The Little French Guesthouse (23 page)

I wasn’t likely to convince her. I still felt queasy after Carl’s proposition and Lucy’s snide attitude, so I couldn’t say I was looking forward to an evening of fielding my mother’s interrogations.

When I arrived late – as usual – Mum tutted at my lack of punctuality as she brought food to the table. Under the accurate illusion that I lived off convenience food and takeaways and might expire if I didn’t have a decent home-cooked meal every so often, she always went to a great deal of trouble when she had the chance to cook for me.

‘Well? Any news?’ she demanded, as she loaded my plate with the carefully-planned vitamins and minerals that must last me until the next time she fed me.

Knowing she wouldn’t be fobbed off with minutiae, I gave her the Carl-asking-me-out story as a titbit to get her teeth into. She enjoyed it and batted it around for a while, but it clearly wasn’t going to suffice.

‘I went to see Nick at the weekend,’ I proffered.

‘Oh? Any reason?’

I shrugged. ‘I fancied the company, and I didn’t want to stay in the flat on my own.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t like it any more,’ I admitted.

‘What are you going to do about the flat, Emmy?’ Dad asked.

‘I can’t afford to stay there on my own. Rupert thinks I should persuade Nathan to rent it out.’

Dad considered for a moment. ‘Rupert’s got a good head on his shoulders. I think he’s probably right – if you and Nathan can sort it out amicably.’

‘I think we can, if only because it’s in both our best interests.’

‘Well, then, perhaps you need to get in touch with Nathan sooner rather than later.’ When I pouted, he pointed his fork at me. ‘You’ll feel better once it’s done.’

I sighed. Dad was right. Nathan was hardly likely to carry on paying his half of the mortgage when he was no longer living there.

My shoulders sagged in defeat. ‘Maybe at the weekend.’

B
ack home
, when I checked my e-mails, there was one from Jonathan, of all people.

I
smiled
. Jonathan, the old fool. I pictured him propping up the bar at his favourite café, swapping tall tales with the owner, and shook my head at the way he had everyone running around after him, giving him lifts and doing his errands – errands he would have
me
do for a paltry wage if he and Rupert had their way, the scheming duo.

Sipping at my tea, I thought about Rupert’s offer and how swiftly I’d rejected it as unrealistic. Two weeks ago, that had seemed the right thing to do. Two weeks ago, I was still under the illusion that I loved my job and everything would fall back into place. But after the Kelly presentation today, I was beginning to wonder. I should have been over the moon – it couldn’t have gone any better – but all I felt was mild satisfaction.

And after Carl asking me out yesterday, I might have to look for a new job sooner rather than later. The thought of us awkwardly dancing around each other was more than I could stand.

Would it be such a terrible thing to move to France? It didn’t have to be forever. I had savings. I could go over for the peak season, help Rupert out, see how things went and if it didn’t look viable, I could always come back. Hmm.

I re-read Jonathan’s e-mail. It sounded like Alain was moping, after all. I hadn’t suggested we keep in touch – although it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d wheedled my details from Rupert – but it seemed he was playing the martyr for my sake, bless him.

Allowing myself a few moments of self-indulgence, I remembered his smile and cinnamon eyes; imagined what could happen between us if I was in a position to allow it to. My gut instinct told me that Alain was settled in his own skin, with nothing to prove – that he would treat me well if I gave him the chance, maybe even cherish me. Yet another temptation calling to me from across the Channel.

Straightening my spine, I opened Bob’s attachments. They had what I presumed was the desired effect of brightening my mood. Happy, smiling faces. Ellie with Philippe. Jonathan with his arm around Rupert. Alain. One of me with Sophie. I looked happy and relaxed and was wearing barely any make-up. I hardly recognised myself.

W
hen Carl called
me into his office on Thursday afternoon, my heart sank. Surely the Kellys hadn’t changed their minds already?

‘Emmy. I... realise I made a mistake asking you out earlier this week, and I’d like to apologise. I wouldn’t want it to make things awkward between us.’

Should’ve thought of that before you did it, then.
I drummed up a reassuring smile. ‘That’s okay. Let’s just draw a line under it, shall we?’

He looked relieved. ‘Thank you. I appreciate it, especially since I was in a meeting with the directors this morning...’

Oh God. Sounds serious.

‘…and we were discussing you.’

Gulp.

‘I told them all about the Kelly presentation. They’re thrilled that we’re finally making headway with the account.’ He shuffled uncomfortably in the chair. ‘I also spoke to… someone… in accounts yesterday. She – I mean, the person I spoke to – had a call from Lucy. I gather you might be considering leaving us.’

The traitorous...
‘That was an informal conversation, Carl. I...’

He held up a hand. ‘I’m sure. But it only confirmed what I was already worried about. I spoke to the directors about it this morning...’

Oh God, no.

‘…and I told them we can’t afford to lose you. You work hard, your judgement is sound, our clients think you’re the best thing since sliced bread – and you support me to the hilt.’

Ah. Now we were getting down to it. Carl was scared of losing his workhorse.

‘To that end, in recognition of your valued input to the company, they would like you to consider the new position of Team Manager.’

When I simply stared at him open-mouthed, he hastily added, ‘Which carries with it, of course, a very respectable pay rise. You and I both know you perform that role pretty much, anyway – but this would cement your seniority over the team and give you more scope. And as the agency expands, then hopefully the team will grow. What do you think?’

Great? Crap?
I wasn’t sure. The words “Five weeks too late” sprang to mind.

‘Gosh, Carl, that’s quite a bombshell. Unexpected. And kind of you, to push for it for me. I don’t know what to say.’
Literally.

Assuming in his usual hopeless way that I was overwhelmed with gratitude, Carl shook his head. ‘No need, Emmy. Now, I know you won’t really need to think about it, but as a matter of form, the directors have asked for your confirmation by the beginning of next week. Is that okay?’

I plastered on a beaming smile. ‘Of course. Thanks.’

K
ate’s
slightly germ-ridden appearance on Thursday was like someone throwing a lifebelt to my sanity.

She kicked off her shoes and curled up in the corner of the sofa, patting the cushion beside her. ‘Sit! Tell Aunty Kate all about it.’

At which, I promptly burst into tears.

She mopped and soothed and quietly absorbed my garbled tale of my boss asking me out and the promotion and pay rise and how, even though my presentation was a raging success, I still felt like shit and I missed Rupert and I didn’t know what was happening to me...

When I ran out of steam, she coaxed wine through my quivering lips. ‘God, Emmy. What the hell are you going to do?’

I shook my head, spent. ‘I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been on some sort of hamster wheel, but it was a hamster wheel designed by me and Nathan as a couple. Now we’re not together, I don’t need to stay on it any more. But I don’t know where to take it from there.’

‘What about the promotion? Isn’t it what you’ve been working towards?’

‘Of course! I’d officially be in charge of the team, I’d have more say, and if the agency does well, that role could grow.’

‘And don’t forget the money,’ Kate added.

‘God, yes. That would make such a difference, now I’m not half of a joint income with Nathan.’

‘Maybe you could even keep the flat?’

‘Hmmph. Wouldn’t want to. But it might mean I could afford something passably decent on my own.’

‘And yet I’m not sensing the joy here, Emmy. Are you still thinking about going back to France?’

I shrugged. ‘Part of me thinks I’d be bonkers to even consider it. Especially with a pay rise and a promotion in the offing.’

‘Would you enjoy managing Rupert’s business for him, do you think?’

‘I enjoyed it while I was there, but maybe that’s only because it was a novelty. Alain thinks I might get a little bored after a while – but that setting up my own business would give me more of a challenge.’

‘Hmm. And about Alain. Would you consider starting a relationship with him?’

I closed my eyes for a moment. Saw his eyes, the way he looked at me when we said goodbye. ‘I know he would like to give it a go.’

Kate shook her head. ‘I asked if
you
wanted to.’

‘Yes, I would. But my common sense is telling me not to go down that road again in a hurry.’

‘Why?’

I sighed. ‘My whole life, I’ve gone with the flow. University, dating, getting a job, meeting Nathan, moving in with him... I’m beginning to think I didn’t make any choices at all – I just let it all happen. I think that’s why I can’t get excited about the promotion. It’s more of the same, isn’t it? Being swept along in the stream.’ I sighed. ‘I want my next relationship to come out of a conscious decision, not just let it happen by accident.’

She gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘Trouble is, we can’t always control when we meet someone, can we? Besides, isn’t that what you’re trying to do now? Make a conscious decision?’

‘Yes, but that’s not so easy with everything all jumbled up in my head.’

‘Then unravel it. You tackle things like this at work all the time. Make a list of pros and cons. Give everything a mark out of ten for how important it is to you.’ She gave my arm a nudge. ‘I expect to be a ten, by the way.’

‘Twenty, more like.’ Tears pricked at my eyes. ‘Would you visit me? If I moved?’

‘What, with sunshine, fantastic food and sexy young gardeners on offer? You couldn’t keep me away!’

A
n hour later
, we’d worked our way through a large bag of tortilla chips, another glass of wine – and we had our list in Kate’s neat, rounded handwriting.

She laid out the sheets on the coffee table in front of us. ‘Interesting exercise, putting it in black and white, don’t you think?’

She waited as I stared. The pros column was substantially longer than the cons. I genuinely hadn’t expected that – especially since I’d played devil’s advocate the whole time.

‘So how’s that jumble in your head doing now?’ she asked.

‘It’s still there, only now it’s bigger and on paper.’ I sighed. ‘What if I go out there and it’s all a total disaster?’

Kate put a hand on my arm. ‘Crikey, it’s not a life sentence, Emmy. Nobody’s buying you a one-way ferry ticket and forbidding you re-entry! You could try it, and if it didn’t work out, you could come back.’

‘Except then I’d be a lot worse off.’

‘Not necessarily.’

‘What, after giving up a good job and turning down a promotion?’

Kate shook her head. ‘You’d just have to play on your time abroad as a valuable step in your career.’

‘Yeah, right. So when I’m at an interview and they ask what I’ve been doing for the past... year, say, what am I supposed to answer? That I’ve been making beds and stabbing around in the dark trying and failing to set up a business?’

‘You tell them the truth – that you took up the opportunity to manage a different kind of enterprise and to widen your experience of marketing on the continent, allowing you to add to your skills whilst reassessing your priorities and career.’

‘God, Kate, you talk shit sometimes.’

‘Ha!
You’re
the one in marketing, not me!’

N
athan finally got in touch
. In person. He didn’t even ring the doorbell, the cheeky sod – just used his key, as though he had every right in the world to invade my space.

I’d sloughed off my work day in the shower, allowing extra time and posher products because it was Friday, and I’d just pulled on old trackies and a sweatshirt when I heard the noise. I assumed it must be burglars, and my heart started thumping in my chest so hard I thought I might have a heart attack.

In a panic, I raked my eyes over the junk corner of the bedroom for a weapon. Nathan’s bowling ball looked too heavy and unwieldy, and I didn’t think the semi-deflated exercise ball would cut it. Grabbing my old hockey stick, I crept down the hall and sprang into the lounge wielding my weapon of choice.

Nathan threw his hands defensively over his head. ‘Emmy, it’s only me! There’s no need for violence!’

He looked so pathetic that fear gave way to amusement, and I started to laugh.

‘I don’t see what’s so damned funny. You could have hit me!’

For a brief moment, I struggled to put on a straight face more suited to the occasion, but then it dawned on me that after weeks of no contact other than one curt note, he’d let himself in without phoning or even ringing the bell. Suddenly, that straight face wasn’t so hard to find.

‘You should have phoned first. How was I supposed to know you weren’t some intruder?’ That was exactly how I felt about him. An intruder.

‘I shouldn’t have to phone first.’ His chin set in that stubborn pose he had. I used to think it was cute. Now, I couldn’t for the life of me remember why.

‘Of course you should, you arrogant bastard! I can’t believe you let yourself in here like that!’

Nathan looked taken aback. ‘What the hell’s got into you?’ He held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Okay, I could have phoned first. But it’s my flat, too. I have every right to be here.’

‘You have a
right
to be here? What right? Are you referring to legal or moral right? Because you relinquished all moral right to waltz in and out of here the day you drove off with Gloria. You left me high and dry. I had to look after an invalid
and
run his business for him, I had Mum and Dad flying over to find out what the hell was going on thanks to your interfering mother,
and
I had to make Carl furious by staying out there an extra week. That was how I spent
my
holiday,
Nathan.’

‘You didn’t have to look after Rupert, Em. I don’t see how you can blame me for that – it was your choice.’

Absolutely incredible
.

‘Did you honestly think I could walk away from a mess like that when it was my own boyfriend who caused it? You took away Rupert’s wife when he needed her most, so yes, you were to blame, and no, I didn’t have a choice, not being a selfish, heartless bastard like you!’

This was exhausting. I wanted to stop shouting now. My throat was sore.

‘Anyway, it’s all water under the bridge,’ I said flatly, all anger spent. ‘You went. I stayed. And it wasn’t so bad, after all.’

‘Oh? You and old Rupert became a bit of an item, did you?’ His face had the edge of an ugly sneer about it.

It made me sick to the stomach. ‘No, Nathan, we didn’t. We became friends. There’s a world of difference.’

‘Friends, my arse. You can’t tell me you spent all that time out there washing his socks and helping him to his bedroom without...’

‘Shut up, Nathan.’

I couldn’t stand this conversation any longer. I wanted it to end. I slapped his face.

The sound reverberated in the room. Nathan’s eyes were wide with shock. So were mine.

He rubbed at the ugly red marks on his cheek. ‘What the hell was that for?’

I felt sick. Sick at the marks, sick at my behaviour, sick at what we’d been reduced to.

‘If you have to ask, then we have nothing more to say to each other.’

It was a prime exit line. All he had to do was take the lead and walk out.

‘How about a cup of tea?’ he asked instead.

I stared at him in disbelief. ‘A cup of
tea
?’

He walked into the kitchen, put the kettle on, reached into the cupboard for the teabags and pulled the milk from the fridge, for all the world as though he’d never been away.

I watched him from the doorway. ‘I don’t want tea, Nathan. I want you to leave.’

He looked at me, his brow furrowing, then his expression cleared. ‘You’ve had your hair cut. It’s nice.’

It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so damned annoying. All the time we’d been a couple, I could count the number of times he’d commented on a new outfit or hairstyle on the fingers of one hand. I desperately wanted to point out the irony, but I couldn’t see what purpose it would serve other than provoking another shouting match, so I settled for a weak, ‘Thanks.’

Nathan handed me a mug, walked back into the lounge and settled himself on the sofa. Left with no option, I followed him, perching on the edge of the designer reading chair neither of us read in because it was so uncomfortable. I noticed his hands were shaking a little.

‘I deserved the slap,’ he said quietly. ‘For what happened in France and for running away instead of facing up to what was going on between us.’

Fazed by this sudden change of direction and his seemingly sincere contrition, I waited with a kind of detached curiosity for what would come next.

‘I didn’t come here to have a row, Emmy.’

‘Then what did you come here for?’

‘To apologise. I know I haven’t gone about things the right way.’

Talk about an understatement!
I sipped my tea. It was too hot and burned my tongue. He hadn’t put enough milk in. Three cups of tea a day for five years, and he still didn’t know how much milk I liked.

‘I know I behaved badly, but it takes two for things to go wrong,’ he said. ‘If we’re going to work through this, we need to try and meet in the middle somewhere.’

‘What?’
I stared at him, open-mouthed, not sure I could have heard right.

‘I said we need to find a way to work through this together. I’ve told you I’m sorry. Can’t we move on?’

‘You’re saying you want to come
back
?’

‘Yes.’ There was a sureness, a cockiness in the one syllable. Not “if you’ll have me” or “if that’s what you want”. Just a resounding “yes”.

I hardly trusted myself to speak. ‘So what you’re saying is: you’ve been unhappy with our relationship for quite some time but didn’t think to speak to me about it, you’ve slept with another woman, you’ve left me, you’ve not been in touch, you’ve changed jobs and moved cities, and now you want to come back. Just like that.’

A sulky look passed over his eyes and I watched with interest as he fought to control it. Nathan never liked having his shortcomings pointed out.

‘No, not just like that. Of course I understand things are less than perfect, but we could still make a go of it.’

‘And what about London?’ I choked out. ‘Your new job?’

He winced. ‘I’ll get something nearer as soon as I can. To be honest, I’m not enjoying it down there anyway.’

Ah, now we were getting down to it. It seemed the grass wasn’t greener after all. Talking of which...

‘What about Gloria?’ I asked him.

He jolted and put his tea on the table, out of harm’s way. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, Nathan, what about Gloria? The woman you left me for?’

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘I didn’t leave you
for
her, Emmy. I left
with
her. There’s a difference.’

‘There is?’

‘Of course there is. You and I were unhappy, Gloria and Rupert were unhappy, and after we’d... Well, it seemed sensible to go together. I didn’t promise her anything.’

‘But she got you your new job. That would suggest to me that you’re more than a momentary convenience for each other. Or is the convenience all on your side and not hers?’

‘How do you know she got me the job?’

‘Come on, Nathan, ours is a pretty small world. Word gets around.’ I shook my head. ‘You’ve burned a lot of bridges. They’ll never take you back at our place, and your new company won’t give you a reference after just a few weeks. How do you expect to get another job up here?’

His shoulders sagged for a moment, then he straightened. ‘I’ll have to commute until I’ve been there long enough to get a reference. Or I’ll lean on Derek. He owes me a favour or two. It’ll work out, Emmy. I’ll do whatever it takes.’

For a moment, I was impressed by his determination. He must want to come back, to give up a prime job in the capital. The burning question was: did he want to come back because he loved me? Or because his new job and his new life and his new woman weren’t all he’d expected, and I was the comfortable option, the safer bet?

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ I said quietly.

‘Question? What question?’

‘About Gloria. I presume you’re living with her.’

‘Sort of. They have that flat in Kensington, so I moved in while I got settled. It wasn’t meant to be permanent.’

I couldn’t believe their cheek, using Rupert’s flat as their love nest. ‘So you’re still there?’

‘For now.’

‘I see. And does Gloria know it isn’t meant to be permanent?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I mean, Nathan, does Gloria know you’ve come up here to see me? That you want to come back? To work. To be with me.’

He fiddled with a stray thread on a cushion, winding it around his fingers and letting it spring back.

‘No. I didn’t want to upset her. She’s been very supportive, sharing the flat and helping me with the job. I thought it would be better to tell her once you and I sorted ourselves out.’

I shook my head with something bordering on despair. ‘My God, talk about hedging your bets! You went off with Gloria, gave her the impression you two were together, allowed her to pull strings to find you a job – and now you’ve come up here to ask me to take you back without even
telling
her? You didn’t split up with her first?’

‘No, because...’

‘
Because
, Nathan, you want to come back here where it’s nice and easy and safe, but if I say no, you can still go back to Gloria, pretend nothing has happened and make a go of it with the runner-up.’ I laughed, but the sound came out harsh and cold. ‘I can’t believe I actually feel sorry for her! And I can’t believe how little you’re committed to making our relationship work.’

‘I do want it to work,’ he whined. ‘I want to make a go of it. I love you.’

A cold, hollow feeling flooded my veins. All those months before the holiday when I wished he would tell me that more often, to reassure me that things weren’t going sour. The nights in France after his betrayal, when I would have given anything to hear the words.

But no. He had to say them when I least expected or wanted it. I thought back to our early days when he’d told me he loved me all the time, and I felt so sad. Did he mean it now? Or did he just think he did?

The mug I’d forgotten I was holding slipped through my fingers and clattered to the floor. I watched as the steaming liquid spread across the laminate, the broken handle lying forlornly on its own in the puddle, the mug still rolling.

Nathan jumped up, fetched a towel from the kitchen and started to mop up the mess.

My lips felt numb, glued together, so I spoke through my teeth, forcing the words out. ‘Why don’t you leave it, Nathan?’

He looked up from where he knelt. ‘What?’

‘This mess. Just leave it alone.’

‘I can manage. It’s nearly done. What’s the matter with you, Emmy? Haven’t you got anything to say? I’m talking about our future.’

I looked at the man I’d once loved. ‘So am I, Nathan. So am I.’

T
he next morning
, I’d hoped for a lie-in, but when I realised that wasn’t going to happen, I headed blearily to the kitchen to make an espresso. While the water hissed its way through the life-saving grains, I fired up my laptop at the kitchen table.

Dad was right – it was time Nathan and I got the flat sorted out, and since last night’s conversation had gone so spectacularly pear-shaped, I figured an e-mail was the safest way to broach the subject.

Clutching my coffee, I logged on to find an e-mail from Rupert. The subject line read:
Emmy’s Future
.

I almost dropped my coffee in surprise, cursing as the strong black liquid sloshed onto my white robe. Dabbing ineffectually at the stain, I opened the e-mail.