New Beginnings. Fern Britton
of her clients was staying with her and she found his body. He was on his own in her pool and must have slipped. A terrible thing.’
‘Apart from that, how much do you know about her?’ He seemed concerned.
‘No more than necessary, and she’s certainly not what I’m used to. But then again, everything I’m doing at the moment is not what I’m used to. I’m glad to have someone experienced on my side.’
‘This might be teaching my grandmother to suck eggs, but wouldn’t it be an idea to find out a little bit more?’
She was exasperated. ‘If you met her, you’d see immediately what a shrewd woman she is. Whatever the press may have said about her doesn’t make her a bad agent.’
‘Well, do you trust her?’ he asked, as if making a point.
‘Oh, God, yes.’ She thought about it, then said firmly, ‘I would never have gone with her if I’d had any doubts.’
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be saying any of this. Of course you wouldn’t.’
She could see he thought he’d overstepped the mark. ‘Oh, I don’t blame you. Really. I know how crazy it sounds. She involves herself far more than I was expecting, but she’s done some great things for me already so I can’t complain. She’ll probably lose interest eventually.’
But Julia’s unexpected appearance in the restaurant had set one or two alarm bells ringing in her mind although she couldn’t put her finger on why. Had it been coincidence? Or did Julia not trust her to do the right thing on her own? Christie was used to making her own decisions and didn’t want to be manipulated or controlled by anyone.
‘There you go again. What happened to positivity? She’s lucky to have you.’ Richard was smiling as he stood up. ‘I’d better take that urchin home. But you must let me know what happens.’
‘I will.’ Christie took him back to the kitchen where Libby was scraping the food from her plate into the bin. Mel looked at Christie and shrugged. Not my fault.
Libby glanced up before putting her plate in the dishwasher. Then she planted a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek. ‘Got to phone Jasmine. I’ll be down later.’ Christie recognised the teen-speak for ‘I’ll be down in a couple of hours when I’ve rinsed the phone bill’ but she didn’t rise to it.
When Richard and Olly had left, and Fred had gone to watch a Simpsons DVD, Mel and Christie sat together at the kitchen table.
‘You might have warned me,’ Mel complained. ‘I’d have dressed up if I’d known he was going to be here.’
‘Who? Richard?’
‘Yes!’ Mel’s voice was loud with disbelief. ‘You know – the tall dark handsome apparently single bloke who has just left the house. Don’t play the little innocent.’
Christie laughed. ‘Oh, stop. It’s only Richard. A really nice dad, that’s all.’ She paused, then said, ‘And, anyway, I’m out of the habit of thinking like that about men. There isn’t a switch I can just turn on when I want to.’
‘Well, try harder. Tune your radar in. Or I’ll have to come over more often and make a play for him myself.’ Mel rubbed at a splodge of tomato ketchup on her T-shirt. ‘I’m sorry about supper. Libby hated it.’ She looked downcast, upset to think she might be falling out of favour with her adored niece. ‘I’m worried she’ll be hungry.’
‘Don’t. She’ll be fine. You’re fantastic to come and cover for me and that’s all that matters. They like it so much better than when Mum comes.’
‘Are you surprised? Elisabeth!’ Mel mimicked Maureen exactly, brightening as she did so. ‘Eat everything on your plate or you’ll have it for lunch tomorrow and I’ll keep on giving it to you for every meal until it’s finished. For the rest of your life, if necessary.’
They both burst out laughing at their mother’s renowned insistence on the proper way of doing things – it was often the butt of their jokes. Then, changing the subject, Christie told the story of her lunch for the second time.
‘Wow!’ said Mel, when she’d finished. ‘That Jack sounds a complete prick. You must be starving. But I bet you get the job. How will you manage it with the kids, though?’
This was the one question Christie had been deliberately ignoring. Her children had always come first but this job would be an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Things would have to change. ‘I am worried about that. No self-respecting nanny would want to look after a couple of kids for only a few hours a day and, anyway, that would be incredibly expensive. However nice the salary, I’m still paying off that enormous bloody bank loan.’ She hesitated. ‘You haven’t told Mum, have you?’
‘Of course not.’ Mel was indignant.
‘Thanks. Nick would kill me if he knew I’d even told you. It’s sometimes so difficult having to cope with all the stuff that he dealt with. I so wish he was here to help. He’d know what was best for the kids.’
‘Why don’t you ask Mum?’
‘To help out? Do you think she would? I could afford to pay her something. Or do you think she’d feel patronised?’
‘Patronage or pin money – either way, you’re in trouble. But . . .’
‘That’s Mum!’ they shouted together, and laughed.
‘Well, I’ll be picked up by a driver every day . . .’ she ignored her sister’s whoop of glee ‘. . . about midday, so I could mostly get them up and to school. I’d be in the office at lunchtime and driven home about eight thirty so I’d only need her to be around for a few hours after school. The show goes off-air for most of the Christmas holidays and then my stint’s almost over. I’ll ring her, tell her about today and then drop a hint or two.’
‘Well, you know you can count on me, if I’m not working.’ Mel stretched across the table and grasped Christie’s hand in a sudden burst of sisterliness.
‘Thanks. I know.’ Christie squeezed back, not wanting to admit how nervous she was feeling. If she got the job, what would she be letting herself in for? At the same time, she had to acknowledge that her overriding feeling was excitement, as if she was emerging from the shadows into a brave new world where she could be herself again, doing her very best for her family, and where absolutely anything could happen. What a long way she had come since Nick and she had first fallen in love. When he’d made his un expected proposal of marriage, neither of them could have known what a difficult journey would lie ahead. Those heady days could never be repeated but at least they were safe in her memory for ever.
The drive to the Highlands took two days. They stopped off in the Lakes for a romantic night in Keswick before embarking on the final leg to Nick’s parents’ house. Ma and Pa. Ma was slim and upright, wearing a good tweed skirt, thick stockings and sensible shoes. She had a voice that was used to the draughts and space of old country houses and she could use her cut-glass tones to great effect when shouting for Pa in the garden. The two Labradors, Blackie and Scottie, adored her and never left her side. Pa was a gentler soul. He liked the garden and his greenhouse, and Antiques Roadshow.
The house was imposing from a distance: turreted and hewn from granite. But, close up, it was quietly falling into disrepair. Pa had bought it when he retired from his law firm in order to give his wife, who was rather further up the social scale than he was, the reward he felt she needed for marrying him in the first place. Nick’s parents had done very well over the years with her inheritance and his hard graft, which had taken him from legal assistant to senior partner. He’d invested well but, in their final days, clearly didn’t feel like spending anything on repair bills or heating. The house was as cold as the granite it was built from.
As they parked outside the front of the house, Ma and Pa, Blackie and Scottie came out to meet them.