The moment she was on her own, Gilly stopped being furious and became devastated again. She didn’t know what to do with herself or what to do with the information Helena had given her. It was like a bomb, only there was no handy bomb-disposal unit she could call. She’d never known Helena to be wrong about anyone when she’d recognised them. But there was always a first time!
She put the kettle on for tea but then didn’t fancy any. She cleared up the soup and scones and wanted to cry for being so horrible to Helena. But she didn’t feel ready to apologise to her. Ulysses the cat, finding her unexpectedly still, jumped on her lap. She stroked him for a bit until he started kneading her with his claws and the hairs which floated up from his lavish coat made her sneeze.
In the end she went out into the garden and cleared a bed she’d been thinking of redoing for some time although she hadn’t decided what she wanted to do with it. Ulysses came with her, trying to imply that gardening had been his idea all the time.
She’d always liked gardening and hers looked wonderful in the spring. Little daffodils bloomed next to miniature irises and grape hyacinths, drifts of yellow and blue like water and sunshine. That had been her plan when she’d planted them but now, although she still found them pretty, their loveliness enhanced her sadness instead of cheering her up. She and Helena hardly ever fell out and it was heartbreaking.
However, she felt better when she came indoors and decided to do what was so often the best thing – nothing. She would carry on as normal and the right decision would occur to her. And as Leo was coming to dinner to plan their trip to Vienna that evening, she could distract herself with cooking.
She was doing slow-roasted pork belly because Leo had once mentioned liking it. And it was going to be perfect. In the kitchen, Gilly had control and right now this was a great comfort to her.
All the time she cooked she thought about Leo and all the time she wondered what difference, if any, Helena’s information made to her feelings.
As she scored the pork fat with the Stanley knife she kept for the purpose, she realised she hadn’t actually heard the details. It was perfectly possible that Leo had got caught up himself in some scam or other without being aware of it and he had just been brought down by others. But then, unexpectedly, the vision of the car on the wrong side of the road hurtling towards her came into her head. It had given her nightmares for months. Could she love a man who drove so dangerously? But it had happened years ago! He didn’t seem to drive dangerously now. A bit fast, perhaps, but Gilly thought that about pretty much everyone, including Helena.
And so what if he’d done time in prison? People were allowed second chances. Of course they were. And abandoning someone you loved because they’d made a mistake in their youth was not only unkind, it was ridiculous.
As Gilly peeled potatoes she pushed away the thought that Leo hadn’t been that young when he’d nearly killed her. She’d been the mother of a university student herself. While they hadn’t ever talked about their ages she guessed he was a few years older than she was. But still! She was going to ignore everything that Helena had told her.
Gilly set a small table and chairs in the sitting room. Leo wasn’t the sort of man who’d want to eat in the kitchen and the dining room was far too large for dinner à deux. But a little table in the window embrasure and the fire lit to add warmth and sparkle to the evening would be perfect. If she had only two guests who wanted dinner she put them there and everyone enjoyed it.
She polished the glasses and opened the wine. Leo had offered to bring wine but she had protested and bought some herself. She felt confident in her choice because she’d met William in Waitrose and he had helped her find one that had been praised in the Sunday Times.
She was very happy with her meal by the time it was ready. A small clafoutis of vegetables in individual ramekins to start – the belly of pork was a substantial dish. Then the pork with amazing crackling, mashed potato that had been through the ricer and was as smooth as silk, softened with an indecent amount of butter, and some green beans. Then for pudding she just had a simple orange salad with chips of caramel. It was all about the pork, the rest were just grace notes to the main event.
In spite of her determination to put everything Helena had told her out of her head there was a touch of anxiety in the excitement she felt at the prospect of seeing Leo.
One of the many things she liked about him was that he always arrived when he said he would, and he did tonight with a bottle of wine under his arm.
‘Hello, you,’ he said, kissing her on both cheeks.
‘Hello, Leo,’ she said. ‘Come on in. It’s so lovely to see you.’ Being with him was very reassuring. He was a solid presence and it was easier to forget all she’d heard about him when he so obviously wasn’t a jailbird. Whether or not he drove too fast was less clear.
‘I brought you this – I know I said I wouldn’t but I couldn’t resist …’
Gilly looked at the bottle and laughed. ‘It was on offer at Waitrose! I got a bottle too. Now that’s a good omen.’
‘Why would we need a good omen?’ he asked.
‘Oh, you know! It’s just something you say.’ Gilly took the bottle. ‘Come and sit by the fire. It’s a chilly evening. You know what they say: “As the days get longer the days get colder,” or some such. What would you like to drink?’
‘A glass of that sherry I brought you would be nice.’ He paused. ‘Have one too. It will help you relax. You seem a bit on edge this evening.’
‘Do I? Just worrying about the meal, I suppose. I’ll go and get the sherry.’
Gilly wasn’t remotely worried about the meal – she knew it was going to be perfect – but she was agitated. In spite of telling Helena she didn’t care about anything she’d told her – except perhaps the part about Leo being the man in the car on the wrong side of the road – it wasn’t true. And she’d thought about little else.
Sherry consumed, some fairly normal conversation enjoyed, Gilly went to get the starter. She released the little ramekins on to warm plates and was pleased to see the batter was perfectly set. She’d eaten the dish in France once and had been pleased to find a recipe.
Leo had filled both their glasses with wine and for once ignored the jug of water that was also on the table. How was he getting home? Gilly wondered. She had no guests in that night and had deliberately kept this evening free, so she could easily put Leo up if he wanted to stay. But would he want his own bedroom or would he want to share hers? In spite of him being so ardent in many ways, he hadn’t actually kissed her properly yet. She didn’t know if he was biding his time (she really hoped that was it) or didn’t fancy her. She herself had decided their trip to Vienna was the time to pursue their relationship further.
‘This is very delicious,’ said Leo after a couple of mouthfuls.
‘I’m so glad you like it. We’re having belly of pork next so I wanted to do something light.’
‘My favourite!’ He paused. ‘Not the sort of thing your daughter-in-law Cressida would ever cook.’
A slight concern that she kept forgetting about came into Gilly’s head. ‘I’m sure you’ve told me …’ She wasn’t sure but she said it anyway. ‘Did you meet Cressida and Martin at mine that time we all had Sunday lunch? Or did you know them before?’
He hesitated just a fraction too long for her peace of mind. ‘I met them here, of course.’
It didn’t ring true but Gilly was determined not to spoil her evening.
‘So what news of Vienna?’ she said later, when they were halfway through their pork and the best way to achieve the perfect crackling (which this definitely was) had been discussed at length.
‘Oh! All booked!’ said Leo. ‘I’ll give you the details after supper. I can guarantee you’re going to absolutely love what I’ve planned. More wine?’
He topped up her glass and then his own.
For whatever reason, Gilly was not enjoying Leo’s company as much as usual. Previously she had revelled in the sound of his voice – it was beautifully modulated – and he was extremely well read and full of information about (it seemed) everything from gardening to ancient Greek literature and everything else in between. She knew she didn’t always listen to what he was saying and just let his voice wash over her. But now she was paying attention, waiting for a suitable gap for her to say something.
‘Would you like some more?’ she asked eventually, after a brief lecture on the life and works of Gustav Klimt which they would see when they went to Vienna.
He patted his stomach, currently covered in very fine wool tailoring. He cared a lot about his clothes and while Gilly liked clothes too, she did wonder at his choice of tie sometimes. Now was one of those times; the pattern was a bit too busy for her. ‘Just a soupçon more would be lovely. I should probably decline as I’m sure you’ve got a wonderfully rich chocolate pudding for afterwards but my greed has got the better of me.’
While Gilly was in the kitchen refilling his plate she wondered if it was greed that had got him into trouble before. She also worried that he’d be disappointed by the pudding even though she’d taken such care to remove the pith from the oranges and had been liberal with the Grand Marnier. The caramel was perfect too. So often people didn’t cook the sugar for long enough, in Gilly’s opinion, so you didn’t get the proper caramel taste. Aware she was spending longer in the kitchen than was strictly necessary, she took Leo’s plate back through to the sitting room, the heated-up jus in a separate jug.
‘You are the most amazing cook,’ said Leo, gazing fondly at her. ‘And yet somehow you’ve managed to maintain your good figure. You’re not super-slim, of course, but still perfectly presentable. Figure-wise,’ he added quickly, possibly feeling Gilly stiffen at this faint praise.
‘Thank you,’ she said, not sure if she was thanking him for his praise for her cooking or her ‘perfectly presentable’ figure.
She watched him eat, wondering if his rather flamboyant eating style would begin to grate on her eventually. She’d once known a woman who’d ended a relationship because she couldn’t bear the way her beloved ate boiled eggs. And as her mind strayed into irrelevant thoughts and memories she wondered if they were all because Helena had put doubt in her mind.
‘So, dear Gilly …’ He put a well-manicured hand on hers. ‘What cocoa- and cholesterol-filled delight have you in store for us?’
‘Actually, pudding is very simple and not really very fattening. Maybe I had our figures in mind when I planned it.’ She didn’t see why the prosperous curve of his stomach should be overlooked while her own curves could be commented on.
‘Oh! Well! Very sensible, I’m sure.’
‘Not sensible,’ Gilly said firmly, ‘delicious! I’ll go and get it.’
As she had taken the trouble to dig out her very pretty green glass dishes with stems to serve the oranges in, she wasn’t going to have dessert disparaged.
‘Well,’ said Leo, when she’d put the oranges with caramel in front of him. ‘Not quite what I had in mind but, actually, it will go nicely after the pork.’
‘Thank you,’ said Gilly, irritated. ‘That’s what I thought.’
‘I don’t suppose you have a pudding wine, do you? I’m partial to a nice muscat at a time like this.’
Gilly got up and went to the fridge. She knew about his predilection for pudding wines; he’d mentioned it before.
She had poured them both a glass in her favourite vintage sherry glasses. She had stopped worrying about whether or not he was over the limit – she had empty bedrooms she could put him in. She didn’t offer coffee. She was tired.
‘This is what we’re doing,’ he said, having produced a file from his briefcase. ‘First, a cab to the airport – saves all that airport parking annoyance, although I did consider valet parking. We have a civilised flight time. I’ve booked business class – a bit extravagant but you’re worth it! And then, a really nice hotel. Here it is.’ He produced his laptop and found the site.
‘Oh my goodness, that hotel is amazing!’ said Gilly. ‘It must be fantastically expensive.’
‘I hope you’re not going to offer to pay your share, Gilly. I wouldn’t allow it.’
Gilly swallowed, then took another sip of muscat. Her glass had been refilled. ‘OK,’ she said, encouraging him to go on.
‘Then I thought we’d have a car for the first day, to take us around to the major sites. Of course we’ll visit the opera, and the Spanish Riding School. Is there anything in the art line you’d particularly enjoy? Apart from Klimt, of course.’
‘Actually, Leo, this is quite overwhelming—’
‘I want you to be overwhelmed! Overwhelmed with luxury, art, culture – there are some amazing churches to visit. Sigmund Freud’s house …’
‘So how many days have you planned to stay?’
‘Five days. That should give us time to eat our body weight in Sachertorte and schnitzel.’
Gilly’s eye had been caught by the date on one of the many bits of paper. ‘Leo! The booking is in June. I’m sure I said I couldn’t go then! Let me get my diary.’
The time she spent getting it, although not long, was time for her to get her feelings in order. She produced the family calendar that ruled her life. ‘Look. I have bookings. I know I told you about them!’
‘You did, darling,’ he said smoothly, the first time he’d used this endearment. ‘But I decided if we stuck to your schedule we’d never go. You can easily cancel your visitors or get your friend to accommodate them.’
Gilly didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to. He’d arranged a truly amazing trip for them and now she didn’t want to go. It was odd, Gilly thought. A couple of days ago, if Leo had done this she’d have thought he was being wonderfully masterful and she’d have found the whole thing very sexy. She’d have passed her bed and breakfast guests on to her friend and tried to make it up to them later. Now she was determined not to rush into cancelling her bookings.
Was it Helena’s ridiculous revelations that had done it? she wondered as she let Leo continue to talk about the cultural joys of Vienna, not having really acknowledged her doubts. Or was the dizzy, wonderful feeling that she associated with Leo always destined to be fleeting?
‘You don’t seem to be paying attention, my love.’
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.
