The Perfect Match (15 page)

‘Silly girl! And with a new-build we won’t have the endless maintenance a big old house would land us with.’

She couldn’t argue with that so said, for the second time, hoping that this time he’d listen, ‘But, Nevil, we could never afford this.’

He looked pleased and knowing.

‘Nevil, how much is it?’

‘Not telling.’

‘OK, I’ll guess. I’d say one point two.’

He shook his head. ‘Way more. One and three-quarter million is the asking price.’

Bella raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s on an estate.’

‘Of four very exclusive houses. Who wants to live out in the sticks, isolated and on your own?’

‘People with that sort of money, which is not us.’ She smiled. ‘It’s been fun to see it, it really has, but shall we find some tea?’ Really a stiff drink would have been more useful. How could Nevil think they could afford it? Even with a huge discount from the builder, which he implied he could get, it was way, way out of their league. Thank goodness.

‘Come back down to the kitchen. Look how beautifully the stairs and bannisters and things are made? That’s craftsmanship!’

‘Which is why we can’t afford it,’ she said when they were back in the ice rink.

Nevil shook his head. ‘We wouldn’t be paying the full price, Bells. We’d be getting a deal. A really good deal.’

‘It could be half-price and we couldn’t afford it, Nevil. You know that.’

He smiled. ‘I know nothing of the kind. I have dreams, dreams and plans, sweetheart. This is the sort of lifestyle we deserve.’

‘Not if we can’t afford it,’ said Bella.

Nevil made an impatient noise. ‘I wish you’d stop worrying about the money! It’s not going to be a problem!’

‘How isn’t it? I don’t understand.’

Nevil shook his head. ‘You’ve just got to trust me on this.’

‘But Nevil—’ Bella started but she was interrupted.

‘Really!’ he went on, less vehemently. ‘I’ll look after the money side. You just think how you’d like your dream house to be.’

Bella really wanted to say that this was as far from her dream home as it possibly could be, but she knew it would hurt Nevil’s feelings terribly. She just said, ‘It is quite far away from work though. Three-quarters of an hour, I reckon.’

‘That’s not far. Anyway, why does that matter?’

‘It’s also quite far away from our family and friends.’ Bella didn’t only mean in distance. She couldn’t imagine having the sort of cosy dinner parties she sometimes gave for the people in the office, when they sat in Alice’s kitchen, eating, drinking and laughing. Compared to this gadget-filled palace, Alice’s felt like a glorified pantry.

She walked across to the window and looked at the site again. ‘How big is the plot, Nevil?’

‘Big enough for a bit of a lawn in the front, and at the back – you know, a patio area, barbeque area, space for a hot tub. The usual sort of entertainment spaces you’d expect with a house like this.’

‘But not many actual flowerbeds?’ she said, shuddering at the mere thought of a hot tub.

‘We don’t have time for gardening, sweetheart. We’re busy people.’

‘No one should ever be too busy to grow roses,’ she said.

He ruffled her hair. ‘Who invented that load of crap?’

‘I did.’

He ruffled her hair again, and she tried not to show her irritation. ‘No wonder it’s crap then.’ He paused. ‘Tell you what, let’s go back to mine. I’ll take you out to dinner later. There’s a new resto in Cirencester—’

‘Nevil! I can’t go to a restaurant. I need my car and my shoes are covered in mud.’ They might well never be the same again, but she kept this to herself.

‘OK, fair enough. We’ll go and get your car and then go to mine? Maybe you could pop home and pick up some underwear for the morning?’ He gave her the sort of look which made his meaning clear.

Bella felt cornered, but nodded all the same. With luck Alice would still be out, and she wouldn’t have to sense her disapproval. It wasn’t that Alice was prudish, but she didn’t think Nevil was right for Bella. And maybe he wasn’t perfect. But she couldn’t forget how Nevil had picked her up when she was heartbroken and restored her self-esteem. She owed him some loyalty for that. And she’d be able to talk him out of wanting to live in this monstrous house. She just needed a bit of time. He might be a bit patronising sometimes but she was sure he did love her. He wouldn’t want her to live somewhere she’d be unhappy.

In the end they decided not to go out. Bella really didn’t want to, and Nevil wanted to catch up on a bit of work, so while he tapped away on his computer and made phone calls, she rummaged in his fridge and cupboards and found pasta sauce ingredients. Nevil’s kitchen was small and functional and only just had room for a table-for-two, and yet she preferred it to the enormous room he seemed to think was any woman’s dream.

That thought hit home. Whether she owed him loyalty or not, the fact was that they were utterly different and maybe it really was time for them to part. Yet Bella shrank from the fallout it would cause. She knew Nevil’s ego would never permit her to stay at the agency he managed if she dumped him. She might find it difficult to go on working with him; he’d find it impossible, his pride would be too damaged. She’d have to leave the job and colleagues she loved. But what about the Agnews? She had to get them settled first – no one else would care about them in the way she did and they were such a challenge! Tomorrow she would press them about Badger Cottage and then, if they decided to buy, she would think about it all in more depth and make a decision. Nevil hadn’t mentioned their engagement again, which was good – maybe he was going off the idea of them getting married? But there was that house. No, he obviously felt they had a future together. It was a mess.

As she scraped away at the Parmesan cheese to go on top of the pasta, she realised she was no better than the women who stayed with the wrong man because of the lovely house. She was staying to preserve the status quo. She thought about it as she gathered up the saucepans to wash. She would have to leave her job, but would she have to completely relocate like last time? Was the small town big enough for both of them? Was it fair on Nevil for her to stay? She had a lot of thinking to do.

ALICE WAS IN
Waitrose early. She wanted to make Michael something they’d learned to cook, as a thank you. She just needed to decide what. Rum babas? Focaccia? Or her own favourite, cheese bread?

She was in the bakery aisle inspecting a packet of spelt flour as someone had once told her it was less fattening, when she became aware of the sound of sniffing. She looked up. It was Michael’s youngest, Lucy.

She glided out of the aisle with alacrity, irritated at having her shopping interrupted, certain that she didn’t want to have to say hello to one of her least favourite, people. The sniffing was probably an allergy – Lucy was just the sort of person to have allergies – but why did she have to have them in her Waitrose? There was a perfectly good one in Cirencester where she could sniff away to her heart’s content. Did the girl have no idea of boundaries?

Annoyed that she’d allowed herself to be driven away from the specialist flours, Alice went back.

Lucy was still sniffing, but in a way that was more like a sob. Well, Alice wasn’t going to ask what was wrong! As if! Besides, she was the last person Lucy would want making sympathetic noises. If the situations had been reversed – heaven forbid – Alice would throw herself under the nearest trolley rather than allow Lucy to offer fake concern. Lucy was sure to feel the same about her.

Besides, she was a little cow, utterly self-absorbed and completely unworthy of having a lovely man like Michael as a father. She must take after her mother.

And yet, a few moments later, without knowing how she’d got there, Alice found herself next to the unworthy little cow holding out a tissue produced from her handbag. It had a picture of Rodin’s
The Kiss
on it.

Lucy snatched it, blew her nose loudly and sobbed some more. ‘Oh God! It’s so awful!’ she howled.

Alice handed her another tissue and heard the words ‘Would you like to go for a coffee?’ come out of her mouth.

‘Ugh! I can’t imagine anything worse!’

As Alice felt very much the same, she prepared to move away but Lucy went on, ‘Coffee makes me sick at the moment.’

A suspicion about what might be causing the tears popped into Alice’s head. ‘Tea then?’

Lucy nodded and just for a moment Alice saw a very distressed young woman, and not a spoilt brat having a tantrum. ‘Actually, Alice, you might be able to help.’ She gave her a nervous smile.

Wary, and trying not to feel flattered, Alice guided both Lucy and the trolleys to the coffee shop. They found a table in a corner. ‘You sit down. Do you want ordinary tea or something else? Peppermint? Ginger?’

‘Peppermint. Please,’ Lucy added. Now she was no longer sobbing, her social skills were beginning to return.

Alice came back a few minutes later with the drinks and a plate of toasted teacakes. In her opinion, few things in life were so ghastly that a toasted teacake wouldn’t help.

Lucy sipped at her tea with her lips pursed, as if it might be medicine in disguise. Then she took a second, more confident sip. She regarded the teacakes suspiciously.

Alice drank her tea, considering Lucy. She watched as a hand came out and took a piece of teacake. It was like watching a feral cat deciding to accept food.

The first piece of teacake went down and Lucy helped herself to a second.

Alice regarded her. ‘Are you pregnant?’

Lucy looked up, aghast. ‘How do you know? I can’t possibly show yet! I’ve been so sick I’ve lost half a stone!’

‘Well, while I’ve never been pregnant myself, when my best friend was pregnant she went right off coffee, alcohol and, oddly, rice. She also developed a passion for sweet things. How are you with rice?’

‘OK, but I can’t face flesh – meat or fish. Dad wanted us to go on a cookery course, but I had to convince him that baking was better.’ Lucy sighed. ‘No one is supposed to know I’m pregnant, and you could tell so easily!’ She looked as if she might start crying again.

‘Don’t worry. No one else would notice. It’s just me because of my friend.’ Alice wasn’t actually sure this was true, but she couldn’t bear any more tears. She’d run out of tissues for one thing. ‘So, what had so upset you in the bakery aisle? Presumably no one had said, “Got a bun in the oven, I see.”’

Lucy almost smiled. ‘No. Worse than that.’

‘What then? Was it: “Who ate all the pies, porker?”’

The smile was better developed now. ‘No one said anything to me – it’s just the whole ghastly situation.’

Alice’s heart sank. ‘Oh?’ She trusted Lucy would elaborate. As long as she didn’t want Alice to escort her to a special clinic she could cope, but if it was that, she’d send for Lucy’s sister.

‘It’s so bloody unfair! Why me?’

It became apparent this wasn’t a rhetorical question. Alice took a breath. ‘Well, if you don’t take precautions . . .’

Lucy regarded her as if she was mad. ‘What are you talking about?’

Alice shook her head. She took a different tack. ‘Did you want to get pregnant?’

Lucy gave Alice a look that made her feel very stupid. ‘Of course!’

‘Oh. And Phillip knows?’

‘Of course!’ Lucy said again, as if Alice was an idiot.

‘Your Dad?’ Alice felt if she was going to be treated as if she’d completely lost her brain, she might as well get all the stupid questions out of the way. Otherwise she might die before she found out why the wretched girl was so upset.

‘Yes!’

‘So why the big drama?’

Lucy frowned. ‘Phillip’s bloody f— grandmother.’ Then she looked horrified. ‘Sorry. Shouldn’t have sworn.’

Alice nodded. ‘It’s all right, you stopped before you said anything really bad. Besides, you don’t get to be as old as I am without hearing that word from time to time.’ She didn’t add that she even used it herself, from time to time.

‘You’re not that old – it’s just—’

‘OK, that’s enough about my age. Now tell me what the problem with Phillip’s grandmother is?’

‘I’ve to open up her house and cook a meal for the entire family.’

‘Oh?’

Lucy nodded, obviously glad of an opportunity to get something off her chest. ‘Yes. The house is about to be sold and the grandmother wants a last family gathering before it is. It’s her dying wish. Not that she is dying, more’s the pity.’

‘But why do you have to do it? You’re not that keen on cooking, are you?’

‘I hate bloody cooking!’

‘So – if the whole family is involved – why ask you to cook?’

‘Good question! Basically, it’s bloody Phillip!’

Alice took a few seconds to take this in. Phillip, knowing his wife was pregnant, that she hated ‘bloody cooking’ and was probably dreadful at it, was making Lucy cook for his grandmother. It took male insensitivity to levels bordering on insanity. ‘He’s making you do this?’ Alice had to check she hadn’t got it wrong.

Lucy nodded, gathering up the teacake crumbs with her finger.

‘Well, you must say no. Play the pregnancy card. Get some takeaway menus. Put your foot down, Lucy.’

Lucy shook her head. ‘I can’t. It’s really important that I do this.’

‘Why?’

‘Because . . . It’s hard to explain.’ Lucy looked at Alice pleadingly as if she didn’t want to go into details.

Alice stared relentlessly back. ‘There has to be a very good reason to put you through cooking a meal for a family—’

‘In a house no one’s lived in for – like ever!’ added Lucy.

‘—when there are other family members involved who could possibly do it quite easily,’ finished Alice.

‘Oh God!’ wailed Lucy, rubbing her forehead. ‘It’s all so difficult!’

‘Then don’t do it,’ said Alice firmly, the solution simple. ‘Just say no.’

‘Everybody in Phillip’s family thinks I’m silly and uneducated and can’t do anything useful. Basically they hate me. This is my chance to prove I’m not useless.’ She paused. ‘Phillip got a lot of stick when he married me and I want to prove to them he didn’t make a mistake.’

Alice nodded. ‘And his grandmother thinks all that too?’