A Perfect Home (42 page)

‘OK,' said Sally, holding up a cushion in defence. ‘I was only asking.'

The phone rang.

‘I suppose, as you now seem to be in such a bad mood, I'd better answer that,' said Sally.

She picked up the receiver and Claire listened as Sally made little
uhhu
noises and said
I see
a lot, then she covered the phone with her hand and, unable to contain a grin, said to Claire, ‘There's a journalist from a magazine on the phone, she wants to do a feature on your home.'

‘Absolutely no way,' Claire shook her head to emphasise her refusal. ‘Tell them they can do an article about my work or the shop but I will not let them come and take photographs of my home.'

Sally spoke into the phone again using her poshest voice, ‘I'm afraid Claire will have to decline your request, she never allows the media access to her private domicile.' Claire stifled a giggle and waited for Sally to put the phone down but she didn't, instead she started making the little
uhhu
noises again together with some added
ooos
; after a few more seconds of this, she covered the receiver once more, ‘The journalist says you know her, she says her name is Zoë and that you were at college together.'

Claire grabbed the phone, ‘Zoë! How are you?'

‘All the better for hearing your voice after all these years, hey did you get my birthday card that time?'

Claire thought back to how she had sat at the kitchen table reading Zoë's card just before she'd found the card from Stefan.

‘Yes, I'm sorry that I never got back to you.'

‘Don't worry, I read about the fire,' continued Zoë. ‘That sounded terrible, I thought my number probably went up in flames. I've been meaning to get in touch for ages – I just love your work, I see it everywhere I go, you've done so well.'

‘Thank you. Sally says that you're a journalist. I remember how you always enjoyed writing.'

‘I've been given a brief to do a feature on a vintage-inspired home of an artist and I thought of you.'

‘You haven't seen my flat,' said Claire. ‘It's very different in style from the house that was photographed in
Idyllic Homes
. A lot messier, a lot more clutter.'

‘Great, is it anything like your bedroom used to be in Clapham? Lots of quirky ornaments and antique clothes and pottery – that's the sort of look I'm after.'

‘I suppose it is a bit, though without the underwear and ash trays lying about.'

‘Can we come to have a look?'

‘No, Zoë, I can't do it. I didn't have a good experience having this sort of thing done in the past.'

‘I'd let you see what I've written before it's published. It would be fantastic for your business.'

‘I really don't want to let a photographer take pictures of my home again.'

‘It would be the best photographer I know,' Zoë said. ‘In fact the photographer would be my absolutely gorgeous partner; actually we've just got married.' Claire's heart lurched, it couldn't be, the coincidence would be too great; surely there were loads of gorgeous photographers working in interiors. She felt sick.

‘What's his name,' she managed to ask.

‘Her. Sienna. Sienna Crabtree, she's widely regarded as the best in the business.'

Claire felt flooded with relief, how stupid to have imagined it could have been Stefan. Then she thought about what Zoë had actually said, ‘Sienna? Is Sienna a girl?'

‘I'd say Sienna is more of woman than a girl but she's definitely not a man,' Zoë was laughing on the other end of the phone.

‘But you always had so many boyfriends,' said Claire remembering how Zoë never seemed to spend a night alone.

‘And they were never what I was looking for,' Zoë was still laughing. ‘In fact it turned out I wasn't looking for a boyfriend at all.'

‘Well, congratulations on your marriage, I hope you'll be very happy.'

‘Come on,' coaxed Zoë. ‘Why don't we both come and visit you and you can meet Sienna and you and I can have a good old catch-up and see how you feel then?'

Claire glanced at Sally, she was giving her encouraging nods and smiles and she'd written in capitals on a piece of paper: WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO LOSE? Claire picked up a lavender heart and threw it at her.

‘Claire? Are you still there?'

‘All right,' said Claire. ‘Come to lunch on Sunday, the children will be with William for the weekend.'

‘Oh yes,' Zoë sounded intrigued. ‘You can tell me what happened with you and William and maybe I'll tell you the nickname I used to have for him.'

Zoë and Sienna were early, arriving well before the chicken, which Claire was roasting, was ready.

‘Fantastic!' said Zoë standing in the living room looking around her.

‘What an eye you have for mixing patterns and colour and texture,' added Sienna. ‘Everywhere I look I see a perfect picture for this piece. I love your collection of old straw hats on the wall and those paper Chinese lanterns above the fireplace are just inspired. This is going to look wonderful in the magazine.'

‘I haven't agreed to do it yet,' said Claire setting down a tray of glasses on top of the pile of old leather suitcases that she used as a coffee table. ‘Sit down,' she gestured to the sofa and the two women sat down in front of her while she took the arm chair and handed out the chilled white wine.

Sienna draped her svelte body across her seat laconically. Claire had to agree with Zoë; Sienna was gorgeous; honey hair cascaded over her shoulders in a mass of curls, her long legs, clad in skin-tight denim, seemed to go on forever and an oversized striped T-shirt emphasised her tiny hips. Zoë perched beside her, still the same, small and dark and pretty though the long hair she'd always had at college had been cut into a gamine crop. She too wore skin-tight jeans but with a white silk blouse, a suede waistcoat, and long strings of coral beads that hung from her slender neck.

‘You're much thinner than you used to be,' said Claire as she handed Zoë her drink.

‘Now that I don't drink six pints of lager every night followed by a greasy kebab from that awful takeaway we use to live above.'

Claire laughed, ‘I think we thought that was a balanced diet.'

‘Yes, together with the twenty Marlboro Lights and the bowls of Frosties we lived on during the day – we thought we had all our major food groups covered.'

‘Which allowed us to have Pop Tarts as a treat on Sundays.'

‘You guys are lucky you survived on all that junk.' Sienna's accent had a slightly trans-Atlantic drawl. ‘We eat a very healthy diet now, don't we, Zoë? We only buy organic and we're both vegetarian.' Claire thought about the chicken in the oven, could she rustle up a quick carrot risotto instead?

‘Thank you for inviting us over,' Sienna said. ‘I hope Zoë didn't push you into it too much. We understand you've got to think about having this place featured in the magazine.'

‘The funny thing is,' said Zoë, ‘that Sienna was actually meant to photograph your house before.'

‘I thought your name was familiar,' Claire said. ‘Now I remember, Celia Hammond told me you were going to do the job and then in the end you couldn't.'

‘I had an accident hang-gliding in the Rockies,' Sienna explained. ‘I broke my leg in three places.'

Zoë put her hand on Sienna's thigh, ‘Poor thing, you were out of action for weeks weren't you? Hobbling around on crutches while I had to run round obeying your every command like some sort of manic minion.'

Sienna smiled at Zoë. ‘Hey, don't gripe, Babe, you know you loved it really.' The pair exchanged an intimate look.

‘I do remember Celia telling me you were a very good photographer,' said Claire.

‘Who did the shoot in the end?' asked Zoë. Claire felt her stomach suddenly clench.

‘Ummm,' Claire said as though trying to remember.

‘Oh yeah, I know.' A row of silver bracelets jangled on Sienna's arm. ‘Stefan, Stefan Kendrick, he did it instead of me, didn't he, Claire?'

‘Yes, I think that was him,' everything around seemed to go a little hazy, she was sure the two woman would be able to see the agitation she was suddenly feeling at the mention of his name.

‘Do I know him?' Zoë asked. ‘You met him at Celia's fiftieth birthday bash,' Sienna told her. ‘You must remember, afterwards I accused you of flirting with him and we had a row in the middle of Berkley Square.'

‘Oh yes,' Zoë raised her eyebrows. ‘I remember him, he was absolutely divine.' Sienna slapped Zoë's knee.

‘There you go again, you did fancy him, didn't you?'

‘You know I only have eyes for you, darling, but maybe I just had the tiniest bit of a crush on him when I met him that night,' she looked at Claire. ‘Lucky you then. But you told me you had a bad experience – how could that have been when you had someone so dishy to look at and he had such a great personality too; I remember that he made me laugh a lot when we were trying to eat those weird wrapped prawns.'

‘Zoë! I'm warning you,' Sienna slapped her knee again. ‘I think it's a good job he disappeared the way he did.'

‘Disappeared?' Claire's voice felt thick and croaky.

‘He literally flew off one day without a word. Cecilia was furious, he had a pile of shoots he was booked in for, I had to mop up some of them.'

‘Where did he go?' Claire asked.

Siena shrugged. ‘Haven't a clue. It was strange, he was a lovely bloke, it didn't seem in keeping that he'd just have gone off without good reason, but then he'd not long been back from Australia so maybe he was a bit of a wanderer who'd had enough of London.'

‘I thought he had a girlfriend,' said Claire, she could feel her heart beating beneath her cotton blouse.

‘No one special that I ever heard of,' said Sienna. ‘He seemed like one of those people who was always searching for the elusive perfect partner.'

‘When I met him at Cecilia's birthday party he told me he was in love.' said Zoë.

Sienna pulled a face, ‘Just goes to show, you never can tell what's going on in other people's lives. Maybe he ran off to Vegas to get hitched like Zoë and I did and just never came back.'

‘I knew he had a girlfriend all along,' Claire hadn't realised that she spoken out loud. The two women looked at her quizzically. She felt flustered. ‘And so you've never heard anything about him again?' she asked trying to sound only vaguely interested.

Sienna shook her head, then after a moments pause, ‘Come to think of it, I did see his name a few months ago; it was in
The National Geographic
, he was credited with the photography for a piece about the nomadic tribes of West Africa.'

‘Oh, Claire,' Zoë clamped her hand over her mouth. ‘I've just caught the most delicious whiff of roast chicken coming from your kitchen and realised that I completely forgot to mention that we're vegetarian when I spoke to you on the phone.'

‘Don't worry,' said Claire, suddenly relieved to change the conversation. ‘I'd already realised I might have to rush out and get something else for our Sunday lunch.' She paused and then she smiled. ‘Would Pop Tarts be OK?'

Two weeks later Zoë and Sienna returned to take the pictures. Claire had only done the briefest of spring-cleaning jobs as both the women insisted that they liked the flat just the way it was.

Zoë put her arm around Claire's shoulder as Sienna packed her camera away.

‘Are you pleased we talked you into it? It's going to be a lovely feature, especially now the editor's agreed to double the amount of pages it will cover.'

‘Yes, if you manage to combine the shop and café and the flat then I can see it makes it very good advertising for Emily Love.'

‘Those shots we did in the workshop should come out well. People always like to see pictures of things being made. I loved the one of Mrs Needles sewing miniature frilly knickers onto peg bags and the way that Doris played up to the camera was a scream; she should be on television!'

‘I think she'd be too rude,' laughed Claire. ‘I'll email you the article by the end of the week,' continued Zoë. ‘And I'll happily make any changes that you want. We'll email the pictures too so you and the kids can go through them and say if there are any you particularly don't want used. Is Oliver sure he really doesn't want to appear in any of the photographs?' Zoë glanced at Oliver slouched on the sofa playing with his DS. Emily and Ben sat beside him eating a large packet of marshmallows that Sienna had given them for being in some of the shots.

‘You know what its like when you're thirteen,' Claire grimaced. ‘The last thing you want is someone taking pictures of you.' She paused. ‘In fact it's the last thing you want when you're nearly forty.'

‘You'll look lovely,' Zoë reassured. ‘You still look as beautiful as you did when we were in college. You really were wasted on that anally retentive mummy's boy'

Claire couldn't help smiling. ‘You still haven't told me what you used to call William.'

Aware that the children were around, Zoë whispered in Claire's ear. Claire threw her head back and laughed.

‘That's worthy of the kind of language Doris uses,' she said. ‘You never told me at the time.'

‘I did! But you were too blinded by love to hear me.'

Claire shrugged, ‘Oh well, its all turned out all right in the end, William's very happy with Vanessa, he should probably have never left her in the first place.'

‘And what about you,' Zoë asked. ‘Are there any handsome princes, or princesses, hanging around waiting to whisk you off your feet?'

Chapter Thirty-nine

‘Everything has been chosen with love.'

After persistent proposals from Brian, Claire's mother had finally said ‘yes'. The wedding was to take place on a September Saturday in France with Claire and the children arriving two days early to help with the preparations and to make sure Elizabeth didn't get cold feet at the last minute.