‘Weather’s looking grim for tonight,’ commented Karen, the other hotel receptionist, as she posted the daily weather report on the reception desk. ‘Gales and torrential rain are forecast.’
‘Oh God,’ said Amy. ‘I don’t think it would take much for the roof to blow off our house.’
‘No, you’re not exactly protected there, are you? Mind you, I’m sure it’s survived a few gales in its time and it’s still standing.’
By the time Amy arrived at Marie’s house, the weather had indeed deteriorated.
‘Not a nice night,’ said Marie, letting a dripping Amy in through the door. ‘I’ve fed the kids and they’re fine. Now, how about a glass of wine before you go home?’
‘Just a small one, thanks. I don’t want to get back too late. I hate it when winter starts to set in. It’s nearly dark already and it’s only twenty past five,’ said Amy, accepting the glass of wine Marie handed to her.
‘I know. It’ll soon be Christmas. Cheers.’ Marie raised her glass. ‘Here’s to your property mogul husband. Is he pleased?’
‘Very,’ nodded Amy.
‘Good. I reckon he could make a fortune if he does the job properly.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ agreed Amy. ‘But there’s a long way to go yet.’
Twenty minutes later, Amy piled her children into the car and they headed home. The rain was beating down so fast, she could hardly see out of the windscreen. She pulled up in front of the house, grabbed the shopping from the boot and ran with Jake and Sara up the path to the front door.
‘Let’s get inside, have a nice hot bath and warm up,’ she said as she unlocked the front door and reached for the light switch. Nothing happened. She tried it again and let out a groan of frustration. Obviously the storm had tripped the fuses. Putting Sara down and shutting the front door behind her, Amy stood in the pitch-black hallway and tried to remember where the fuse box was.
‘Mummy, I’m scared,’ whined Sara, as Amy fumbled her way into the sitting room, then located first the mantelpiece, then the matches.
‘There we go.’ Amy lit a match and hurriedly scanned the room for a candle to give more permanent light. Her eyes alighted on a half-inch of wax sitting on a saucer on the window-ledge. ‘Right.’ She made her way back to Sara and Jake, their little faces full of fear. ‘You two follow me and we’ll go and get some lights back on.’
The three of them made their way carefully through the kitchen and into the small lobby beyond. Amy pulled open a box which she was thankful to see housed the fuses and scanned the trip-switches. To her confusion, none of them seemed to have switched themselves off, but she tried them all anyway, to no avail.
‘Mummy, I don’t like the dark. I see monsters,’ complained Jake. ‘When will the light come back on?’
‘Mummy, I’m cold,’ added Sara.
‘I know, but Mummy’s just got to take a minute to think what to do. Perhaps the storm has turned off the electricity in lots of houses. It might come back on in a minute. Anyway, I’ll phone the electricity people and find out, shall I?’
With her two little ones holding tight to the back of her coat, Amy dug in her handbag for her mobile. Searching up the number, she dialled the emergency hotline.
‘Oh, hello, I was just enquiring whether there’s been a power cut in Southwold? I live on Ferry Road and we’ve come in to find no electricity. No? Oh, well then, we need someone to come out and find out what the fault is. My full name and address . . . yes, of course.’
Amy imparted the necessary information and waited as the operator put her on hold to make enquiries. Finally, the voice came back at the other end of the line.
‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Montague, but our computer is showing that your electricity supply has been terminated.’
‘What?! Why?’
‘Because we have still not received payment for the last quarter. You were sent a letter over two weeks ago, informing you that if you did not pay the bill within the next fourteen days, we would be terminating the supply.’
Amy’s heart started to thump against her chest. ‘Yes, I received it, and I know for a fact that my husband paid it.’
‘I’m afraid no payment is showing up on our system, Mrs Montague.’
‘But he did pay it, he told me he had. Perhaps it’s got lost,’ said Amy desperately.
‘Perhaps,’ said the operator, obviously having heard it all before.
Amy bit her lip. ‘So what do I do?’
‘The fastest way is to make a cash payment at your nearest Post Office, then call us to let us know the money has been sent. We will reinstate your supply immediately upon receipt.’
‘But . . . but what about tonight? I’ve got two young children, it’s dangerous for them here in the dark.’ Amy could feel the tears welling up and constricting her throat.
‘I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do until you’ve made that payment, Mrs Montague.’
‘Well, I . . . thanks for nothing!’ Amy ended the call and sank down into a chair.
‘Mummy, what’s happened?’ asked Jake, his little face full of concern.
‘Nothing, nothing at all, Jakey.’ Amy brushed the tears away harshly with her sleeve as she tried to think what was best to do. They couldn’t stay here for the night. They had no more candles and it was far too cold for the children. She was sure Marie would put them up, but pride would not allow her to ask.
No, there was only one place they could go. She dialled Posy’s number. The line was engaged, which at least meant Posy was at home. Rather than sit here another minute, Amy decided to pile the children into the car, drive straight to Admiral House and beg a bed for all of them for the night.
‘Come on, kids, we’re off on an adventure. We’re going to Granny’s to stay there for the night.’
‘We’re going to sleep in that big house?’ said Jake, who, having lived no more than ten minutes away from his grandmother, had never needed to stay over.
‘Yes, won’t that be fun?’ Amy lifted Sara up into her arms and picked up the candle to light them to the front door.
‘But what about our pyjamas?’ Jake enquired.
‘I’m sure we’ll find something for you to wear at Granny’s house,’ she soothed, wanting to get out of the house as soon as possible. ‘Right, Jakey, you run down the path to the car whilst Mummy locks the door.’
Amy was soaking by the time she had managed to belt both children into their car seats.
‘What about Daddy? Won’t he come home and wonder where we are?’ asked Jake as they set off.
At this precise moment Amy only wished some very painful accident would befall Sam so she’d never have to see him again. ‘Daddy’s away for the night, darling. We’ll be back home tomorrow by the time he arrives,’ she reassured her son.
The storm was in full force as Amy drove through the deserted streets of Southwold and out of the town towards Admiral House. As she turned off onto the lane that led to the entrance, she could feel the ferocity of the wind buffeting the little car.
‘Nearly there now,’ she soothed as she pulled into the drive. ‘I’m sure Granny will have some kind of nice cake in her pantry for us.’
She pulled up outside the house and turned off the engine, relieved to see lights on downstairs and in a couple of rooms upstairs.
‘You two wait here whilst I go and speak to Granny.’
Amy opened the driver’s door and struggled to close it again against the wind. She ran to the front door and rang the bell. When there was no reply, she tried knocking loudly instead. The rain was dripping from the ends of her hair as she ran round to the kitchen door at the side of the house. That too was uncharacteristically locked. Running back to the front door, she hammered on it insistently.
‘Posy? It’s me, Amy!’
There was still silence from inside the house.
‘Oh Christ, what on earth do I do now?’ she asked herself desperately.
Banging her fists on the door again, Amy realised
she’d just have to swallow her pride and throw herself and the children on the mercy of Marie. Turning away from the front door, she headed miserably back towards the car. Halfway there, she heard the sound of bolts being drawn back and turned to look. Sure enough, the front door was opening.
‘Thank God, thank God,’ she breathed as she rushed back towards the door. ‘Posy, it’s me, Amy. I . . .’
Amy stopped short as she saw not Posy, but Sebastian Girault, with only a towel wrapped round his midriff, standing on the doorstep.
‘Amy, my God, you’re drenched. Posy’s not here.’
Amy’s heart sank. ‘Where is she?’
‘She left to go to Amsterdam this morning.’
‘Shit! She told me last week but I’d forgotten.’ Amy gulped, knowing she was going to cry again at any minute.
‘I think you’d better come in anyway, at least until you’ve dried off,’ he suggested. ‘You’ll catch your death.’
‘I’ve got my children in the car. Oh God, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do.’
‘Look, grab the kids and come inside, okay?’
Half an hour later, all three of them having climbed gratefully into the hot bath she’d run for them, the two children were wrapped in blankets on the sofa in the morning room. Amy sat cross-legged by the fire, wearing Posy’s ancient velour dressing gown.
Sebastian appeared from the kitchen with hot chocolate for the children and handed her a large brandy. ‘Drink it. You look as though you need it.’
‘Thanks,’ said Amy gratefully.
‘I’ve hung your wet clothes over the Aga. They should be dry by the morning.’
‘I hope you don’t mind us crashing on you like this,’ said Amy. ‘We just had nowhere else to go.’
‘Don’t be silly. You’re Posy’s daughter-in-law,’ said Sebastian, who had now covered his modesty with a pair of sweatpants and a jumper. ‘She’d hang me out to dry if she thought I hadn’t offered you full hospitality. Mind you, you’re bloody lucky I heard you. I’d just got into the bath and was listening to Verdi on my headphones. If I hadn’t left the soap by the basin and had to get out to retrieve it, I would never have known what a tragedy was unfolding on the doorstep. If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly has happened?’
Amy put a finger to her lips and indicated the children. ‘Come on you two, it’s time for bed. I’ve decided you can share with Mummy tonight and I’ve already put hotties in to warm the sheets.’
‘Do you want a hand?’ Sebastian asked as Amy wearily heaved a sleepy Sara up into her arms. ‘Like a piggy-back?’ he suggested to Jake.
‘Yes please,’ Jake nodded shyly.
‘Come on then, old man, let’s be having you.’
Amy managed a smile as Sebastian went charging up the stairs at top-speed, a squealing Jake hanging on to his neck.
They tucked the children under a cosy eiderdown in the double bed in one of the spare rooms.
‘Story, Mummy, story!’
‘Oh darling, Mummy’s a bit tired tonight and it’s very late and . . .’
‘I’ll do the story, Jake,’ cut in Sebastian, ‘but as I’m a professional story-teller, I might have to make some kind of charge for my services, like Mummy going downstairs and filling up my wine glass from the bottle in the fridge. Would that be fair do you think, Jake?’
‘Oh yes, what’s the story to be about?’
Amy kissed Sara, who was virtually asleep already, then hugged Jake, who was obviously eager to get rid of her.
‘We . . . ell,’ Sebastian winked at Amy as she left the room. She walked slowly downstairs, touched by the natural way Sebastian obviously had with children. As she picked up his wine glass, refilled it and took it back upstairs, where a rapt Jake was hanging on every word Sebastian spoke, she couldn’t help but compare him to Sam. She had to virtually beg Sam to read the kids a story, or in fact spend any time playing with them whatsoever. Amy had recently come to the conclusion that, even though he undoubtedly loved them, Sam didn’t actually much like being with them. She could only hope the situation would change as they grew up and became more civilised.
Amy went back down to the morning room, settled herself by the fire and picked up the remains of her brandy. She thought how much she loved this house, so bruised and battered, yet so full of character. It felt safe and secure, like the home she currently yearned for would be.
‘What are you thinking?’
Amy jumped and turned to see Sebastian standing in the doorway. She’d been so deep in thought she hadn’t heard him come in.
‘I was thinking how much I adore this house and how grim it’ll be to see it turned into apartments.’
‘Don’t,’ groaned Sebastian. ‘I hate the thought too. And how Posy must feel doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘Well, imagine how I feel. It’s my husband whose company will take the sledgehammer to it.’
‘So I’ve heard.’ Sebastian padded to the sofa and sat down. ‘Oh well, he’ll make some money and that’ll help you and the family, won’t it?’
‘Perhaps,’ Amy conceded. ‘But as it’s his complete incompetence that’s landed us on your doorstep tonight, I really can’t say I hold out much hope.’
‘Am I allowed to ask?’
‘Yes.’ Amy sighed wearily. ‘He didn’t get round to paying the electricity bill and they’ve cut us off.’
‘I see. Was this an oversight or due to lack of funds?’
‘Definitely an oversight. I know for a fact he had the money. Posy had very kindly given him a cheque. Of course, he may well have spent it on booze . . .’ Amy shrugged. ‘Let’s face it, whichever way you look at it, it doesn’t bode well for the future.’
‘No, quite. Er, where is he exactly? Did you leave him at home in the dark?’
‘He’s off in some swanky hotel in Norfolk having dinner with his business partner. Sebastian, would you mind awfully if I made myself some toast? I’ve had nothing to eat since lunchtime and my head’s swimming from the brandy.’
‘Help yourself. As a matter of fact, I might join you. After all this excitement, I feel quite peckish.’ He followed Amy into the kitchen.
‘How about cheese on toast?’ she asked.
‘Wonderful. I’m glad you came.’
‘Please don’t let me hold up your work. If you need to get on, just say,’ said Amy, placing cheese onto slices of bread.
‘No, I wasn’t considering doing any more work tonight and besides, I’ve had some rather good news today.’
‘Really?’ said Amy, putting the bread and cheese into the Aga. ‘What?’
‘A Hollywood film company has just bought the rights to The Shadow Fields. Apparently, they’re going to turn it into next year’s blockbuster.’
‘Oh my God, Sebastian! That’s amazing. Will it make you rich?’
‘Possibly. Not that I’m exactly poor now,’ Sebastian stated without a hint of arrogance. ‘They’ll probably wreck it, of course, but I hope there’ll at least be some essence of the original.’
‘There you go.’ Amy put the meal down on the table. ‘Not exactly much of a celebration dinner, is it?’ she said with a small laugh.
Sebastian looked at her as she sat down. ‘I happen to think it’s just perfect.’
‘Well, congratulations anyway on the film deal.’
‘Can I offer you a glass of wine to toast my success?’
‘Go on then.’ Sebastian poured them both some wine, then they tucked into the food.
‘It is strange that you turned up here on the doorstep tonight. Obviously serendipity taking a hand,’ said Sebastian. ‘Posy said she’s not been away anywhere for years . . .’
‘And I’ve certainly never needed to ask her for a bed for the night before,’ added Amy.
‘I wonder what your friend Marie would make of it, if she could see us both sitting here now eating cheese on toast in your mother-in-law’s kitchen,’ mused Sebastian. ‘Posy in Amsterdam, your husband aw
ay . . .’
‘Don’t,’ shuddered Amy, ‘I know exactly what she’d think.’
‘Well, even the most cynical mind might contemplate the fact that fate has seemed rather eager to throw us together. And one must therefore ask, why?’
Amy had stopped eating and was looking at Sebastian. ‘And what would be your answer?’
‘If I was in creative-writer mode, I’d say that from the first moment we laid eyes on each other, there was a connection between us.’
‘You shouted at me and made me cry,’ rejected Amy.
‘Yes, and I was then, for some reason quite unknown to me, impelled to follow you out onto the street to apologise to you.’
‘Surely that was just good manners?’ Despite herself, Amy couldn’t help joining in with his flirtatious banter.
‘Amy, my dear, sadly, you don’t know me at all well. Apologies from me are as searched-for as the Golden Fleece. No,’ he shook his head, ‘it was definitely something else. And then I was compelled at my reading to force my book into your hands free of charge. Which, I might add, is also definitely not like me. Shall we move back into the morning room and take our wine with us?’
They moved next door, Amy settling herself once more in front of the fire and stoking it. ‘I have to say, I really didn’t like you very much at all, you know. But then I read your book and thought that anyone who could write so movingly couldn’t be completely bad.’
‘Thanks,’ Sebastian acknowledged. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. And I’ll let you into a secret, shall I?’
‘If you want.’
‘I think,’ he said, nursing his wine glass in both hands, ‘that I wanted to stay and write in Southwold because of you.’
‘What? We’d only met twice before you decided. If you’re trying to give me compliments so you can have your wicked way with me, it won’t work,’ she added, blushing.
‘Did I mention anything as sordid as that?’ Sebastian feigned horror. ‘Madam, I am a gentleman. I respect your honour.’
‘Good,’ nodded Amy, with a conviction she didn’t feel.
The air was suddenly charged with tension and both of them sat silently sipping their wine.
The Butterfly Room Page 24