by Alice Ross
The place was bustling with activity when they arrived, lots of tiny bodies swarming around, making the most of the bouncy castle, the face-painting, the pony rides, and the usual smattering of stalls – all of which the Ellis children insisted on trying.
Afterwards, they’d all been issued with ice creams when Jemima piped up, ‘Look. There’s Cecilia with her mummy.’
Kate looked in the direction indicated. To see Frances and Cecilia – dressed in almost identical floral dresses – meandering past the Hook a Duck tent. Before she could stop her, Jemima had scooted over to them. Leaving Kate with little option but to follow.
‘Hello,’ she said, as she approached. ‘Fancy seeing you two here.’
‘Mummy and I are having some girl time,’ Cecilia informed her, in a voice scarily reminiscent of her mother’s. ‘Daddy’s playing tennis.’
Unable to think of a more scintillating reply, Kate said, ‘Well, it’s a nice day for tennis.’
‘Isn’t it,’ agreed Frances, a cloud of horror suddenly sweeping over her features as she spotted the twins toddling towards her – Milo with his Batman face-painting, Mia with her Spiderman – each brandishing a cornet.
‘We’d, er, better go,’ she gabbled, grasping Cecilia’s arm and yanking the child in the opposite direction to that of the superheroes.
Noting Jemima’s quivering lip at this abrupt departure, Kate piped up, ‘Would Cecilia like to come to our house after nursery one day next week?’
A similar cloud of terror to that of her mother now settled over Cecilia’s face.
‘Heavens, no,’ gasped Frances. ‘Jemima can come to us.’
By the time they arrived home late afternoon, the twins were so tired they could barely stand. They had, however, all had a fabulous time. This was what they should be doing more of, Kate decided. This was what having kids was all about. Mrs Dunlop had been right when she’d instructed her to enjoy her family. There were thousands of people out there, like Mrs D, who would have loved to be parents, but, for whatever reason, had been deprived of the opportunity. Which was why Kate was determined to make the most of hers from now on. And why she really should tell Andrew about Gregg. Clear all the rubbish and stress from her head and concentrate on the important things. But there wasn’t any point telling him now. Because, with a bit of luck, Gregg would’ve changed his mind over the weekend and wouldn’t want to come to Little Biddington after all.
Chapter Eight
With Domenique claiming a headache on Monday morning, it fell to Kate to take Jemima to nursery.
Still on a high from her lovely weekend, and revelling in her new wardrobe, which she intended adding to on a regular basis, she donned a pair of navy cut-off trousers, a cream – stain-free – T-shirt and a yellow cardigan – hoping the addition of yellow might make her merge in with the polo-shirt brigade. She’d also brushed her hair and added a slick of lipstick.
Mia and Milo regarded her warily.
Jemima was delighted. ‘You look lovely, Mummy.’
‘Thank you, darling,’ Kate replied, before planting a kiss on the child’s head.
Consequently, it was a much more confident Kate who led her daughter up the nursery path that morning, bumping into Frances along the way.
‘Morning,’ she chimed.
Frances ran an appraising eye over Kate’s new attire before saying, ‘Oh. I almost didn’t recognise you.’
‘Pity you’re married to a dentist and not an optician then,’ quipped Kate, through a disingenuous smile.
The woman ignored the remark, turning her attention to Jemima. ‘How are you, dear?’
‘Fine, thank you,’ replied Jemima, gazing adoringly at her idol. ‘Please may I come to your house after nursery?’
Frances cast a victorious look at Kate. ‘She does seem to rather like our house, doesn’t she?’
‘Must be your muffins,’ said Kate. ‘Can she come?’
‘Yes. You can pick her up at five,’ Frances sniffed, before adjusting her hairband and clicking off down the path.
‘Bitch,’ muttered Kate under her breath.
‘What did you say, Mummy?’
‘Hitch, darling. It means problem. But I’ve just remembered we don’t have any, so that’s fine.’
‘Good,’ said Jemima, before skipping off to join her friends.
With the twins in the capable hands of Domenique and her thankfully receding headache, Kate headed to the veterinary practice from the nursery. Expecting a note from the recruitment agency regarding Gregg’s response to the offer of an interview for the locum position, she hadn’t dared check her emails on her phone, terrified of what she might find. She’d feel much less traitorous doing it behind her desk in the practice office.
Firing up the computer, the awaited missive pinged into her inbox. It confirmed that Mr Swanson would be delighted to attend an interview at two o’clock on Tuesday.
Shit!
She leaned back in her chair, stomach roiling. Tuesday was tomorrow. Only one sleep away. But she didn’t feel ready. Maybe she should put him off. But she couldn’t. The current locum already had her bags packed and one foot out the door. And if Kate dithered about and annoyed the agency, she’d never find anyone to take over at such short notice. No, her only hope now was that Gregg had done some research over the weekend and decided he wouldn’t like to work in Little Biddington after all. Then, the agency would feel so bad about him backing out that they’d magic up another perfect fit for the position – one Kate didn’t share a past with and who came with zero complications – and all would be fine and dandy.
Feeling guiltier than a guilty person, Kate wondered how, if Domenique was sleeping with her husband, the girl managed her conscience. Surely she must experience the occasional twinge when she was with Kate. In Miss Marple mode, Kate had observed the girl twice during the morning. She’d received two text messages and read them with that same secret little smile. Kate assumed they must be from a lover. But with the most romantic text she’d ever received being Your monthly bill is…, what did she know about such things?
Shortly before the instructed hour of five o’clock, Kate drove over to Cecilia’s house – with its shiny windows and even shinier family – to collect Jemima.
A set of gleaming white teeth opened the door, attached to Jeremy.
‘Hi,’ he breezed, casting a wary look at her car.
At not finding the twins in situ, relief washed over his line-free face. Kate suspected, as well as keeping the teeth-whitening industry in business, he also made full use of the botox injections his dental surgery offered.
Thankfully, before the conversation could continue, Jemima clattered along the hall.
‘Mummy! We’ve been sticking new labels onto Cecilia’s toy boxes.’
‘Fabulous,’ said Kate, wondering if her children’s toy boxes were the only ones in the Cotswolds not labelled. But then again, her children’s toy boxes were used for a multitude of purposes – few of them involving the keeping of toys.
Arriving home, Kate had just unstrapped Jemima from her car seat when Hilda Marsden, old Mrs Dunlop’s neighbour, appeared at her side. Tears streaming down her cheeks, a cat carrier in hand.
‘Oh, Kate,’ she sniffed. ‘It’s Mrs Dunlop. She’s died.’
‘It was a heart attack,’ Hilda explained in Kate’s living room a few minutes later, the cat carrier, containing the ancient Kitty, at her feet. Despite Kate’s repeated requests to the twins not to poke things at the poor animal, they insisted on doing just that.
‘It happened this morning while she was hanging out the washing.’
‘Oh, the poor thing,’ puffed Kate. ‘She was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.’
‘I know. A lovely, lovely woman. And not a single living relative. Her solicitor is sorting out her affairs. Apart from the cat. She thought as much about you as she did Kitty, which is why I know she’d have wanted you to have her.’
&n
bsp; Kate balked. Kitty was lovely but she wouldn’t last two minutes in her house.
‘I can’t have her as I divide my time between here and my son’s house in Devon,’ the old woman continued. ‘His kids are allergic. And I’d hate to put her in the animal shelter. She’s far too old and used to her home comforts.’
Kate opened her mouth to voice her concerns, but promptly shut it again. She’d sort out somewhere for Kitty. It was the least she could do for old Mrs Dunlop.
Andrew arrived home shortly after Hilda had left – in another grump. After muttering a few words to the children, followed by something that sounded like “I need a shower” to Kate, he headed upstairs.
He’d only been gone a few seconds when Kate remembered she hadn’t told him that Kitty was in their bedroom. Out of reach of Milo, who’d mentioned something about putting her in the washing machine.
Hurtling up the stairs, she reached the landing just in time to witness her husband slipping into Domenique’s room.
Kate’s legs weakened. Was this it? The moment she discovered her husband en flagrante with another woman? Frozen to the spot, it occurred to her that she could just pretend she hadn’t seen a thing; that she could simply turn around, go downstairs and wipe the scene from her mind – like the Etch-a-Sketch she’d had as a child. But how pathetic would that be? No, she had to confront them. And if she caught them in the act, they’d have no defence and all her wondering would be over.
Sucking in a bolstering breath, she forced her shaky legs to transport her to the door. She rapped briskly upon it. Then, without waiting for a reply, thrust it open.
To find the pair sitting on the edge of the bed, Andrew holding Domenique’s wrist. They jerked up their heads at her entry.
‘Wh… what are you doing?’ she demanded.
‘Domenique’s Fit-Bit’s not working. She wanted me to have a look at it,’ Andrew informed her.
Kate narrowed her eyes. Was that true? Or had they been about to jump one another’s bones? Her eyes darted from her husband’s grey face to Domenique’s beautiful one. With both of them gawping at her like she was deranged, she pulled herself together. ‘Er, right,’ she uttered. ‘Well, I just wanted to tell you there’s a cat in our bedroom.’
An hour later, Kate sat in Trish’s lounge, congratulating herself on a job well done. With Andrew understandably a bit miffed about the “cat in bedroom” scenario, she’d called the first person she could think of who might be interested in rehoming Kitty: Trish. Who’d been delighted at the prospect and had instructed Kate to bring the animal round immediately.
‘She’s gorgeous,’ gushed Trish’s daughter, Amber, stroking the cat, who’d immediately made herself at home on her lap.
‘She is,’ agreed Kate. ‘I’d love to keep her but our house is barely safe for humans, never mind defenceless animals.’
Trish laughed. ‘She’ll be safe as houses here. Funnily enough, we’d actually been talking about adopting a rescue cat.’
‘Can’t tempt you with a couple of two-year-olds as well, can I?’ chuckled Kate, as Amber stood up, the animal in her arms.
‘I’m going to give her a tour of the house.’
‘What a lovely idea. And thank you so much again for taking her. I don’t know what I’d have done otherwise.’
‘You’d have found another lovely home for her, I’m sure,’ said Trish, as Amber wandered off. ‘Anyway, now we’re on our own, you can give me the proper gossip. How did it go with Andrew and your anniversary dinner?’
‘It was great. Thanks to you lot.’
‘I’m sensing a “but”.’
Kate flopped back against the sofa cushions, shaking her head. ‘Oh. I don’t know. Just when I thought we might be getting back on track, I see him sneak into Domenique’s bedroom this evening. When I barged in after him, they were sitting on the edge of her bed. Apparently her Fit-Bit wasn’t working and she asked him to take a look at it.’
‘But you don’t believe that?’
Kate shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know what to believe.’
Chapter Nine
Kate hardly slept that night, mind abuzz with all sorts of things: Andrew, Domenique, Mrs Dunlop, Kitty and, last but not least, Gregg – her first love, who she hadn’t seen for decades, and who she’d be meeting again in only a few hours. What on earth was she doing adding another load of complication into her already overly complicated existence? She had no idea. But she suspected she might be about to find out.
Breakfast time the following morning turned into a drama more epic than Ben Hur, with Mia smothering her entire body in jam. Still having no idea what to make of the Andrew/Domenique thing, Kate kept an eagle eye on them both, and on Domenique’s Fit-Bit, which now appeared to be working perfectly. Secretly clocking the six text messages the au pair received over the course of the morning, and the accompanying secret smiles, she wondered if Andrew, reputedly so busy and stressed at work, would have time to send six texts in one morning. After much deliberation, she concluded that of course he bloody would.
‘You know I have a meeting this afternoon,’ she said, as Domenique prepared the twins’ lunch.
‘Oui,’ replied the au pair, with a toss of her impossibly glossy dark hair.
Not only had the situation regarding her husband and the au pair ballooned to worrying proportions in Kate’s head, but so, too, had the magnitude of her meeting with Gregg that afternoon. She’d arrived at the practice half an hour before the appointed time, hoping the interval might calm her nerves. It didn’t. She spent the entire thirty minutes taking off her cardigan, then putting it on again. When the phone on her desk rang at one-fifty-seven, she leapt three feet out of her chair.
‘Mr Swanson’s here,’ Sarah, the receptionist, informed her.
‘Can you, um, send him through, please,’ croaked Kate.
Not knowing whether to open the door, or wait until he knocked, Kate opted for the former, legs almost caving as her gaze fused with that of her first love.
He skidded to a standstill, bewilderment sweeping over his still-handsome features. ‘Kate,’ he gasped. ‘I had no idea…’
But of course he didn’t, Kate realised. How could he? He wouldn’t know her married name. Or that she’d moved to the Cotswolds.
He shook his head in disbelief.
Gaping at him, Kate concluded it was much the same head as last time she’d seen him – albeit with a few more lines. His hair was still blond and spiky and his blue eyes still twinkled, exactly as they had the first time they’d settled on her in France.
‘I… I don’t know what to say,’ he stuttered.
Kate had no idea what to say either. And she had the “advantage” of expecting him. ‘Sorry,’ she blustered, in lieu of any better ideas. ‘I should have given you the heads-up.’
‘No. It’s fine. I just… need a minute.’ He smiled at her, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘I’d never have imagined, after all this time…’
‘I know. It’s a bit weird, isn’t it?’
‘That could well qualify for the understatement of the year.’
‘Want to come in and sit down?’
‘I think I’d better.’
Five minutes later, during which Kate had managed to regain a little of her equilibrium and make them a cup of tea, Gregg stared across the desk at her.
‘Well, now my tongue’s untied itself, can I just say that you look great.’
Kate gave an incredulous snort. ‘You are joking. I look ancient. In fact, I wondered if you’d even recognise me.’
‘I’d have picked you out at one hundred paces.’
She laughed.
‘So, I’m assuming this is your practice.’
She nodded. ‘It is. I’ve taken a couple of years off and have had the same locum in all that time. But now she’s been offered her dream job in Bristol and is itching to be away.’
‘And you don’t want to come back?’
&nbs
p; ‘No. I…’ She chided herself as her cheeks warmed. ‘I have… other things going on at the moment.’
He quirked a curious eyebrow.
Kate shifted in her chair. Blimey. Should it really feel this strange informing your former lover that you now had children? ‘I… have three kids.’
His brows shot to his hairline. ‘Really?’
She grimaced. ‘I know. I find it hard to believe too.’
‘How old are they?’
‘Jemima’s four and the twins are two.’
‘Sounds a handful.’
‘It is. Which is why it would be difficult coming back.’
‘But you will at some point?’
She shrugged. ‘Who knows? Maybe, maybe not. But that’s enough about me. Tell me what you’ve been up to. I bet your life’s been loads more exciting than mine.’
He pulled a face. ‘I doubt it, but here goes…’
Just as Kate already knew – but pretended she didn’t – Gregg had spent almost two decades in Australia. ‘But I really missed Blighty,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe I should’ve come back sooner after all.’
At the hint of regret in his tone, Kate blinked. Did he mean when she’d tried to persuade him to come back all those years ago? But of course he didn’t, she reasoned. If he hadn’t liked it over there, he’d wouldn’t have stayed so long.
‘And no… partner?’ she heard herself asking.
He shook his head. ‘No. Was married to an Ozzie girl for three years. No kids. And no one serious since. I am, as they say, footloose and fancy free.’
He grinned at her. And, despite a very strange sensation in her gut, Kate found herself grinning back.
‘I’m knackered,’ puffed Andrew, slinging his laptop case onto the sofa as soon as he walked through the door that evening.
‘Awful day?’
‘Crap.’ He scooped up Milo, who was tugging on his trouser leg, and turned him upside down. The child gurgled with laughter.