Part 28 (2/2)
”You're silly!” She grinned at him fondly. ”I'm rather excited. It's so generous of her.”
”She's got a heart as big as her wallet and we love her for it!”
”She's given me Trinny and Susannah's book,” she said, pulling it out of her bag.
”Great! Let's read it now.”
”Now? But it's after midnight?”
”Well, you're not a pumpkin, are you?”
”No.”
”You don't have anyone to get back to?”
”Sadly not.”
”You can stay the night with me.”
”But I haven't brought my toothbrush.”
”I have enough of everything for both of us. I'll let you into my secret cupboard of cosmetics. It makes Selfridges look like the corner shop.”
”Are you sure?”
”I've only got The Haggis coming in at nine and she always cancels.” He snorted dismissively. ”If you're going to meet the glorious Pandora, you must know what suits you. She needs to be briefed. Go on, open it!”
Five miles away, Jeremy Fitzherbert lay in his large wooden bed over which a week's worth of clothes lay draped. He never put anything away, leaving it all for his housekeeper who came once a week to wash and iron. He barely noticed the chaos until she had tidied it all away, at which point he resolved to keep it neat, only to slip back into his old habits the day after she had gone. He slept with the curtains open, and a window ajar. He liked the smell of the countryside and the sound of birds in the early morning, and he relished the pale, liquid light of dawn. He listened to the wind sweeping through the leaves causing them to rustle gently. It was a clear night. Small twinkling stars shone through the darkness and a crescent moon hung low in the sky. He sighed, thinking of Henrietta and his abortive trip to her shop. He replayed the moment they had met and smiled at the recollection of her extricating herself from the hollow tree. Her face had flushed with embarra.s.sment, but her pretty eyes had sparkled and her smile was so endearing he had wanted to kiss her right there. He liked full-bodied women. To Jeremy a full-bodied woman was a woman who ate enthusiastically from the tree of life.
He hadn't intended to go to the town hall party the following night. The older he got the more solitary he became. But there was a chance Henrietta might be there. He didn't want to miss her. As he drifted to sleep he considered his life. It was time he shared it with someone. There was only so much solace one could get from Mr. Ben and Wolfgang.
x.x.x.
Pretty white candles on the horse chestnut trees, scattering their petals over the cottage roof like snow.
David was up with Miranda and the children at 7:30 A.M. He heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel and bristled at the thought of Jean-Paul striding into the core of his family and taking it over. He peered through the window. Outside, the garden was bathed in the fresh, sparkling light of morning. Beyond, he could just see the spire of the church, nestled behind the trees. The sight a.s.suaged his irritation. The place looked this beautiful because of Jean-Paul. David was wise enough to know that if his children preferred to spend time with the gardener it was his own fault.
”We're going to have a picnic at the castle,” he announced over breakfast. Storm and Rafael wriggled on the bench excitedly. Gus looked at his father mistrustfully.
”What's there to do at the castle?” he asked, testing him.
”Explore,” said David, pouring coffee into his cup. Gus screwed up his nose. ”It's a ruin. There might even be ghosts.”
”Really!” gasped Storm.
”Don't be silly. Ghosts don't exist,” said Gus.
”We'll see,” added their father. ”Mummy, put a chilled bottle of wine in the bag, will you.”
”Good idea,” she replied, trying not to show her surprise. This is what family life is supposed to be like, she thought contentedly, laying rashers of bacon on the grill.
”Did I hear someone say 'chilled bottle of wine?'” Blythe entered the room in a red cashmere sweater and tight black jeans tucked into leather boots. Her face was immaculately made up and her hair washed and s.h.i.+ny, falling in thick waves down her back. Miranda looked at her enviously. She had barely had time to moisturize her face. Blythe pulled out the chair beside David and sat down, enveloping him in tuberose. ”Morning, my love,” she said to her son. She didn't look at David, but she could feel his eyes on her. She basked in his attention like a cat in suns.h.i.+ne. She raked red nails through her hair and smiled at her son. ”The country air is doing you good,” she said. ”Your cheeks are pink.”
”Those boots are more suited to Knightsbridge than castle creeping,” said David, running his eyes over her appreciatively.
”Are we castle creeping?”
”We are. We're taking a picnic.”
”That's so quaint. I shall sit on the rug drinking chablis while you do the creeping!”
Hartington Castle was built on a natural hill overlooking the town. The central structure, now a ruin, dated back to the thirteenth century. Sadly, the castle had burned down in the late eighteenth century, killing all those inside. It had never been rebuilt. However, as a ruin it held great allure. There were walls and towers still standing, though without roofs, and a grand stone staircase leading up to a landing where the great queen would surely have set foot. Windows gave the ruins an eerie air, for they stared vacantly out from nowhere, and the wind whistled through them like spirits of the dead.
They parked the car at the bottom of the hill and walked the well-trodden path up to the castle. The children ran about excitedly, chasing each other up the gra.s.sy slope. Blythe made sure she walked ahead of David so he could get a steady view of her bottom, while Miranda walked behind, carrying the cool bag. A few families were already there, settling their rugs on the gra.s.s, nestled against the old stone walls out of the wind. An old couple walked slowly through the ruins with their dog, which scurried about like a large rat with his nose to the ground.
They found a sheltered spot beside a gnarled tree, which some claimed had once given Elizabeth I shelter. Blythe, who had carried the rugs, threw them onto the gra.s.s, then positioned herself, wrapping her coat around her to keep warm. Miranda poured them all a gla.s.s of wine and gave the children each a carton of apple juice. Gus took his father's hand. Miranda noticed, but said nothing, not wanting to draw attention to this rare moment, in case she jinxed it. ”Daddy, will you come and look around with us?” he asked. To Gus's surprise, his father agreed. Ruined castles had always fascinated David. Miranda watched the three of them wandering among the large stones that remained embedded in the soil, touched by the tenderness of the sight.
By midday, the castle was busy. It was a hot May day, an optimistic prelude to summer. Blythe took off her coat and sweated in her cashmere. Miranda sat in her T-s.h.i.+rt, feeling the sun tan her skin. They both wore oversized sungla.s.ses and spent considerable time comparing them. They opened the second bottle of wine and laughed over shared memories and London gossip. The children ate their sandwiches hungrily, having run about all morning, chasing each other up the stone steps and jumping off the landing. After lunch they discovered a few school friends and formed a pack, tearing through the ruins like wild dogs. Rafael had long forgotten his fear of Gus and followed him devotedly. David lay back and let the rays warm his face. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Blythe watched him while he slept. She wondered when they were going to find a moment to be alone. Here he was playing the happy family man. Where did she fit in? He had hardly paid her any attention since she arrived. She shuffled uncomfortably in her cashmere and felt her face burning in the suns.h.i.+ne. It was even hot in the shade. By contrast, Miranda looked serene and cool in her white T-s.h.i.+rt. She wore no makeup to sweat under and her hair was tied up in a ponytail. Blythe envied her. She might look glamorous but her jeans were too tight, her boots too hot and her foundation was melting like wax.
Miranda saw a couple of people in Elizabethan fancy dress and remembered Troy pointing to Jack and Mary Tinton in Cate's Cake Shop and mentioning that they dressed up at weekends to parade about the castle. The sight was hilarious and she wished Etta and Troy were there to laugh with. Such local trivia was something Blythe wouldn't understand. ”I've got to get the children,” she told Blythe, standing up. ”They have to see those two dressed up. Do you want to come?”
Blythe declined. ”I'm already too hot,” she said.
”Take off your boots.”
”I think I will. Sadly, I've got nothing on beneath my sweater except my bra.”
”David's asleep.”
”He might wake up.”
”I doubt it. He's drunk too much. We'll have to carry him home!” Miranda chuckled and wandered off to find the children.
Blythe waited until she was out of sight then reached across and stroked David's cheek. He stirred a little, but slept on. She ran her finger across his lips, then, in an act of extreme rashness, bent down and kissed him. He opened his eyes, saw it was Blythe and sat up, casting a quick glance around him to check that they weren't being watched. ”Are you insane?” he snapped, wiping off her lipstick with the back of his hand.
”I couldn't resist,” she replied smoothly. ”You looked so adorable asleep.”
”Don't be stupid. Most of these people are probably Miranda's friends. Do you want to get caught?”
”I want to be alone with you.”
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