‘No,’ she laughed.
‘Plus you’re fulfilling a fantasy for me,’ he said, glancing sideways at her. ‘It’s not exactly what I expected, but then, you always surprise me, which shouldn’t surprise me anymore.’
She kept her body in one place, but her neck was twisted to look at him.
‘I’m really sorry.’
‘Naomi, don’t apologise for being different. That’s what I adore about you. This is still really special for me, having you here. I needed to prove to myself that I could lie here with you and hold your hand.’
‘I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’
Nathan managed a small smile. ‘I’d forgotten that holding hands could feel this good.’ His smile faded. ‘I’m not expecting anything from you in the way you think,’ he said. ‘I just want to be with you. All the time.’
‘And I want to be with you, but I’m not ready for marriage.’
His grip tightened against her fingers. ‘I know.’ He looked at the ceiling. Naomi continued to watch him. ‘It’s different for me. I’ve been engaged so I’ve already committed myself to the idea of marriage. I believe in it too. Lucy wanted children. That’s why we were planning to get married. She was a year older than me and she wanted to start a family.’
‘How could you afford children?’ Naomi asked.
‘Lucy is a solicitor. Believe it or not, we planned that I would stay at home and look after the children. We planned to have two close together before we were thirty. We even talked about names.’
‘Really?’ Naomi asked, feeling tinges of unexplained jealousy towards this girl, Lucy, who she didn’t even know. Don’t let him see what you’re thinking. ‘What names?’
‘Luthan for a boy – which is a weird cross between Lucy and Nathan, Lucy’s cheesy idea but, hey. And Zara for a girl. No reason. We both liked it.’
‘Good enough reason.’ Naomi watched Nathan across the pillow, frantically trying to derive a decent name from Naomi and Nathan. Nothing remotely worked. By the time her brain had finished juggling letters, she noticed there’d been a comfortable silence between them for a while. Nathan was eyeing her carefully.
‘I don’t have any regrets, Naims. I don’t wish things had worked out with Lucy.’
What was the use pretending she wasn’t bothered? ‘Sure?’
‘One hundred per cent.’
Relief flooded in. Nathan spoke again.
‘I love you.’
It was as if Naomi heard the words in slow motion, emphasis on the last word. She watched his lips utter them, saw the words form. They hung between them now. No one had ever told her they loved her, she realised, as she lay there, dumbstruck. Those words had never been passed between any members of her family. It had taken this moment to be conscious of it.
She didn’t think long about the response, it just tumbled from her lips as naturally as a running stream. ‘I love you too.’
Nathan leant forward and kissed her forehead then climbed out of bed. He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Let’s go to the cinema or something. I need to get out of here and focus on something other than how you make me feel and what I want to do about it. I’m proud of myself so far.’
Naomi left the warmth of the bed and stood up. She didn’t say anything to Nathan as she put on her shoes, but dragging herself out of his bed had been a wrench. A part of her she hardly knew didn’t want to leave. Looking into those blue-grey eyes put her promise in jeopardy every second. If she had a hope of keeping it, they mustn’t be alone in a bedroom anymore.
15
Camilla sat at her desk in the upstairs study mindlessly tapping the blunt end of her pen against a pad of paper. Trying to come up with a seating plan for the dinner party had been problematic and time-consuming. Her patience was fraying. She glanced at her watch and tutted. Four-forty.
Naomi’s cat, Tess, pushed the door open and came in, tail up like an aerial, looking hopeful, heading for Camilla. Concentration gone, she put down her pen and removed her glasses, leaving them to swing from her neck by a thin gold chain. Camilla groaned as the cat began wiping itself all over her trouser legs.
‘What gives you the idea that if you smear my trousers with fur, I’m more likely to jump up and feed you?’
Tess didn’t get the hint so Camilla picked her up in one hand and dumped her on the landing and closed the door. ‘Off with you.’
Tess complained outside the door. Camilla walked to the window and wondered why she felt sluggish. Two things. She was cold. Plus she didn’t want to see Nathan Stone with Naomi again. Rephrase. With or without Naomi, she didn’t want to face Nathan Stone again with his silky smart answers and his rugged good looks that had hooked Naomi in like fishing bait and turned Annabel’s head too. Not that turning Annabel’s head was such a terrific achievement.
Whatever influence Nathan Stone was having on Naomi was becoming more obvious to the point where Naomi was asserting herself in ways that baffled Camilla. Naomi intended to inflict Nathan on the family whether he was invited or not. No discussion, no compromise. It was proof enough that Nathan Stone was no good, which in itself was a dreadful worry. Naomi was tangled in an unhealthy relationship at an important time with someone who had no understanding of music. It was a titanic problem worthy of a lot more thought and whatever action was necessary. She’d already confronted Naomi without success. What to do?
Camilla folded her arms and studied her garden. The weather had been pleasant until today. The temperature had taken a dive in the last few hours. Nature seemed to have decided to skip a season and launch into an early winter. Christmas cards and decorations had sneaked onto the supermarket shelves. The clocks were due to turn back any weekend now, shortening the days as if they weren’t short enough. It was at this time of the year she missed South Africa most.
The chickens, all five of them, dashed across the grass, racing to be back in their pen where they could huddle together out of the stiff late-afternoon breeze. Beyond the pen, the apple trees were more-or-less bare, but the four pear trees were still clinging to plenty of fruit. Some of it lay scattered on the soil. Collecting it was a daily job at the moment. Mustn’t waste. Camilla had seen too much want, to waste.
She took a small pad and pencil from her trouser pocket and jotted a note to a growing list of jobs. What she didn’t take down these days could be forgotten or lost. Lists were an essential part of life and a constant reminder of age. By tomorrow, the list would become Lorie’s timetable for the day.
The majestic lawn stretched out beneath her, recently mowed into squares, two-tone green. It was lush and beautiful and symmetrical. Camilla appreciated symmetry. It was satisfying, uncomplicated, consistent, reliable. Everything life wasn’t.
Camilla tore her gaze from the garden, realising suddenly and urgently that there was something to do. She opened the door and almost tripped over Tess who was sitting hopefully. Camilla peered down into the hall.
Annabel drifted into view. Camilla saw the flowing blonde hair, the phone held out in front, a permanent attachment. Annabel was tapping out a message, headphones on, laughing out loud, droning some best-forgotten lyrics. Tickles, her cat, was following.
‘Annabel.’
Nothing.
‘Annabel.’ A little louder.
Annabel stopped, turned, eventually looked up.
‘What?’ she said, too loudly.
Camilla signalled to remove the earphones. Annabel did. ‘Could you tell Loretta I’d like a word with her in my study please?’
‘Whatever.’
Camilla drifted to her room to put on an ugly brown cardigan she wore strictly indoors. Then she returned to her study and sat and waited. Lorie whisked in not long later, smiling. Camilla sent back a tight smile that was a memory a moment later.
‘Have you got a few minutes?’
‘Sure.’ Lorie grabbed a chair and sat down opposite. Her movements were so fast always. She was a marvel, amazingly efficient. She had Naomi’s c
olouring and trim figure. They were alike in many ways, which was one of the reasons she fitted in so perfectly. Lorie had often been mistaken for Camilla’s daughter and Naomi’s sister, but never Annabel. No one ever guessed Naomi and Annabel were twins.
Annabel had her grandfather’s colouring: fair hair, ice-blue eyes. Camilla shook off a shiver and concentrated on Lorie settling herself. Her dark hair had been gathered off her face and loosely arranged at the back into what Camilla thought was a funny-looking bun – messy and pulled all ways with stray bits hanging down. Camilla didn’t understand the concept of arranging hair so that it looked deliberately scruffy.
‘It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow,’ Camilla began.
‘It’ll be fine,’ Lorie smiled reassuringly. ‘I’m on top of everything.’
‘I’m sure you are, but there are a couple of extras.’
‘OK,’ Lorie’s face was open, ready, always optimistic that whatever problem was presented could be overcome.
‘Denise, the cleaner.’ Camilla clicked her fingers several times, trying to summon something more that wouldn’t come. ‘Her surname’s gone.’ She waved her hand dismissively and let it rest on her lap. ‘Point is, I want you to tactfully let her go.’
For the first time, Lorie’s face faltered. Some tension crept in. ‘Let her go? Why?’
‘I have my reasons.’ Camilla paused, then decided suddenly and impulsively to share them. ‘Some earrings of mine went missing last week. Little cameo studs, of all the things to take . . . They were inexpensive, but they meant something. She possibly thought that because I never wear them I wouldn’t miss them. I confronted her and she reddened and couldn’t look me in the eye, then denied it. This morning they magically reappeared in a place I wouldn’t have dreamt of putting them.’ Camilla was staring hard, not blinking. ‘I won’t be taken advantage of, you know that.’
Lorie sat forward. ‘Camilla, Denise has got two little kids and her husband just lost his job. What if you’re wrong about –’
‘I’m not wrong. It’s unfortunate it’s bad timing, but there are certain things I won’t tolerate.’
‘OK,’ Lorie said, voice small. ‘Why do you want me to do it?’
‘For the experience,’ Camilla answered. ‘You know that if I had to do it, it wouldn’t cause me any concern, so I’ve nothing whatsoever to gain. But you –’
‘I really think it will be too difficult.’ Lorie crossed her arms.
‘Which is precisely why it’s useful.’ Camilla paused to assess Lorie, who was thinking hard, and frowning unconsciously. ‘Plus, I’d like you to appoint another cleaner. I’ve already advertised the position. A few have responded. I’ve told them to ring tomorrow morning in between ten and eleven and I want you to deal with it. Ask whatever you think is appropriate. Use your instincts. Fill the job. Whoever you choose will be fine by me. Heaven knows my last three choices have been dreadful. What have we been paying Denise?’ She tapped her forehead gently, trying to disturb her memory. Still, the name wasn’t there.
‘Bradbury,’ Lorie offered.
‘Bradbury.’ The relief. The satisfaction. ‘Thank you.’
‘Ten pounds an hour. Too much?’
‘I’m thinking not enough,’ Camilla said. ‘I advertised it at twelve, so it’s not negotiable.’
‘Twelve? For a cleaner? I know a midwife who doesn’t earn that much.’
‘Big house, huge responsibility. I want a first class job doing, Loretta. I don’t care about going-rates. I’m interested in a quality person doing a quality job and taking pride in the work. Like you do.’
Stuck for words, Lorie dropped her eyes and looked at her fingers, which were clasped and lying loosely on top of her legs.
Camilla went on. ‘Now, what you really mean is that twelve is close to what I’m paying you and you’ve been loyal and exceptional at your job over a lot of years. So I’m raising yours from fourteen to sixteen pounds an hour, effective immediately.’ Camilla’s gaze was fixed on Lorie, who looked up, stunned.
‘Sixteen? I don’t know what to say.’
‘Nothing required. The work you do here is invaluable to me. Enough said. So you’ll deal with the cleaners, one in, one out. Can I leave it with you?’
Lorie shrugged. ‘Of course, yes.’
‘Good.’
Lorie started to stand up. ‘There’s something else,’ Camilla said. Lorie dropped right back in the chair and popped one slender leg over the other. ‘It’s . . . delicate.’
‘OK.’
‘What do you know about Naomi’s not-so-young man?’
If there was a scramble going on to hide and amend things inside Lorie’s head behind her dark eyes, Camilla didn’t detect a hint of it.
‘Erm.’ Her voice rose. Her mouth turned down at the corners, briefly. She shrugged. ‘He sounds perfect. To be fair, I’m reserving my judgement until I meet him.’
‘But you speak to Naomi frequently enough that you’ll have a picture I don’t have. I’m not asking you to be disloyal, I just want to know what I’m dealing with. That relationship is bothering me beyond my admission even to Henry. I’m very uneasy about it.’
‘Why?’
‘Honestly? I don’t know.’
‘Look, Camilla,’ Lorie said, tiptoeing carefully, stalling between words. ‘I’ve never seen her happier, which has to be down to him. After everything she’s dealt with, don’t you think that counts for something?’
Camilla’s forehead folded into a frown. ‘Not particularly. Happiness, whatever it is, shouldn’t depend upon another person, or how can it be reliable? It would comfort me far more if Naomi’s happiness, for want of a better word, came from developing her talent. Her chance is now. I won’t allow him to rob her.’ Camilla slammed the desk gently with one hand. ‘I won’t.’
Lorie uncrossed her arms and tipped her palms up. ‘Why would he want to rob her?’
‘Why indeed.’ Camilla paused. ‘I’ve met him once. Smooth, over-confident bordering on arrogant. A person who knows how to get what he wants and will stop at nothing. I knew immediately I’d never warm to him and the feeling hasn’t subsided. Now Tim –’
‘Tom.’
‘Yes, him. I didn’t mind him. He came here the odd time. Pleasant enough boy. Good musician.’
Lorie glanced down again. This time, Camilla definitely detected a conflict. ‘I don’t think Tom was very –’
‘I know what happened the night of the bonfire party.’
‘You do?’ Lorie’s eyes shot up to meet Camilla’s. ‘How?’
‘Naomi spilled it all out on paper as teenagers do. She left it on her desk one day. It was too tempting not to look through because I was concerned about her at the time. It wasn’t my finest moment. I foolishly admitted it to her last week.’ She shrugged. ‘What’s done is done.’
‘Naomi will struggle with that, Camilla.’
Camilla cut in. ‘Well it’s out now. Anyway, there were pages and pages of stuff about Tom. Honestly, I blame Annabel. Obviously, I don’t approve of what he did, but the point is I never got any bad feelings about him the way I do about this one. I’m sure Tom’s gone on to become a perfectly adequate human being.’
Lorie’s voice was quiet, but sure. ‘I have to disagree. Nathan . . . Well let’s say he might be a bit deeper than you think. From what I can gather he hasn’t had things easy. There are things about him you don’t know.’
‘For instance?’
The pause was long enough for Lorie’s discomfort to speak volumes. ‘You’ll have to talk to Naomi, Camilla.’
‘I’ve tried –’
‘You’ve tried to persuade her to dump him.’ They locked eyes. Lorie held her hands up, palms flat, facing Camilla. ‘Sorry, I don’t want to step over the mark, but you are asking for my input and you do want me to be honest, don’t you?’
Camilla slowly nodded her head, buying a little time, uncertainty creeping in.
‘How do you expect her to react?’ Lorie went
on. ‘My mum wanted me to break up with one of my ex-boyfriends and it brought us closer together. It was like we had a cause and had to take on the enemy together. The relationship lasted longer than it would have done if my mum hadn’t tried to get involved. Don’t make an enemy of her, Camilla. I know you wouldn’t want to lose her.’ There was a brittle silence. Lorie shuffled around in her chair. Camilla didn’t speak. ‘Is that everything?’
‘I think that’s more than enough.’ Camilla dished out an icy warning glare. Lorie nodded, stood, crossed the floor. ‘Not a word about this to Naomi.’
Lorie glanced back. ‘Course not.’ She opened the door, slipped beyond it and closed it very carefully behind her.
For a long time, Camilla was alone with her thoughts which were chasing in all directions. What eventually distracted her and brought the room back into focus was Henry whistling in the garden. He only ever whistled when he was pampering his precious car – the large flashy one that cost the price of a house, shone like a mirror and was impractical for shopping and general use. It was the one that turned heads and opened mouths and caused Henry to burn with pride. The same one that drew his nurturing instincts more than the children ever had.
Camilla expelled an aggravated breath and picked up the seating plan and studied it again. Her own name was at the furthest point from Nathan Stone’s. She’d placed Nathan between Henry (at the head of the table) and some girl called Siobhan Dougherty. Camilla scanned the desk for a pen, found one, hovered over the page with it. She retrieved her glasses from her chest and perched them on the end of her nose and blocked out Henry’s infuriating whistling.
She slashed two angry lines through Henry’s name and replaced it with her own. Better. Camilla would sit at the head of the table with Nathan on one side and Naomi, opposite him, on the other. The enemy. No, she’d smile and be the perfect host and position herself directly in enemy territory. If there was one thing she’d learned from her miserable father about war, it was this: never underestimate your enemy, never turn your back on him. Always get to know your enemy in order to gain the upper hand. Draw him into unfamiliar territory and use the element of surprise. Camilla fully intended to.
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