doing to set the ground floor rooms to rights again.
We are all fine, I’m glad to say. Audrey continues to make wonderful progress. Her therapist (a very nice young man from New Zealand) coaxed her into a new form of treatment based on dramatic and artistic crafts such as puppetry, pottery etc. As I’m sure you can understand, we were concerned and sceptical at first, in light of the fact it was her unfortunate experience with stage fright that triggered her speech problems. However, it has had a very positive impact. She’s like a different young woman, not only talking easily outside the home now, but eager to head out and about with him every weekend. Gracie is convinced there’s more than therapy going on between them, but she always did have a romantic heart.
I’m sure you feel we are just sounding like broken records by this time, but yes, I assure you that from my point of view at least, the plan still IS to come back one day, to get Templeton Hall up and running again, even to prove something to myself. I can’t speak for Henry. I don’t want to and I wouldn’t dare and he has obviously moved on with his interests in any case (a combined vintage car and limousine-hire business in San Francisco is his latest venture, if you can believe it) but I am determined to see the Hall’s beauty open to the general public again one day. I know the mind plays tricks and memories can seem rose-coloured but our time there does seem bathed in a warm glow to me sometimes. Then again, that could be because the sky is grey outside, the neighbours behind us have been doing renovations for the past four months and all we hear are the squeals of drills and circular saws and it feels like years since I felt a warm breeze on my face rather than biting icy wind.
Enough of my complaining! Congratulations again, Nina, to Tom and to you. We feel as proud as if we had coached him ourselves.
Love,
Eleanor
To: Nina
From: Eleanor Templeton
Date: June 2001
Dear Nina,
We have a card and a present on the way to Tom for his birthday but Gracie is worried they’ll arrive late – could you please pass on this email to Tom so he definitely gets something from us all on the day!
All good wishes to you both,
Eleanor
Happy 20th birthday Tom from all the Templetons!
Henry, Eleanor, Charlotte, Audrey, Gracie, Spencer and Hope
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
May 2001
Dear Nina,
I’ve written to Tom already (he and I have also decided to ignore modern technology – real letters are so much better than emails) but I just wanted to tell you as well that it’s brilliant news he’s definitely coming to London as part of his big trip. It will be fantastic to see him. We’ve moved house (again) since he stayed with us last. That one turned out to be too big and this one is possibly too small, but it’s close to a great park so if he needs to go jogging or anything else to keep fit, then it will be handy. We all wish you were coming too – though you wouldn’t have to do all the backpacking through Asia first, of course.
Mum told me she’s told you the incredible news about Audrey announcing her engagement to her therapist – Charlotte has had plenty to say about it, as I’m sure you can imagine. Audrey is so happy now though, talking normally again, and he seems very nice. I really like his New Zealand accent too (though not as much as I like your Australian accent, of course). Audrey’s second piece of bombshell news was that she and Greg are moving to Manchester. He’s apparently been headhunted by a clinic there. Audrey is quite funny now. After not talking for so long she now talks non-stop, mostly about Greg and how wonder
ful he is …
I’m sorry this is briefer than usual. I have three essays to finish before Monday. And I thought the life of a university student was supposed to be all sleeping-in and doing nothing??
I hope all is well with you and that you are just as busy. I feel like we haven’t been writing to each other as much as usual – that’s my own guilt there, I’m sure. I promise I’ll write much more as soon as I get all my studies out of the way.
Lots of love,
Gracie xxxx
June 2001
Dear Nina
Please excuse this brief postcard but I just had to give you the latest in the Audrey & Greg Romance Saga – they’ve eloped! Well, to be precise, they secretly got married in a registry office in Manchester. Audrey said neither she nor Greg wanted the fuss of a wedding, and she especially didn’t want the tension of Mum and Dad under the same roof. Charlotte thinks Audrey just did it to try and seem all bohemian and interesting. I’m staying neutral!
Love for now, and don’t worry, we’re all counting down the days until Tom arrives in London. I hope all is well there. Please do write when you get a chance. I feel like I haven’t heard from you in ages.
Gracie xx
To: Nina
From: Eleanor Templeton
Date: August 2001
Dear Nina
The quickest of emails to let you know that Tom rang last night to say he’s arriving in London on Wednesday. I’m unfortunately away at a work conference that day, but Gracie’s now on holiday from university and will meet him at Paddington station. He’ll be in touch with you himself soon, I’m sure, but in the meantime, we’ll take the very best care of him.
Love from us all,
Eleanor
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
London,
August 2001
Gracie knew as soon as she saw Tom step out of the train carriage at Paddington that this visit would be different. As she stood on the platform in her favourite red coat and green silk scarf, her hair tied back in its usual long plait, she spotted him immediately. Taller than the people around him, his figure lean, his hair a mass of dark curls. He was wearing jeans, a dark reefer jacket, and had a battered rucksack on his back.
He put down the rucksack and they hugged as two old friends meeting but even that moment, that touch, felt different. An electrical charge, that’s how she described it to him later. He’d felt the same thing, he told her.
During his visit two years previously they’d spent their time together sightseeing and teasing, nothing so much as a kiss between them. All the letters they’d sent to each other since had been between two good friends too, nothing more. Yet this time, from the first minute, every cell of her nineteen-year-old self was physically aware of him. They couldn’t seem to stop touching each other, accidentally at first, she reaching for his rucksack at the same time as he did, briefly taking his arm to direct him to the right Tube entrance, before seeing the message that there were delays on the track. It was an unseasonably cold August day. She suggested a hot port while they waited, at the same time he suggested a hot whisky.
In a dark, smoky pub around the corner from the station, they had one of each. She was worried there wouldn’t be anything to talk about, that she should have tried harder to track Spencer down to get him to meet Tom as well. But their sentences tumbled over and into each other’s.
She told him about life at university, how much she’d enjoyed her first year, the joy of studying for study’s sake. About her plans to move into a flat of her own as soon as she could afford it, how she was still babysitting and now waitressing too to try and save as much as possible. He asked about her family, and she talked about her parents’ separation, her mother’s teaching career, her father’s constant travels, Charlotte’s nanny business, Audrey’s marriage to her New Zealand-born therapist, Spencer’s ongoing wild streak and ever-growing bond with his aunt Hope, who was, yes, still sober and now running her own rehabilitation clinics with Victor, her wealthy, elderly boyfriend.
Tom listened intently, asking questions, laughing at times, shaking his head when she finished, telling her he felt like he’d just watched an omnibus edition of a family soap opera.
‘That’s us in a nutshell,’ Gracie said, laughing too.
In turn, he told her about his eight months at the cricket academy, about the second placement he was due to start after his holiday. He talked about Nina’s new life as a teacher. He spoke about his travels through Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam; the scenery he’d seen, the life of a solo backpacker, apologising several times, mid-story. ‘I haven’t been talking to many people lately, sorry, Gracie.’
‘No, please, go on.’
Two hours into their reunion, they stopped talking and there was a moment when all they seemed to do was smile at each other.
‘You look great, Gracie,’ he said. ‘London suits you.’
‘You look beautiful yourself.’ She meant it, even as she laughed and said he was beautiful in a manly way, of course. He looked so strong and handsome and fit, she thought, like someone in an adventure story. She almost told him as much, before searching for more normal conversation. ‘In years to come you won’t be able to sit here undisturbed, will you?’ she said. ‘Cricket fans will be mobbing you.’
He shook his head and smiled that shy smile she’d already committed to memory. ‘You’re confusing cricketers with pop stars. See that man over there?’ She turned and looked at an old man in the corner he’d indicated. ‘He might have been the greatest bowler in English history, for all we know, but people don’t remember faces. Not when we’re all dressed in white and look the same.’
‘They’ll remember you,’ she said loyally. ‘Especially after you’ve bowled out the entire English team in every Ashes series.’
‘I need to make the team first,’ he said. ‘Minor detail.’
‘You will, Tom. I know it.’
She took him back to her mother’s house after a third drink. There was no sign of Eleanor, just the note she’d left on the table that morning welcoming Tom, saying to make himself at home, that she’d be back from her conference as soon as she could. There was no message from Spencer. Gracie apologised on his behalf. ‘I think he might be away with Hope again. She travels a lot and Spencer seems to go with her as her bag-carrier or PA or something. We’re not too sure what exactly.’
Tom smiled. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll be great to see him whenever he turns up.’
Was Tom getting tired of her company already? ‘I can try a few different numbers for him, if you like? He might be back or he might be staying with other friends of his. He moves around a fair bit.’
‘Can we go and have something to eat first? You and me? We’ve hardly caught up yet.’
The attraction between them intensified during dinner. He seemed to find every excuse to touch her, as she found to touch him. They ordered a bottle of wine, pasta, dessert, the conversation flowing easily, laughing together, swapping tales. Coming out of the restaurant, it was the most natural thing in the world to hold hands as they dodged the traffic, ran from a sudden rain shower, to keep holding hands even when they didn’t need to, until they got home again.
Eleanor still wasn’t back. There was a message on the answering machine. The conference had run late, she was staying with one of her colleagues, she’d see them tomorrow instead. They had the house to themselves.
They decided to pretend it wasn’t summer and light the fire in the living room. He helped her bring in wood from the small garden shed, set the fire, choose music. There was more talking, more laughing. Gracie offered another glass of wine and was embarrassed to discover there was none in the house.
‘I’ll go and get some. There’s an off-licence just down the road,’ she said.
‘I’ll come with you. It’s getting dark out there.’
‘I’ll be fine on my own, I promise.’ She needed to slow this down, catch her
breath, even for a few minutes. ‘Would you like to take a shower while I’m gone?’
‘Is that a not-very-subtle hint?’
Another smile. ‘You don’t need one, no, but would you like one?’
‘I’d love one, actually. You’re sure you’ll be okay on your own?’
‘I’m sure,’ she said, about to jokingly ask if he was sure he’d be okay in the shower on his own. Fighting a sudden blush, she showed him where the towels were, told him to help himself to Spencer’s shampoo, now even more physically aware of him than before.
Outside, the cool night air helped calm her down. She walked to the off-licence, chose a bottle of very good wine and then sat down on the graffitied bench down the road to do some thinking.
What was going on? Was she imagining this? Or was there definitely something happening between the two of them?
She tried to look at it rationally. It was Tom. Tom, Nina’s son. Tom from the farmhouse. Tom who played cricket. Tom who had visited two years earlier, without anything like this happening between them. Tom who she’d known since she was eleven years old. Tom, who she’d had – yes, who she’d had a small, secret crush on since she was eleven.
But she was nineteen years old now. He was nearly twenty-one. And yes, something had changed. All she wanted to do now was kiss him. She wanted to do more than kiss him.
She’d never felt like this before, so intensely physically aware of someone, so attracted. More than attracted. It felt like some kind of magnetic pull, almost out of her control. It had never felt like this with Owen, the closest she’d had to a boyfriend before. He’d been another volunteer at the old folks’ home, a nice, friendly Scottish boy her age. They’d gone to the cinema several times, eaten pizza and watched DVDs at home together, had a day trip to Brighton. They’d kissed and done a little more than kissing, but Gracie hadn’t wanted to go any further. Barely a month into their dating, she’d realised they’d run out of things to say to each other. She’d put off breaking up with him, not wanting to hurt his feelings, and then felt only relief when he broke up with her first.
At Home with the Templetons Page 26
