by Katie Fforde
Gilly turned to Leo. ‘Sorry, do go on. Vienna sounds fascinating.’ Even if she didn’t intend to go there.
‘I’d actually asked if you had any brandy – or, better, port.’
Gilly got up quickly, the hostess within her still willing to please. ‘Oh yes, of course. I’ll get it.’
When she’d come back to the table spread with maps and guidebooks she poured him the port.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Now after Vienna, I suggest we take the train …’ He paused. ‘Now what?’ He sounded impatient. He wanted his audience to pay proper attention.
‘Sorry! I was just wondering how you were going to get home. You’ve had far too much alcohol to be safe to drive.’
‘Isn’t that my decision?’ he said coldly.
‘Would you like me to call you a taxi?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I was rather hoping to stay with you tonight.’ He looked at her in a way that last week would have had her half fainting with lust.
‘Sorry, but I’m absolutely chocker. Not a spare bed in the house.’
‘Really? I haven’t heard a soul and you haven’t jumped up from the table once.’
Except when I’ve been tending to your needs, thought Gilly. ‘They’re all coming in much later. By arrangement.’
He was silent for a few moments – rare for him, Gilly realised. ‘Maybe you’d better call that cab,’ he said at last.
Gilly went to get her phone. She had a number of cab companies on ‘Favourites’. As she looked through the list she wondered if she should tell him to cancel the trip to Vienna and decided ‘no time like the present’.
She waited until the cab had arrived, however. ‘By the way, Leo, I don’t think I want to go to Vienna after all. At least, not in June. It’s just too inconvenient.’
He sighed, obviously being patient with the whims of a woman. ‘Why don’t you sleep on it? I’ll leave the information that I’ve printed off. It’s got a link to the hotel on it.’
Gilly smiled and nodded, feeling cowardly but also that she’d been run over by a Savile Row-suited steamroller and so her cowardice was justified.
As he left Gilly noticed he had cat hair on the seat of his trousers. He would not appreciate that. But she’d had Ulysses a lot longer than she’d known Leo. If she had to choose between them, it would have to be Uly.
Gilly’s emotions were mixed. Part of her felt she’d probably lost the silver fox that her friends envied her for having and so was regretful. The other part hoped she had: the thought made her feel liberated, in the same way she had when she’d finally navigated the tortuous divorce proceedings her ex-husband put her through. After all, Leo might be a silver fox but he was high maintenance. She enjoyed cooking for people and loved to be appreciated, but she wondered if she would ever get to the stage with Leo that they could just eat cheese on toast in front of the telly. He’d probably want her to go on a diet, too, in case she got just a bit too plump to be presentable.
After she had put on some music to tidy the kitchen by, she examined her feelings. Supposing she couldn’t go to Vienna, how did she feel? Relieved, she realised. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go, she did, but not in the high-powered, high-end way that Leo would arrange.
She switched on the overfilled dishwasher. Next question. How would she feel if she never saw Leo again? This wasn’t quite so clear, she realised. Part of her was definitely relieved but part of her would wonder if she’d made the right decision. He was gorgeous, by anyone’s standards, and the fact that he was courting her, a middle-aged woman, was very flattering.
Now she wished she’d gone for a rich and creamy chocolate dessert instead of the lighter, diet-friendly oranges in caramel. That would have been good – something really fattening and rich to indulge in so that the faint nausea she’d feel afterwards would match her mood. Fortunately she’d brought some cream just in case (in case of what, she never asked herself) and although it curdled slightly when poured over the oranges, it tasted nice. After she’d eaten it and poured herself some Grand Marnier she did the full number on the kitchen. Usually she’d just do the minimum and finish in the morning. She much preferred cleaning in daylight but she suspected she’d be feeling low when she came down the next morning and having a clean kitchen might help.
Before she settled down to sleep she texted Helena, hoping her daughter hadn’t taken her phone into the bedroom as she didn’t want to disturb her. I’m not going to Vienna with Leo, she said, and added a grinning emoji.
Chapter Sixteen
Helena must have seen her mother’s text early because she was in the kitchen by eight.
They hugged.
‘Oh God, Mum, I’m so sorry! I would never have told you all that stuff about Leo if I hadn’t been really worried!’ Helena said, still clinging on to her mother.
‘I know you absolutely did it for the best and I don’t know if it was what you said, or him, but I’m going off him.’
Helena gasped in delight. ‘Have you dumped him?’
‘No. He may dump me first.’
‘Oh, don’t let that happen,’ said Helena, possibly worried that Gilly might keep him. ‘Far better for you to do it!’
Gilly didn’t really want to talk about this now. She wanted to make up her own mind in her own time. But she knew Helena would put pressure on her if she showed doubt. She changed the subject. ‘Would you like some belly of pork? You could heat it up for Jago next time you see him.’
Helena looked a bit guilty. ‘I could and that may be quite soon.’
‘Why?’ If it hadn’t been for the guilty look Gilly would never have asked. She felt that if she wanted her privacy respected she should respect Helena’s but she was her mother. There were a few privileges.
‘Because we’re living together. No! Not like that! I’m renting a room in his house. For money. So we’re sharing a house really, not living together. Although we do share meals – or we have so far.’
Gilly smiled again, hoping she didn’t look too fond and clucky for her independent daughter. ‘I’ll give you all the pork belly then.’
Later Gilly found herself in Waitrose staring mindlessly at the chocolate display. Usually she was focused when she went shopping, had a list, knew what she wanted, but now her decision-making ability had deserted her. She still hadn’t decided what to do about Leo.
She became aware of someone at her elbow. It was William. ‘Oh, hello!’
‘Hello.’ He paused. ‘I’d ask how you are but I think I know the answer.’
‘Oh God, do I look awful?’
‘Not awful, never that, but you don’t look happy.’
Gilly started a smile and then decided it probably looked ghoulish and stopped.
‘When I feel like that, I go gliding,’ said William.
‘Do you?’
‘Can I take you gliding? Would you like that?’
At that moment she couldn’t decide what chocolate bar to buy, how could she make a decision about going gliding?
‘I don’t know. I’ve never been. How can I possibly tell if I’d like it?’
‘I expect the thought makes you feel a bit apprehensive,’ said William. ‘Can we find a day when I can take you to look at the glider and – if it’s sunny and you feel like it – we can go up? But if you don’t fancy it we’ll just go out for lunch?’
‘William, it’s terribly kind of you but—’
‘I’ll email you,’ said William, ‘then you can think about it and reply accordingly. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot while you’re shopping.’
Now Gilly felt guilty. ‘I’m sorry! It was such a kind thought but—’
‘It came at just the wrong moment.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll email you.’ Then he walked off towards the wine department.
Gilly watched him go. It was so kind to try to offer comfort when she was obviously suffering. On the other hand she could have done with him not being quite so quick to notice when she’d put on a good layer of ‘I’
m absolutely fine’ make-up. Still, if it hadn’t worked, it hadn’t worked. She picked up the first chocolate that came to hand and put several bars into her trolley. Then she headed to the baking ingredients department. She saw William passing through towards the checkouts. He gave her a wave and a smile and she smiled back. Gliding, she thought, not her sort of thing at all. Which was rather a shame.
Gilly was very surprised to open her front door and see Leo standing there just after she’d put her shopping away. He had a huge bunch of flowers in his hand and a very humble expression on his face.
‘Forgive me for just turning up like this but I thought you may have blocked my number,’ he said, ‘and I really wanted to say how sorry I was about my behaviour last night.’
Gilly opened her front door, her feelings very mixed. ‘Come in. And there’s no need for all this.’
He came in and put the flowers into her hands. ‘There was very much a need.’
‘I’ll just put these somewhere. I expect they could do with a drink before I arrange them.’ Leaving Leo in the hall she went to her utility room and found a bucket. When the flowers were in water up to their necks she went back to her unexpected guest. Her short encounter with a cold tap had been enough for her to gather her composure.
‘Can I offer you some coffee, Leo?’ she asked. ‘Having given your lovely flowers a drink I think I should show you the same courtesy.’ She smiled.
‘Can I suggest something different? Can I suggest I take you to my house for coffee? I’d like you to see it.’
The sensible part of Gilly would have said no but her curiosity squashed common sense in a second. ‘That would be delightful,’ she said. ‘Go and make yourself comfortable in the sitting room while I get ready.’
Gilly wanted to suggest she took her own car but then decided it looked a bit rude. Helena would have chided her for her inability to be rude to people but good manners were in every fibre of her being and Leo was making a huge effort. Saying sorry was obviously hard for him and he was doing it with very good grace.
Unusually for Leo, he didn’t talk much as he drove so when Helena rang the call broke the silence. Gilly felt awkward talking to her daughter because she knew Helena would not approve of what she was doing. At least Helena would understand her desire to see a possibly lovely house, but she wouldn’t want the house to be Leo’s.
Twenty minutes later, Leo drove through huge, wrought-iron gates that opened with the aid of a gadget in his car. He drove up the drive and drew to a halt in front of the house.
Gilly drew breath. Her own house was lovely, but this – lit perfectly by the spring afternoon sunshine – was spectacular.
It was a classical Georgian house, possibly an old rectory. The garden in front was beautifully tended and beyond the lawn there was a gate into the churchyard; beyond that was an old church. Gilly couldn’t suppress a sigh.
Leo ran round the car so he could open the passenger door. He handed Gilly out.
‘Come through to the kitchen. It doesn’t have anything like the charm that yours has, but it is quite smart.’
The kitchen was reached via a generous entrance hall, stone-flagged, light and perfect for the tallest Christmas tree. Now it had an antique desk and chair and a chaise longue.
‘Quite smart’ as a description of the kitchen was an enormous understatement. Firstly, it was huge and secondly, unless Gilly was very much mistaken (and she did her fair share of looking on the internet), cost the same as a decent-sized house in some parts of the country.
Painted a darkish green (Farrow and Ball, Gilly recognised), it wasn’t gloomy but stylish. A four-oven Aga the same colour took up quite a lot of one wall, fitted into what had once been an inglenook (another house-sized amount of money.) All around were cupboards and (she was willing to bet) pan drawers. There was one of those taps that provided boiling or icy cold water and a sneaky look at a tall cupboard that looked rather like an antique armoire (though not enough to make Gilly believe it was one) turned out to be a fitted larder.
Gilly had always wanted a fitted larder cupboard. She had a larder but it was damp, full of surplus kitchen gadgets (pasta maker, ice-cream maker, spiraliser, mincer) and wasn’t full of decorative jars of spices. Basically, it didn’t look as if it was owned by Nigella.
Leo drew out a stool from the breakfast bar and invited Gilly to sit. Gilly was not a fan of high stools but she clambered up and rested her hands on the marble island. It would be so perfect for making pastry, she thought.
He made them both coffee from a complicated machine and handed Gilly a mug. ‘Take it with you while we do the tour. I have an appointment later or I’d invite you to lunch.’
‘I’ve got things I need to do later, too,’ said Gilly, hoping she hadn’t forgotten anything important.
Every room was more lovely than the last. There was a huge, elegant drawing room, a dining room, painted traditionally in deep red, and, as well as an office, a snug and a wine cellar, there was a magnificent orangery. Gilly had a conservatory and a wine cellar but her wine cellar was actually in the cellar and you had to go down steep steps to get to it. This was near the dining room and kitchen, incredibly handy.
‘This is just so lovely,’ said Gilly when the tour was over and they were back in the hall.
‘It’s home,’ said Leo simply.
Gilly suppressed a sigh. She didn’t want him to see quite how impressed she was. It would make his head swell and she didn’t want him to have a problem going through doors.
‘Well, now I must go back to my far more humble one.’
‘I wanted you to see it, Gilly, not so much to impress you but so you’d know you wouldn’t be giving up a lovely place to live if you threw your lot in with me.’
‘I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,’ said Gilly, channelling her inner playgroup leader. ‘But thank you.’ She gave Leo the sort of smile she usually kept for potentially difficult bed and breakfast guests. It never failed her.
‘Let’s get you home.’
As they drove back through the lanes of Gloucestershire, Gilly thought about Leo’s wonderful house. And the more she thought about it the more she realised that no house, however wonderful, was better than her house. Fairacres was home, damp patches, deathwatch beetle and all.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ said Leo, looking down into her eyes, his expression sincere.
‘Lovely,’ said Gilly, looking up into his eyes, mirroring his expression.
Neither of them meant those warm looks, she realised, but she wanted to get away politely. It was only later that she wondered whether Leo did too.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Listen,’ said Amy to Helena on the phone later in the morning after Helena had been to see Gilly and come away with a lot of pork. ‘Are you sitting down?’
‘I am now.’ Helena was telling a lie. Amy sounded so urgent that standing up seemed a better choice. It was probably that Amy had forgotten to tell her they had a workshop in Cornwall tomorrow and they had to set off immediately.
‘OK, well, you know the Springtime Show?’
‘Yes,’ said Helena, slightly sarcastically, ‘the show where all the really high-end crafters display their work and it costs a grand to get in.’
‘Right. Well, I’ve got you in!’
Helena exhaled and perched on the edge of a very broken-down armchair that had apparently once been leather. ‘Calm down and breathe. How can I possibly be “in”? It’s booked up the year before it’s on and – in case you missed it – costs a grand to enter. Am I sharing your stall?’ Amy had indeed booked her stall at this show the previous year.
‘No! The stalls are tiny. There was a cancellation. I was with some other people and one of them got the call. None of them wanted to take the place so I said yes. For you!’
‘Amy! How can I go? I’m busy enough getting stuff together for Woolly World and I couldn’t take that stuff to Springtime, it’s too rustic. Quite apart from the money.’
&n
bsp; ‘I’ve paid for your entrance. You’ve got just under three weeks to create some suitable stock and you’ll get your money back – my money – no problem. Helena, this is the perfect opportunity for you to weave in silk.’
Helena wiped her arm with her forehead. Amy knew about her long-held ambition to work with silk, one she had batted away numerous times as being impractical. But at a show like Springtime, where people who would willingly spend well over a hundred pounds on a scarf visited with credit cards and a lust for luxury retail opportunities, silk would be perfect!
‘I haven’t got time—’
‘You’ve got nearly three weeks. You won’t have time to make that much but you could make samples and take orders. Hels, you’ve got all that silk at your mum’s house and that handy little loom—’
‘But I’m known for my blankets!’
‘You can change. And you could take a few of your best blankets just to fill up the stall. But as I said, the stalls are tiny anyway.’
‘It’ll take me three weeks to thread the loom!’
‘But, Helena’ – Amy was talking soothingly now as if her friend were a traumatised horse – ‘you’ve got all those beautiful cones of silk yarn that someone trusted you enough to donate to you. They might get eaten by clothes moths if you don’t use them soon.’
‘Do moths eat silk?’
‘Definitely! Anyway, you have to do it or you’ll never be able to pay me back my grand.’
The conversation continued for a while. When Helena put the phone down she noticed there was a mug of tea on the table. ‘You are such a star!’
Jago nodded, acknowledging his starriness. ‘My reward is that you tell me what that was all about. It sounded really exciting from this end.’
Helena sipped her tea. ‘OK, but it’s a bit of a long story. Aren’t you busy?’
‘I’m having a break.’
‘Well, when I was at art college, before I’d discovered weaving really, there was this amazing woman. She was in her fifties and I think I was missing Mum a bit and she took me under her wing. She gave me her loom. People often give weavers looms! Although I wasn’t one then, I think this woman, Julia Coombs, saw that that was where I was headed. And, with the loom, she gave me a whole load of silk yarn. Beautiful colours. I longed to make something with it but someone told me I had to start with wool. Can’t even remember why, now. So I put all the lovely coloured silk into bin liners and took it home and it went in the attic – although Mum put it in plastic boxes. The loom went up there too.’ She gave a rueful laugh. ‘My brother would say it’s one of the reasons I don’t want Mum to move except I don’t think he’d remember about my stuff in the attic.’