‘I’m an idiot,’ he says as I approach.
I go to open my mouth.
‘Don’t disagree,’ he says. ‘I am.’
‘Actually, I was going to agree with you.’
He gives me one of his heart-breaking smiles and holds out his roses. I take them from him with a sigh. He gives me puppy-dog eyes. ‘Does that mean I’m forgiven?’
‘You were out of order last night,’ I remind him. ‘I’m not sure that two dozen utterly beautiful roses are enough. There was no need for you to carry on as you did.’
‘I know. I’ve come with my heart in my hand to apologise.’
‘You can’t pack your case and stomp off just because things don’t go your way.’
‘I behaved like a child,’ he says. ‘Let me take you to dinner. We need some time by ourselves, away from this place, the animals, Lucas.’
He knows how difficult this is for me, but I can’t have it all my own way either. Relationships are about compromise. Having lived alone for so long, I need to keep reminding myself of this.
‘Yes. That would be nice.’
‘I’ll book somewhere special.’
I’d really rather go to the local pub and hide in the corner, away from the prying eyes and head swivellers that invariably accompany Shelby wherever he goes. But I have to meet him halfway. ‘Perfect.’
‘Where’s Lucas?’
‘Up in the field with the ponies. We’ve just had a group of walkers from a mental health charity.’
‘I thought you looked busy.’
‘It was a great success and some welcome funds too.’
‘I’ve got to head to the studio. I’ll see you later.’
‘You don’t want to speak to Lucas?’
He looks down at his brand new, expensive shoes, his immaculate jeans. ‘I’ll catch him another time.’
‘We could all go out together tonight,’ I venture. ‘A curry or something?’
‘I don’t think that would work,’ Shelby says. ‘Lucas makes it very clear that he doesn’t want me around.’
‘He does. You simply have to treat him with kid gloves.’
Shelby sighs. ‘And when does that stop? When does he accept that I’m not perfect and I’m allowed to make mistakes?’
‘In time,’ I tell him. ‘Just be patient.’
‘I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock.’
‘Can we make it a bit later?’ I ask, hesitantly. ‘I’ve got the animals to feed.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Shelby says. ‘The animals. Always the animals.’
‘They can’t order a takeaway.’ It comes out more crisply than I’d intended. ‘I’ll be ready as soon as I can.’
‘Seven-thirty,’ he says and kisses my cheek briefly before he returns to his shiny car.
I watch him drive away and clutch the roses to my chest.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Big gesture,’ Lucas says when he sees the rather large bouquet of roses in my rather small vase.
‘We’re going out to dinner tonight too,’ I say.
‘He’s still a knob.’
‘Your dad’s under a lot of pressure.’
‘He’s a fucking actor in a third-rate soap. How much pressure can that be? I talked to a kid today who’s been thinking of topping himself. My dad has no idea about anything in the real world.’
I don’t want to get into an argument with Lucas about it and, if I’m honest with you, a small part of me agrees with him. There are people with bigger problems to deal with.
‘I saw you chatting to him. Did it go OK?’
‘Yeah. I got him to talk to the supervisor and I’m going keep in touch with him.’
‘Thank you, Lucas. You did well.’
He tuts at my praise.
‘I don’t like to go out and leave you here by yourself.’
‘I’m not five.’
‘You’ll be all right, though?’
‘Of course,’ he says.
‘I won’t be late.’
‘You can party until dawn for all I care,’ is his parting shot before he disappears into his room.
I don’t want to leave Lucas like this, but I do want to see Shelby too. I seem to spend a lot of my life similarly torn. I put on my one and only nice dress again. I do my hair. I even think about make-up, but tend to end up looking like Coco the Clown without Bev’s assistance, so I think better of it. Natural. That’s me.
I’m just about ready when the dogs start barking, heralding Shelby’s car turning up at the gate.
I go to Lucas’s bedroom and hover in the doorway. ‘I’m off now.’
But he’s still cross about everything and scowls at me.
‘I won’t be late,’ I promise again.
‘You said. Enjoy yourself,’ he snaps. ‘Fill your boots with our star while he deigns to be around.’
I’m not going to win with him in this mood, so I take my leave and totter across the farmyard on high heels that I’m not accustomed too. It isn’t Shelby in the car, it’s his driver, Ken. And I know that shouldn’t disappoint me as he’s a really nice guy, but it does. He’s not Shelby and it feels like it’s not a great start to Date Night.
‘Hi, Ken.’ I slide into the car next to him.
‘Evening, Molly. I’ve already dropped Shelby off at the restaurant.’
‘Right.’
‘It’s not far, so you’ll be there in a few minutes.’
‘Thanks, Ken.’ We make small talk as we drive through the lanes, until he drops me off outside Crispin House restaurant. It’s a posh place in the quaint high street of one of the more upmarket villages near to the farm. I haven’t been here before, obvs, but I know of its reputation. Normally, you have to book months ahead, but I bet your bottom dollar that Shelby – or his assistant – got a table today with one well-aimed phone call. Such is the power of celebrity.
I thank Ken, climb out of the car and make my way into the restaurant. The only good thing about not arriving with Shelby is that no one turns to look at me. It’s very fancy in here and already quite busy. There’s a kind of hush in the place and conversation is muted. Classical music plays softly in the background and the furnishings are plush yet contemporary. I feel hideously out of place.
The place is all decked for Christmas with a huge tree covered in gold and red baubles. Swags of holly are draped from every beam. A basket of oranges sprayed with gold lustre adorns the reception desk. The air is scented with pine, citrus and cinnamon. I realise that I need to seriously up my Christmas game.
When I’ve whispered my name to the mâitre d’, I’m shown to a table in the far corner of the restaurant where Shelby is already seated and is studying the menu.
He stands up when he sees me and, for a moment, his eyes sparkle and I get a glimpse of how he used to look at me.
‘Hi.’
He kisses me and the waiter pulls out my chair. ‘This looks very nice,’ I say as I sit.
‘One of my favourite places,’ Shelby replies. ‘The food is sublime.’
‘I’ve heard all about it.’ The chef is much-celebrated and is always on the telly, apparently. Guess who told me that? Thanks, Bev.
‘You look lovely,’ my date says.
The lighting in here is soft, flattering. There’s a candle burning on the table. But Shelby needs no such devices, he always looks beautiful. He’s in a dark suit tonight with a sharp white shirt and looks like he’s off to some swanky awards ceremony. My heart tightens as I get an image of us entwined together, his body against mine.
‘A glass of champagne, madam.’ The waiter, who I thought had gone, is at my elbow.
‘Oh, yes. Thanks.’ He pours, taking time over the ritual, and then this time he does disappear.
Shelby picks up his glass and clinks it against mine. ‘To us,’ he says.
‘I did wonder,’ I admit.
‘I’ve already said I’m sorry.’ He looks duly penitent. ‘I’ve got a lot on at the moment.’
‘I know. I’
ve forgiven you.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘And Lucas?’
‘Not so much.’
Shelby sighs. ‘I’ll put a couple of hundred quid in his bank account, that will smooth things over.’
‘That’s not really the answer,’ I tell him. ‘You know that.’
‘I never know what to do with Lucas,’ he admits. ‘He complains when I’m not there, hates me when I am. I can’t win.’
‘It’s always a balancing act and I realise that you have a lot of commitments, but all he wants is for you to spend time with him. If you were with us more regularly, then the abrasive edges would wear down.’
Shelby’s handsome face darkens.
I hold up my hands. ‘I’m not judging. I’m just telling you as it is.’
‘We have things we need to discuss,’ Shelby says, cryptically. ‘But let’s order first. Would you like to see the festive menu?’
I shake my head. ‘Too soon.’
So he hands me the à la carte menu and my eyes travel over it. I have no idea what to choose.
Shelby must see the terror in my eyes. ‘I recommend the baked figs followed by, perhaps, the confit cauliflower steak?’
‘OK. Great.’ That’s me sorted. With relief, I close the menu.
The waiter miraculously appears as I do and Shelby orders for us both. The baked figs with pomegranate and blackberries, then cauliflower with turnip tops and sweet potato for me. Shelby chooses salt and pepper squid followed by roast loin of cod with charred kale and parsnip puree. All sounds nice.
‘Festive menu.’ I give a shudder. ‘I can’t even believe they’ve already got their Christmas decorations up,’ I whisper. ‘It’s still November. I’m barely getting started.’
‘There’s no holding it back,’ Shelby says. ‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.’
‘Tell me about it. We need to get a move on. There’s so much to organise for the open day and nativity.’ I don’t want to spoil the convivial mood of the evening, but I decide to bite the bullet and address a looming issue. ‘The new mayor came to visit us. Seemed like a nice chap. He’s got some money to spend on a community charity and Bev’s keen to have a slice of it.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘We’ve kind of told him that he can cut the ribbon or turn on the lights.’ I give a slight wince to indicate that I know it’s potentially a slight for him. ‘One of the two. Bev thought a bit of flattery might do the trick.’
‘I see,’ Shelby says.
I’m dreading that he’ll feel snubbed if he thinks the mayor is stealing his thunder. I hope he doesn’t mind sharing. ‘You’ll still be around to do celebrity duties, won’t you?’
‘Ah,’ he says and suddenly looks very guilty. ‘That’s what we need to talk about.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
At that moment, the waiter arrives with our food and I’m left hanging. Shelby is clearly uncomfortable too. We look at each other over the salt and pepper squid and whatever it is I’ve got. The last thing I can focus on is eating.
When Shelby isn’t immediately forthcoming, I say, ‘You’d better come clean, then.’
My stomach is in knots and, until I’ve heard what’s got him looking so shifty, I won’t manage a mouthful.
‘You see, I have a bit of a problem,’ he says. ‘It could be a good problem.’
‘For who?’
‘Things are tough at work.’ Shelby checks round to see that no one is within hearing distance, then lowers his voice as he confides in me. ‘We’ve got a new producer who wants the storylines to be racier.’
‘Bev will be pleased about that.’
He manages a smile. ‘Not for me, unfortunately. We have a “hot” young actor joining the cast. He’s going to be introduced in the Christmas special. He’s an insufferable tosser, if you ask me, but he’s the new generation.’
Bev will still be pleased about that, but I don’t voice that particular opinion.
‘He made his name on Love Island or something. I did three fucking years at RADA.’
There’s a bitter note in his voice and it’s not really surprising. In an industry that’s all about ego, it must be hard to be forced to stand aside.
‘He’s getting all the best stories next year.’ Shelby’s face looks sad. ‘I’ve been top dog on Flinton’s Farm for years, but I fear that I’m being sidelined. Too old to be the romantic lead.’
‘Never in my book,’ I offer.
He smiles thinly. ‘Thanks for the support, but I don’t think I’m going to survive this cull. New broom sweeps clean, and all that.’ His expression is bleak when he adds, ‘I heard a rumour that I’m going to die in a tractor accident.’
‘Oh.’ That can’t be good.
‘Which is why I really want to take on this project that I’ve been offered.’
‘Hence all the meetings in London?’
‘I didn’t want to say anything until it was cut and dried.’
My food is still untouched, but Shelby tucks into his. I pick up my knife and fork, but I’ve not much appetite for my baked figs. I knew something was happening in the background, but I’ve chosen to ignore it.
‘I’ve landed a plum role in a panto,’ he says.
‘Oh no, you’ve haven’t!’
‘It’s already been done, Molly.’
‘Sorry, couldn’t help it.’ But we do both smile. And I’m relieved that it’s simply the offer of a job and not something more. ‘Panto, though? Why?’
‘Panto is fantastic now. It’s an all-star cast – some great names – and I’ll be the villain. Nebuchadnezzar!’ He says it in a pantomime villain voice, which makes the people on the next table jump. ‘The money is huge too. I really want to give it a go. The guy booked to do it had to drop out . . .’ He checks round again and mouths a name at me. It means nothing. ‘Rehab.’
‘Ah.’ Lucky for Shelby, not so lucky for him.
‘This is a great opportunity, Molly. I can’t stress it enough.’ ‘If it’s what you want . . .’
‘It is.’ He takes my hands. ‘Thanks for being so understanding.’
‘So, I take it that you won’t be at the open day?’ I can’t tell you how disappointed I am.
‘You have the mayor,’ he says, and I’m not sure if there’s an edge creeping into his voice.
‘But he’s not you.’
‘I’ll try my best to be there, but this is a big commitment. Once a day and twice on Wednesday and Saturday. I’ll only get Sunday off and then there may be press interviews and promotions to do.’
‘That does sound like a lot.’
‘Because I’ve had my storylines cut back, I can do my filming for Flinton’s Farm in short snatches, but I’ll have to be back in Birmingham every night.’
‘Birmingham?’
‘It’s not the end of the world.’
‘But it’s pretty far.’
‘I’ll come back whenever I can and it’s only for December.’
‘All of it?’ I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
‘Most of it,’ he admits. ‘The last show is on Christmas Eve. I’ll definitely be with you both on Christmas Day.’
‘Thank goodness for that.’
‘The run will be over by then and I might be asleep on the sofa all afternoon, but I’ll definitely be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Our first Christmas together. I know it’s not going to be easy for either of us, but the money will be like a windfall – I can’t turn it down. And I promise that I’ll make it up to you.’
He looks like he means it. But then I have Lucas’s voice ringing in my ears. ‘He’s an actor.’ Looking sincere was probably day one of acting school.
I’ve always spent Christmas Day alone with the animals and I’ve never minded, but this year I wanted it to be different. And, as you’ve probably gathered, it’s not only me that I’m worried about. It is, of course, Lucas. He’s hardly going to see his father at all and we’re having a tricky time anyway. The t
iming couldn’t be worse. ‘When do you start?’
‘Opening night is the beginning of the month.’
‘But that’s not far away at all.’ Shelby can’t meet my gaze and I realise that he must have known about this for a long time. ‘Have rehearsals already started?’
He nods. ‘I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how you’d feel.’
Of course he must have been involved by now. The show is starting in a few short weeks, the publicity needs to be done. It’s probably being advertised and I hadn’t even realised. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Seemingly, it’s only a pretence that he’s seeking my approval.
‘It’s your job,’ I concede. ‘What can I say? This is who you are. This is what you do. And, whatever you choose, I’m very proud of you.’
‘Thanks, Molly. That means a lot to me.’
But does it? I can’t tell him that I was depending on him to be there for us, that Lucas will be crushed by this. I don’t know if Shelby is grasping at straws with this panto role or whether it is something that he really wants. He seems very enthusiastic, so how can I rain on his parade? He’s been so supportive in the past, I kind of hoped we could rely on him again. I have this awful feeling that Shelby is slipping away from me.
‘I’ll do all I can to help at the farm,’ he says, obviously reading my face. ‘I’m not abandoning you. Far from it.’
But, if I’m honest with you, it feels like he is.
Chapter Twenty-Four
We finish dinner and I’d like to say that it’s in companionable silence, but it’s not really. Things are a bit awkward between us and, though Shelby initially tries to be chatty, I’m unable to pretend. I’m still trying to process all that he’s told me.
At the end of the evening he says, ‘Come back to my place.’
‘I can’t,’ I tell him. ‘I’ve got Lucas to think about. I don’t like to leave him alone at the farm for too long. It’s too isolated.’
Christmas for Beginners: Fall in love with the ultimate festive read from the Sunday Times bestseller Page 10