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.
