A Year of New Adventures

by Maddie Please

  He gave a funny little half-smile. ‘You think I’m going to be different?’

  ‘Well I don’t know do I? You haven’t been here long.’

  Six hours thirty-eight minutes actually. Not that anyone’s counting.

  ‘I’m not planning on being difficult,’ he said.

  He leaned across the table to top up my wine glass and I took the opportunity to look at him. He was without doubt the best-looking man I’d ever seen let alone shared a bottle of Pinot Grigio with. He looked up and caught my eye and I felt myself blushing.

  ‘Nor do I need much entertaining,’ he said.

  Hmm. How could I entertain a man like Oliver?

  I stood up rather suddenly and knocked the table, so the crockery rattled.

  ‘I’d better clear away and leave you to it,’ I said. ‘Perhaps we should go in? It’s getting cold.’

  He reached out and caught my wrist. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to keep avoiding me. I won’t bite.’

  I looked down at his hand on mine and felt rather faint.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘Will you just talk to me?’

  ‘I don’t like looking at dirty dishes,’ I blurted out.

  God, those idiot pills I’d been taking were still working then?

  ‘Just for once let me help you.’

  He stood up and started to gather together the dessert bowls and the other bits and pieces on the table and we tussled for a moment about who was going to take the tablecloth. He helped me load the dishwasher and waited until I was satisfied with the state of things and had found a woollen throw to wrap around my shoulders. Then he put a gentle hand in the small of my back and steered me back into the garden.

  By now it was dark and the sky had deepened like navy blue velvet and was studded with stars. He poured me the last of the wine and then of course I had to go back inside to find a second one because his glass was empty. I’m usually OK about drinking on my own but it would have been a bit rude this time. While I was hunting for another bottle I took the opportunity to knock back a slug of vodka from the freezer.

  No, I don’t know what I was thinking either.

  What was the matter with me? I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. I looked at my reflection in the dark window. My hair was behaving for once – I didn’t look as though I’d been wrestling.

  I felt an odd tremor of excitement; I was alone with Oliver Forest. He wanted to talk to me; he wanted to spend time with me. He wouldn’t bite me.

  Bloody hell, I wish he would.

  I had a terrible mental image of his mouth on me, his tongue tasting me, his teeth grazing my neck …

  Stop it. Just bloody stop it.

  Outside he was sitting watching the local bat swooping about. There was a leafy sort of scrabbling in the wisteria and Not My Cat dropped off the wall into my garden. I was about to chase it away with a few well-chosen oaths when Oliver bent down and stroked Not My Cat’s tabby head. It wound itself around the table legs in a fervour of feline excitement and favoured him with a silent meow.

  ‘You’ve found a friend,’ I said as I went to sit down again.

  ‘Well we got off to a bad start, but I hope so,’ he said and he looked at me in a way that made me shiver.

  ‘Not too cold?’ he said.

  ‘No, I’m fine. Honestly.’ I pulled the throw more tightly around my shoulders.

  ‘You can have my sweater if you want?’ He made a move to indicate he’d be happy to take it off.

  Oh my God. The thought of that. I could just imagine it, pushing my arms down the sleeves still warm from his skin.

  ‘No, I’m all right.’

  We talked a bit more, about his new publisher and the way Gideon had fumed and raged and threatened to sue him.

  At last he stretched his arms above his head. I yawned.

  ‘You don’t have to stay up,’ he said. ‘I’m planning to work late.’

  ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘Of course you can. You don’t have to tuck me in you know.’

  Oh boy, just give me half a chance!

  ‘Well if you’re sure,’ I said.

  ‘Absolutely sure. Sleep well. Thank you for a great evening.’

  I went to bed, my head buzzing with alcohol and confusion. Was this the same Oliver Forest who had been so difficult? What had happened to change things?

  Still puzzling it out I fell asleep and I did sleep well, foolishly happy to know he was going to be in the next room.

  *

  By the time I came downstairs the following morning, Oliver was already in the garden with a cup of coffee. His hair was wet from the shower and he was dressed in a deep purple shirt and jeans. He looked bright-eyed and fighting fit.

  ‘Gosh couldn’t you sleep?’ I said.

  ‘I’m an early riser,’ he said. ‘Always have been.’

  ‘Breakfast? Let me see if I remember. Whole-wheat toast, apple juice, and poached eggs?’

  ‘Would be ideal,’ he replied.

  After we had sorted that out he went back upstairs to the writing room with a fresh cafetière of coffee and closed the door behind him. I had already pretended I needed more milk and I made good my escape. Halfway to the bookshop I phoned Helena.

  ‘He’s writing,’ I said.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ she said. ‘You sound a bit funny. Are you out of breath?’

  ‘I’m just hurrying. Perhaps he’s on his best behaviour. Or he’s on new medication. It can’t last. By the time I get back he will be snarling. Next door’s cat ate his lunch but he even dealt with that without throwing a wobbler. And then we sat in the garden and drank wine until it was dark.’

  ‘Wow, perhaps it’s his identical twin brother, Arnold?’

  I snorted with laughter. ‘I don’t think so. How’s Nick?’

  ‘Lovely,’ Helena said, as she always did.

  ‘Yes, but apart from that?’

  ‘He’s getting very excited about our holiday. He’s packed already and made me a list too.’

  ‘Really? How bizarre.’

  ‘Passports, insurance thingy, phone charger, that sort of thing. Not how many pairs of knickers I need to take.’

  ‘Not long now then?’

  ‘Three days, I can’t wait.’

  We chatted for a bit longer and then I reached the shop and had to end the call. I picked up some milk, a French stick, and a bar of chocolate, which I intended to hide for emergencies. I already had some somewhere but in all the excitement I’d forgotten where I’d put it. Typical. I found a Mars bar the other day that I’d hidden in a kitchen drawer. It had gone all funny and grey and was inedible. Even for me.

  Back at the house everything was quiet and Oliver’s door was still closed. I listened at the bottom of the stairs for a bit but I couldn’t hear anything. Perhaps he was deep in his plot? Perhaps he was asleep?

  I went into the kitchen and started making lunch. Some of the crusty bread, ham, and fruit. No cheese – that I did remember.

  At one-thirty he came downstairs almost as though he was on automatic pilot.

  It was another nice day so I had set the table outside again, but minus any food that Not My Cat might take a shine to.

  ‘How has your morning been?’ I asked.

  ‘Pretty good,’ he replied helping himself to mustard, ‘but it’s been going well for a while.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  The easy companionship of yesterday evening had gone and we were back to being formal with each other. I cast my mind about to think of topics to discuss.

  ‘So your next book is due out soon isn’t it? Death in Damascus? What’s that about?’

  ‘The title has changed but it’s still about Damascus, and …’ He tilted his head towards me.

  ‘Let me guess, a death?’ I said.

  ‘Several deaths actually. And sundry bombs, grenades, and burning tanks. You’d probably disapprove.’

  ‘I might not,’ I said.

/>   He shook his head. ‘But you’ll be glad to hear there isn’t a – what did you call them? – walking pair of tits in this one, so that’s an improvement isn’t it?’

  I flushed. ‘Sorry about that, I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ He paused to butter his bread. ‘You were right. You were right about a lot of things actually.’

  ‘I was?’

  ‘You were.’

  Like what? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t dare.

  Perhaps later we would share another bottle of wine and I would keep his glass topped up so he got a bit pissed and he would tell me then.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  He spent all afternoon writing and came out for coffee and a brisk walk around the garden at about three-thirty. He’d only gone a few steps when Not My Cat hurled itself down from the garden wall and trotted after him, lifting one beseeching paw when he stopped to drink his coffee.

  I busied myself making my signature dish, Beef Casserole au beaucoup de Merlot, but I just put in half a bottle this time, which meant I could stash away a sneaky couple of glasses for later. Well, the rest of the afternoon was going to be doing the ironing, which is the pits isn’t it? I deserved a reward.

  After ten minutes Oliver came back inside, the cat hot on his heels. I think it would have followed him back upstairs to his room if I hadn’t dissuaded it with a well-placed foot. Instead it leapt up on the kitchen windowsill, pressed its nose against the clean glass, and glared through it at me. I glared back. I’m more than a match for a cat who nicks other people’s food and can’t even meow properly.

  By five-thirty the Merlot casserole smelled wonderful and I’d finished the laundry and put it away. There was a knock on the front door and I went to open it.

  ‘Hiya, sexy!’

  I was aware my mouth was hanging open.

  ‘Matt! What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Well that’s not very friendly, Billie; aren’t you going to ask me in?’

  I stood looking at him. He was as good-looking as ever, with his thin, clever face, bright eyes, and tousled curls. He leaned on the doorframe and grinned down at me.

  ‘You’re looking great, Bills – you lost weight?’

  I made some vague blathering noises and he bent to kiss my cheek.

  ‘I was passing. I thought I’d drop in and see how you are.’

  He made to walk past me into the house but I stood my ground until we were almost nose to nose.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I said.

  ‘I wanted to see how you are,’ he said, rather surprised. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘How’s Dee?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dee. Dee with the enormous tits. The one you dumped me for. The one you took to New York instead of me.’

  ‘Oh Dee. No idea, we split up.’

  My heart did a sort of jump in my chest. Once this news would have filled me with unreasoning joy. I would have felt that I was in with a chance. That I might get my boyfriend back or get laid or something. And God knows how long ago that latter event had been on the cards.

  ‘Oh, really,’ I said.

  ‘Well she wasn’t a patch on you, Bills. I mean she couldn’t boil an egg without burning three pans. Do you fancy a drink?’

  He had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder; he opened the drawstring and pulled out a bottle of Barolo. He had remembered; my absolute favourite wine that I never bought because it was always over my price threshold even in Superfine Supermarket.

  ‘Wow, you’ve got a good memory,’ I said.

  ‘I remember a lot of things, Bills,’ he said with a wink. He was just so cute, and he was getting around me. I could feel my resolve weakening for a moment.

  ‘No thanks, Matt,’ I said.

  His dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘What?’

  ‘I said no thanks.’

  ‘Why?’

  Because you’re a tosser?

  ‘I’m not in the mood, Matt. Have you got the money you owe me?’

  ‘What money?’

  ‘The money you took from me in this very house that was supposed to be paying for my trip to New York that never happened,’ I said, spluttering slightly.

  ‘Ah well, now I thought I could do the skirting boards and the architrave around the back door instead. That would just about cover the cost.’

  ‘I don’t want you to come and do the sodding skirting boards,’ I said furiously.

  He shrugged. ‘Well I’ve offered and if you think about it you’ve already paid for them to be done. Seems a bit daft to say no doesn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t want you coming round here,’ I said. ‘You’ll be moving in before I know it—’

  Matt grinned. ‘Nice of you to offer, Billie. You don’t hang about do you?’

  ‘I don’t want you in my house for any reason!’

  ‘I can come back later? Or is it, y’know, wrong time of the month? Ooops, I know how crabby you used to get.’

  ‘Crabby?’

  ‘God yeah, you were an absolute mare. Perhaps I’ll leave it a few days.’

  ‘You are unbelievable, Matt. Do you know that?’ I said.

  He grinned. ‘So I’ve been told.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t paying you a compliment, you prat, I mean it. Your bare-faced cheek is unbelievable. You dump me for someone with no obvious signs of intelligent life, I lose my deposit on that holiday that you said you were going to pay me back for and never did, and then nearly a year later you turn up as though nothing has happened. Are you in the real world?’

  ‘Aw come on, Billie, it wasn’t like that. Don’t be miserable, eh?’

  ‘It was exactly like that, you sod. It was exactly like that, plus you never returned my cashmere scarf, the pale green one, and you still owe me at least six hundred and fifty quid I gave you for that holiday. So not only did I not go to New York, I also by default paid for Dee frigging Henderson to go and also you!’

  ‘Oh you’re in a mood, I see.’ He took his foot off my doorstep and gave me a sad look as though I was having a tantrum that was nothing to do with him.

  ‘What do you mean I’m in a mood? You’re still not getting it are you?’

  Matt snorted with laughter. ‘Nor are you by the sounds of it. You always got bad tempered when you weren’t getting any. Let me in and I’ll give you a good seeing to – that’ll cheer you up.’

  ‘Look, Matt, are you always an idiot or is it just when I’m around?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I just want my money back.’

  ‘I don’t have it, Bills. That’s what I mean. Let me come and sort out your architraves instead.’ He managed to make this sound vaguely obscene which annoyed me even more.

  ‘You can take your architraves and stick them—’

  ‘Excuse me, is there a problem?’

  Oh great. Oliver was standing behind me, his face like thunder.

  ‘I’m sorry, Oliver, he’s just going.’

  Matt pulled an unpleasant smile. ‘Oh I see. Oliver is it? Well you should have told me shouldn’t you. Typical.’

  ‘Well from what I’ve heard, Billie has made it clear she would like you to go,’ Oliver said.

  Matt hesitated for a second, obviously wondering if it was worth taking the discussion further. I think he must have clocked Oliver’s superior height and muscle power and thought better of it. With a last sneer he turned away.

  I closed the front door. ‘I’m so sorry about that,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want you to be disturbed.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Oliver said. ‘I’m guessing that’s your boyfriend?’

  ‘He was,’ I said. ‘A long time ago. I can’t think why, and I don’t know why he’s turned up here after all this time. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Stop apologizing and tell me what that fantastic smell is in the kitchen.’

  ‘Your dinner,’ I said. ‘Beef in red wine.’ I looked at my watch. ‘But it’s going to be at least another hour, may
be longer. Sorry.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, woman, will you stop apologizing for everything?’

  ‘OK then, it’s not going to be ready for another hour so don’t start moaning. You’re the one who wanted dinner at eight o’clock.’

  ‘That’s more like it. I’ve come to a convenient break in proceedings and I fancied a drink. What do you say?’

  ‘It’s only six-fifty,’ I said. ‘I thought you didn’t drink before seven?’

  ‘Rules are made to be broken occasionally,’ he said. ‘Let’s go mad.’

  *

  It was another lovely evening and we sat out in the garden again with next door’s cat sitting at Oliver’s feet, adoring him with such passion that its whiskers trembled.

  ‘So what have you been doing today?’ Oliver said once we were settled and halfway down our first glass of wine.

  ‘Cooking, ironing,’ I said, ‘spoke to Helena. She’s about to go to Barcelona with Nick. Do you remember them? They met at the retreat you came to.’

  ‘I do – and they are still together?’

  ‘Going from strength to strength.’

  ‘That was a special week then wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was? I mean yes it was.’

  ‘I don’t think I was in a very good place then. Do you remember?’

  I sat mesmerized by his beautiful eyes for a moment, wondering what to say.

  ‘I do,’ I said.

  This sounded embarrassingly wedding-y and I could feel myself blushing even more.

  ‘I tried being a vegetarian recently,’ I said.

  ‘And how did that go? Not very well by the aroma coming from the kitchen.’

  ‘I didn’t last very long. I tried before actually but this time I found a couple of cold sausages in the fridge, which didn’t help. And then three days later I was going out with friends and they ordered steak and chips. I meant to have the spinach and ricotta pancakes but then, well I didn’t. So I did give it a go. But then I sort of fell off the wagon. But I’ve started this new business,’ I said defiantly. My voice had gone a bit funny at this point and I sounded odd even to myself. ‘It’s going brilliantly.’

  ‘I thought it would when I heard back from Kitty. She was well impressed with you.’