The Forever House: A feel-good summer page-turner

by Veronica Henry

‘This makes me realise I’ve never done anything or been anywhere.’

  ‘Well, do something about it. Go travelling.’

  ‘I’m not like you. I can’t give up everything and take a camera and make money.’

  ‘No, but you can go on holiday. When did you last go on holiday?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She felt the need to defend herself. ‘I’m saving for a house, remember?’

  ‘Don’t you ever give yourself a break? You’re not indispensable. No one is. You’ve got a great team. Today proved that.’

  She didn’t want to answer. She carried on looking at the photographs. There was a girl who appeared repeatedly; a girl with messy blonde hair and shining eyes who was always laughing and flirting with the camera.

  ‘Who’s this?’ she pointed to a picture of the girl in a bikini, wearing a false moustache and a sombrero.

  Bruce stood for a moment looking. ‘That’s Caroline,’ he said. ‘My girlfriend.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘She drowned. In Mexico.’

  ‘Oh Bruce. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’

  This really was an evening of secrets for them both.

  Bruce came and stood next to her.

  ‘She was wonderful. I adored her. She was the funniest, kindest, most alive person in the world. She was twenty-four when she died. I was twenty-six.’

  Belinda put a hand on his shoulder, not knowing what to say. She’d had so much to drink she was terrified of what might come out. She hadn’t had enough not to think it didn’t matter.

  ‘She’s the reason I’ve never settled down with anyone. I can’t face losing someone I love ever again.’

  ‘Oh, Bruce . . .’ His revelation explained so much. He wasn’t just a jack-the-lad, a player. He was masking a broken heart. ‘You can’t live the rest of your life not falling in love just because you might lose someone.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘I guess I’m just risk averse.’

  ‘I suppose so. But it just seems very sad. You deserve someone special . . .’

  She stopped, because her words sounded sugary and sickly. And because the expression on his face told her to stop. She wanted to hug him, dear funny crazy Bruce.

  ‘I could say the same to you,’ said Bruce eventually. ‘You can’t live the rest of your life not falling in love just because someone hurt you.’

  He was standing very close to her, looking down. He was in his jeans, and she could see how toned his arms were in his old Clash T-shirt, and how flat his tummy was, and she thought if Bruce knew about anything – well, apart from photography – he probably knew how to make a woman happy in bed.

  She felt a sudden rush of longing to be held, to feel warm, and to connect with someone, to get rid of the memories . . .

  21

  Belinda was woken by the smell of coffee and the sound of Bon Jovi pounding through her. To say she was living on a prayer was an understatement. She couldn’t work out where she was at first: she could see the familiar golden stone of Peasebrook through an arched window. The bed she was in was low with a distressed headboard, and there was a leather punch bag in the corner of the room next to a large framed poster of Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront. The room was minimalist and decidedly masculine. She breathed in the pillow next to her and her stomach flipped. Aramis. There was only one person she knew who wore that.

  ‘Hey.’

  She looked over at the doorway. Bruce was standing there with two mugs. He was wearing a tight white T-shirt and a pair of grey sweat shorts. He was smiling at her with his inimitable wicked grin.

  ‘The fortune cookie was right.’

  She threw the duvet over her head and hid. It was coming back to her. In fact, she could still taste the monosodium-glutamate. Chinese. Wine. Cointreau. A deadly combination.

  She felt Bruce come and sit on the bed.

  ‘Babe. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

  She peeped out. He put the coffees down on the bedside table and stroked her hair.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  She knew if she sat up, her hangover would kick in.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ she managed in a strangled voice.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I don’t usually behave like this.’

  He stared at her. ‘It’s OK.’

  ‘This is so embarrassing.’

  He touched her arm and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  ‘Why are you so jumpy?’

  ‘Because – what are we going to do now? Can we just forget it ever happened?’

  ‘Forget what? We had a great night.’

  She put her hands over her ears. ‘I don’t want to hear.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Bruce started laughing. ‘You think we had sex.’

  He flopped back on to the bed and started cackling.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Belinda was nettled.

  He finally managed to stop.

  ‘I am not into necrophilia,’ he said solemnly. ‘You passed out. I just about managed to get you in here. And don’t worry. You still have your clothes on.’

  She looked down at herself and realised with relief that she was fully dressed.

  ‘I slept on the sofa. And, for the record, I would never take advantage of you. I respect you way too much. There’s not many women I can say that about.’

  For a split second, Belinda felt disappointed. Then she worried that what Bruce was effectively saying was he didn’t fancy her. She was puzzled. When had she become so insecure?

  ‘Coffee,’ she croaked. ‘I’ve got to go to Hunter’s Moon for lunch at midday.’

  She had never turned up to an appointment with a hangover. What would the Willoughbys think of her?

  Bruce handed her a cup.

  ‘Do you mind if I do my work out?’ Bruce nodded towards the punch bag. ‘I have to get it out of the way first thing or I won’t do it. I need to sweat out all that booze.’

  ‘You go ahead.’

  She watched in awe for the next twenty minutes as he punched and jabbed, wincing at the thwack of leather against leather. He didn’t stop for a moment, dancing on his feet, the sweat gathering as the bag swung wildly from side to side. It was exhausting just watching him. No wonder he was in such good shape. He might be fifty, but his arms were toned, his abs defined, his thighs like rock.

  She ventured out of bed, stepping gingerly on to the carpet. So far, so good.

  He turned to her, taking off his gloves and handing them to her.

  ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Best hangover cure ever.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Sure you can. Come on. Just ten minutes. You’ll feel on top of the world.’

  She pulled the gloves on, and he tightened them and did up the straps.

  ‘Right. Stand with your feet apart, one foot in front of the other, like this. Then jab – boof boof boof boof. Think of someone you want to punch.’

  ‘That won’t be hard,’ said Belinda, swinging her arm through the air and imaging Charlie’s face. The smack as she hit the punch bag was extraordinarily satisfying.

  ‘Come on. Faster. Give it everything you’ve got. Pull your elbows right back. Bend your knees.’

  Belinda tried to follow his instructions, laughing.

  ‘Come on! You can punch harder than that. Pull your abs in. Twist at the waist.’

  In the end, she kept going for about fifteen minutes. And Bruce was right. By the end of it, her heart was racing, her head felt clear and she was high on endorphins.

  ‘OK if I use your shower?’ she asked Bruce, panting and pulling off her gloves.

  He stopped for a moment. ‘Sure. Do you want clean underwear?’

  She looked taken aback. He pointed at the chest of drawers.

  ‘Top left-hand drawer.’

  She opened it up. Inside was a pile of brand new knickers, with the tags still on.

  ‘Please tell me they’re not for your conquests.’

>   He grinned. ‘They’re for photo shoots. You would be amazed how much VPL I have to contend with. Those are seamless. Rifle through and find your size.’

  He carried on punching. Belinda picked out a pair of knickers, laughing to herself. Bruce cracked her up.

  In the shower, her head began to clear and she started running through what she needed to do. She might have time to go to the office and do emails to everyone who had gone to the open house. And then go for lunch at the Willoughbys. The thought gave her a heavy heart. Poor Leo. She had really felt for him yesterday. She hoped he had been able to sort things out with his parents. She felt for them all, in fact. It was a horrible situation.

  If anyone knew what it felt like to lose the home you loved, it was Belinda.

  22

  By the time she drove up the drive to Hunter’s Moon, she felt almost human.

  ‘All hangovers have gone by midday,’ Bruce had assured her. ‘Except the stealth ones that hit you a few hours after you get up. Because you’re still drunk from the night before.’

  ‘Are you an expert?’

  ‘I could write the manual.’

  She’d gone back to her flat and changed into a grey sweater dress and boots. She left her hair down and put on the light-diffusing foundation she only used in emergencies. Then she went through her notes, ready for the debrief.

  At Hunter’s Moon, Sally and Teddy greeted her at the door. Sally was a little subdued, but exuded her usual warmth.

  ‘I’m so sorry – I didn’t pick up your message until we got home yesterday. I’m sorry you were put in such an awkward position.’

  ‘I hope everything’s OK?’ It was hard to know exactly what to say in the circumstances.

  ‘We should probably have told Leo on day one. But it’s all out in the open now.’

  ‘Just say if you would rather be alone today. I can update you tomorrow.’

  ‘No, it will be lovely to have you. Come in.’

  Inside the hall, Belinda could smell the delicious waft of Sunday lunch and her stomach rumbled. She had only managed coffee and water this morning. She needed food.

  Sally pushed open the door of the drawing room. Inside, Leo was sitting on the sofa with the Sunday supplement. He stood up as soon he saw her.

  ‘Darling, would you get Belinda a drink?’ asked Sally. ‘I’ll go and give Dad a shout.’

  And she was gone. Belinda and Leo looked at each other.

  ‘Would you like a glass of champagne? To toast us starting over again?’

  ‘Actually, just water for me, please. I’m driving.’ Just one glass and she’d probably be back over the limit and goodness knows what might happen.

  ‘I know. It’s a bore. I’m not going to go back until tomorrow now, so I can indulge.’ Leo walked over to the drinks cabinet and started finding glasses and ice. ‘Anyway – I need to apologise for yesterday. I think I was probably very rude to you and made a bit of a scene.’

  ‘Please – don’t give it a second thought. It must have been horrible, seeing strangers crawling all over your home.’

  Leo sighed. ‘It’s been the worst weekend of my life. My poor parents.’

  ‘I am very sorry.’ Belinda wasn’t sure what to say other than that. She had trained herself to be neutral and keep a respectful distance, though her instinct was to engage with Leo.

  He brought over a glass of sparkling water with ice and lime. Again, she was struck by how very like his father he was. The same bone structure; the same soulful eyes. As he handed it to her, she caught a trace of his cologne: something Eastern and exotic, dark with promise.

  ‘I spent all morning on the Internet looking for miracle cures. Needless to say, there aren’t any. Then I tried to work out if I could buy the house from them so they could stay here . . .’ He looked rueful. ‘I’ve done well on my flat in London but not that well.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, the development they are moving to is very nice. Very well appointed and everything is high spec.’ Oh God. She sounded as if she was one of their sales reps.

  He made a face.

  ‘I can’t stand the thought of them living there. It looks like a bloody golf club to me. I know they’ve got all the facilities and it’s very convenient but . . .’

  ‘It’s not Hunter’s Moon?’

  ‘No. When you’ve been brought up somewhere like this you just assume it will go on forever. I always imagined my kids swimming in the pool and eating their fish fingers in the kitchen . . . Not that I have kids but you know . . . one day.’ He gave a half-hearted laugh. ‘First world problems . . .’

  Leo looked away.

  ‘Sorry. It’s just – I’ve had to keep a brave face since yesterday . . .’

  He tried to smile.

  She put down her glass and walked over to him. She put a hand on his arm.

  ‘Hey.’

  He wiped at his eye with the side of his hand, rubbing away a tear.

  ‘Shit . . .’

  She could see he was really struggling to keep his composure. Her instinct was to put her arms around him, but she couldn’t possibly. It wasn’t professional. Then she saw another tear escape from the corner of his eye. To hell with being professional: it was only human to give him a hug.

  So she did. And for a moment he let her hold on to him. He breathed in deeply a couple of times. She didn’t say anything because what could she say. Then he stepped out of her embrace. He smiled, and in that smile was his unspoken thanks.

  ‘I feel so guilty. There was me, swanning about, and all the time they were going through this.’

  ‘But you’re here for them now,’ said Belinda. ‘I know you feel as if there’s nothing you can do, but that’s all they need.’

  ‘I just can’t bear the thought of the house being sold.’

  Belinda took a sip of her water before she replied.

  ‘Look, I know it seems like a terrible thing, to lose your family home. But I promise you, you will survive. I see it all the time. I know it’s momentous, but—’

  ‘And it should be me looking after him. Not Mum.’ Leo cut her off, as if he wasn’t listening. ‘She’s spent her whole life looking after us. She should be winding down now, just worrying about the garden and what cake she’s going to make for the summer fete. Not having to watch her own husband deteriorate and be his bloody carer!’

  ‘I understand you want to do your duty. But it’s not always possible, is it? Not when we all have jobs.’

  ‘Yes, but really – how can I give a fuck about promoting an artisanal gin bar when all this is going on?’

  ‘Is that what you do, then?’ Belinda knew perfectly well what he did because Sally had told her, with great pride.

  Leo nodded. ‘I’ve got a PR company. Anything to do with food or drink or restaurants or bars or eating. But I’m worried – I really need to be here for Mum and Dad and I’m busier than ever. I suppose you know what it’s like, working for yourself. I mean, I’ve got a great team but . . .’

  He spread his hands as if to indicate she must understand.

  ‘I hear you. There’s no such thing as time off.’

  ‘Yes. People think because you’re your own boss you can do what you like, but you can’t really. I mean, yes – I’m going to take tomorrow off, but I should be back in London and my voicemail and my inbox will be full to bursting and everyone will be screaming at me to make decisions.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Belinda. ‘Sometimes I shut my mobile in the kitchen drawer and turn the music up. But you shouldn’t beat yourself up. We can’t do everything. I know you want to help your parents but you have to be realistic. You’ve got your own life. And they know that. Which I guess is why they said nothing.’

  ‘Do you really think that?’

  Belinda took a sip of her water. ‘What I actually think is . . . it’s one of those shit situations where there isn’t an answer. In this case, your parents are doing the most sensible thing.’

  Leo looked at her. �
��Said the estate agent selling their house.’

  Belinda raised her eyebrows. ‘Trust me, if they told me they wanted to take Hunter’s Moon off the market, I would be delighted.’

  ‘Somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen. They need the money. I mean, I can help them out with the garden and practical stuff, but at the end of the day it comes down to cash.’

  Leo seemed to have composed himself. He seemed altogether a much softer person than the angry man she had met yesterday. She supposed her first impressions of him had been the worst possible. It had been a stressful situation.

  ‘Listen, I wanted to ask you to keep me in the loop.’ He pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it to her. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust Mum and Dad, but I’d really love to know what’s going on, and if there’s anything you think I should know about, just call me. I know they’re trying to protect me. But whenever they say we didn’t want to worry you it makes me want to tear my hair out.’

  Belinda looked at his hair. It was as black and glossy as a raven’s wing. She swallowed, and took his card.

  She wanted to say that she thought his parents were perfectly capable and he should let them get on with it, yet she could also sympathise with his desire to be involved.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, and put the card in her pocket.

  In the kitchen, Alexander was staring at the rib of roast beef resting in the tin.

  The carving knife and sharpening steel were sitting on the side next to a large white meat plate.

  He put out his hand to lift the knife, but he couldn’t.

  ‘You’re going to have to ask Leo to carve,’ he said stiffly to Sally, and walked out of the kitchen.

  Sally stood with a pot of horseradish in her hand. She felt tears come to her eyes. How tactless of her. She hadn’t thought. She should have steered Alexander towards Belinda then commandeered Leo discreetly. She’d forgotten, just for a moment. Not the situation, of course not, but the practical implications.

  She wanted to go after Alexander and hug him. Tell him it was going to be all right. Hold him tight and make him feel safe. Just as he had made her feel, all those years ago . . .