Honeycote (46 page)

But he’d been a coward. And now it was too late.

So Lawrence threw himself into enjoying life with Kelly. Gradually they came out as an item. He tried not to play Professor Higgins to her Eliza Doolittle, but it was fun taking her to the best hotels and restaurants, teaching her about the good things in life, and she was a willing enough pupil. In return she made him laugh, kept him in touch with his younger side, stopped him taking himself too seriously. And, of course, showed him all the tricks she’d learned from
Cosmo
, which were proving pretty addictive.

But Lawrence couldn’t deny that his relationship with Kelly was like gorging on a bar of chocolate – thoroughly enjoyable, but not particularly substantial. Besides, the prospect of taking the relationship any further was ridiculous. He certainly couldn’t marry her. He was an empty vessel. He couldn’t deprive another woman of the gift of motherhood.

Kay spent several weeks thinking and sleeping and putting on pounds courtesy of both her pregnancy and her mother’s cooking, before deciding she couldn’t stay under her parents’ roof indefinitely. Despite the newfound cosy relationship she had with them, the clucking and the concern got too much at times, though it was becoming increasingly appreciated as her legs began to ache with the weight she was carrying.

She assessed her situation. She knew that, although Lawrence had been generous, all things considered, quarter of a million wasn’t going to last long. She’d need to get a job. And she wanted it to be part-time. She wasn’t going to abandon her baby from eight o’clock in the morning till six at night five days a week. She did her maths carefully. She’d give herself six months after the birth, to get back into shape and to get into some sort of routine, then she’d have to find herself work. By which time she would have familiarized herself with the local property market. She was fairly confident that she could walk back into being a negotiator – she’d been successful before and it wasn’t a job where you necessarily needed youth on your side. Just a few well-chosen suits and an air of confidence.

In the meantime, she needed to find herself somewhere to live. She knew she had to make good her escape before the baby arrived, or she’d be sunk. She’d find somewhere within fifteen minutes’ drive of her parents. That wasn’t too close for comfort but close enough if she needed them. Or vice versa. Thus she began her search.

She found a tiny little house that was perfect. Ridiculously small for the price, but anything within spitting distance of the Thames was over the top. And it wasn’t as if she needed much room. Two bedrooms. A kitchen. A living room. And a decent bathroom. She put in a cash offer, conditional upon exchanging within four weeks. It was pushing it, but she had the upper hand.

The moment she had the key she took her parents to see it. They couldn’t understand why she wanted to move away, but they understood it was a fait accompli. Immediately her father set to work putting up shelves and Sylvia took her to a discount fabric warehouse to choose some soft furnishings. She’d run up some curtains for her in a trice.

Kay found it strangely enjoyable, shopping with her mother for nursery items. They settled on a soft creamy-yellow paint for the nursery walls. Kay found it hard to suppress a hysterical giggle when she found herself stencilling ducks and bunny rabbits around the room. Her dad found a remnant of soft cream carpet, which he put down, and built her a changing station out of MDF, so horrified was he by their price in John Lewis. Kay added some stencils to that as well, not believing that she was quite the same person. In fact, sometimes she could pretend she wasn’t Mrs Kay Oakley at all. She didn’t quite know who she was, but once her baby had arrived, she was sure she’d find out.

25

James had been to the brewery to sign yet another sheaf of the papers that were emanating from the reshuffle. He slipped out of the office and was about to go down the steps when he spied Caroline. She was just coming out of the Portakabin that had been put in place to hold the sales office while renovations were carried out in the old stable block. He halted momentarily in the doorway. He hadn’t seen her since the day he’d booted her out of Denham House, though he knew she was working at the brewery. And doing very well, by all accounts. Mickey was hoping she would hand in her notice at the paper and come to work full time.

James watched her from afar. As her work was largely on the phone and the weather was still chilly, she was dressed in casual clothing. Tight jeans, a tight sweater and high boots: she dressed as ever to bring out her good points. Her curls were bound into a thick plait down her back, and she pushed her arms into a duckdown quilted jacket. He admired the swell of her breasts just before they disappeared under the zip and shivered at the memory of them on his bare chest. She tucked her chin into the collar and made her way over to the paddock, where Toby was waiting patiently for his nightly fuss.

James watched as she rubbed at the old horse’s nose, fondling his ears roughly and scratching his poll. Toby butted back at her, loving the attention. He had little these days. She put her long arms round his neck and nuzzled him to her. James wondered if Caroline herself had any attention these days, and if so from whom. He didn’t flatter himself enough to think that she had taken a vow of celibacy after his unceremonious dismissal.

He’d had time to think over the past few weeks. He and Lucy seemed to have an unspoken agreement that they avoided each other, that they never spoke about what had happened between them. She seemed to have taken what he’d said on board and he was relieved. He didn’t want to feel responsible for bringing down an entire family. But now his life felt rather empty, because he no longer lived in hope. Before he had always had the hint of promise to spur him on.

He was resigned to the fact that he would never find another woman to love as fiercely and passionately, albeit secretly, as he did Lucy, and he was on a mission to fill the large hole she’d left in his heart. He’d spent quite a bit of time in London lately, trying to forget her. But the jaded blondes that were paraded in front of him by friends determined on matchmaking bored him rigid. They all seemed intent on finding out the extent of his bank balance, or shovelling up cocaine in the bathroom. They were deeply, deeply dull.

He didn’t think he was asking for much. The only real prerequisite in any potential girlfriend was that she had to be so unlike Lucy he would never be reminded of what he was missing. And as he watched Caroline, he thought she couldn’t be less like her. She was loud, extrovert, she couldn’t cook to save her life and she was ambitious. The complete antithesis of the woman he loved. Add to that the fact that he actually quite liked her company, her spirit. She was perfect.

He’d got a bit of ground to make up first, though.

He walked up behind Caroline as she fed Toby a couple of Polos.

‘You spoil him.’

She looked at him defiantly.

‘Someone’s got to.’

‘I owe you an apology, Caroline. I behaved shabbily.’

Caroline couldn’t help but smile. Only James could come up with an expression like ‘shabbily’.

‘You behaved like a total cunt. And I never use that word, except when it’s the only one that will do.’

James put his hands up.

‘It’s a fair cop. You’re right. I was a total…’

He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

‘Say it.’ Caroline was taunting him now.

‘OK. I was a total cunt.’

Caroline grinned triumphantly and fed Toby another Polo.

‘Will you come out to dinner? To show no hard feelings.’

Half of Caroline screamed no, she bloody well wouldn’t – why should she let him get away with it? He’d treated her appallingly. He’d have to do better than that to earn her forgiveness. But the other half thought about the alternative – yet another night in front of the telly with a glass or three of Lambrusco, some dried-up old pitta bread and half a tub of hummus.

Later that evening they shared a table for two in the corner of the Knowing Pig, a local restaurant tipped for a Michelin star that served food fit for a seduction and wines to match. Caroline had gone home, showered, changed and chosen her outfit very carefully. She wore a double-breasted black velvet jacket with a barely visible zebra-skin skirt underneath and knee-length black patent boots with spiky, spiky heels. Men always looked at them and gulped.

She waited until they’d scraped up the last remnants of their crème brûlée before tackling the issue. She hoped the two bottles of wine they’d consumed would make James less likely to lie. In vino veritas…

‘So – did you and Lucy…?’

‘Did me and Lucy what?’

Caroline rolled her eyes.

‘Play dominoes. What do you think?’

James wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

‘What do
you
think?’

‘I think you shagged the arse off each other.’

James smiled infuriatingly.

‘Wrong.’

‘You would say that, wouldn’t you? I mean, you’re trying to get back into my knickers, aren’t you? So you’re not going to admit getting into hers.’

Caroline leaned forward with a mischievous smile. James caught a glimpse of her cantilevered cleavage, encased in black lace. He swirled the last golden drops of pudding wine round in his glass.

‘Caroline, the poor woman had just found out her husband had been unfaithful. She was devastated. The last thing on her mind was sex. Especially with her own brother-in-law. Honestly, your imagination runs wild.’

He smiled suggestively at her.

‘You should put it to better use.’

Caroline drew herself up with dignity. She wasn’t going to let him get away with it that easily.

‘So why did you boot me out like that? On bloody Boxing Day, for God’s sake.’

‘I’ve always felt very protective of Lucy. Because I know exactly what my brother’s like. I feel responsible for him in a way. Seeing what he’d done to her ripped me apart. I had to hold her hand through the whole thing. And I couldn’t really expect you to understand.’ James put a hand over Caroline’s. She was about to snatch it away indignantly, but he pressed down on it urgently. He looked her in the eye. ‘I made a big mistake. I’m sorry. Like you said, I was a total… shit. And I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to take a running jump, but I’d like to start again.’

Caroline had forgotten quite how horny good food and good wine made her feel. And how utterly delicious and seductive James’s bedroom was, with its flickering candles, its scented sheets, its hundreds of silk pillows and velvet cushions and the fur throw that he teased her was real wolf but she knew was fake, though it made her feel like Julie Christie in
Doctor Zhivago
just the same. And as James trickled Jo Malone massage oil on to her breasts, she realized she’d been celibate since before Christmas. She didn’t know if absence did make the heart grow fonder, but it definitely made the sex more explosive.

Afterwards, as they lay in an exhausted, tangled heap, she told him about selling Demelza and cried, because she missed her, and James began to understand that Caroline wasn’t as tough as she pretended. He kissed away her tears and took her again, gently this time, and she cried again. And James realized that for the first time in years he’d made love to a woman without pretending it was Lucy.

Maybe, just maybe, he was cured.

Two weeks later, Caroline gave in her notice at the paper, came on board officially at Honeycote Ales, abandoned her cold and soulless starter home and moved into Denham House. One lazy Sunday morning James leaned over to her bedside table. She thought he was going to turn the radio on to listen to
The Archers
omnibus, but he was fiddling about in the drawer. Eventually he found what he was looking for.

A box. And inside the box, a ring. And in the ring, a socking great emerald that matched Caroline’s eyes. Not so large as to be tasteless, of course. It was just right. Just like everything James chose. And it fitted her finger perfectly. He’d waited for her to say yes, before trying it on.

Bloody hell. She was going to be Mrs Liddiard. Mrs Caroline Liddiard, of Denham House, Eldenbury.

James asked everyone to brunch at Denham House a week later. He cooked a huge pile of pancakes with maple syrup and crispy bacon, served with champagne and cranberry juice.

After everyone had eaten their fill, he took his place by the fire and asked them all to charge their glasses. He had an announcement. He and Caroline were to be married at Honeycote Church in two months’ time. Caroline stood next to him and blushed prettily. Everyone cheered and agreed that a wedding was just what was needed; it was something to look forward to. Sophie and Georgina were to be bridesmaids. Mickey was to be best man. And if Lucy looked a little pale when the announcement was made, no one mentioned it.

Back at home that afternoon, Sophie and Georgina offered to make tea while Lucy and Mickey went into the drawing room. There seemed to be a chill in the air, so Lucy laid a fire. Mickey leaned against the fireplace and chortled.

‘Well, that was a turn up for the books, eh? Good old James. I didn’t think he had it in him. I thought he was destined to be a bachelor for the rest of his life.’

Lucy didn’t answer. She twisted up a strip of newspaper and stuffed it under some logs. Mickey rattled on.

‘I’m sure they’ll be happy. You know what they say, opposites attract. And Caroline’s a good sort underneath. Heart of gold.’

Lucy faced the fireplace, clenching her fists and gritting her teeth. It took all her self-control not to rip the logs out of the fireplace and hurl them at him. If only he knew what she’d given up to be with him; what a sacrifice she’d made. Still, it had been her own choice, her decision made of her own free will.

They had their amnesty, their pact, but it hadn’t been easy. Even though he was trying so desperately hard to be a good patient, Lucy knew Mickey got depressed, because of the pain and the slowness of his recovery and the frustration of not being able to do all the things he wanted. But he bore it all with a forced air of cheerfulness and optimism that she sometimes found wearing. They’d tried to make love, too, and that had been a disaster. It wasn’t surprising, really, given the stress his body had suffered. Mickey, humiliated, had said give it time. Lucy had reassured him, kissed him and fallen asleep in his arms, but had to admit she’d been rather relieved.