The First Mistake(8)

‘Do you want a drink?’ I ask after him.

‘A large gin would be good,’ he says before he disappears around the corner on the landing.

I’d predicted as much and have already prepared three thinly sliced rounds of cucumber. I count four ice cubes into his favourite glass and fill the tumbler halfway with Hendrick’s. He likes to add his own tonic, so I open a small bottle – the bigger ones lose their fizz, he says – and stand it to the side.

He’s changed into jeans and a T-shirt by the time he comes back downstairs.

‘Is she okay?’ I ask. ‘I knew she wouldn’t settle without seeing you.’

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ he says, smiling. ‘How did it go at school? Is she okay? I didn’t want to make a big thing of it.’

I nod. ‘I think so. I’ll keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours or so, but I might pop in, have a chat with the head, just to make sure everything’s okay. Livvy says that Phoebe pushed her.’

He raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his drink. ‘You know what kids are like.’

‘Yes, but her teacher had a word with me this morning about a falling-out they had yesterday. I just want to make sure there’s not something more going on.’

‘Good idea,’ he says as he pops an olive in his mouth and pulls me towards him. I immediately stiffen as I picture David doing the same thing. ‘And how are you?’

‘I’m okay.’

‘You can’t go getting yourself in the state you were in earlier, it’s not good for you.’ He doesn’t know the half of it. ‘The children are going to hurt themselves, they’re going to have arguments with their friends, they’ll fall out and make up again. That’s all part of growing up.’

I smile tightly. ‘I know, but it’s just . . .’

‘I understand, but you’ve got to learn to relax. Nothing’s going to happen to them.’

‘You can’t promise me that,’ I say, looking at him intently.

‘Nobody can, but that’s life. I just want you to enjoy yours.’

I pull away and take a long slug of my wine. I can feel his eyes boring into me.

‘So, what were you doing at Temple Homes today?’ he says.

I busy myself with looking for a colander to strain the rice I’ve cooked. ‘A new client,’ I say, far too abruptly. ‘They need some interior solutions.’

‘Isn’t that David Phillips’s company?’ he asks casually.

‘Mmm,’ I say, bending down to find a chopping board that I don’t need.

‘Wasn’t he your first boyfriend?’ It sounds like he’s talking through a smile, but I’m too nervous to look.

‘Er, yeah,’ I say, not sure whether I feel guilty about meeting him, dressing for the occasion, or the memory of his hands on my body, even though they weren’t invited.

‘Was it him you met?’

I nod.

‘That must have been a bit weird,’ he says, half laughing. ‘How did that go?’

I wonder whether I should tell him what happened, knowing that if I do, he is more than likely to go straight round there. I think better of it and let David off the hook, at least for the time being.

‘It was fine,’ I say. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘So, no funny feelings in your tummy,’ he asks, teasingly.

‘Not on my part,’ I say honestly. ‘He’s old, bald and divorced, not an attractive proposition.’

‘I bet he took one look at you and rued the day he let you go.’

I throw him a withering look.

‘I mean it! I bet he’s thinking of you right now. He’s probably lying in his single bed, remembering all the things you used to do, pretending he’s doing them to you all over again.’

I shiver involuntarily. That’s too close to the truth to be funny.

‘Do you think we’ll get his business?’ he asks. ‘It might be a nice little earner on the side. Something that can run alongside the Japan project.’

‘I don’t know if it’s something we should do,’ I say. ‘We’ll have our hands pretty full with Japan, if we get it.’ I put the chopping board back. ‘So, come on, tell me, how did it go?’

‘Well,’ he starts, unable to keep the smile from his face, ‘I think it’s all looking pretty good.’

‘So, they liked what you showed them?’

He nods. ‘They loved it, but what’s not to love? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see how good you are at what you do.’

‘What about the kitchen and bathrooms?’ I ask, excitedly. ‘Did they like the furniture choices?’

‘Yep, they thought they were inspired.’

I feel my chest rise, my pride instantly buoyed. ‘When do you think we’ll hear for definite? Did they give you any idea on timescales?’

I absently top up my red wine, almost filling an already oversized balloon glass to the brim.

He eyes me carefully. ‘All being well, they’re exchanging contracts next Monday and completing the week after. But they want to have a designer on board as soon as they exchange.’

Butterflies dance in my stomach at all the possibilities, whilst my brain tries its damnedest to keep myself from racing ahead.