by Fiona Harper
Ellen swigged her contraband beer. ‘And she’s totally forgiven you for being … What was it? An “unbearable, egotistical lout”?’
That’s when Dominic’s grin dimmed a little. ‘Not exactly.’
‘What does that mean?’ Pete said, taking his eye off the carrots and nearly adding his finger into the mix. ‘Ouch!’
Dominic stood up and leaned against the kitchen counter. Looking straight into Ellen’s eyes across the table was unnerving him a little. ‘It’s only a flesh wound,’ he told Pete as he showed him the minuscule cut on his finger. ‘What it means is that, yes, I’ve met her, but she doesn’t know I’m the guy from downstairs yet.’
Ellen frowned. ‘How on earth did you manage that?’
‘Met her at that party I went to last week, the hotel thing.’
Ellen looked even more worried. ‘And she hasn’t worked out you live in the same building? How is that possible?’
‘We just seem to have very different rhythms,’ he explained. ‘She’s out when I’m in and vice versa.’
Pete plopped the peeled and chopped carrots into a pan and got himself another beer from the fridge, sending his wife a knowing look as he did so. She just smiled angelically at him. ‘But this girl—’
‘Claire,’ Dominic added helpfully.
‘Claire … You’re going to bump into her in the hall eventually, right? You know that?’
Dominic nodded. ‘Of course I do. I’m not stupid.’
Pete gave him a look that said he wasn’t sure about that. For once, it looked as if his wife agreed with him, because she said, ‘Don’t you think she’s going to be cross when she finds out?’
Dominic shook his head. ‘I have it all planned out.’
‘Oh, gawd,’ Ellen said.
‘It’s just we had such terrible first impressions about each other that we jumped to all the wrong conclusions. I just need a little bit of time to undo that. Not long. I’ll ask her out to lunch or something.’ He shot Pete a look. ‘Or an early bird dinner …’
Pete narrowed his eyes. ‘Ha, ha, ha.’
‘We’ll go out, have a nice talk … And when she sees I’m not such a bad guy after all, I’ll tell her the truth and we’ll have a good laugh about it.’
Ellen shook her head. ‘You make it sound so simple. Are you sure it’s going to be that easy?’
‘Yup. Because in the meantime I’m going to convince her she’s got it all wrong about her annoying neighbour.’
Pete sat down at the table again and let out a guffaw. ‘How the heck are you going to do that?’
Dominic narrowed his eyes a little. ‘Well, obviously, I’m going to stop being annoying.’
‘Not possible,’ Pete interjected. Dominic ignored him.
‘And I’ve come up with a new gift, one she’ll really like, and I’ve written a really nice apologetic letter. She’s always out until about half-ten on a Tuesday, so it’ll be safe to leave it on her doorstep and she’ll find them when she gets home.’
‘What does the letter say?’ Ellen asked.
Dominic unfolded a piece of paper from his back pocket and started to read it to his friends.
‘Dear Ms Bixby
I realise now that my clumsy attempt at a peace offering may well have been misunderstood, and that, while with the best intentions, my note may have come across as a little patronising. Please accept my sincere apologies. I hope we can start afresh and get to know each other better, as I will be staying in London for the next couple of months and I’m sure neither of us want to be at loggerheads for all that time.
Your downstairs neighbour,
Dominic’
‘That is a nice letter,’ Ellen said softly, but then she frowned, ‘but I’m still not sure all this sneaking around is the right way to go.’
‘What else can I do? If I tell her the truth now she’ll never give me a chance.’ And, although he hadn’t told Pete and Ellen this yet, he really wanted that chance. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her for the last six days and it was torture knowing she was often so close – right above his head – and yet he couldn’t do anything about it. ‘What do you think, Pete?’
Pete leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. ‘I think it’s genius.’
Ellen shook her head and got up. She was halfway to the hob to check the carrots when there was a wail from the living room. She instantly turned and ran to check on Sammy.
A moment later, she shouted, ‘Pete! Your son has … Well, let’s just say you’d better get those rubber gloves on again!’
Chapter Fourteen
That Touch of Mink
Claire picked another good ‘fashion’ film of Doris’s for the following week’s film club meeting—That Touch Of Mink. Who couldn’t love those beautiful, understated classic dresses of Doris’s? Or Cary Grant?
However, when Kitty, Grace and Abby arrived just before the film started, Abby didn’t look as if she’d been made over at all. The vintage girls were looking perplexed and Abby wore a scowl twice as dark as last week’s. When the film finished, she shot out of her seat and scurried off before Claire could investigate further. She walked over to Kitty and Grace, who were deep in conversation.
‘I just don’t get it,’ Kitty was saying, ‘all of those dresses were gorgeous!’
‘I know,’ Grace replied. ‘And I had no idea she was going to freak out like that.’
Uh-oh. Claire pasted on a smile and joined them. ‘How did it go?’ she asked, looking from one to the other.
Grace’s expression remained aloof, but Kitty pulled a face. ‘Not so great,’ she said. ‘We took along some great stuff – mostly mine, because Grace is taller than me and Abby. Of course, with vintage, you often need to do a few alterations and Abby’s flatter in the chest than me, although I’d kill for her legs—’
Claire put a gentle hand on Kitty’s arm. ‘What happened?’
Kitty shrugged. ‘I don’t know … One minute we were trying things on and then I said something about none of the dresses fitting and she totally lost it, kept saying things like “Of course they didn’t” and then she flatly refused to put one more thing on.’
Reading between the lines of Kitty’s very reasonable-sounding explanation, Claire managed to paint herself a picture of what might have happened. She cleared her throat. She was going to have to handle this carefully. ‘Do you think that some of the dresses might have been a little … full-on … for Abby?’
Both girls frowned at her.
‘What do you mean?’ Kitty said sharply.
‘They were divine,’ Grace insisted. ‘Abby was lucky Kitty would think of lending them to her!’
Claire nodded sympathetically and, while she did, she tried to think of how she could get her point across. ‘How do I explain this …?’ she started. And then it came to her. ‘You two, you’re very confident in how you dress and how you look, but Abby isn’t like that.’
Kitty humphed. ‘That’s why we were trying to help her.’
‘I know. But think of it this way … You two are more like Marilyn but Abby is a little more Audrey.’
For a moment both girls looked at her blankly.
‘More classic, less sexy,’ Claire explained. ‘Don’t think Breakfast at Tiffany’s but “My Funny Valentine”, especially the beginning part.’
For a moment their expressions didn’t change, but then Grace said, ‘Oh,’ and her eyes lit up. The revelation hit Kitty a few seconds later.
‘She’s a little bit shy, a little bit awkward, and not comfortable with this fashion stuff. Do you think you could find something a little less … Well, you know.’ She added a crafty trump card. ‘If anyone can find the right thing, it’s you two.’
Kitty and Grace looked at each other, determination in their eyes, and then looked back at Claire.
‘We won’t let you down, Pres,’ Kitty said, giving a little salute. Grace just nodded seriously.
‘I know,’ Claire replied. ‘I’
ll chat to Abby and see if I can persuade her to give it another go. You can all come round to my place next week, if you like. I’ve got a spare room with lots of space and a full-length mirror.’
‘Oh, that would be wonderful!’ Kitty turned to Grace. ‘Come on! We’ve got to go and start planning!’
Chapter Fifteen
Three at a Table for Two
When Dominic got home that evening, before ten, just to be on the safe side, he crept into his flat and then crept out again. He stood in the hallway, listening.
Nothing. No sound from upstairs. But then he hardly ever heard her moving around up there except when she left or returned to the flat – the open and close of the front door, her footsteps on the stairs, then the muffled slam of her flat door. Slowly and silently, he made his way up to the first-floor landing. Once there, he placed a careful bundle outside her front door.
No more old lady magazines and corner shop chocolates. This time he’d really put some thought into it, tried to work out what a woman like Claire would like.
It was almost one a.m. when he ventured outside his flat door again. He looked on his doormat for a familiar crisp envelope, but there was nothing. He crept upstairs to see if his gifts and letter had been accepted. Claire’s doormat was also empty.
So far, so good, he supposed, although he’d have preferred a more immediate response from her. Patience – at least when he was away from his camera – wasn’t one of his strong suits.
However, when he surfaced the next morning, he found what he’d been waiting for on his doorstep. He grinned to himself and ripped the envelope open. He hadn’t really paid that much attention to the stationery before, but now he noticed the thickness of the paper, the tissue lining of the envelope. It probably said something about Claire Bixby, but he wasn’t exactly sure what.
He unfolded the creamy paper and read the note inside:
Dear Mr Arden
I appreciate your effort at a truce and agree that we need to find a way to coexist harmoniously. Thank you for the flowers and chocolates. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to emulate your kindness and pass them on to a friend who is in need of a bit of cheering up.
Best wishes,
Claire Bixby
He frowned. It was hardly gushing, was it? Not exactly what he’d been expecting. This latest letter still had a hint of the tone of the starchy headmistress, and he guessed that if this had been a piece of homework the words ‘could try harder’ would be neatly inscribed in red pen at the bottom.
That was always the silent message he’d got from Erica when they’d been going out. He should have paid attention to that, really, especially before he jumped in with both feet and asked her to marry him. That had been his most spectacular fall from grace, one he quickly realised the relationship would never recover from.
But surely every relationship was a compromise? Why couldn’t she just have accepted that he wasn’t good at that kind of stuff? He’d loved her in every way that mattered.
He grunted slightly and went off to his computer and opened up a lengthy article on the breathing techniques free-divers used. Why did he keep harping back to Erica at the moment? The relationship was over. Had been for a long time.
What really puzzled him was how other guys succeeded where he’d failed. Even Pete, of all people, had managed it. It was if all the other men his age were clued in to some big secret that they were keeping from him. It wasn’t fair.
And Claire’s dismissal hadn’t been fair either. He had tried harder this time. Nice flowers – not from the corner shop but a modern-looking bouquet from Waitrose – and the truffles from Hotel Chocolat had cost an eye-watering amount. It didn’t matter. Operation Good Neighbour obviously needed a rethink.
Thank goodness the second prong of his plan, Operation Charm Offensive, was still up and running. Or it would be when he followed up with Claire after their meeting at the party. Grinning, he pulled the small business card Claire had given him from his wallet.
*
It wasn’t hard to find the little travel agency. Dominic saw it the minute he stepped foot inside Old Carter’s Yard. Paying virtually no attention to the surrounding shops, he marched straight for it. Through the large bay window at the front, he could see Claire, alone in the shop. He mentally punched the air and, grinning, because he just couldn’t seem to help himself, he knocked on the door.
A host of expressions crossed her features when she spotted him standing there – polite interest at first, then confusion and surprise as she recognised him – but they all ended up curling themselves into a welcoming smile. She was pleased to see him too. Even better.
She got up from her desk as he opened the door and walked inside. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, puzzled but still smiling.
‘What do most people come to a travel agent’s for?’ he asked. ‘I want to book a holiday.’
The smile dimmed a little, which was a bit surprising. He’d have thought she’d be pleased about that.
‘Oh?’ she said lightly. ‘I didn’t think you liked to use travel agents.’
He gave her a playful smile. ‘Well, you’ve got to try everything once.’
‘I suppose so,’ she replied, looking a little wary. ‘Why me?’
Later, Dominic would realise this was the moment where he went wrong, that he should have just told her it had been an excuse to see her, but, in the moment, he was so caught up in not revealing he was her downstairs neighbour before he could win her round, he chose another tack. ‘After looking you up online …’ A lie. He’d meant to before he’d left the house that morning but had run out of time ‘… I decided I need the specialised kind of help only you can provide.’
She nodded. The smile had completely disappeared now. She even looked a little bit sad. What was it with this woman? Every time he tried to get one kind of reaction out of her, he got exactly the opposite. It was like being in a dream world where none of the usual rules applied.
‘Of course,’ she said, her tone professional and flat, and then she bustled around behind her desk for a moment and sat down in her office chair, the great slab of furniture between them. Even though this was the most logical arrangement if they were going to chat as agent and client, he got the feeling this was a bad thing. He sat down in the chair opposite.
She messed around with her computer for a few seconds then looked him in the eye. ‘I’m very happy to share my specialist knowledge with you. I take it you want to book a romantic trip?’
Dominic’s grin popped back into place. She was the one to have brought up romance. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it, if that was the first thing that popped into her head when she looked at him? He might be halfway to winning Pete’s unintentional challenge already. ‘A romantic trip sounds good to me.’
However, if anything, Claire looked even more grim. ‘Will it just be a romantic getaway, or is there a special reason?’
Dominic lifted his eyebrows. Once again, Claire Bixby was making no sense to him. He should probably just try to go with the flow.
She frowned. ‘It’s not a significant occasion? Like an anniversary or—’ she broke off to swallow ‘—a proposal?’
Crikey, she liked to move fast. He’d only been there for five minutes and she was already talking marriage? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all! He shook his head. ‘No. Why would I …?’
He trailed off, looked around the inside of the office. There were picture of couples everywhere, even a bunch of fake flowers and a couple of helium balloons saying ‘Just Married’. Either Claire Bixby was a woman with a serious wedding obsession or …
The slogan at the bottom of a flyer lying on the desk jumped out at him and caught his eye. ‘Far, Far Away – the specialists in romantic travel.’
Oh, hell. He’d done it again, hadn’t he? Gone marching in without paying attention to the details. It was just he’d been so focused on seeing Claire again he hadn’t thought about anything else. He blamed his f
ather. It was a trait than ran through all Arden men – the inability to take a moment to look a little bit deeper, to go further than a first impression. His mother never let his father do the grocery shopping any more, not since she’d sent him out for basmati and he’d come home with pudding rice. He’d looked at her helplessly when she’d challenged him about it. ‘I just saw something that said “rice” on the packet and picked it up,’ he’d explained.
And that was just how Dominic felt now, a little foolish, and desperately scrabbling to work out how he could salvage the situation. Claire was looking at him. Waiting. He knew he needed to say something next, he just couldn’t work out what.
‘Well,’ she eventually said, rescuing him. ‘The trip is obviously for two people …’
Dominic almost made a quip along the lines of, Well, you never know … but decided against it. He had a feeling Claire wouldn’t find it very funny at the moment.
‘And how long for? A weekend? A couple of weeks?’
He said the first thing that fell out of his mouth. ‘A week.’
She nodded, scribbled something on a pad. ‘And what about destinations? Do you have anything in mind?’
He shook his head. Nope. Especially since he hadn’t expected to have to pick something romantic. This was a crucial moment, wasn’t it? If he was going to prove to Claire, Pete – and maybe even himself – that he wasn’t the loser in love that everyone thought he was, he was going to have to pick well. Oh, this would have been so much easier if he hadn’t got so carried away with Operation Charm Offensive and had just told her he wanted to book a flight to visit Auntie Pat on the Costa Brava.
‘I thought I’d see what suggestions you had.’
Good. That was good. He’d deflected that one for now. Claire didn’t seem very pleased, though. That little line he remembered from before appeared between her bunched brows. ‘A city break? Or a beach? Or would you prefer mountains or countryside? You must have some idea.’