by Jill Mansell
‘Seriously?’ A thought occurred to Yasmin. ‘Is that why…? No, sorry, doesn’t matter.’
‘Is that why what?’
‘The makeup thing. I just wondered.’
Roo nodded. ‘I gave it all away. And my good clothes.’
‘My God.’
Speaking of God… ‘And I’ve been to church. Twice.’ She’d stopped after the second visit when a bossy woman had told her off for click-clacking in her high heels across the echoey flagstoned floor.
‘Crikey.’ Yasmin looked suitably impressed. ‘All because of Niall.’
‘Not all. There was something else too. I nearly kissed Ellie’s boyfriend.’ There, she’d said it. Now Yasmin knew everything, every last bit of bad stuff.
Yasmin’s eyes widened. ‘Does she know?’
Roo nodded wearily. ‘Oh yes. I told her.’
‘Did she go crazy?’
‘No, she was relieved.’ Oh God, the tears were back. ‘She’d been wondering how to break up with him. But that’s beside the point; I didn’t know that at the time. And I still nearly did it.’
‘OK, don’t be offended by this.’ Ready to leave now, Yasmin reached for her pale blue leather bag. ‘But when I do eventually find myself another man, I probably won’t introduce him to you.’
Yet another wave of shame engulfed Roo. ‘I wouldn’t do anything, I swear I wouldn’t. This is what I’m trying to say.’ She was desperate to explain before Yasmin left. ‘I’ll do anything, anything I can to make it up to you—’
‘Roo.’ Yasmin stopped her in her babbling tracks. ‘Calm down. It was meant to be a joke.’
Chapter 47
Little Venice. The sun was blazing down out of a cloudless blue sky, glittering on the surface of the water and making Ellie wish she hadn’t sat on her sunglasses last night.
She’d walked from Camden Lock along the Regent’s Canal. Now here she was at last, at the intersection where it met the Grand Union Canal and Paddington Basin. Brightly colored narrow boats bobbed up and down, ducks swam between them with insouciance, and people were sitting out on their decks, drinking wine. It was a beautiful afternoon and the towpaths were busy with tourists and locals enjoying the unexpectedly good weather. Weeping willows blurred the outlines of the white stucco Nash houses beyond them. Shading her eyes, Ellie surveyed the scene and scanned the opposite bank.
There she was, wearing a flowing emerald-green dress and with her easel set up on the towpath. Ellie made her way to the blue iron bridge and headed across it. Would meeting Martha be strange? Would it be awkward? Would they struggle to find things to talk about?
No one had been more surprised than Ellie when Martha had replied to her impulsively sent message. Brief and to the point, she had thanked her for the email and insisted that she most definitely didn’t want Tony to be told about the death of her husband. That had been all.
Until two days later when, out of the blue, another mail had arrived in Ellie’s inbox:
Dear Ellie,
Was I rude before? A bit abrupt? If so, I’m sorry. Many thanks for your kind offer. I don’t feel it would be appropriate to come to your flat, but I shall be painting in Little Venice on Sunday afternoon. If you happened to be free and in the area, it would be nice to meet you.
Best wishes,
Martha.
At close quarters, Ellie saw that the easel might be up but no painting was getting done. Martha was sitting on her stool holding a piece of charcoal but only the most basic outlines were in place. Tony had described her as voluptuous and glowing. Well, that wasn’t currently the case. Attractive she might be, with her striking cheekbones and beautifully shaped head, but her face was drawn, there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and any glow was conspicuous by its absence.
But when she turned and saw Ellie standing a few meters away watching her, she broke into a smile that made a difference.
‘Hello. Is it you?’
‘It’s me,’ Ellie agreed.
‘Thought so. Hello, darling, nice to meet you.’ Martha sighed and gestured with an air of helplessness at the few lines sketched on the artist’s pad in front of her. ‘I think I’ll give up on this. Shall we go and find somewhere we can have a cup of tea?’
‘Can’t we stay here?’
‘But there’s nowhere for you to sit…’ There was a moment of hostess panic. ‘Oh dear, I didn’t think this through.’
‘Hello? Are you suggesting I’m ancient and decrepit?’ Ellie was wearing old jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She sat down cross-legged, out of the way of passers-by, just to the right of Martha. ‘I’m fine like this.’
‘Only if you’re sure. Let me know when your bottom goes numb. I keep trying to paint,’ said Martha. ‘But I can’t seem to do it anymore. I want to, but it just won’t happen.’ She looked stricken. ‘I might never paint again.’
‘How are you feeling? You can tell me. And I mean properly tell me,’ said Ellie. ‘That’s why I’m here.’
‘Darling, I know. And bless you for coming. Truthfully?’ Martha paused and rolled the stick of charcoal between her thumb and forefinger. ‘I feel like a rabbit that’s been hit by a car and left in a ditch to die. I feel like an empty house with all the windows flung open and a cold wind whistling through. I feel guilty and alone and sometimes I wonder if Henry’s in a better place now, and then I hate myself for thinking that… actually, I hate myself pretty much all the time. And I miss him, I miss him so desperately I could rip out my own heart because it couldn’t hurt as much as this. How does that sound?’
‘Truthfully?’ echoed Ellie. ‘It sounds familiar.’
‘You know about me and Tony? You must do.’
‘Yes. He told me.’ Was Martha aware that she was turning her wedding ring round and round? It was loose on her finger; she had evidently lost weight.
‘And while you were married to Jamie, did you have an affair with another man?’
‘No.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Well then. You didn’t have that to feel guilty about.’
‘I know. It must be awful. But the guilt still gets you, one way or another. I blamed myself for not forcing Jamie to take the train instead of the car.’
‘That’s just part of the whole grieving process, though.’ Martha sat back. ‘I’ve read the leaflets. But I do actually have a valid reason to hate myself.’
‘Your husband wasn’t himself.’
‘That’s not good enough.’
‘Look, there’s nothing I can say that’ll make you feel better.’ Ellie watched a pair of swans glide past. ‘But it’s only been a few weeks. Things will get easier in time.’
‘That’s what everyone tells me. I can’t imagine it happening.’
‘It will. Look at me. I couldn’t ever imagine getting involved with someone else. But I did,’ said Ellie.
‘Oh yes. Tony told me.’ A smile flickered across her face. ‘He was so pleased for you. Jamie’s best friend. I heard all about it. That’s lovely.’
Oh dear. ‘Actually, that was never a proper thing. It didn’t work out. But then someone else came along,’ said Ellie, ‘and it was great. I felt normal again.’
Martha looked interested. ‘And are you still seeing him?’
‘Well, no…’
‘Why, what happened?’
‘He’s moving to America.’
‘So he dumped you?’ She was outraged.
‘No, he asked me to go with him. But I didn’t want to.’
‘Why not?’
Why not indeed?
‘Because he was nearly right,’ said Ellie. ‘Just not exactly right.’
Martha said, ‘You know what being an artist means? It means noticing every last detail. The kind of tiny details other people might miss.’ She paused. ‘So what I’m interested in finding out is, why did you start blinking really fast just then?’
Ellie swallowed. ‘You mean when I looked at the water and the sun made my eyes st
ing?’
‘No. Come on, what aren’t you telling me?’ Martha pointed with the stick of charcoal. ‘And that big gulpy swallow you just did? I saw that too.’
For heaven’s sake, what was she, some kind of witch?
Oh well, they were here to be honest with each other. Ellie pushed her bangs out of her eyes and said, ‘You could get burned at the stake for doing that, you know. But OK, just between us, there’s someone else. But it’s embarrassing and nothing’s ever going to come of it.’
‘Why not? Is he married?’
‘No! It’s just… he’s my boss.’ There, it was out. She’d said it.
‘Well, that’s been known to happen. It’s fine. Oh,’ said Martha as something else occurred to her. ‘Unless he’s gay?’
Ellie smiled; it would almost be easier if he was. ‘He isn’t gay.’
‘Well then, what’s stopping you?’
‘He’s not interested. And the last thing he wants is that kind of complication. He only hired me in the first place because I made it clear nothing like that would ever happen. Because at the time,’ Ellie said evenly, ‘it was true. I didn’t feel anything at all.’
‘Oh, sweetheart, but you’ve changed your mind. He’s won you over. Isn’t that a good thing?’ Martha looked hopeful. ‘Maybe he’s changed his mind too.’
‘Believe me, he hasn’t. And he’s never going to know how I feel. If he did, I’d have to leave.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘Which would be awful, because he’s a fantastic boss. And I love my job. Apart from the pathetic yearny crush bit, obviously. What are you doing?’ Oh God, Martha was on her feet, folding up her easel and packing everything in her bag. Had she upset her?
‘You’re cheering me up. And I’m not going to get any work done today. I’m not a great drinker,’ said Martha, ‘but I think I’m in the mood for one now. Come on, it’s so lovely to meet you. Will you let me buy you a glass of champagne?’
***
‘You’re late.’ Roo pulled open the front door. ‘I said to be here by six. It’s six thirty.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Where have you been?’ Roo’s nostrils quivered. ‘Are you drunk?’
‘No, I’ve just had a lovely afternoon,’ Ellie protested.
‘Drinking! I can smell the fumes!’
Roo’s newfound teetotalism had its drawbacks; she was in danger of turning into the no-fun alcohol police. ‘It was only going to be a glass each. But it was cheaper to buy a bottle. We sat outside a bistro in Little Venice and just talked and talked for ages. I didn’t notice the time.’
‘Who were you with?’
The inside of the house smelled of roast beef and gravy. Ellie’s stomach growled in anticipation; she wasn’t going to complain about this aspect of Roo’s attempts at self-improvement. She wasn’t going to tell her the truth either. There was no need for Roo to know about her meeting with Martha. It had been a perfect one-off, not to be repeated. She had promised never to tell Tony about Henry’s death and Martha in turn had promised to keep the story of the Embarrassing Hopeless Crush to herself.
‘Dinner smells fantastic. Have you done Yorkshire puddings?’
‘I did, but they look a bit burnt.’ In the kitchen, Roo peered critically through the smoked-glass front of the oven. ‘It’s your fault for being late.’
‘Sorry.’ Ellie gazed at the pans bubbling away on the hob. There were carrots and broad beans. Next to them on the granite worktop sat bowls of roast potatoes, balsamic braised onions, and what appeared to be… no, surely not…
‘What’s that?’ She pointed.
‘Sage and onion stuffing.’
‘With roast beef?’
Roo was defensive. ‘I like sage and onion stuffing.’
‘So do I.’ Ellie hid a smile; with her blue and white stripy apron and her hair spiked up in all directions, Roo was half domestic goddess, half frazzled chicken.
‘And why won’t you tell me who you’ve been with?’ As she spoke, Roo picked up a whisk and began vigorously stirring the gravy.
Ellie thought for a moment. Todd had always been mad about gravy; he and Jamie had once knocked a pint of it back in one go for a bet. She said, ‘I was with Todd,’ and saw a little spray of gravy hit the splashback.
‘Oh right. Don’t tell me, let me guess.’ Roo’s voice was brittle. ‘He’s still going on about how he wants me to stop being stubborn so we can get together.’
The great thing about alcohol was, it had a talent for rearranging your mental processes and making you think about things in a way you might not have thought about them before.
‘He didn’t say that. Actually, he didn’t mention you once.’ Ellie reached past and stole a single crunchy roast potato from the blue dish. ‘Between you and me, I’m pretty sure you can relax now. He’s over it.’
Splitt went the gravy. Just a tiny bit. Not turning her head, Roo said casually, ‘Oh?’
‘Mm. Mmmmm.’ Ellie flapped her hand to signal that she couldn’t speak with her mouth full. Roo’s cooking skills might be hit and miss but she’d got roast potatoes down to a T. She chewed and swallowed and saw that Roo was still waiting for her to carry on.
‘He’s met someone else,’ said Ellie. This was great; like a magician pulling ribbons from his mouth, little white lies were tumbling out. ‘That’s what we were talking about. He couldn’t stop. Her name’s Lisa. You know what? He’s completely smitten!’
‘Oh. Well, good for him. That’s… great.’ Roo flashed a bright, couldn’t-be-happier smile.
‘And he says she’s really pretty!’
‘Can you pass me the gravy jug? It’s in the cupboard behind you.’
‘She’s a math teacher. Isn’t that amazing? Did you ever have pretty math teachers when you were at school? Because we definitely didn’t.’
‘OK, nearly ready now.’ Bustling around the kitchen like a hyperactive rabbit, Roo said, ‘Why don’t you go and wait in the living room? I’ll bring everything through in a minute.’
‘Wait until you hear how they met,’ said Ellie. ‘Guess how it happened!’
‘I don’t know. Here, take my glass of water.’
‘Her car broke down in Fulham. She was waiting at the traffic lights and they went green and her car just died on her. Everyone was tooting their horns and getting really annoyed. And it was raining too. Anyway, nobody was helping her. But Todd had just come out of the Tesco Metro and he saw what was going on. He put down his carrier bags and pushed the car round the corner out of the way—’
‘Right, is that enough roast beef? Do you want mustard with it?’
‘So then he went back to pick up his shopping and guess what? Someone had come along and run off with it! Can you imagine? But the funny thing is, it’s like they ended up doing him the most massive favor, because when he told Lisa, it really broke the ice. He waited with her until the breakdown people arrived, they were chatting away in the rain, and then Lisa said seeing as it was her fault someone had run off with all his food, the least she could do was buy him dinner. So that’s what happened, and it’s all gone on from there! Isn’t that just incredibly romantic?’
‘Yes, it is. Now can we change the subject?’ Roo practically shooed her out of the kitchen. ‘I’m really not interested.’
It was a wonder her nose hadn’t telescoped itself forward and crashed against the opposite wall. Satisfied, Ellie carried the glasses of water through to the other room. Leave it now, don’t say another word. Job done.
Chapter 48
Ellie was on the Internet putting together a complicated travel schedule for Zack’s upcoming trips to Copenhagen and South Africa. So far, the chief problem seemed to be that there were two meetings already arranged, leaving him with roughly twenty minutes to fly from Cape Town to Johannesburg.
Basically, it wasn’t a plane he’d be needing, more like a Tardis.
Zack came downstairs and into the office. ‘Have you seen the email from Bob Nix?’
‘No, b
ut we need to do something about this. Come and have a look.’ She tapped the list of times and dates on the writing pad next to the PC. ‘You organized this meeting and they organized that one. Shall I see if I can shift Cape Town back?’
‘Ah, I see what you mean.’ One hand resting on the desk, Zack leaned over her shoulder in order to study the schedule. ‘Yes, give Anika a call and ask if we can meet first thing in the morning. Do it in a minute,’ he went on, reaching for the mouse and minimizing the site on the computer screen. ‘There’s something else I want to show you.’ Speedily he went to his email account and clicked on the message that had come in just a few minutes earlier.
Ellie focused her attention on the screen. Being so physically close to Zack was causing all kinds of inner havoc. She should be used to it by now but, if anything, it was getting worse. OK, don’t think about the smell of him, the heat from his body, the play of muscles and tendons in his hand as he maneuvered and clicked the mouse…
Hey Zack,
Great job with the SpencerInc deal last week—heard about that from Ted. Impressed.
Bibi asked me to send you the attached photo. She says hi, and can you show Ellie? Sure hope she’s still working for you!
Bob.
‘Go on then.’ Ellie nodded, indicating that he should open the attachment.
A page from a magazine filled the screen. Bob and Bibi had been photographed at a glitzy charity ball in Dallas. Their teeth were dazzling. Bob looked like a huge jovial bear in a dinner suit. Bibi was wearing a silver lamé dress that showed off her spectacular bosom and tiny waist. Her turquoise eyes sparkled. Her hair, piled up in an explosion of curls and ringlets, was fastened in place with silver jeweled combs.
Across the bottom of the photo, Bibi had scribbled: ‘Ellie! I’ve never had so many compliments!’