‘You make me sound so . . . provincial,’ breathed Amy.
‘I have never seen anyone who looks less provincial than you tonight, my darling. Now, let’s seize the chance whilst we’ve got it and enjoy our evening.’
Amy knew she had drunk far too much champagne, but she was at a glamorous party in the heart of London, in a gorgeous dress, and best of all, Sebastian was at her elbow.
An hour later, Sebastian whispered in her ear, ‘Okay, can we go now, please? I’ve had enough.’
‘But I’m having a lovely time and I don’t want it to end just yet. Another ten minutes,’ she pleaded.
Finally, he managed to drag her to the door and onto the pavement outside. ‘Come on, you need something to eat,’ he said.
‘I’m fine,’ she said as she hiccupped, then kissed him on the cheek . . . just as a flashbulb went off in their faces.
‘Mr Girault, can we take the name of your companion for the caption?’ asked the photographer.
‘No, you bloody well can’t!’ replied Sebastian grimly, pulling a giggling Amy off down the street before they could take any more. ‘Well, that’s just peachy, my dear. That picture could end up in a bloody column!’
‘Does that mean we’ll be in Hello?’ Amy jigged down the street unsteadily and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile at her.
‘Well, I’m glad you’re so happy about it. I’m not so sure your husband will be.’
‘He never reads Hello, and to be honest, tonight, I couldn’t give a damn who sees it.’
‘You might in the morning,’ Sebastian muttered, steering her into the local all-night shop to buy some carbohydrates to sober her up. Then he marched her towards Sloane Gardens and unlocked the door to his flat. Amy danced in and fell onto the sofa. ‘Oh, I’ve had such a wonderful time,’ she sighed, and reached out her arms to Sebastian. She hugged him to her. ‘And I do love you.’
‘I love you too, you drunken hussy. Right, you stay there and I’ll go and make some coffee and toast.’
When Sebastian returned to the sitting room, Amy was fast asleep. Sighing, he found a blanket, covered her up gently, and went alone to his bedroom.
Chapter 24
Tammy woke to the smell of brewing coffee. Still half-asleep, she opened her eyes as Nick came into the bedroom with a breakfast tray piled with fresh croissants and a selection of the morning newspapers.
‘Urgh, what time is it?’ she asked, her voice husky from far too many Marlboro Lights the night before. These days, she only smoked socially and it didn’t agree with her.
‘Almost ten.’
‘Christ, I said I’d see Meena at nine to help tidy up the mess from last night.’ Tammy sat up and brushed her tousled hair out of her face.
‘I called her and said you were still asleep and she said not to worry, that she’d make a start on things. Meena is the kind of person who absolutely loves feeling useful.’
‘I know.’ Tammy giggled. ‘She got chatted up last night by an ancient male model in a toupée. She was loving it.’
Nick sat on the bed next to her and spread out the newspapers. ‘Right, madam, I only purchased the ones you’re in, of course,’ he grinned.
She made her way through four papers, all of which had varying sizes of photo and caption, of Tammy with different guests.
‘“Tammy Shaw celebrates the launch of her new boutique, ‘Reborn’. Ex-model Tammy, pictured here with her successful antiques dealer boyfriend, Nick Montague, played host to a clutch of celebrities.” Darling, you look very suave.’ She kissed him on the neck, then leafed through the other papers.
‘I think you’ve arrived,’ said Nick.
‘Well, thank God that’s all over. Now I can get down to the serious business of making money.’ Tammy reached for Nick’s hand. ‘Thank you so much for all your support last night. You were fantastic.’
‘Don’t be silly. I shall expect the same from you when I open my own doors in the next month, and invite the local vagrants for some lemonade and a spam sandwich to celebrate,’ Nick laughed, kissing her forehead. ‘As a matter of fact, before you go to the boutique, there’s somewhere I want to take you.’
Nick drove Tammy over the Albert Bridge, negotiated the traffic and pulled the car to a halt in front of a Victorian house, situated in a wide leafy road which overlooked Battersea Park.
‘What do you think?’ he asked her.
‘Of what?’
‘Of the house we are sitting in front of.’
Tammy studied it. ‘I think it looks . . . big.’
‘Absolutely. Come on, I’ve got the keys. Let me show you round.’
Having pulled Tammy through the three spacious floors of the house, Nick opened the back door, which led onto a large garden.
‘So, what do you reckon?’
‘I think it would make the most fantastic family house,’ said Tammy, looking confused.
‘Absolutely. That’s the reason I like it. So, Miss Shaw, can you see our sprogs racing round this at a rate of knots as we sit on the terrace enjoying our sundowners?’ Nick looked straight ahead of him as he spoke, hands thrust deep into his pockets.
‘I . . . Nick, what are you saying?’
‘I suppose I am asking whether, rather than me buying a bachelor pad, you might, in the fullness of time, consider filling some of the space this house has to offer. And possibly helping me to provide some of those sprogs to race around the garden.’ He finally turned to her and smiled. ‘I can’t think of anyone else I’d prefer to do it with.’
Tammy shook her head. ‘Neither can I,’ she said quietly.
He walked towards her and held her. ‘Good. Tammy?’
‘Yes?’ She looked up at him.
‘There are some things I have to sort out before I can genuinely commit fully to you, but I want you to know now that it’s what I intend to do.’
‘You mean getting the business going? I understand, Nick. There’s no rush.’
‘That, and something else, which I’ll explain as soon as I possibly can. But if you would be happy in principle to think about being in this house with me, I shall put in an offer and see if we can get the ball rolling. I really think it has great potential and we could turn it into something special.’
‘Yes,’ Tammy agreed, feeling overwhelmed. ‘I think we could.’
Amy had the sensation that she was trying to sleep on a carousel and needed to get off immediately so she could be sick. She sat bolt upright as bile rose to her throat. The room was in complete darkness and she could not for the life of her remember where she was.
‘Help,’ she whimpered, staggering off the sofa she’d been lying on, and searching ineffectually for a light, bumping into something and hurting her shin.
‘Ouch!’
A door opened and Sebastian stood there, bathed in light from the hallway. ‘Morning.’
‘Bathroom, I need the bathroom,’ she managed to blurt, heading towards him.
‘In there,’ he pointed, and Amy made a run for it.
She only just made it before throwing up. Washing her face in cold water, she studied her reflection in the mirror. Last night’s make-up was no longer round her eyes, but underneath them. Her chignon was hanging down and the beautiful evening dress was crumpled and stained.
‘Oh God,’ she groaned as she opened the bathroom door and teetered along the corridor. Images of last night were beginning to come back to her. Sebastian was in the kitchen and she could smell coffee brewing. It made her gag and she rushed back to the bathroom again.
‘Poor old you,’ Sebastian commented, as she returned to the kitchen a second time. ‘Feeling a bit rough, are we?’
‘Dreadful,’ Amy admitted, as she slumped into a chair and leant her elbows on the narrow table. ‘Did I make a complete fool of myself last night?’
‘Not at all. You were the belle of the ball. Can I get you something?’
‘Water, please, and a couple of paracetamol if you have them.’
‘O
kay.’ Sebastian produced a glass of water and some tablets and Amy swallowed tentatively, hoping her stomach would accept them.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand why I got so drunk. I can’t remember drinking that much.’
‘One doesn’t at these kind of dos,’ said Sebastian. ‘You empty one glass, then another arrives by magic and you lose count. I presume you’d had nothing whatsoever to eat either.’
‘No, not since breakfast-time yesterday,’ Amy agreed.
‘Well then, what did you expect?’
She looked up at him. ‘Are you cross with me?’
‘Only selfishly, I suppose. Our one possible night together and you fall asleep on the sofa. Anyway, at least I was able to tell Tammy the truth when she rang here looking for you last night.’
Amy looked up at him in horror. ‘How did she get your number?’
‘She called Posy.’
‘Oh God,’ Amy groaned. ‘So Posy knows I’m here too.’
‘Yes, but don’t worry, I’ve phoned her, explained what happened, and she said to tell you the children are absolutely fine. I suggested that, given your current condition, it might be best if I drive you back with me to Admiral House and she’ll collect the children from school. We’ll all rendezvous there later.’
‘Sebastian, I’m so sorry to put you to all this trouble. I feel terrible about it.’
‘No problem, really, Amy.’
‘But what if they think . . .?’ She bit her lip. ‘That you and I . . .?’
‘Given the state of you this morning, I don’t think anyone would have any difficulty believing the explanation. Now, why don’t I run you a bath and you can freshen up?’
‘Oh!’ Amy put her hands to her face. ‘My clothes are still at Tammy’s shop.’
‘Good point. I’ve got to go out and get a paper anyway, so whilst you have a bath, I’ll retrieve them. I’ll also return the shoes and pop that lovely dress Tammy lent you into the dry cleaners and give her the ticket so she can collect it, okay?’
Amy nodded gratefully. ‘Please send her my apologies and tell her thank you for the dress and the party.’
When Sebastian left the flat, she lay in a lavender-scented bath, feeling horribly guilty for her behaviour, but actually rather enjoying the fact that Sebastian, without being told what to do or say by her, had taken charge. So very different from Sam, who looked to her to organise their lives.
By the time Amy emerged, wrapped in Sebastian’s dressing gown, which smelt deliciously of him, he had returned and was frying sausages, bacon and eggs. Croissants were warming in the oven. ‘You might not think you want food, but the best thing you can do is eat.’ He put a glass of orange juice in front of her. ‘Drink, please, madam. Get some vitamin C down you.’
‘Thank you.’ Amy sipped the juice as she watched Sebastian move around the kitchen. ‘You’re very domesticated.’
‘When you’ve been by yourself for as long as I have, you have no choice.’
‘It’s a long time since someone cooked me breakfast,’ she said wistfully.
‘Then enjoy it whilst you can,’ he said, dishing up the food onto two plates and putting one in front of her. He sat down on the other side of the table.
‘Er . . . where exactly are we?’ she asked, tentatively putting a piece of bacon to her lips.
‘If you mean where is my flat located, it’s just two minutes from Sloane Square,’ answered Sebastian, ‘and about five minutes from Tammy’s boutique.’
‘How lovely to be so close to everything.’
‘To be honest, at the time I bought it six years ago, I wasn’t sure I’d like it. My wife and I used to live in a small country village in Dorset. I loved it there. We were very much part of the local community and I’m really a country boy at heart. But after she died I wanted somewhere I could be anonymous, where no one would bother me and I could live without any reminders of her.’
‘A completely fresh start.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I knew my friends thought I was running away, and maybe I was, but my belief is that you have to do whatever you feel is best for you when you’re grieving. And this was what was best for me.’
‘I can’t imagine how you coped. Losing a wife and a child all at once.’
‘The hardest thing was the expectation of happiness before she died. By that I mean the contrast between expecting new life and all the joy that brings, and then actually experiencing the complete opposite: the end of two lives. No one knows what to say to you. They either ignore it and try to jolly you along, or go overboard and treat you like an emotional basket case.’ He shrugged. ‘Everyone meant well, it’s just that nothing could bring me comfort.’
‘Except your writing.’
‘Yes. I suppose, given the wreck of my real life, I felt it was the one thing over which I could have control. I played God: I decided who lived, who died, who was destined for happiness or misery. It was writing that kept me sane.’
‘But you must wish every day that things had happened differently, surely? That your wife was still alive?’ Amy questioned.
‘I’ve become much more fatalistic about it. If she had lived, we would probably still be in that Dorset village and I might have made it to editor of the newspaper I worked for and never written the novel. Tragedy either makes or breaks you and in retrospect I think it made me. I’m far less shallow than I was and it’s definitely made me a better person. Also, Amy, if life hadn’t taken the painful twists it has, then you and I wouldn’t be sitting here having breakfast together.’ Sebastian reached for her hand across the table. ‘And I’d have hated to miss meeting you.’
‘Even after my behaviour last night?’
‘Yes. Even if it was only temporary, I enjoyed imagining we were together; a proper couple, enjoying an evening out. I felt enormously proud to be with you.’
‘Before I got drunk, obviously,’ she countered.
‘Actually, it was lovely to see you so happy and observe your obvious capacity for fun. You’re not like that in Southwold.’
‘I don’t usually have the time or the wherewithal to have fun. In fact, I’d forgotten what it felt like and now . . .’ Amy shook her head as tears came to her eyes. ‘It’s so awful, but I really don’t want to go home.’
Sebastian reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Then don’t.’
‘God, if only life was that simple. But it isn’t. It never is when you have children.’
‘Of course it isn’t, but maybe you should take me out of the equation and ask yourself whether, with or without me, you’d want to stay with Sam?’
‘There’s no doubt that before you and I became . . . close, I’d considered leaving him. The trouble is that he’s on a high at the moment, due to buying Admiral House. I can’t say he’s being awful to me, because he’s not. In fact, he’s trying hard to be better.’
‘Maybe he’s rumbled something is up.’
‘God, no! How could he?’ Her heart began to pound. ‘If he ever found out, I . . .’
Sebastian rose from his chair. ‘Anyway, let’s forget about your husband and enjoy the precious little time we have left, shall we?’ He pulled her to standing, kissed her, then led her off in the direction of the bedroom.
Amy was very quiet on the drive back to Southwold. She clutched Sebastian’s hand tightly and closed her eyes. Of course she wanted to see the children, but the thought of going back to that dreadful house, and, worst of all, Sam, was horrendous.
Could I do it? Could I leave him? she asked herself.
Perhaps she could rent a small house in Southwold to give herself some breathing space whilst she considered her options. Running straight into Sebastian’s arms was wrong, even if he wasn’t currently residing with her mother-in-law at Admiral House. He had to get to know the children and vice versa before they made any long-term plans.
Amy studied him surreptitiously. He was concentrating on the road in front of him and humming to Classic FM
on the radio. It wasn’t just the lovemaking, which got better on each occasion; it was the fact that the more she discovered about him, the more she liked him. He was kind, funny, gentle, completely straightforward and eminently capable. It made her feel cherished, protected and loved.
In essence, he was the complete opposite of Sam. And Amy knew, even after this short time, that she wanted to be with him.
Sebastian brought the car to a halt just before they turned in to the drive of Admiral House. He reached for her and she nestled into his arms.
‘I just want you to know that I love you, and that I want to be with you, but that I understand how difficult the situation is for you. And that I will wait as long as I can whilst you decide what to do.’
‘Thank you,’ Amy murmured. She took a deep breath. ‘Right, let’s face the music.’
Sara and Jake were sitting in the kitchen eating the cupcakes they had just made with Posy.
‘Mummy, Mummy!’ They threw themselves at Amy as she and Sebastian walked in.
‘Hello, darlings, have you been good?’
‘I don’t know, but we’ve had a lovely time,’ said Jake. ‘And Daddy’s here too.’
Amy’s stomach turned over. ‘Is he?’
‘He’s in the morning room with Granny. Daddee! Mummy’s back!’ Sara shouted.
The door to the morning room opened and Sam and Posy emerged, Sam holding a file of papers and a roll of plans.
‘Darling.’ Sam walked over to Amy and kissed her. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t make it last night, but when I explain why, you’ll understand.’
Posy, following Sam into the kitchen, saw Sebastian watching her son embrace Amy. The expression on Sebastian’s face told her something she really didn’t want to know. ‘Hello, you two, good drive back?’
‘Yes, thank you, Posy,’ replied Sebastian. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go up and get on with some work.’
He made to leave the room, but Sam stopped him. ‘Before you go, come and see what I’ve just been showing Mum.’ He steered Amy towards the table and unrolled the plans, with Sebastian following him reluctantly. ‘Look, darling, do you recognise where this is?’
The Butterfly Room Page 31