by Susan Lewis
Sounding pleased, he said, ‘I won’t say anything to her yet, but I think she’ll be glad to know we care. Now, did I tell you I found more cornicing at the reclamation yard? Loads of the stuff, and I got it for next to nothing because of the state it’s in. With any luck this should have all of the downstairs done by Easter.’
Feeling a churn of dismay, as the future ownership of the properties was still unknown, Angie said, ‘I know you love doing it, and you do a fantastic job, but please make sure you don’t end up out of pocket.’
‘No fear of that,’ he assured her. ‘Now I can hear another phone your end, so I’ll let you go and answer it.’
As she rang off Angie reached for her mobile, and seeing it was Martin she felt a fluttering inside turn into a tightening of unease. Please don’t let him be saying he’s changed his mind about the flat.
‘Hi,’ he said, his voice echoey as if he might be driving. ‘Is this a good time?’
‘Yes, it’s fine,’ she assured him. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good. I was wondering how you got on with the lawyer today?’
Allowing her spirits to lift a little, she said, ‘He was incredibly helpful. Thanks so much for putting me on to him. He’s going to work with the debt consolidation adviser as soon as I’ve had the meeting, to prepare something to impress the court.’ She didn’t add that she’d been told she must find the money for the licence fee somehow, so the lawyer could present it with his request for no fine. She didn’t want Martin thinking she was hinting for him to help. She’d take on the bingo and pizza-delivery shifts and anything else she could find.
‘Excellent,’ he declared. ‘So when do you see the adviser?’
‘I’ve made an appointment for tomorrow at three.’
‘Great. Don’t forget he or she will need to know everything, so don’t hold back. And keep in mind that however bad you think your situation is, they will have heard worse. Really. Now, about the flat. I’ve taken everything I need and it’s being cleaned as we speak, so it should be ready for you to move into around five. Martha’s going to stay on to help you, so give her a call to let her know what sort of time to expect you.’
She smiled. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. What you’re doing …’
‘Just make yourself at home, and don’t let Minerva McGonagall bully you – although I think it’s only me she enjoys exercising her fiendish powers over.’
Angie laughed at the reference to the headmistress of Hogwarts and looked up as Emma came in.
‘OK, I have to go,’ he said. ‘I’m going to be in London for the next couple of days but Martha should be able to handle any issues if they crop up tonight … Hang on, I’m forgetting the most important part. I’ve spoken to Andee, my ex, and she’ll be happy to meet with you one day next week to talk about Liam. She used to be a detective, by the way, so she has all the right contacts. Martha will give you a number so you can arrange it. OK, that’s me gone, call if you need to, otherwise I’ll be in touch soon.’
As the line went dead Angie clicked off at her end and looked at Emma.
‘Whoever that was,’ Emma commented, starting to unpack her bag, ‘they’ve put some colour in your cheeks, so I’m going to guess it was your new boss and landlord.’
Angie didn’t bother denying it. ‘I can move in tonight,’ she declared joyfully.
She took out her phone to text Grace, letting her know she’d pick her up from school if she was happy to skip dance class tonight.
‘If you’re still OK to collect the boys from gymnastics,’ she said to Emma, ‘why don’t you bring them to the flat after so they can see it, and then you can leave Zac with me for the night?’
‘No problem,’ Emma replied, breaking into a grin. ‘I’m looking forward to this. Talk about from rags to riches …’
‘OK, don’t let’s get carried away. It’s only temporary and I haven’t told you about the rest of my day yet. With the lawyer? And the debt adviser?’ Angie clarified when Emma looked blank. ‘Well, I haven’t actually met the debt adviser yet, but I will tomorrow, and Martin’s just told me that his wife – ex-wife – is willing to meet with me next week to see if she can help to find Liam. She used to be a detective apparently.’
Emma punched the air. ‘Your luck is definitely changing,’ she dared to say.
‘Don’t, you’ll jinx it,’ Angie protested.
‘Sorry, sorry, your luck’s still in the toilet.’
‘You’re definitely going to think so when I tell you I have to come up with a hundred and fifty quid for the TV licence by next Wednesday.’
Emma baulked.
‘I think I can raise about a hundred if I take on the couple of jobs I was asked to cover today, and I’ve still got forty left from the advance Martha gave me. That leaves me short …’
‘I can do the rest.’
‘But it’s also going to leave me with nothing to live on until I – or you – get my wages from Martin at the end of next week.’
‘It’s OK, Ben’s maintenance payment is due the day after tomorrow, that should see us through. At least we’ll manage to eat and give the kids their lunch money.’
Angie’s eyes softened. ‘I’ll pay you back one day, I hope you realize that.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m counting on it!’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
‘So you’re Grace, are you?’ Martha asked, holding a hand out to shake as if she were meeting a visiting dignitary. ‘Your mother tells me you’re thirteen, but I expect you’d like me to say you look older, so shall we say sixteen?’ Her forbidding scowl transformed itself into a winning smile. ‘I knew your daddy,’ she said, slipping an arm round Grace’s shoulder to steer her around to the side of the big Georgian house. ‘We had a great fondness for him, you know, and something tells me we’ll have the same for you. Are you keeping up?’ she asked Angie, casting a quick glance over her shoulder.
‘I’m right here,’ Angie assured her, loving the way the older lady was making Grace feel so welcome, although only just able to hear her above the roar of the tide across the street.
‘You go first,’ Martha instructed, standing back so Grace could lead the way up the outside steps to a green front door.
At the top Grace waited for Martha to open up, but she stood aside for Angie to use her key.
‘I have a spare for emergencies,’ Martha informed them, ‘but this is your home for the duration, so it’s only right for you to let us in.’
Obediently Angie unlocked the door, aware of how hard her heart was beating, and winking as she caught Grace’s eye. Though she was relieved to see her looking better than she’d sounded on the phone this morning, it was clear she still wasn’t on great form.
As they stepped into the entry hall Angie immediately felt the warmth embracing them. Martha quickly reached in to turn on the lights, and as Angie looked around at the pale grey walls, vibrant art and half-open doors, she became aware of the pleasing scent of citrus mingled with something decidedly more masculine. It was as if, she thought, Martin had just slipped out and left the scent of himself behind to greet them.
‘Shall we start through there?’ Martha suggested, pointing them to a set of double doors.
Grace went first, pushing the right-hand one wide and gasping in awe as she took in the sitting room, twice the size of the one in Willow Close. ‘Oh Mum, this is amazing,’ she murmured, turning to Angie.
Angie had to agree. With the enormous corner sofa piled with downy cushions, non-matching love seat, assortment of other armchairs, exquisite pale green silk wallpaper and towering sash windows that overlooked the bay, she might have thought they’d stepped into the pages of a glossy magazine if the room didn’t feel so comfortably lived in.
‘Oh wow, look at this,’ Grace marvelled, going to inspect the intricately carved marble fireplace that occupied the lower half of an end wall, ‘and the mirror is totally awesome.’ It rose up over the chimney breast almost to the ceiling, framed in silver fi
ligree and creating a reflection so large it was as though another room was beyond it.
‘Even more awesome,’ Martha declared with a twinkle in her eyes, ‘is this.’ Picking up a remote control she pressed a button, and a watercolour of Kesterly Bay transformed itself into a giant TV screen. ‘Boys’ toys,’ she commented to Angie. ‘His daughter, Alayna, did the painting, and Luke, his son, had the idea of using it as camouflage. And this lovely wallpaper,’ she said to Grace, ‘can you guess who put it up?’
Grace’s eyes shone. ‘Was it my dad?’ she asked, flushing with the hope of it.
‘It was indeed. So we know it won’t fall down any time soon.’ Pointing to the old-fashioned steamer trunk that was doubling as a coffee table in front of the sofa, she said, ‘All the remotes are in there for the TV and whatever shenanigans it performs, for the music system, the lights … There might even be one for the carpets to whisk you off to Aladdin’s cave, who knows? Now, I expect you’d like to see the rest of the place.’
Angie and Grace followed her past a large oak dining table with eight matching chairs to a partially open door at the far end of the sitting room, and into a wide galley-style kitchen with a bar and three stools in front of the arched window and two long walls of flat-fronted white units. Martha pressed various doors and as they swung open she introduced them to ovens, a microwave, a pull-out larder, a fridge-freezer, a recycling unit, a coffee machine, even a warming drawer. The double sink had a tap that produced instant boiling water, she explained.
‘The door at the end,’ Martha told them, ‘leads into a utility room, but you might like to check it out later because I think we have visitors.’
Grace ran to let Emma and the boys in, excited to begin her own guided tour. She ushered them straight into the sitting room and as her brother and cousins gaped open-mouthed at the mega-TV Emma faked a swoon.
‘Oh wow, there’s a treasure chest,’ Jack cried, spotting the steamer trunk with its brass hinges and handles. ‘Is there anything in it?’ he asked, looking hopefully at Martha.
‘Just remote controls, magazines and books, I think,’ she replied, ‘but you never know with these things. You might have to find out for yourselves what’s buried at the bottom because there might be a map to some secret hideaway, but not now,’ she said to Angie, ‘because himself has instructed me to order in fish and chips for your supper. Is everyone OK with that?’
The boys gazed at her as if she were some sort of Nanny McPhee.
‘Who’s himself?’ Zac whispered to his mother.
‘He’s the wizard who owns this place,’ Martha informed him, ‘but don’t worry, he’s a dud because he can’t do any magic.’
Thinking that was exactly what he had done, Angie said, ‘We’d all love fish and chips, thank you, but we must pay for it.’
Martha’s eyebrows arched as she turned away as if to say, Nice try, but not happening. ‘It should be here in about twenty minutes,’ she announced, glancing at her watch, ‘so I’m going to pop down to the office for a while, and I’ll bring it up when it arrives.’
As the front door closed behind her Emma turned to Angie, too dumbfounded and entertained to do anything more than laugh. ‘She is adorable,’ she declared. ‘I love her already, and this place … My God, it’s like you’ve suddenly morphed into Julia Roberts and any minute now Richard Gere’s going to come through the door calling himself Martin …’
Angie’s eyes shot a warning.
‘Who’s Richard Gere?’ Zac asked. ‘Is he someone else Dad knows?’
‘I’ve seen that film,’ Grace piped up, ‘but I can’t think what it’s called.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Angie replied, giving Emma another look.
‘Do you think there’s a PlayStation?’ Jack demanded, pressing a remote control. ‘Oh my God! Look at this,’ he cried, and everyone laughed as a padded footrest slid out from under the sofa.
‘I want to live here,’ Harry stated. ‘It’s totally awesome.’
‘We all want to live here,’ Emma informed him, ‘but I’m afraid you’re stuck with the place you’ve got.’
‘Are you going to be living here?’ Harry asked Zac.
Zac looked at his mother.
‘He’ll be staying here, sometimes,’ she explained. ‘And the rest of the time he’ll be with you until we get a place of our own.’
‘Can’t we have this one?’ Grace asked only half mischievously.
Angie’s eyebrows rose. ‘In our dreams,’ she replied. ‘Besides, it already belongs to someone, and lovely as it is when we all snuggle up together, we’d soon get fed up of sharing a bed if we had to do it every night.’
‘How big is the bed?’ Emma wanted to know.
‘No idea, we haven’t been in there yet. I’m not even sure which door it is. Let’s look.’
Back in the hall Angie stumbled first into a cupboard, then a cloakroom with loo and hand basin, before finally pushing open the door to a bedroom that was probably half the size of the sitting room, but presumably every bit as light during the day with its tall sash windows, and seeming, in spite of how neat it was, just as lived in. It was only as Angie looked at the bed with all its masculine yet tasteful blue-grey linens and giant upholstered headboard, that it fully hit her: this was Martin Stone’s apartment, his bed, the one he usually slept in and that she would be in tonight …
She felt herself growing hot as she watched Emma flop out like a starfish on the bed, seeming as though she’d happily drown in its sumptuousness, while Grace went to inspect the closets and declared there was plenty of space and hangers for her ballgowns.
This got a laugh from both Angie and Emma, and when they found the en suite bathroom there was even more excitement. It was entirely black apart from the white claw-foot bathtub that was big enough for two, and the oval basins on top of the vanity unit whose mirror lights were so flattering they were managing to make even Angie look beautiful, in spite of how bedraggled she felt.
‘Mum! Mum!’ Zac cried, rushing in to find her. ‘I just took my shoes off and the ground is really warm.’
‘We should all have taken our shoes off before we set foot in the place,’ Angie stated, ‘but it’s not too late. Come on, back to the front door everyone.’ She needed to get out of this bedroom and give herself a chance to breathe before she ventured in again.
It was past nine o’clock by the time Emma and her boys tore themselves away to go home and Zac changed into his pyjamas before dragging his sleeping bag to the sofa, where he fell asleep almost instantly. Grace went into the bedroom to finish some homework, while Angie cleared up the kitchen. They’d had a riotous fish-and-chip feast with Martha, who had nothing short of a miraculous gift with children. After the boys had got over being completely overawed by her, which had taken all of five minutes, they’d been utterly blown away by her, mostly because of the way she bossed Angie and Emma around. They’d found it hilarious and even tried it themselves, unabashedly egged on by Professor McGonagall, as they now called Martha. Or Prof for short.
It turned out she had three children of her own, and five grandchildren, most of them within a thirty-mile radius of Kesterly so they were always under her feet, but she was doing her best to talk them into emigrating to America or New Zealand so she’d have somewhere lovely to go for holidays. If she managed it, she would consider taking these three boys on as surrogate grandchildren, and Grace could be her best friend and fashion adviser. Apparently Mr Prof was alive and well, but she was working on a spell to turn him into a younger man.
Now everything was quiet in the apartment, and as Angie stood gazing out at the night, the sea swallowed by darkness, her eyes followed the sweep of the Promenade lights as far as she could see. Her emotions were so high and so mixed she hardly knew what she was thinking or feeling, apart from an overwhelming relief to be here with her two younger children. She wondered about Liam and where he was tonight, if he really was safe.
Would that person ever text again?
/> She felt an inescapable guilt for having the good fortune to be helped by Martin when not half a mile away there were sad and sorry souls shuffled under benches and in doorways, trying to stay warm for the night. She couldn’t see the station, it was too far from here, but in her mind she held the image of herself in the back of the van, parked behind it, never dreaming for a second while she was there that she’d ever set foot in a flat like this, much less be offered it as a refuge.
Her eyes returned to the dense black of the bay with just a pinprick of light on the horizon as a ship slipped away to the open sea. She was sure Steve was watching and telling her to relax. She was trying to, and at some point she was sure she would, but right now she couldn’t just forget about the rough sleepers practically on her doorstep, or those in panic about where their lives were going, or the desperate people who didn’t even dare to dream anymore. Would they ever be blessed with this sort of good luck? What had she done that they hadn’t to deserve it?
Martin had texted during the evening to say he hoped they were settling in and that Martha had told them where to find the wine. How was she ever going to thank him for his kindness? How could she sleep in his bed without constantly thinking about him?
In the bedroom Grace was sitting cross-legged on the floor private-messaging with Lois.
LOIS: Have you heard anything from A?
GRACE: Still nothing.
LOIS: Good.
GRACE: I feel a bit scared.
LOIS: I know what you mean. Did your mum ask you any more about last night?
GRACE: No, not yet.
LOIS: That’s good. Nor mine. Has your memory come back?
GRACE: Not really.
LOIS: Shame. Or maybe not. If A gets in touch ignore it.
GRACE: Don’t worry, I will.
LOIS: OK. Better go. See you tomorrow.
It was all right, Grace tried telling herself as she put her phone down and turned to bury her face in the downy quilt with its lovely scent of fresh laundry. No one knew what had happened, not even her, so there wasn’t anything to worry about. She just needed to chill and forget all about it.