by Jill Mansell
Which made Lainey feel a bit like Cinderella, although that was unfair, since it was her job to organise their lives and do as she was told.
He’d been to an upmarket deli, by the look of things. As she began to empty the bag, Lainey said, ‘Ooh, champagne truffles,’ because they were her favourite treat at Christmas. ‘And cheese straws – God, I love cheese straws.’ Next came a box containing a spherical bottle of Chambord, the blackberry liqueur she’d only discovered last year, and with it the growing suspicion that Seth must be about to get together with Dawn, because these were the kind of luxury items you took over to your glamorous girlfriend’s house . . .
Unless it had already happened, and Dawn had spent the last few days with him at his flat in Clifton, having stupendous glamorous sex and enjoying every moment of their romantic reunion.
Aware of Seth glancing at her across the room and terrified of giving herself away, Lainey pulled out a packet of smoked almonds and said over-brightly, ‘Oh, aren’t these amazing? I can’t believe you’ve bought them! And maraschino cherries – when I was at school I once spent a whole week’s pocket money on a jar of cherries because I couldn’t believe how amazing they were— Oh.’ And this time she stopped dead, clutching a packet of salted caramel shortbread and frowning in disbelief, because these were all items of food that anyone in their right mind would love to eat, but the last remaining item in the bottom of the bag was a jar of pickled walnuts.
She’d never in her life met another human being who liked pickled walnuts.
‘The penny,’ said Seth. ‘It drops at last.’
Lainey looked at him, saw that he was shaking his head and trying not to laugh. ‘These are my all-time favourite things.’
‘I know. I was expecting you to have figured that out a little more quickly than you did.’
‘I thought you’d bought them for Dawn. I just kept thinking what an incredible coincidence it was that she loves all the same stuff as me.’
Seth said, ‘I broke up with Dawn, remember?’
He broke up with her and they aren’t back together, la-la-la-la-laaaaa.
Before she could start beaming like an idiot, Lainey said, ‘But how did you know they were my favourites?’
Which was another pretty daft question, as confirmed by Seth’s raised eyebrow. ‘I gave Kit a call and asked him to email me a list.’
Lainey gave in with good grace. ‘Of course you did.’ And Kit had risen majestically to the occasion. They might only have known each other for eighteen months, but he was one of those people who paid attention to what you said and had the knack of remembering tiny details you might have mentioned in passing.
‘He did a great job,’ Seth continued, ‘and I can understand most of it. But these . . .’ He reached across the table for the jar of pickled walnuts and pulled a face. ‘They look like little brains in gone-off embalming fluid.’
‘You’ll hurt their feelings. Have you ever had them before?’
‘I think I can safely say no.’
‘Well don’t knock a pickled walnut until you’ve tried it,’ said Lainey. ‘Go on, now’s your chance.’
Seth unscrewed the lid, speared one of the walnuts with a fork and put it in his mouth.
‘And?’ Lainey prompted, because his face remained expressionless.
Once he’d chewed and swallowed, he said, ‘They taste like little brains in gone-off embalming fluid.’
‘I love them.’
‘Clearly you do. The question is how? They’re bitter.’ He grimaced. ‘And sharp.’
‘It’s an acquired taste,’ Lainey admitted. ‘My grandparents had a huge walnut tree in their back garden. My grandad used to bottle them in the kitchen, but no one else would ever eat them. I felt sorry for him because doing all the walnut preparation took hours, so I forced myself to get used to the taste, and it just made him so happy to know that someone else liked them . . . which in turn made me happy, because I loved him so much.’ She shrugged. ‘And somewhere along the way I eventually got to like them because they reminded me of him.’
‘Well now you’ve made me feel bad. But I’m sorry, I still think they taste disgusting.’
‘You’re allowed to think that. My Granny Ivy used to feel the same way about them. Well, most people did.’ Lainey took the cellophane off the Hotel Chocolat champagne truffles and held the box out to him. ‘Here, have one of these to take the taste away. Honestly, this is so kind – I can’t believe they got you to go out and buy all these things. You’ll have to give me the Gardners’ phone number so I can send them a text.’
After a pause, Seth said, ‘Why?’
‘To say thank you and let them know how lovely they are!’ She looked at him, confused. ‘Didn’t they do it to thank me for getting their passports down to Southampton?’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry, no. It was me thanking you for doing it.’
‘Oh. Wow. Well, thank you, then.’
Straight-faced, Seth said, ‘You can tell me how lovely I am if you want to.’
Lainey croaked, ‘Goes without saying,’ then made a production of taking the box back and helping herself to one of the truffles so that she couldn’t blurt out anything like: ‘I know you are, I can’t stop thinking about how lovely you are! I’ve been thinking it for weeks!’
Because that would be so undignified, and if she did ever accidentally say it, she would have to move to Australia.
She was saved by Harry bursting back in. ‘Violet just called me an ignoramus! What’s an ignoramus? Oh cool, can I have one of those?’ His eyes lit up at the sight of the chocolate truffles.
‘No,’ said Lainey. ‘But if you’re very good, you can have one of those little brains.’
Hours later, while she was finishing loading the dishwasher after dinner, Seth came into the kitchen. ‘All done for the evening now?’
‘Pretty much.’ She closed the dishwasher with a practised swing of her hip and switched it on. ‘Why? Do you need me for something?’
‘Only if you don’t have anything else planned. And not for long.’ As he said it, India’s music was blaring out upstairs and they heard Violet yell, ‘Could you have some respect for my eardrums? Some of us are trying to do our homework here.’
‘God, you’re such a loser,’ India bellowed back from her room on the other side of the landing.
CRASH went Violet’s door, followed by the volume of the music in India’s room being whacked up to maximum, almost but not quite drowning out the sound of Harry shouting instructions to his friends through his headset as he battled on the Xbox.
‘Oh Glenda,’ Majella wailed from the sitting room. ‘Naughty girl, look what you’ve done to my slipper!’
‘Shall we head down to the beach?’ said Seth. ‘It’ll be quieter.’
‘AAAARRGH,’ bellowed Harry. ‘YOU’VE KILLED ME! NOW I’M DEAD!’
Lainey said, ‘Right now, New Year’s Eve in Trafalgar Square would be quieter than this.’ She dried her hands on the sides of her skirt. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
The sand was still warm underfoot. She kicked off her yellow flip-flops and Seth removed his deck shoes so they could walk along the shoreline. The last few holidaymakers were packing up and leaving the beach now, and over to the west the sun was sinking lower, spreading a tangerine glow across the duck-egg-blue sky. In unison, they swerved to avoid a small boy who was determinedly scooping handfuls of wet sand out of the shallow trench he’d dug to block the progress of the sea.
Lainey tilted her head back, loving the sensation of warmth on her face, the tang of salt in the air and the simple fact that they were here together. Was anyone looking at them now, watching them as they walked along the sand side by side? Did they assume they were a couple? Were they wondering why they weren’t holding hands?
She could almost imagine it, a ghost sensation of his fingers clasping hers, intertwining in such a way that—
‘So what I want to know is why you didn’t take India along with you to the Gardners’ house.�
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The pleasurable romantic fantasy popped like a bubble.
‘Sorry?’ Lainey stepped sideways to veer past a clump of dried seaweed. ‘Oh, I think she was busy with something else.’
‘No. You didn’t want to take her,’ said Seth. ‘When I suggested it on the phone, it wasn’t even an option.’ He looked sideways at her. ‘Why?’
It was the kind of all-seeing look that made you realise it was a good job you weren’t a secret agent, with your life depending on your ability to tell a flawless lie.
Lainey gave up trying. ‘OK, I might be completely wrong, but a few weeks ago I saw India in the chemist’s shop on the esplanade. And I think she pinched a bottle of nail polish.’
Seth’s eyebrows rose. ‘You think? Did you see her do it?’
‘No, but I saw her looking at it. Then she left the shop and the bottle was gone. And the next night she was wearing that exact colour. She told me she’d bought it ages ago.’
‘But you didn’t believe her.’
Lainey shook her head. ‘Sorry. I haven’t told anyone else because I didn’t have proof. I didn’t want to worry Majella in case I’d made a mistake. But there was no way I could take India with me to Bude and leave her alone in the Gardners’ house. Imagine if they came home from their cruise and noticed something missing.’
‘Of course you couldn’t. And thanks for telling me.’ Seth raked his hand through his hair. ‘Shit, though. Why would she do that?’
‘No idea. Hopefully it’s just a silly phase. Or a dare or something. I did try and gently warn her about consequences, but . . . well, you know what girls are like. She wasn’t interested.’
‘Should I have a word with her, d’you think?’
‘If you do, she’ll know I told you. Leave it for now,’ said Lainey. ‘I’m keeping an eye on her as best I can.’
‘OK.’ He stopped walking, turned to face her. A light breeze ruffled his dark hair and the angle of the sun on his face accentuated his cheekbones. ‘I hope you know how much we appreciate you. And Kit too, of course.’
Lainey’s tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth. She nodded like an idiot and made a high-pitched bat squeak before the saliva kicked back in. ‘We like it here.’
‘And we like having you here. Both of you.’ Seth hesitated, his gaze intent. ‘But especially you.’
Lainey trembled as an avalanche of adrenalin swooshed its way through her veins. This was electrifying, even more so than when she’d woken up next to him on the sofa in Bristol. Now they really did look like a couple about to experience a deeply romantic moment on the beach. Here they were, facing each other, gazing into each other’s eyes, and it felt as if they were having an entire conversation without uttering so much as a single word:
Lainey, I probably shouldn’t be saying this.
No, you probably shouldn’t.
But I want to kiss you.
I want to kiss you too.
Have you ever imagined how it would feel?
Honestly? Many, many times.
Me too. And I suppose there’s only one way to find out if we imagined it right.
Oh my God, is this really about to happen?
I really think it is.
Well OK then! Let’s do it!
‘Ach,’ said Seth.
Lainey’s eyes had begun to close in anticipation. As he took a sudden step back, they snapped open again. Following the direction of his gaze, she glimpsed a slender dark-haired figure wearing a long white dress, her pink and orange scarf fluttering in the sea breeze as the waves lapped at her bare feet.
Had she chosen the scarf specially, to coordinate with the sunset behind her? If she had, it was a stroke of genius.
‘It’s Dawn,’ Seth murmured.
‘Yes.’ Of course it was. And she’d been watching them. Crashing back into the real world, Lainey moved awkwardly to the left and pointed like a child in a school play at a small crab scurrying across the sand. ‘Look, a crab!’
A rueful, can-you-believe-it smile lit up Seth’s face. ‘Well isn’t that just incredible? A crab on a beach. Whatever next?’
It was one of those situations you really wished wasn’t happening. Lainey made a big show of checking her watch. ‘I should get back. I think you’re the reason she’s here.’ Because Dawn’s cottage was closer to Beachcomber Bay, which meant coming this far across town must have been deliberate.
‘I’m not seeing her any more.’
‘I know, but still.’ The moment had passed, the mood was broken. ‘You can’t ignore her. And Kit’s expecting me back; he’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.’ Not strictly true, but it would do.
‘OK.’ Seth exhaled slowly, then nodded. ‘Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
She nodded, and gave Dawn a little wave of acknowledgement before turning and heading back up the beach in the direction of Menhenick House.
It had so nearly happened. Nearly, but not quite.
Oh well, maybe tomorrow . . .
Chapter 33
On Tuesday morning, leaving the car in the hotel car park until he was able to drive again, Wyatt and Penny caught the train that would get him back to London. Penny gave him a huge hug before getting off at Bristol. ‘Good luck. Let me know how it goes.’
His parents, Betsy and Charles, had moved over from New York five years ago in order for his father to overhaul the London branch of the family investment bank. Now that Charles had finally taken retirement at his wife’s insistence, they split their time between Holland Park and the dazzling twelfth-floor duplex apartment overlooking Central Park. Every time Wyatt arrived at either building, he found that Betsy, whose passion was interior design, had meticulously planned and overseen the redecoration of yet another room.
By the time he reached the house, the butterflies were really beginning to kick in. But there couldn’t be any backing out; it had to be done, face to face and before they had a chance to hear the news by any other means.
He hauled himself awkwardly out of the taxi and made his way up the white stone steps to the glossy black front door.
‘Oh honey, whatever’s happened to you? What have you done this time?’
More than you think, thought Wyatt as he kissed his mother on the cheek. ‘It’s nothing, just a little break, same part of the ankle as before. I slipped on a path leading down to the beach.’ As he said it, he remembered being helped up by Kit, to whom he owed so much. It was thanks to Kit that he’d said those all-important words for the first time, and now all he had to do was keep on saying them until everyone knew.
In the vast ivory and silver kitchen with its marble central island as large as a snooker table, his father was filling in the Telegraph crossword whilst watching rolling CNN news on one iPad and an international golf tournament on another.
‘Does this mean you’re off work for a bit?’ He raised an eyebrow at the surgical boot.
‘It’s fine, Dad. I’ll be back in the office tomorrow.’
His mother poured him a coffee. ‘So how was the wedding? And how did you and Penny get on?’
‘The wedding was great. We had the best time.’
‘That sounds promising! Do you think there’s a chance of you getting back together?’
He saw the hope in her eyes. ‘There’s no chance of that, none at all. We’re—’
‘Oh but honey, you don’t know that for sure! Give her a bit more time and she might change her mind.’
‘She isn’t going to. And neither am I.’ Here we go. ‘Mom, Dad, the reason I’ve come to see you today is because there’s something I need to tell you.’
His mother laughed. ‘Oh how funny, that’s what Charlene’s son Ricky said when he came home from Bali and told her he was gay!’
Wyatt’s father muted CNN. For a couple of seconds, absolute silence reigned in the kitchen, until the British commentator on the second iPad exclaimed, ‘Oh I say, whoopsadaisy, straight into the bunker on the seventeenth hole! That’s not ideal, is it?’
‘Yes, but Ricky said it because he was gay.’ Baffled, his mother shook her head. ‘You aren’t gay!’
‘Actually—’
‘You asked Penny to marry you. It’s not your fault she said no.’
‘Mom, the thing is—’
‘It’s such a shame, that beautiful chateau would have been the perfect setting for the wedding . . .’ Her voice trailed away and she gazed at him, searching his face for clues, just as she always had when he’d got his exam results from school. In a quieter voice she said hesitantly, ‘Are you gay? Is that what you’re here to tell us?’ Another thought belatedly struck her. ‘Or are you ill?’
Wyatt said, ‘Which would you prefer?’
His mother closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘I’d rather you were gay.’
‘Well that’s good to know.’ He managed a half-smile. ‘Your wish has been granted.’
A stunned silence was eventually broken by Betsy’s strangled sob, a sound that wrenched at Wyatt’s heart. Her face was pale, the flats of her hands pressed to her sternum. ‘I’m sorry, just give me a minute . . .’ she said jerkily, before turning and exiting the kitchen in a rush.
They heard her feet hurrying up the stairs, and Wyatt felt sick. After a couple more seconds his father murmured, ‘I’d better go and check on her,’ and disappeared too.
‘Oh dear,’ chuckled the golf commentator, ‘and now he’s landed in the water. That didn’t go according to plan!’
They were gone for ten minutes, and it felt more like ten hours. Wyatt already knew from scouring the internet that you could never predict how parents would react to the news. He had to be prepared for them to cast him out of their lives, to refuse to see or speak to him again. Anxiety was rising up inside him. He’d never had a panic attack, but this could be the beginning of one. He filled a glass with iced water from the fridge, then nearly dropped it on the marble-tiled floor as the kitchen door opened once more.
‘Oh honey, I’m so sorry,’ his mother blurted out, her eyes red-rimmed and her arms outstretched. ‘It’s fine, it’s fine, I just knew I was going to cry and didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. You’re my baby boy and I love you so much . . . we both do, don’t we, Charles? So long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.’ She was hugging him now, fiercely. ‘I’m worried that life isn’t always going to be easy for you. But we can deal with that, one day at a time.’