Heart in the Right Home

by Lisa Hill

  Sleeping with him.

  She wasn’t sure when the feeling had started. She hadn’t hesitated to kiss him at the fete and they had done lots of that ever since. But every time his hands began wandering towards her boobs or between her thighs, she found herself brushing them away. It was really strange. In fact, it was ever so like that episode of Friends where Rachel and Joey try to get it together but can’t move their relationship as far as the bedroom and decide it’s really because they don’t want to ruin their friendship. Was that what was going on? Because she really did fancy James, every bloody contour of his muscular, lean frame and her body was telling her, with every inch, how much she craved him, so what other plausible explanation was there?

  ‘Come on then, where are you?’ James called from the kitchen, before the resounding pop of a champagne cork.

  ‘Coming,’ she called, dragging herself away from leaning on the inside of the front door. ‘Oh my life, look at the mess in here!’ Boxes were strewn all over the floor and on top of the counters. ‘This place is tiny compared to the flat; I’m not sure where I’m going to put everything!’

  ‘There’s plenty of room in the garages at the Old Rectory, you can shove anything you don’t need over there, if you want.’

  Rebecca surveyed the cardboard chaos and nodded. ‘Thank you, I might take you up on that, if Pamela won’t mind.’

  ‘Pretty sure she won’t even notice; most of Jack’s stuff is piled up in there anyway. Plus, you need to make room for when I move my gear in.’ He leaned in and kissed her, whilst handing her a champagne glass.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, after releasing herself from their lingering kiss.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said, clinking his flute against hers. ‘Here’s to new beginnings.’

  ‘You sound pretty confident, Mr Hardwicke, that you’ll be moving in sometime soon,’ she said, raising a playful eyebrow before taking a sip of champagne. Perhaps the bubbles would relax her, because as he pressed his crotch against her hips, she knew he wanted her and the feeling in her Lycra runners was telling her she was, likewise, feeling as horny.

  He took her glass from her and placed it on the counter.

  ‘There’s nothing I want more,’ he said, before kissing her again. ‘But when you’re ready,’ he continued, looking deep into her eyes. ‘I’ll let you get yourself settled first.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, before kissing him again. Her tongue found his, their lips locked firmly, his hands began to wander and she let them, allowing them to caress her waist, down over her bottom, as she stroked his chest.

  He broke away. ‘Doesn’t mean we couldn’t go and test the bedroom out now, though, does it? Decide which side of the bed I’m going to have.’

  It was like someone had popped her balloon and it was fast deflating.

  ‘Oh, um, you know, I really want to, but it’s such a mess up there!’ She heard her voice rise an octave. She sounded like she was lying to herself, let alone anyone else. James would know she was lying. Her body really, really wanted him, but her brain was saying no! What the hell was going on?! If she told him that, would it push him away?

  He nodded and looked down at the floor. She rested her forehead against his.

  ‘It’s okay, when you’re ready.’ He kissed her gently on the lips and hugged her tight.

  He knew, he bloody knew.

  ‘Let’s get stuck into some of this unpacking and then wander along to the pub for some supper,’ he murmured into her ear.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, holding him tight, looking over his shoulder, eyeing up the piles and piles of boxes with distaste, more preoccupied on what the hell was wrong with her and an unsettling feeling this had something to do with bloody Edward.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Lottie arrived home with the children to find Edward with his feet up on a kitchen chair, reading a weekend paper, with a bottle of whisky to keep him company.

  ‘Grandad!’ Ant called, stretching his arms around the back of Edward’s neck.

  ‘Anthony,’ Edward said, in that aloof, distant tone of his. ‘Grown a bit since I saw you last.’ Edward leaned forward and took his wallet from the back of his jeans pocket. He pulled out a wad of notes and divvied them into three on the table. ‘Cam, Evie, lovely to see you both too.’

  He watched Cam tentatively approach the table whereas Evie’s eyes bulged at the twenty-pound notes. ‘Are these for us, Grandad?’ Evie asked.

  ‘Overdue pocket money, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Thank you, Grandad.’ Evie reached up on tiptoes and kissed her grandfather on his cheek.

  Lottie marvelled at what looked like a glimpse of emotion on Edward Hardwicke’s face before that Edwardian like countenance of his settled over him again. Cam still hesitated, maintaining a certain amount of distance between him and Edward which is exactly how she would have been; suspicious.

  ‘There you go, Cameron,’ Edward handed three twenty pound notes over to Cam.

  Cam looked apprehensively at Lottie. She nodded.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, quietly.

  ‘No cuddle for me too?’ Edward asked, with Eve still sitting in his lap and Ant’s arms around his shoulders.

  ‘I’ve got to practise my drums,’ Cam whispered, softly. ‘Thank you, again,’ he said, before turning on his heel and rushing upstairs.

  Edward looked at Lottie and smiled. ‘Quiet, like his father, that one.’

  Lottie raised her eyebrows but said nothing. In her opinion, being like Drew wasn’t a bad thing even if she would like to bloody well know where he was now and why her estranged father-in-law was making himself well at home with Drew’s best whisky.

  ‘Right you two; you’ve had lunch—’ she had allowed them to eat in the tearooms with Audrey, Pamela and Jack, before bringing them home, ‘—time you started on your homework.’

  ‘Boo,’ Ant groaned, releasing his arms from Edward. ‘It’s Saturday!’

  ‘Yes, and you’ve got end of Year Seven exams the week after next, so hop to it!’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, reluctantly. ‘Will Grandad still be here when I’ve finished revising?’

  The million-dollar question.

  ‘Well, seeing he’s tucked into the whisky,’ Lottie said, sarcastically, ‘I can only think he’s at least stopping for tonight.’ ‘Yay!’ Ant and Eve chorused in unison.

  Lottie watched Edward smile. It was a genuine one, not one of his usual sarcastic ones. It left her with a foreboding feeling; he was being genuinely nice.

  ‘Thank you,’ Edward said, as Ant and Eve went careering out of the kitchen.

  Lottie flicked the coffee machine on. Unlike Edward, she felt it was too early in the day for alcohol, but she had a feeling she would be needing a strong drink. ‘What for?’ She couldn’t help but sound belligerent; it was the effect Edward always had on her.

  ‘For not throwing me out.’

  Lottie rolled her eyes. So, we were playing the victim card, by the sounds of things.

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  Edward shrugged and took a sip of his whisky. ‘You and I have never really seen eye to eye. I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting me in your home. How’s the relocation business going?’

  Lottie filled the coffee wand with ground coffee and affixed it to the machine. She set it off, chugging away. ‘Look Edward,’ she said over the noise of the machine, ‘as much as I’m happy to make small talk with you, shall we just cut to the chase and—’

  ‘Hellooo!’ Drew called out, slamming the front door behind him and marching up the hall to the kitchen.

  Lottie looked at her watch. ‘What are you doing home?

  ‘Oh, thanks.’

  ‘I don’t mean it like that; it’s only two-thirty,’ she said, switching the machine off again.

  ‘It was really quiet, so I told Emily we could finish up early.’

  Lottie appraised her husband through narrow eyes. ‘Really.’ She didn’t believe that for a moment. More Drew didn’t wa
nt her left alone with Edward for any lengthy period of time.

  ‘Yes.’ Drew nodded his head vigorously.

  Edward laughed. ‘Drew, you have always been a terrible liar; you just wanted to come home and tell Lottie my news before I did.’

  Lottie rolled her eyes. It was on the tip of her tongue to have a go at Drew, but she swiftly realised that if she didn’t want Edward driving a wedge between the two of them again, it probably wasn’t a good idea to display any signs of weakness.

  ‘Go on then, I’m all ears.’

  Drew pushed the kitchen door shut. ‘Dad’s got cancer.’ Lottie looked out of the kitchen window and across the fields towards York. She didn’t dare look at the two men in the room for her face must be a picture of sheer shock and doubt in equal measures. She was pretty sure no-one would feign having cancer to get a decent divorce settlement.

  No-one apart from Edward Hardwicke.

  ‘Oh?’ she said, returning her attention to the room. She cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Drew looked ashen. Evidently, he’d bought it. ‘What sort of cancer?’ Trying to put on a gentle voice for Drew’s sake, if no-one else’s.

  ‘Prostate.’ Edward took another sip of whisky.

  Lottie looked on astonished. ‘Should you be drinking that?’ She couldn’t help herself; surely knocking back alcohol of an afternoon wasn’t advisable if you were afflicted with something as serious as cancer.

  ‘It’s worse than that,’ said Edward.

  ‘Oh?’ Lottie was confused. Surely all cancers were bad.

  ‘It’s metastasized,’ said Drew.

  ‘To his bones?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve said he can stay here, for a few days.’

  Lottie looked at Edward and watched that crafty grin of his begin to spread across his face. Her head was screaming with questions. God, he must the only man on earth who could use his own demise to his advantage.

  ‘Why?’ The word escaped before her brain had had time to engage.

  ‘Oh, Lottie, don’t be like that,’ Edward crooned, dropping his feet down from the chair. ‘I won’t stay long; I just need a few days to get my affairs in order.’

  Drew’s face looked so pained she thought he might cry.

  ‘How long have you got then?’ she asked, knowing he was playing red rag to her bull.

  He shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

  ‘Six to twelve months,’ Drew said, his voice wobbly.

  Lottie’s shoulders slumped. ‘Phew, the way you were talking, I thought you had a couple of weeks!’

  ‘It’s still a lot to come to terms with.’ Drew sounded defiant.

  ‘Does Pamela know yet?’ Lottie asked, dropping a second spoon of sugar into her coffee, feeling she needed it.

  ‘That is one of the reasons I’m here.’

  I bet.

  ‘And James, how long has he known?’

  ‘Lottie,’ Drew almost growled, ‘drop it with the questions, will you?’

  ‘He doesn’t know yet, either.’ Edward’s tone was flat.

  The thing about lying was that you have to be really good at it. Really authentic. Lottie had nursed her own mother when she was dying of cancer; she knew the tell-tale signs of a cancer patient and Edward wasn’t displaying many of them. Perhaps he was telling the truth. But perhaps he was also milking the situation for every penny it would be worth.

  ‘Well, I’m very sorry to hear that, Edward,’ Lottie said, as genuinely as she could muster, ‘and, of course, you can stay; you’re Drew’s father, you’re always welcome,’ she lied.

  She watched Drew’s face relax. Whatever truth or lies Edward was telling there was no point upsetting the applecart. What was that saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Edward might be telling the truth but that didn’t mean he wasn’t using his situation to his advantage. And the last thing she needed was to see her own dad getting hurt. Jack had lost one love of his life to cancer; he didn’t need to lose the second to an estranged husband, ostensibly, about to suffer the same fate.

  Chapter Forty

  It felt strange driving into work this morning, Rebecca reflected as she flicked the indicator and swung her car right off West Park and into Prospect Place. It wasn’t as if she never drove her car to work; she did most mornings because inevitably she needed it for a valuation or viewing. This was different, though, driving in from Clunderton to Harrogate. Not annoyingly different, even though the traffic on the Wetherby Road as she approached The Stray had been nose to tail. She’d enjoyed listening to Greg James on Radio One, singing along to the tunes in between and totally identifying she was loved up.

  Loved up and frigid.

  Perhaps that’s why she’d found the journey strange; too much time on her hands to think over why she wasn’t prepared to get jiggy with James. He’d tried again after supper in the pub on Saturday night and she’d feigned exhaustion. Yesterday he was meant to help her with some more unpacking, but he’d phoned to say Drew had asked him to go and see him about a problem and she presumed that Lottie must have invited James to stay for lunch as he didn’t turn up in the evening. That had put an inkling of doubt in her mind that he was going cold on her because she wouldn’t put out, but he’d sent a text in the evening to apologise and said he would make it up to her by cooking her supper tonight.

  Rebecca slowed the car as she turned left into the little service alley which ran adjacent to West Park at the rear of Hardwickes. She was just analysing what sort of dilemma Drew could have had on his hands to take up all of James’ time on a Sunday, when her foot automatically slammed on the brake. She took a sharp intake of breath and her hands gripped the steering wheel for dear life as her eyes settled on the sleek, black Mercedes with the unmistakeable AGENT1 number plate.

  ‘Fuck,’ she said, finding the clutch and sliding the gear stick into reverse. So that was the dilemma; a catastrophic one as far as she was concerned.

  James appeared at the back door to Hardwickes and waved.

  ‘Fuckety, fuck,’ she whispered.

  What to do? She had a valuation at ten-thirty, she could just make up some rubbish that the vendors wanted it brought forward and lose herself for an hour-and-a-half in a coffee shop.

  James descended the steps and started walking towards her car.

  Lottie! That was the answer; she should go down to HG1 and get the lowdown from her…

  James leaned his hands onto the roof of her car, waiting for her to wind down the window.

  At least it explained his absence yesterday.

  ‘You can’t avoid me all day,’ he said, looking very sombre, as she wound the window down.

  ‘It’s not you I want to avoid,’ she said, looking at Edward’s car.

  ‘No, but you can’t avoid him either; he’s here for the duration, by all accounts.’

  ‘Crap.’ She said, leaning her elbow on the car windowsill and resting her head in her hand. This felt far worse than having to confront Pamela at the fete.

  ‘He still owns the company; you were always going to bump into him at some point.’

  Rebecca looked down at the steering wheel. ‘I know. It’s just that now we’re together…’ she trailed off, looking up at James. He was smiling. Which was reassuring, seeing that ‘together’ people generally had sex which, for some inexplicable reason, she was having an aversion to.

  ‘Just remember that he wronged you; he’s the one who should be apologising. Anyway, he’s got bigger fish to fry.’

  Rebecca frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Come on, park up—’ James tapped the roof of her car with his hand ‘—I’ll let him tell you.’

  With a heavy sigh and an overcoming feeling of anxiety, Rebecca found first gear and slid her little car in next to Edward’s overbearingly massive one.

  ***

  ‘No Pammie, again?’ Audrey asked, as she appeared from the tearooms.

  It was just before the post school run rush and Jack was taking five minutes dur
ing the lull to update the stocklist.

  Jack took his reading spectacles off and looked down gravely at his soon-to-be mother-in-law. ‘Truth be told, Audrey, I put her off. Wanted a private chat with you; thought you might be able to give me the low-down. Lottie said what she had to tell me needed to be told in person.’

  It had been decided via text message to keep Pamela out of Edward’s way, until they had ascertained what he wanted. Jack had taken her out to Brimham Rocks for a leisurely Sunday ramble yesterday, followed by a hearty roast in a country pub. It would have been a perfect place to officially propose.

  If he hadn’t dragged his feet over buying a ring.

  Audrey wiped her hands on her pinny. ‘I wish I could tell you something, Jack, but I thought it best to keep myself to myself yesterday. I went to church and pottered about the house afterwards. It took all my will power not to go next door and give that loathsome toad a piece of my mind, but I thought better of it. Mark my words; he’ll be up to something.’

  Jack nodded gravely. ‘Yes, but what?’

  The shop bell jangled and both of them stopped to see who would enter.

  ‘I haven’t got long,’ Lottie said, stalking in with her long legs on show in a pair of heels and a short, flowery dress. ‘We’ve got a few lets moving in today; I need to get to the office, but this can’t wait.’ She turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and flicked the catch.

  ‘Honestly, Lottie, you can’t keep shutting the shop like that, it’ll get back to Johnnie!’

  ‘Stuff Johnnie, this is more important.’

  With a heavy heart and a sinking feeling in his stomach, Jack closed his stocktaking book. Lottie dumped her large, green leather shoulder bag on the counter.

  Taking a deep breath, she looked directly at Jack. ‘He says he’s got cancer.’

  ‘Pah!’ Audrey laughed, nervously. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever believed in the notion of karma until now.’