Probably the Best Kiss in the World

by Pernille Hughes

  Chapter 27

  “Are you supposed to be out of bed already, Jen? You look grim.” Nice. Robert looked reluctant to give her a kiss. That was OK, she wasn’t really hankering for one. What she really needed was a stiff drink. A double perhaps. She’d taken the walk up to the golf club to clear her head and to practice what she needed to say.

  She probably did look tired to be fair, she’d worked at the Arches the entire weekend, pressure-hosing the walls, sealing them once to stop any brick dust and then again along with the floor to make everything washable to meet the food prep regulations. Her tanks had been lovingly wrapped in tarps to shield them. Tomorrow she was ordering the brewing kit. For now, the aim was to get the beer up and running and that couldn’t happen fast enough. She’d mapped it out on another Excel sheet to get the timings right, with the beers maturing at different times to allow for bottling.

  Jen was also sporting a slightly sweaty glean from the uphill walk. She probably looked like she was running a fever, especially as she was fidgety too. The foyer of the golf club was exceptionally old-fashioned with maroon carpets, dark wood furniture and the scent of Mr Sheen and mothballs, populated predominantly with older men in V-necked jumpers with a whiff of cigar. She was feeling antsy all round. She wanted this over with.

  Gate-crashing the end of his Sunday golf game was supposed to allow her to do this on neutral ground. It seemed unfair to break up with someone in their home or when a dinner had been bought. This needed doing decently.

  “I’m fine, Robert. No barfing for days.”

  “I was about to drop in to see you,” he said, guiding them towards the door.

  “You were?”

  “Yes, of course. Date night.” Ah, yes. She had sort of remembered, only her need to see him for other purposes had superseded any thoughts of it being a date. Walking out of the club, Jen hot on his heels, Robert looked around for the Capri and seemed rather relieved not to spot it. He pressed his key fob and the lights on his car flashed while the boot opened simultaneously for his golf clubs. “Jump in, Jen. I have a surprise.”

  Oh no. Not more surprises. Please.

  She took a breath to start her speech as she fastened her seat belt and he folded the roof away, but reconsidered. Was it a good idea, upsetting someone when they were at the wheel? No probably not.

  “How’s Lydia?”

  “Good thanks. I think. I haven’t seen her this weekend.”

  “Out gallivanting?”

  “Well, you know Lydia,” she said, not mentioning she’d hardly been home to see her. Lydia had left her a note telling her she was seeing a friend and she would be on her phone, as she normally was, in case Jen felt the need to check on her. Honestly, what was her problem? Jen didn’t have an issue with her seeing her friends, she didn’t even comment when the friends were of the one-night variety, but she thought it was reasonable to expect some honesty. Lydia was still peeved by that apparently. “Where are we going?” He’d pulled out of the club in the opposite direction of town.

  “Surprise, remember?” he teased. Well that didn’t help her antsiness. What if he’d heard about her infidelity and was driving her off to a remote shallow grave? She told herself to get a grip. This was Robert. He wasn’t about to bludgeon her with his golf clubs, he loved them too much for that, plus it would spoil his chances of becoming Club Captain. And he was a lawyer, so he saw first-hand that crime did not pay. Except the lawyers; they got paid … She shook her head. She should be concentrating on what she was going to say to him.

  As her hair whipped about her face, she was vaguely aware they were circumnavigating the golf course, and after five minutes they pulled into the driveway of a large mock-Tudor house.

  “Whose house is this?” she asked, as he got out.

  “You’ll see.” He was sporting a very particular aura of self-satisfaction. Jen joined him mid-gravel, where he was gazing at the building, his hands on his hips, like it was the promised land. Jen was looking at it with increasing dismay. She knew where this was going. Robert caught her hand and pulled her towards the house, extracting some keys from his pocket. Unlocking the front door, he swung it open grandly. The hall beyond was wide and imposing. The decor was very dated, but Jen was more concerned about the why than the what.

  “I could carry you over the threshold,” he said. What was he on?

  “People only do that when they’ve got married and it’s supposed to be into their own homes, silly.” She deliberately skipped inside before he could act on his thoughts.

  “It’s for sale, Jen,” he said moving behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Take a look around.”

  She was stuck. He’d clearly arranged this viewing, it would be rude to simply refuse. But on the other hand she needed to tell him there was no point. On practical grounds she didn’t want a row here in someone else’s house. Without saying anything, suspecting Robert might assume it was pure awe given his own delighted face, she perused the ground floor. Natural curiosity and her sense for planning made her brain start ticking over the possibilities it could offer. The wallpapers, carpets and kitchen were decades old, but those were replaceable. The space was there, and if the dark wood went, the light would be there too. She slid her hand up the long banister as she scaled the wide staircase, imagining children’s bottoms sliding down it, and a bright runner on the wooden steps. The bedrooms were huge too, and the views were fabulous, out over the golf course and the sea beyond.

  Still she didn’t speak, nor did Robert press her to. He was letting her take it all in, assessing the possibilities for herself. Clearly a family had lived and thrived here. The house deserved a new one to fill its walls.

  The back garden had children’s games written all over it, though perhaps not the rusting slide in the corner, which had more of a death-trap label. Whoever lived here next would change it out for some modern wooden climbing-frame-fort construction. She could see where a trampoline would go too, and judging by the light, there should really be a seating area over there to the right to catch the afternoon sun, perhaps with a pergola …

  “This is the barn,” Robert interrupted her visions, nodding towards a long building backing onto a wooded copse to the side of the property. Venturing in, Jen saw the high-lofted space was filled with a world of things, from all sizes of bike, to an old wheel-bereft Morris Minor, a work bench that was impossible to get to and a million boxes. But if it were to be empty, it could be a decent space for something …

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said, at the restaurant, about your brewing. Why not keep it as a hobby, and not finish after your wedding brew?” Jen turned. Robert was looking back at her quite earnestly. He seemed to think he’d come up with the idea. “I do see that you need to fill your free time, Jen, in addition to Mumsie’s plans, and I thought that perhaps you could move your brewing paraphernalia in here.” Jen’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t expected a turnaround like this. He’d seemed so adamant. She’d never have considered stopping if she hadn’t been convinced by his earlier stance. The building conditions were as suitable as her own outbuilding, except bigger … “It’s away from the house, but still close, yes?”

  “Well yes,” Jen said, quietly, a little lost, “it could be perfect.” Jen was utterly thrown by his consideration. She possibly owed him an apology on that front.

  Robert’s smile widened in response to her wonder. He sensed he’d got this right. He took her hand again and guided her back out into the evening sunlight.

  He stopped in the centre of the lawn and took her other hand too, rubbing his thumbs across the backs of her fingers. “Look at this place. It’s perfect. For us, I mean. I can see it, and I saw you getting it, in there. It needs gutting, but you and your spreadsheets will manage that in a jiffy and then it’s a forever home.” Jen looked back at the house. It was definitely a forever home. But not hers. She couldn’t quite find the words though to start on what she knew had to be said. He mistook her reticence as concern. “We can
afford it, Jen. Just. If we stretch a little, but that’s what you’re supposed to do with property. I’ve got a small inheritance sum to use, and the workshop can be sold now.”

  Her head snapped back towards him at that.

  “I received Charlie’s notice to end the tenancy on Friday,” he said, “I’ve asked about and no one’s renting those old places now, not for workshop purposes. You’d be better off selling his and keeping Re:Love for a regular income.”

  She still didn’t say anything. He had it all planned out. He fished about in his pocket and brought out a little box she was already familiar with. “Look what’s back.” Fiddling with it, still trying to hold onto her left hand he cack-handedly managed to extract the ring. The box fell to the ground. They smacked heads as they both tried to pick it up, something he chose to ignore, as he got his moment back on track. “I wanted to put it on your finger here, in the grounds. I thought it would be a lovely story for the grandkids.” She could see how much he wanted this. It was clearly everything he dreamed of, all laid out just so. Could she stamp on it? Break up with him in the middle of his dream scenario? She didn’t know if she had it in her. He was a decent man. He wanted good things for her, for both of them.

  “But Robert,” she said, eyeing the ring that was coming perilously close to her ring finger now. Jesus, it was truly as awful as she’d remembered. She could almost feel her finger retracting into her hand. “The house isn’t ours.” She said it kindly, because he seemed so swept up in the scene he’d constructed, he’d apparently forgotten that buying houses required some negotiations and paperwork. His smile bloomed across his face.

  “Well, see I’ve actually put an offer in. And it was accepted.” Oh, he thought he was the very height of clever. “Derek’s a member at the club – see the gate at the hedge there, it leads straight onto the twelfth tee – anyway, I’ve recently settled his wife’s will and he’s looking to down-size, so he gave me a preview before the agents and it was too good a deal to pass up. It’s perfect for us.”

  It took her breath away. He nodded at her gasp, assuming she was wowed by their luck. Until she withdrew her hands from his and placed them firmly in her pockets. He still held the ring, primed for placing.

  “Robert, do you see me as an equal partner?” This had never really occurred to her before. She’d seen them as well-matched in their ways, but perhaps they weren’t equal in each other’s eyes.

  “Of course I do.” The way he pulled his head back ruled it an unusual question.

  “But you’re making enormous decisions without me.”

  “But you don’t like making decisions, Jen,” he said, like it was a known fact. She didn’t know what he meant by that. “Remember the distressed state you were in at the hospital with Lydia? It was too much for you. I want to spare you all that.” He came forward and held her by the waist, gazing into her eyes. “I can make all the tough decisions for us. I’m happy to do that.”

  She was aghast. Was that what he thought? Was that what he’d always thought?

  “Robert, I’d just signed off her leg. Of course I was distressed. And later when she regained consciousness and found it gone? I’m sure we’d all be screaming in shock, and who wouldn’t class that as distressing? Yes, the doctors made it clear there was little choice, but it didn’t make it less horrific for her and devastating for me. I felt helpless. Helpless like I’d never known before. That’s what I was so upset about. My parents were dead, my sister had to lose a leg or I’d lose her too, and there was nothing I could do about it. Do you see?

  “I can make decisions, Robert,” Jen went on, “I do make decisions, both at work and at home so Lydia is safe and I can manage things for us. I don’t need a husband to make them for me. I need to be an equal voice and partner in my marriage.” While she’d already decided this wasn’t a marriage she could enter into, she still thought it bore expressing. He could learn something for the future.

  He removed his hands from her waist to his own hips. He studied the ground for a few moments, pondering her words. This is it, Jen thought, this is where he sees this can’t go on, and I’ll agree and it can all be amicable.

  “I see what you’re saying, Jen. Your point is duly noted.” He did look suitably chastened. “I’ll endeavour to amend my thinking. I’ll stall Derek and you can decide on the house.”

  Gah.

  Even thinking about losing this place was killing him, it was written all over his face, but credit where credit was due, he was still doing it.

  But Jen was on it now; riled up and focused. Even if he could change his thinking, on the beer and on their partnership, it didn’t change hers. Jen took a couple of steps away and turned to look at the golf course, the sun growing low across it, the last of the golfers speeding up to make it to the last hole before the light gave out.

  “What if I asked you to put a hold on the house for the foreseeable future, Robert?”

  “Really?” Gutted didn’t quite cover it. “But why? These houses come up so rarely.”

  Turning back she asked, “What if I said I needed my savings and income for the next few years to set up my brewing as a business?”

  Now it was his turn for his jaw to drop, and he looked between the house and her a couple of times as he tried to compute.

  “But it’s just a hobby, Jen.” And there it was. He simply couldn’t see it as more. He couldn’t see her potential to succeed at this, or even her need.

  “It’s not just a hobby, Robert, it’s part of who I am. It’s my passion and my ambition, and I don’t think you’ve ever quite seen or allowed for that.”

  His head jerked as if slightly offended. “Not sure that’s fair, Jen, there’s the barn there. That was my idea.”

  “It’s not about the barn, which is safely away from the house so things don’t smell of beer. It’s about you not recognising my passion. Brewing makes my soul happy, and I want to make it my career. I always did, though the last few years have put that on hold. I want my life partner to understand that and support me to pursue it.”

  He kicked a stone around considering her argument.

  “I see. I do understand – and it isn’t that what marriage is about, compromise? If it means so much to you, darling, then yes of course, I’ll work with it.” His expression was slightly tight and Jen could see him mentally sorting through which of his plans would be affected by this. “We can look at a business loan for you and we could maybe still cover the house? And Ava’s nanny might be available once you’ve got things going and we think about family.” He shot her a desperate smile. “There, that’s supportive, isn’t it?”

  Jen took his hand.

  “I don’t want you to ‘work with it’, Robert. I want my partner to support it willingly, to cheer me on.”

  “I am. I just said.”

  She shook her head sadly.

  “I want someone who gets me, who gets excited by my passion, Robert. And you aren’t excited by it, or that part of me. You don’t really want to back it, not fully, so … I don’t think I can back ‘us’. I can’t fit into the life you have planned.”

  He blinked, stunned.

  “So that’s it? You want to call off the wedding?”

  The ring lay in his hand, still on offer. Jen gently, but firmly, folded his fingers around the ugly thing.

  “I do.”

  Alluring, but elusive Westhampton adventurer, Lydia Attison (22) was finally tracked down by the Echo’s roving reporter this week, as she took part in a wake-boarding challenge. Wake-boarding’s governing body is keen to promote the sport to all abilities, and Lydia easily demonstrated her inexperience and disability wouldn’t hold her back as she gave other wake-boarders, both able-bodied and non, a run for their money. “It was an impressive start,” said Pete Chivers from the committee, “I’d certainly like to see more of Lydia,” he added with a leery, slightly inappropriate, wink. The Echo caught up with Lydia, who, with that lovely smile of hers, said the day had been “exhilarating
.”

  -Neil Finch, Staff Reporter, Westhampton Echo - Page 4

  Chapter 28

  In all her time working at Well, Honestly!, Jen had always made it in before Ava, the only exception being the day Jen came for interview. Now, first thing Monday morning, Jen found her in the middle of the main office, arms folded crossly, fingers drumming on her arms and foot tapping on the floor. Call her Sherlock, but Jen suspected Ava was miffed. As soon as Jen was through the door, Ava hit the dialling button on Skype which she had primed on her laptop. Zara’s face appeared on the screen. She looked as mardy, if not a little hungover, as her sister. She also appeared to be skiing. Indoors. Yes of course, that’s what one did when in Dubai …

  Jen dropped her bag onto her seat and turned to face the music, wishing she’d stopped on route for a coffee. The sisters were far easier to deal with when jacked-up on caffeine, but she’d stopped in at the Arches to check on things, in this case that the wall sealant and floor paint had dried. This would be her new routine and her coffee-shop time had evaporated. Jen wondered whether she could convince Alice that an espresso machine would be a great mix with the flowers and salvage. It might bring in new trade too.

  “Something you want to tell us, Jen?” Ava asked. Jen detected some snark there. Ah, they’d heard. Obviously the sisters were upset by her spurning Robert. She should have expected it. The Thwaites were a close-knit bunch. Even Zara, who seemed to stay away as much as possible.

  “Well, yes. I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sorry about the break up per se, but she was sorry about hurting Robert, and also any offence the family may have taken. It wasn’t personal. Well, maybe not being Celia’s bridge apprentice felt like a win, but it wasn’t about them, not really.