I was back at Posh! the next morning when Peregrine summoned me into his office.
‘You got much on, Polly?’
‘I’m just writing that piece about the most fashionable colonic irrigation clinics in London.’
‘Finish that first. And then I’ve got something else for you.’
‘Oh?’ I said this in a hopeful way. My piece about Jasper was out this week and I was hoping that Peregrine would start giving me bigger stories off the back of it. More interviews. I was sick of interviewing celebrity Labradors.
‘I had lunch with the Countess of Stow-on-the-Wold yesterday, and she told me that we should be looking at Sheikh… Hang on, I’ve written it down somewhere. Funny name.’
He tapped at his computer. ‘Yes, that’s it. Sheikh Khaled bin Abdullah. He’s just bought a house near them in Gloucestershire apparently. He’s from… how do you pronounce it, Cutter?’
‘Qatar?’
‘Yes, that’s the one. Wherever that is.’
‘Middle East.’
‘Wherever. He’s causing all sorts of fuss in Gloucestershire apparently because he wants to dig up his estate to put a runway in for his private jet. And he’s stealing everybody’s staff. The poor Countess has just lost her second gardener apparently.’
‘Careless of her.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing, nothing. Right, I’ll just do some digging, shall I?’
‘Yes please. He’s very into his racing, she told me.’
‘Oh, I’ll ask Jasper then. He might know something.’
‘Jasper? Jasper Milton?’
I’d said his name without thinking. I hadn’t actually mentioned the fact that I’d been seeing Jasper to Peregrine for fear of interrogation.
‘Oh. Yeah. I’ve sort of… seen him a few times recently.’ I wanted to keep it as vague as possible.
‘Is he courting you?’
I reflected on the last time Jasper and I had sex, when he’d pushed me face down on my bed, put his hands on my bottom, buried his face between my arse cheeks and used his tongue to make me come. I’d been incredibly worried about his face being that close to, well, my bottom, but eventually I’d relaxed and screamed into my pillow.
‘Er, kind of courting, I suppose,’ I said to Peregrine.
‘Polly, what tremendous news! Let me know when to buy a hat.’
According to Google, the Sheikh was a 29-year-old billionaire who’d been to school in America but had recently moved to London. Big house in Mayfair, bigger one in Gloucestershire. Moustache like a Mexican drug lord, eyelashes like a baby lemur. I texted Jasper.
Do you know anything about Sheikh Khaled bin Abdullah? X
He called instantly.
‘I might do. Who’s asking?’
‘Me, obviously. I’ve got to try and get an interview with him. Or write a profile on him.’
‘I can ask him if you like.’
‘Seriously? Do you actually know him?’
‘A bit. Met him at Ascot last year. He’s a friend of Barny’s.’
‘Who’s Barny?’
‘The one you sat next to at lunch that day at home.’
‘Oh, yeah. Him. How are they friends?’
‘Neighbouring estates in Gloucestershire, although Barny’s is bigger. Much to the Sheikh’s irritation. He’s forever trying to buy more land from him but Barny always says no and that immigrants shouldn’t be allowed to own property here anyway.’
‘Jesus, that guy! But OK, if you don’t mind asking him that would be amazing.’
‘Your wish is my command. I shall say that the devastatingly clever and amusing girl I’m seeing wants to ask him all sorts of dastardly questions.’
‘Seeing?’ I smiled at my desk and looked sideways at Lala, who had Bertie on her lap. She was feeding him Haribo sweets.
‘I don’t like the word “dating”. Too American.’
‘You sound like your friend Barny.’
‘Come on, you have to admit, “dating” is a dreadful word.’
I laughed. ‘Don’t be so pompous. Where are you anyway?’
‘I’m driving to London, as it happens. Trustee meeting tomorrow. I’d say can I see you but Dad wants to go through a few things tonight.’
‘No, no, don’t worry. I should probably concentrate on the Sheikh for a bit. Plus, Mum’s getting home later so I need to go over there.’
‘Righto. Let me bell him now and I’ll come back to you. And you’re still on for dinner on Saturday?’
‘Oh, yes, I wasn’t sure if you were still free and everything with Mum and…’ I stammered, feeling awkward.
‘No, no, I’m absolutely free,’ he said. ‘I feel like you need scooping up and taking out.’
I smiled down the phone. ‘OK. Thank you.’
‘How’s your lover?’ Lala asked, giving Bertie another Haribo as I hung up.
‘He’s fine. Knows this sheikh who Peregrine wants me to write about. Should he be eating those, La?’
‘He loves them. Look …’ She fished in the sweet packet and gave Bertie a fried egg. Bertie chewed it briefly, then swallowed it, before looking at Lala with his ears pricked, asking for another one. ‘And I know who you mean. The racing sheikh. I’ve seen him at various things. Looks quite sweet. Like a sort of teddy bear.’
‘Quite a rich teddy bear,’ I said, relieved to have got off the topic of Jasper. I still felt awkward discussing him with Lala, especially because recently she had started saying she hadn’t been on a date ‘for years’ and that she was going to die alone and be exhibited in the Natural History Museum as a fossil.
An email from Bill popped up on my computer screen.
Wotcha. Fancy supper? I’m going to be finished early for once. Our usual?
He meant an Italian on Pimlico Road which Bill liked because they gave you as many packets of breadsticks as you wanted. I quickly typed back my reply.
I wish. But I need to go to Mum’s. She’s getting home from her op tonight. Xxx
I’d been planning on going back to hospital to take her home in a taxi, but Sidney had apparently volunteered to take her home. Quite the Romeo, it seemed.
Bill emailed back instantly.
Course. Do you want alone time or is the patient up for visitors? Takeaway on me, if it’s not intruding? Just guessing you may want moral support?
I emailed back saying I’d love that. As would Mum.
Bertie was offensively pleased to get home to Mum’s that evening. As soon as I put him down in her flat, he raced into the sitting room and jumped on the sofa where she was lying.
‘Oh God! Bertie, get down. Mum, are you all right?’ She was almost entirely obscured by a pile of duvets.
‘I’m quite all right, thank you, darling. Hello, Bertie, have you had a nice holiday? Did she look after you?’
‘Yes I did, he’s been thoroughly fussed over in the office,’ I said. She didn’t need to know about the Haribo. Bertie had a terrible stomach afterwards and ruined a corner of Kensington Park Gardens. ‘Where’s Sidney?’
‘He has bridge club tonight and I didn’t want him to miss that. What time’s Bill getting here?’
‘About seven, he said.’
‘Perfect. Now, I’m on boring old water but open the bottle of wine that’s in the fridge and pour yourself a glass.’
‘Yep, will do.’
‘And are you sure about a takeaway? There are some chicken breasts in the fridge I bought a few days ago.’
‘Yes,’ I said firmly, pouring the wine. ‘Bill actually suggested it. Easier. Less washing up.’
‘Fine,’ said Mums. ‘I’ll have the chicken later in the week.’
Bill arrived half an hour later, and I opened the door to find him standing on the doorstep holding his briefcase, a carrier bag and a bunch of lilies. ‘Hello, hello. I’ve gone a bit overboard on the wine side of things. And possibly the crisp side of things. And the chocolate side of things to be honest.’
‘You’re an idio
t,’ I said, taking the carrier bag. ‘But a sweet idiot. Come in before you’re savaged to death by the least menacing guard dog in Battersea.’
‘Hello, Bertie,’ said Bill, bending down to scratch him on the head.
‘Susan, I want a big hug,’ said Bill, once inside. ‘I’m not going to ask how you’re feeling because I imagine you’re bored of being asked that. But I have come armed with wine and crisps and a slightly weird and luminous flavour of hummus that I found in a corner shop around the corner. And these.’ He held the lilies out in front of him.
Mum, still lying on the sofa, clutched Bill in a hug while I unpacked the carrier bag in the kitchen. ‘Oh, Bill, you heavenly boy, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘All the better for seeing you. Polly, will you put these in water and Bill, will you tell me all about this new girlfriend of yours?’
‘Ah. News travels fast in this part of town.’ He raised one eyebrow at me as I handed him a glass of wine.
‘I haven’t told her very much,’ I said.
‘Well,’ Bill said, sitting on the sofa opposite Mum. ‘She’s called Willow and she’s lovely.’
‘And how did you two meet?’
‘Tinder, the app, you know, has Pols told you about it?’
‘Yes, thank you, William, I’m sixty-one not a hundred and sixty-one. I have heard of it. It was just very different in my day.’
‘Letters by carrier pigeon?’ said Bill.
She hit him on the arm. ‘No. You met at parties, that sort of thing. But then I met Mike and that was that really.’
‘You never looked back?’ he asked through a mouthful of crisps.
‘I never looked back, no.’
‘But how did you know, Mum?’ I asked from the kitchen sink, where I was cutting the lily stems. ‘I mean people are always saying “You know when you know”. But what if you don’t know? Or what if you think you know when you know, but actually you don’t know at all?’
I was still trying to stay calm about Jasper. Not run away with myself. Not imagine what we’d call our children (Olive? I’d always quite liked Olive for a girl), because I still didn’t quite believe we were ‘dating’. Each time Jasper had stayed with me (all right, it was only three times, but STILL), I’d woken up in the morning and been surprised to find him in my bed. What was a handsome marquess doing in my bed? I was convinced he would tire of my damp flat and it would end any second. But then… but then he’d said on the phone earlier he wanted to ‘scoop me up’ – I’d replayed the words in my head over and over again – so maybe I needed to have a little more faith.
Mum frowned. ‘What do you mean, how did you know? Are you talking about Jasper?’
‘Oh Christ, not him,’ said Bill, through a mouthful of crisps.
‘Bill,’ I warned.
‘What?’
‘Watch it. You haven’t even met him.’
‘Pols, come on. He’s a playboy, you told me so yourself. Susan, you must be on my side. I’m not sure about him.’
I looked at Mum, who opened her mouth and then shut it again.
‘And anyway,’ I went on, ‘I was very nice to Willow at Lex’s engagement.’
‘Why wouldn’t you be?’ said Bill, through another mouthful of crisps.
‘No reason. She’s fine.’
‘Fine?’
‘Yes. Fine. Perfectly sweet. I mean she’s probably not going to find a cure for cancer, but if that’s what you want then fine,’ I said, putting the flowers on the kitchen table before clapping a hand over my mouth. ‘Oh God, Mums, sorry. I didn’t really think.’
‘Polly darling, don’t be silly, but can you both stop bickering. I’m the one with cancer right now so what I say goes, and what I say is we should order from the Indian.’
‘Good idea,’ said Bill, glaring at me. I unpinned the menu from the fridge and handed it to Mum. ‘I’m not that hungry, I’ll just pick at something. You order for me.’ She handed the menu to Bill.
‘I’m famished,’ he said, holding the menu with one hand while using a crisp to scoop up the hummus like a spoon with the other. ‘So let’s get some onion bhajis to start. And then I’m going to have a butter chicken. And it comes with popadoms, right?’
‘Yes,’ I said, taking the menu from him. ‘And I’ll get the chicken jalfrezi. And plain rice. Mums, do we have any chutney?’
‘Probably, buried in the back of the cupboard.’
‘I might get some extra mango chutney, just to be on the safe side,’ I said, not relishing the prospect of sticking my hand in the back of Mum’s cupboard. ‘So, one plain rice and, Bill, what kind do you want?’
‘Plain is good for me. Lots of it please. And I’m paying.’
‘Lovely boy,’ said Mums.
8
AT AROUND NOON THE next day, Lala swept into the office and threw her bag down on the desk in a dramatic fashion.
‘Pols, I think my coil’s fallen out.’
‘What do you mean, fallen out? It’s presumably pretty wedged up there.’
‘Yes, I know. They’re supposed to be. But you’re supposed to check for the strings every now and then and I can’t feel them.’ She pulled off her coat and signed into her computer.
‘La, I’m not sure I can deal with this just before lunch,’ I said, trying to distract myself by reading the email that had just arrived in my inbox from Lex.
Are you happy to wear pink as a maid of honour? And I’m thinking matching shoes. And hair half up, half down. Xxx
I really wasn’t sure pink was my colour.
Yes, ’course. What kind of pink? X
She replied instantly.
A sort of labia pink. And also, do you want to bring Jasper as your plus one? Mum will EXPLODE with joy if there’s a real-life marquess on the seating plan. Xxx
I sat back in my chair and thought. It was an unfamiliar but warm thought, the thought of having someone with me at a wedding. And not just someone. At having Jasper with me at a wedding, standing beside me, like a normal couple. Instead of standing there like a lemon in a hat and scanning the church for handsome single men. But it still felt quite early to ask him.
La’s voice interrupted my reverie. ‘What if it’s floating about in my body somewhere? What if it’s prodding a kidney? Or my lungs?’
‘Hold that thought, La. My phone’s going.’ It was Jasper. Oh shit, the piece, presumably he was ringing me about the Posh! piece. It was out today.
I grabbed my phone from my desk and stepped into the hallway.
‘Hello,’ I said as breezily as I could.
‘Good morning,’ he said back. Did he sound stern? Quite stern maybe? What if he hated it? What if his parents hated it?
‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
OH GOD, THIS WAS IT, WASN’T IT? HE WAS ENDING IT. I told myself to take a deep breath. Calm down, Polly, you’ve only been on a few dates. You were never going to marry him anyway. Your career is more important than a man.
‘Yes?’ I squeaked.
‘So I spoke to Sheikh Khaled and he’s asked us to stay.’
‘What? What do you mean, to stay?’
‘Yes, you know, stay. As in we both go to his house in Gloucestershire and sleep in one of his bedrooms.’
‘Right.’ I felt relief throb through my body. ‘I mean amazing, thank you. I thought you’d be ringing about the piece.’
‘What piece?’
‘The piece about you!’
‘Oh, is it out?’
‘Yes!’
‘Terrific, I’ll ask Ian to go and fetch a copy the moment I’ve put my phone down. But listen, Khaled wants us to go and stay this weekend.’
‘This weekend? As in two days from now?’
‘Mmm,’ said Jasper, ‘so what I was thinking was I could pick you up on Saturday morning, we drive down there and arrive in time for drinks.’
‘Um, yeah, I guess,’ I said. ‘I should just check with Mum, that she’ll be all right.’
‘It’s just for
Saturday night,’ said Jasper. ‘I can have you back by Sunday.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ I said quickly, hoping that Sidney could be on crossword duty on Saturday night. ‘I’ll check with her but otherwise sounds great. Thank you. Can I interview him?’
‘I’m sure there’ll be half an hour or so when you can sit down and talk to him. I think he’s quite excited about being in Posh!, to be honest. Sort of sees it as his acceptance into British society, being pictured alongside dukes and so on. He said did you want to take any photos?’
‘Er, not sure.’
‘And then he said he wanted to talk to me about a couple of horses. So, it could be mutually beneficial.’
‘OK, amazing, thank you again. Peregrine will be beside himself.’
‘Good. OK, well, you go and tell him and I’ll go and read all the terrible things you’ve said about me.’
‘Not terrible,’ I said, ‘I promise. Well, I think I promise. I hope you like it. I hope your parents like it.’
‘Oh God, don’t worry about them, they never read anything.’
I hung up and went back to my desk, where Lala looked questioningly at me. ‘Are you in love with him?’
‘What? La, no. Come on. It’s been, like, a few weeks. I’m not in love with him. I just… quite like him.’ I smiled. It was actually five weeks and six days exactly since I’d gone to Castle Montgomery. But Lala didn’t need to know I was doing anything so pathetic as counting.
‘Oh dear. You’re definitely in love with him,’ she said, turning back to her computer and shaking her head. ‘This is a disaster. Anyway, I’m going to google missing coils.’
Jasper texted me an hour or so later.
It’s brilliant. You have been much too kind to me and my family. Thank you. You are quite something X
My stomach did a cartwheel and I felt giddy. I couldn’t help it. Even though I told myself to be sensible, I stared at his text message for a long time at my desk. ‘You are quite something’. Four little words but they felt big to me.
Jesus, it was exhausting being a woman sometimes.
I found Legs in the fashion cupboard on Thursday morning clutching her Americano, frowning at the rail of clothes in front of her. I had asked for her help again with clothes for the weekend.
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