‘I – yes, I like a lot. Thank you.’ She reached up and stroked the back of his neck. ‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for me tonight.’
‘Well, I promised I was going to make it up to you so I wanted to do it properly. Man, you smell amazing.’ He spun her round and kissed her. It felt so good to be in his arms again – and it was now, losing herself in his kiss, that Harri realised how much she’d missed him.
After a while, he pulled back to look at her. ‘You look great, Red,’ he smiled, his eyes drinking in every detail. Harri felt her heart skip. The jade-green dress that Stella had persuaded her to buy a few months back had finally been brought out of the wardrobe and she had to admit that it complemented her auburn hair perfectly. Whilst it felt a little odd to be dressing up just for dinner at Rob’s, she thanked heaven now that she could see his reaction.
‘Well, you know, I thought I’d make an effort. This place looks amazing, honey. You didn’t have to go to all this fuss for me.’
Rob grinned and headed into the kitchen. Harri followed. ‘Yes, I did. It’s been rubbish being away so much during the past couple of months and I wanted you all to myself. Besides, we might just be celebrating.’
Harri felt a thrill of anticipation sparkle through her. ‘How come?’
Rob stirred a pan, replaced the lid and opened a bottle of wine. ‘I’ll tell you later. First we need to enjoy this meal that, I have to say, is going to be rather fantastic.’
Harri followed him to the living room, where he pulled out a chair for her at the dining table like a waiter in an expensive restaurant and carefully laid a napkin across her lap. Then, pouring two glasses of wine, he handed one to her.
‘What are we drinking to?’ she asked, his actions thrilling her. ‘To the future,’ he answered, ‘to our future.’
The meal was stunning, especially considering Rob’s frequent protests that he didn’t enjoy cooking. The beef and red wine stew was perfectly cooked, flavoured with garlic and ginger, followed by a rich chocolate mousse with crispy sugar biscuits. Harri managed to finish it all, despite the growing excitement buzzing inside her.
Rob stood to take the empty plates back to the kitchen and Harri joined him. As the filter machine percolated coffee, Rob pulled Harri to him and kissed her again.
‘You know that I love you, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘And I hate being away from you.’ He stroked her face softly. ‘When I’m on my own in the hotel room in Preston all I can think about is being close to you. Like this . . .’ He drew her even closer. ‘It’s the thought of holding you in my arms again that keeps me going. And the thought of one day – soon – never having to leave you again.’
Rob’s eyes shone with so much love as they held hers and Harri felt a renewed rush of love for him. He looked happy, more relaxed than she had seen him in a long time, gazing at her with so much peace in his expression.
Ask me, she willed him. This is the perfect moment . . .
He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the shrill tone of The A-Team theme tune from his mobile.
Not wanting the moment to end, Harri squeezed his arm. ‘Ignore it.’
Rob was clearly torn and for a moment the ringtone continued, a rude intruder on their private moment. Then, smiling apologetically, he reached into his jeans pocket and answered his phone.
Harri looked away, ignoring the thud of disappointment within.
‘Hi mate. Look, this isn’t a good time . . .’ He stroked Harri’s hair to summon her attention and mouthed ‘I love you’ as the caller’s voice muttered indeterminably from the handset. ‘Yeah, well, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow, OK? Because I have far more important things to do tonight than solve your problems, that’s why.’ Pulling Harri against his hips, he began to sway with a wicked expression on his face, and it was all Harri could do not to giggle out loud at the sheer audacity of the situation. Whatever would Rob’s boss think if he could see exactly what the important things preventing him from talking about work tonight were? ‘Fine. I’ll look forward to that then.’ He ended the call and, laughing, launched into his best Patrick-Swayzein-Dirty-Dancing impression, burying his face in her neck and murmuring ‘Oh baby,’ as they moved around the kitchen.
‘I can’t believe you were doing that with your boss on the phone,’ Harri giggled when Rob finally let go.
‘It wasn’t my boss,’ Rob replied, moving to the filter machine and pouring two mugs of coffee. ‘It was one of my team. I’ve told them not to ring me at home but somehow the message never seems to get through their thick skulls.’ He handed her a mug. ‘They’ve had enough of my time this weekend as it is.
Whatever the issue is, it will still be there in the morning. You, on the other hand, need my attention right now.’
Returning to the living room, they sat down on Rob’s black leather sofa. Harri took a deep breath and turned to him. ‘So, about what you were saying earlier: what might we be celebrating?’
He winked at her. ‘Only that it looks like the Preston contract is almost wrapped up. So you might just have to deal with more evenings like this, if that’s OK?’ Something in Harri’s expression must have betrayed her true feelings because Rob’s smile faded. ‘That is OK, isn’t it, Red?’
‘Yes – of course. That’s wonderful.’ Harri looked away, embarrassed at her mistake. How could she have thought Rob was going to propose tonight?
‘What else did you think I was going to . . .’ Rob’s voice trailed away as realisation dawned. ‘Wait – no – you didn’t think . . . ?’
‘I’m sorry, baby. It was a daft idea.’ She lifted her head. ‘Ignore me.’
Shocked, Rob stared back at Harri, then wrapped his arms around her. ‘No, no, don’t be silly. It’s my fault – what else would you have thought after the meal and everything?’ He gave a long sigh into her hair. ‘Red, I will ask you – you know I will. Just not yet, that’s all. And I wouldn’t propose in my living room, for heaven’s sake. I’m going to do it properly – at the right time, you know?’
Harri could hear his heart beating quickly against her ear and she half-wondered if passion or panic was fuelling his pulse. ‘It’s fine,’ she said, pulling back to look at him. ‘I love you.’
Later, when they lay snuggled together on the sofa, Harri smiled against his chest. This was the Rob she loved and believed in. When they were together like this, his hands tracing winding trails up her spine and his breath hot against her cheek, anything was possible. Rob lifted her chin and kissed her deeply, his mouth lazily claiming hers, and Harri let the moment sweep her away. As they kissed, she imagined them entwined together under a blanket, a gondolier navigating them through dusky canals under gorgeous bridges as the lights of Venice floated by overhead and rippled in the waters beneath them . . .
‘I love you, Rob,’ she said again, as the kiss ended.
Rob looked deep into her eyes. ‘I know you do.’
Chapter Eleven
If Only You Knew . . .
It’s amazing the memories that go through your mind when you’re stuck in a confined space. One minute Harri is seven years old again, sitting on the high yellow stool in Grandma Langton’s kitchen, helping her to make gingerbread men; the next, she is walking hand in hand through the park with her father; then she is sitting in SLIT, advising Mr and Mrs Carter on suitable hotels in Ambleside for their next coach trip.
Looking up at the skylight she can see that the rain has ceased for the time being. She wonders whether it will be raining again when she leaves. The thought of moving from the ladies’ out into the waiting world fills her with icy dread. One thing’s for certain: she’s not ready to emerge from her sanctuary just yet . . .
The thing that Harri loved more than anything else as a little girl was baking with her grandmother. Whilst she knew even then that her cooking skills were never going to set the world on fire (although she came close recently with an overenthusiastic attempt at flambéed
chicken), she relished the hours spent in Grandma Langton’s kitchen. Throughout her formative years, she learned to make scones, biscuits, shortbread, flapjacks, and even Christmas pudding – a feat that was highly lauded by her parents. But the most important feature of these baking adventures was the advice her grandmother always bestowed – on everything from friendships, dreams and ambitions, to housework, shopping and life in general. No matter what the subject, Grandma Langton had a handy pearl of wisdom to share.
On one occasion, a school friend had turned on Harri just before she had set off to Devon with her parents and when they arrived at her grandparents’ house, her distress was still raw. After pacifying her granddaughter with a glass of warm milk and a home-made butterfly bun, Grandma Langton had taken her by the hand and led her into the kitchen, where enticing aromas of roasting lamb filled her nostrils and soothed her aching heart.
‘Harriet, I’ve lived a good deal longer than you have and I can tell you this: in life friends will come and go. Some last for a moment, others for a lifetime. The only way we find out who our true friends are is when we look back to see who’s been walking with us the longest. For now, all you can do is to make sure you are the best friend you can be to those that will have you. If someone walks away, let them. There will be someone else along quicker than you think. The best friends might take a while to find, but when you do, hang on to them.’
In later years, several people proved to be the true friends that Grandma Langton had talked about for Harri. One of them was Viv. When Stella, Rob and Auntie Rosemary moaned at Harri for getting mixed up in the mess Vivienne Brannan’s whims often caused, Harri held her tongue. Deep down, she had a very good reason for indulging Alex’s mother. Viv was her mother, Niamh’s, best friend. They met at art college in their late teens and had remained close ever since. When Alex’s father walked out on the family, Harri’s mum rallied round Viv, helping her to rebuild her life and emerge stronger than ever – so when first Michael Langton and then Niamh were diagnosed with cancer, Viv returned the favour. As Niamh lay in hospital, drifting in and out of consciousness, Viv promised to take care of Harri – and was good to her word. In the years that followed, Harri found Viv to be someone who, beneath the fuss and fluster, cared for her as much as she did for her own son. So, the dice were cast – and nothing could change that.
A week after Alex had unwittingly entertained his first ‘Free to a Good Home’ date, Harri arrived at Viv’s house for dinner. Viv was still fussing around the steaming copper pans on the Aga, so she thrust a large glass of red wine into Harri’s hand and urged her to go and sit outside while the meal was cooking.
‘Go, go, go,’ she demanded, flapping a checked tea towel at Harri as if she was an annoying bluebottle fly. ‘I’ll be out in a tick.’
‘Whatever you say, Delia,’ Harri grinned, walking towards the conservatory.
‘Oy,’ Viv frowned, waving a wooden spoon chastisingly, ‘don’t take the name of Delia in vain. That woman is a saint.’
Laughing, Harri headed outside and settled down on one of Viv’s expensive wooden garden chairs to soak in the view across the fields towards the river beyond. It was a beautiful evening – warm and clear with a light breeze that caused the tall stems of bamboo in Viv’s back garden to gently rustle. Harri took in a deep lungful of fresh air and wriggled down in the teak garden seat. After all the craziness of the past few weeks, things finally appeared to be settling down again. Alex was well on the way to finding the (albeit heavily contrived) love of his life, and things with Rob were wonderfully relaxed.
‘Right, food should be ready in half an hour,’ Viv announced as she emerged from the conservatory, wiping her hands on her apron before grabbing her own glass of wine. ‘What a thoroughly gorgeous evening. Don’t you just love this time of year?’
‘It is beautiful,’ Harri agreed. ‘Makes you feel like everything is well with the world.’
Viv eyed her with more than a hint of suspicion. ‘You’re awfully chirpy this evening.’
Smiling benevolently, Harri raised her glass. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Anything I should know about?’
‘Not really. Things are really good with Rob and it looks like Preston’s days are numbered.’
Viv lifted her wine glass in a toast. ‘I’ll drink to that. Maybe then he’ll get his backside into gear and make an honest woman of you, eh?’
‘Perhaps he will – and then you can stop going on about it.’
‘Ah, but you know me, I’ll always find something to “mother” you on. So,’ she leaned forward eagerly, ‘ask me, then.’
‘Ask you about what?’
‘About Alex.’
Harri had to admit that her interest had suddenly shot up several hundred notches. Apart from a couple of vaguely happy text messages, she hadn’t heard from or spoken to her best friend since he met the lovely Annie. ‘How did the date go?’
‘Try dates,’ Viv beamed. ‘As in several!’
‘Wow. So what has he said?’
Viv raised her eyes to the pinkening clouds lazily drifting overhead. ‘Well, you know Alex. Vague in the extreme when it comes to me. All I know is that they met for drinks and then dinner. Twice. Other than that, the details have been sketchy, to say the least. I expect he’ll be much more likely to talk to you, though.’
‘Perhaps, but I haven’t actually seen him since he met Annie.’
‘Hmm, I gathered that. That’s why he’s coming for dinner tonight.’
‘What?’
‘Well, I thought with you here he might be more willing to – you know – elucidate slightly.’
Irritated, Harri put her glass down on the table and stared at Viv. ‘So this is why you were so adamant that I come over?’
Viv’s attempt at shock certainly wouldn’t have won any BAFTAs. ‘No! Absolutely not! I just . . .’ she looked decidedly sheepish, ‘. . . OK, I’m sorry, darling. It’s just that he refuses to talk to me about it and it’s been a whole week! I’ve been like a grasshopper on a barbecue and my son is being an utter beast about the whole thing. I promise I asked you first, Harri. Honestly.’
Harri couldn’t hide her amusement. ‘Viv, you’re dreadful.’
Viv sighed and looked down at her feet despondently. ‘I know I am. I’m sorry. I just thought, with you here and Alex having no plans for the evening, it was, well, the perfect op portunity to encourage some conversation—’
Just then, the doorbell rang and Viv’s contrition vaporised as she jumped up, clapping her hands. ‘Excellent! There he is!’
Harri watched her dash back into the house and shook her head. Only Viv could turn a pleasant summer’s evening meal into a military-style coup.
A moment later, Viv reappeared with Alex ambling casually behind her, a box of chocolates in his hand. He beamed widely when he saw Harri.
‘Wotcha, H. I didn’t realise Mum had roped you in for backup.’ He bent down to give her a hug.
‘Neither did I, until about thirty seconds ago,’ Harri smiled, hugging him back.
Viv whisked the chocolates from his hands and pushed him into the chair next to Harri. ‘Right, well, help yourself to a drink, Al. I’ve got to go and check on the meal. I’m sure you two have lots to talk about!’
Alex poured a glass of wine. ‘My mother is about as subtle as a demolition ball.’
‘She’s excited about your love life, that’s all. I think it’s sweet.’
‘Well, I’m glad someone’s excited about it.’ Harri was suddenly aware of the sparkle retreating from his eyes. She knew this look only too well.
‘Oh, Al, what’s happened?’
He flicked a greenfly off the chair arm and gave her a resigned smile. ‘Oh, I dunno, H. Annie was really nice. You were right: we had loads in common, she was interesting, we had great conversations . . .’
‘But?’
He sighed. ‘There was something missing.’
Harri frowned. ‘Like what?’
He shru
gged. ‘I have no idea. The magic wasn’t there, I guess.’
‘That’s never stopped you before.’
Alex laughed and playfully punched her arm. ‘Harsh. But true. Anyway, I said the whole “thanks, but no thanks” speech and that was that. She didn’t seem all that surprised, to be honest.’
‘Ah.’ Harri called to mind the promising pile of Contenders waiting patiently on her coffee table. ‘Well, I may have a few more suggestions.’
Alex’s sparkle made a welcome comeback. ‘Really? Who?’
‘Well, there’s Erin.’
‘OK. Details?’
Panicking, Harri racked her brain for the contents of the second letter in the Contenders pile.
Dear Alex,
I’m going to start by being completely unoriginal and say that this isn’t something I usually do. Clichéd, I know, but I’d like you to know that anyway. And, of course, that I’m not some sad, desperate woman feeling her biological clock ticking furiously. I just liked the look of you and thought, what the heck?
So, about me. I’m thirty, five foot nine inches tall with a good figure. I have dark brown hair and green eyes (don’t worry, it’s not as scary as it sounds) and I’m the Events Manager at Hillford Hall. I love live music and I sing with my brother’s band – you might have seen us around, Loose Covers? We do a lot of cheesy eighties and nineties covers, but we’re pretty good and we seem to get a lot of repeat bookings, so I suppose we’re moderately successful. Just a bit of fun, really.
Anyway, I think we might get on and I’m willing to give it a shot if you are. If you’re interested, call me. The number’s at the bottom of this letter.
Erin Donnelly
‘She sounds great,’ Alex nodded appreciatively. ‘So when am I meeting her?’
Harri drove her beloved car onto the long, expansive gravel drive leading to Hillford Hall and instantly felt out of place as she parked amidst the Jaguars, Bentleys, Mercedes and Aston Martins languishing luxuriously by the immaculately manicured hedges that bordered the car park. It wasn’t the first time she’d visited the sprawling, red sandstone Georgian mansion – Harri made several visits each year to meet with Philip Lombard, the hotel’s charismatic Aussie manager, to arrange special event accommodation packages – but every time she arrived, she couldn’t help but be overawed by the majesty of the place.
Welcome to My World Page 15