An Eligible Bachelor (21 page)

‘Cheers, mate,’ said Mick happily. Sally followed him out of the door in a daze, trying to take in what she’d just read and wondering just what it was Mick was up to.

On Wednesday morning, Honor woke with butterflies. She’d spent the whole of Tuesday doing batches of scones, quiches, carrot cakes and brownies in order to honour her commitment with the craft centre. She delivered half of them, then stored the rest in the freezer ready to be dropped over later in the week – she’d never resorted to freezing before, but she wanted her decks cleared before embarking upon her new role at Eversleigh. As she pulled on her jeans, she told herself that it was nerves about this new venture causing her stomach to flutter rather than the fact that Johnny was coming to tea that evening.

Several times since their agreement on Sunday, she had been tempted to call him and cancel. She had a good enough excuse, after all, starting a new job. But she knew that was only putting off the day of reckoning and prolonging the agony. Besides, she knew from experience that Johnny wasn’t fobbed off easily. Now he knew of Ted’s existence, wild horses wouldn’t stop him from meeting his son. She was lucky Johnny had agreed to wait this long… All she could really be grateful for was that she had so much else to think about that she hadn’t had time to dwell on the situation.

At half nine, Guy pulled up outside her house in a battered old red pick-up. She opened the door and he grinned at her doubtful expression.

‘You’ve got to admit I do it in style.’

‘I think it’s cool,’ she countered. ‘Understated.’

‘I had to fight Malachi for it. He’s had to go off to the garden centre in his beloved Zodiac. He wasn’t best pleased, I can tell you.’

Honor climbed into the front seat.

‘Got your lists?’ Guy teased.

Honor rummaged in her bag and held up a shorthand pad filled with scrawls, asterisks, arrows and exclamation marks. Guy smugly brandished a neatly typed sheet of A4, printed out by Madeleine.

‘Mine’s in alphabetical order.’

‘Mine isn’t in any order at all,’ admitted Honor. ‘I’m bound to forget something vital.’

‘Well, you can send me out for anything you’ve forgotten. I’ve come to the conclusion that the best thing I can do in the run-up to this weekend is keep quiet and do as I’m told. Even Malachi’s tense. He chewed me off a strip for being too ruthless with the hedge trimmers yesterday’ Guy looked aggrieved. ‘I was only trying to help, but apparently I hacked off his peacocks’tails. How was I to know he was going in for topiary?’

Honor giggled.

‘Too many chiefs and not enough Indians?’

Guy nodded.

‘I hope you’re not going to turn into a whip-wielding harridan?’

‘I’ll try not to.’

Honor gripped on to the edges of the seat as Guy took a bend. He seemed to drive down the middle of the country lanes oblivious to the fact that someone might
be coming in the opposite direction. She was rather relieved when they finally pulled into the cash and carry.

‘We might as well go our separate ways, and meet up at the till.’

Armed with their trolleys, the two of them set off with their respective lists. Honor had almost finished when she caught Guy shovelling bumper packs of peach-coloured loo roll on to his trolley.

‘Stop!’ said Honor, horrified.

‘But it’s on offer. And we need loads.’

‘It’s cheap and it’s a hideous colour. You absolutely have to have white, and good quality. Not quilted, because that’s naff. But soft.’

‘Right. At least I know now.’ Guy good-naturedly put the rolls back.

‘Andrex or Kleenex,’ called Honor over her shoulder as she headed for the refrigerated section.

‘Harridan!’ His riposte floated over the top of the shelves.

It was lunchtime by the time they got back to Eversleigh, and Madeleine rustled up tomato soup and toast. Afterwards Honor was given a guided tour of the four guest bedrooms. The overall feel was traditional English country house mixed with contemporary comfort; stylish, restrained, unfussy, luxurious. The walls and carpet throughout were a pale sand – neutral but warm – then each room was accented with a different colour scheme: russet, ochre, olive or aubergine were picked out in the chenille curtains and the upholstery on the chairs and cushions. The walnut sleigh beds were piled high with fat feather pillows and bolsters. Fitted cupboards and shelves
hid away anything utilitarian or ugly, and were supplemented by dainty antiques: squashy button-back chairs, chaise longues, writing desks, dressing tables. Each room had a selection of botanical or architectural drawings hung in black and gold frames, and soft, flattering Venetian mirrors.

‘They are absolutely gorgeous,’ sighed Honor.

‘Richenda was going to get all the little extras, but she’s been doing voice-overs or something all this week.’Madeleine’s tone was fairly disparaging.

‘Why don’t we go into Cheltenham tomorrow?’ asked Honor. ‘We can do candles, bath stuff, magazines…’

‘And jelly beans,’ said Guy.

‘Jelly beans?’ echoed Madeleine, mystified.

‘Every good hotel should have an endless supply of jelly beans.’

‘It’s a gimmick, but it could work,’ grinned Honor. ‘We can get a load of jars with glass stoppers and fill them up – one on each bedside table.’

Madeleine wrinkled her nose.

‘You don’t think it’s a bit tacky?’

‘It’s better than having a box of tissues by the bed,’ countered Guy.

Madeleine sighed.

‘Here’s me killing myself to be tasteful and understated.’

‘It’s just a bit of fun,’ Honor assured her. ‘I think it shows you’re not taking yourselves
too
seriously. It helps people relax. Some of your guests might be a bit intimidated by their surroundings, after all.’

Madeleine couldn’t quite see why they would be, but it was obvious to Honor that anyone booking a country
house weekend didn’t have one themselves; that they were just buying into the fantasy for a couple of days.

More and more she was beginning to realize that the Portiases didn’t have a clue what they were letting themselves in for. After years in the hotel industry she knew only too well how appalling people could be. Guy and Madeleine were obviously expecting their guests to behave as graciously as they themselves had been brought up to be. It was quite likely to be otherwise. Honor hoped she was wrong, then consoled herself that she would be there to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t her place to be a harbinger of doom before the event. And maybe they’d be lucky – the prices they were charging should keep out the riff-raff. Though money and good manners did not necessarily go hand in hand these days…

All too soon it was three o’clock, and Honor realized that she could no longer take refuge in the preparations for the weekend. She had to confront the subject she had been displacing. Johnny was coming at five. Trying to suppress her panic as she walked down to the school to collect Ted, she concentrated on practicalities to avoid all the questions that were whirling round her head. What was she going to do for tea? She decided on macaroni cheese. It was substantial enough, Ted loved it and she could surreptitiously make it a little more exciting by putting some Gruyère on the top, snipping some Parma ham up into it, and mixing crème fraiche with the cheese sauce. And she had a bag of bitter leaves for the grownups to have on the side. For pudding they could have some of the extra chocolate brownies she’d made for the craft centre, with some vanilla ice cream… All of
a sudden she felt calmer. There was something therapeutic about planning meals.

Back at home, she changed Ted out of his uniform into a pair of jumbo cords and a plaid shirt. He looked adorable. She hugged him to her, feeling his warm little body under the softness of the shirt. She couldn’t help being afraid, for him as much as for her. What did the future hold for the pair of them, now Johnny was back in her life? There were going to be some tricky questions to answer, and some difficult decisions. The hardest of which was going to be when to tell Ted Johnny was his father. She prayed that Johnny would respect her wishes and let her take things at her own pace. Though she suspected that he didn’t owe her that. Was it truly unforgivable, not to tell someone about their own offspring?

Or not to tell your offspring about their real father…?

‘You know Mummy’s got an old friend coming for tea?’

Ted nodded. ‘Yep.’

‘He’s a vet.’

‘Cool. Can he get me a guinea pig?’

Ted had pestered for a guinea pig for nearly a year now. But Honor had resisted, because she knew they had a habit of curling up and dying, and she couldn’t bear the trauma. Besides, they were singularly unattractive animals in her view. Guilt, however, made her waver momentarily.

‘You’ll have to ask him.’

‘You mean I can have one?’

‘I didn’t say that…’

‘You said ask him. That means yes.’

‘Does it?’ Honor smiled.

‘Yaaay!’ Ted waved his arms in the air in triumph, victor of the long-running battle at last. Honor couldn’t resist hugging him again. How simple life was at that age. She wished the prospect of a guinea pig could bring her such joy.

She looked at her watch. It was quarter past four. All day she’d told herself that she wouldn’t bother changing, that Johnny could jolly well take her as she was. Suddenly, though, she panicked. She might not want to encourage him, but there was nothing worse than the look on someone’s face when they thought you’d gone to seed. She hadn’t looked her best on Sunday, but she’d had the excuse of a late night and being caught unawares. Maybe this evening she should make a bit more effort.

She bolted for the bathroom, leaped into the shower, smothered herself from head to toe in zingy shower gel, then towelled herself dry and rubbed cocoa butter all over her body. She grabbed a bottle of quick-dry nail polish and touched up her toes, which had chipped slightly since Saturday and looked rather slutty.

She stood in front of her wardrobe in her towel, dithering over what to wear and hating herself for worrying. In the end, she chose a pair of dusty grey velvet bootleg jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She rough dried her hair with the dryer so it looked suitably dishevelled, then applied a small amount of smudgy green eyeliner and a hint of mascara.

She surveyed her reflection and added a belt with a big brass buckle. She looked a little bit rock chick on her day off, as if she wore this sort of thing all the time. She
decided that going barefoot would look as if she hadn’t bothered at all.

She heard the knock at the door.

‘I’ll get it,’ shouted Ted.

‘No!’ Honor shouted back, and ran down the stairs. She wanted to be there when Johnny first clapped eyes on his son. She wanted to be in total control of the situation…

Johnny stood there, his keys in one hand. Honor was relieved to see that he hadn’t come bearing an entire train set or a mountain bike. She wouldn’t have put it past him to overrule her. He hadn’t brought anything for her, either. No flowers, no bottle of wine. Good, she thought, because she wasn’t going to be bribed.

He smiled, a tight nervous smile, his eyes darting over her shoulder.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi. Come on in.’

She stepped aside and he walked in past her. Ted was hanging on to the newel post at the bottom of the stairs, grinning with the self-conscious anticipation of a child awaiting a new guest. Honor went to put an arm around his shoulders and positioned him in front of Johnny, who’d stopped dead in the hallway.

‘This is Ted.’

Honor couldn’t describe the look on Johnny’s face when he saw Ted. It was a mixture of wonder, terror and total adoration, while struggling not to express any emotion at all.

‘Hey, Ted,’ he said softly. ‘How’s it going?’

‘We’re having maccy cheese for tea,’ Ted informed him
solemnly, ‘but tell her now if you don’t want bits in it, because she says we’ve got to have bits, and I hate bits.’

‘Bits?’

‘Ham and sweetcorn. Nothing weird,’ protested Honor.

‘I just like it plain.’

‘Well, me too,’ agreed Johnny. ‘Whoever heard of macaroni cheese with bits in?’

Ted grinned in glee. Honor smiled, knowing when she was beaten.

‘Come on in. Tea’s nearly ready.’

Ted scampered ahead into the living room. Honor indicated that Johnny should go in ahead of her, but he stopped for a moment and looked at her.

‘You look great. I like your hair short now I’m used to it. I wouldn’t have thought it would suit you.’

Honor put a hand up to her hair and tugged at her fringe nervously. Even now she missed her glossy mane. Cutting it off had been symbolic of cutting off her former life.

‘I don’t have time to mess about with it long. It used to take me half an hour to blow-dry it.’

‘I know. I remember.’

The corner of his mouth turned up in a wry grin. Honor’s tummy did a somersault. That grin was so suggestive. It said there were a lot of other things he remembered as well. She swallowed hard, trying to remain calm, unflustered, thinking she should never have agreed to this meeting so soon. They should have sorted out the history between them before bringing Ted into the frame. Things were moving too fast. She was going to lose the upper hand. Why the hell hadn’t she had the strength to
withstand him? Cursing her weakness, she wondered if she should kick Johnny out now, tell him she wasn’t ready.

But it was too late. He had already pushed open the door to the living room where Ted was showing off, diving over the back of the sofa and doing somersaults, waggling his legs in the air. Johnny picked him up by the ankles. Ted screamed with delight and fear, his shirt sliding up to reveal his skinny little body underneath. Johnny dipped him up and down.

‘Let go! Let go!’

‘OK. Whatever you say.’

Johnny obeyed, but carefully, so that Ted just plopped on to the sofa on his back and sprawled in a heap, giggling.

‘Do it again.’

‘I thought you didn’t like it!’

‘Agaaaain!’

Ted stuck his legs up in the air for Johnny to grab them. Honor watched from the kitchen doorway, her heart in her mouth. This was what Ted had missed – rough and tumble. She wasn’t a cissy; she did as many things as she could with him. But she couldn’t have picked him up by the legs like that, made him shriek with total abandonment. She wouldn’t have had the nerve to drop him.