This Could Change Everything(4)

That was when Paul had taken her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes. ‘I mean it, Ess. I love you. It’s going to happen sooner or later, so why don’t you move in with me?’

Well, who in their right mind would want to turn down an offer like that? Paul was the type of perfect boyfriend most girls could only dream of. He was kind, he was thoughtful, he was good-looking and he always emptied the kitchen bin before it was too full.

Scarlett called him Prince Charming.

Now she gazed around the cottage in admiration. ‘You’ve done well for yourself, Cinderella.’

‘I know it’s lovely, but that’s not why I’m here,’ said Essie.

‘Oh of course I know that! You’d be happy living in a tent if it meant being with Paul. I’m just saying that the fact he has this place is a bit of a bonus.’

Essie grinned and opened the bottle of wine she’d taken out of the fridge. ‘I suppose it doesn’t do any harm.’

‘I can’t get over everything being so perfect. The glasses are a full set . . . those kitchen blinds are exactly the same shade as the floor tiles . . . even the tea towels match the toaster!’

‘Nothing wrong with a bit of coordination.’ Pouring the wine, Essie said, ‘Paul likes his home to look good, and now so do I. I’m growing up. Cheers!’

‘Cheers. I’m not having a go at him, by the way. You know I love Paul. I’m just jealous . . . I mean, look at that.’ Scarlett pointed gleefully. ‘Completely empty! You don’t even have any dirty dishes soaking in the sink!’

‘That’s because he only left this afternoon.’ Since Scarlett knew what she was like, Essie didn’t have to pretend to be a domestic goddess. ‘He’s away for two days, so I’ll have to make sure all the washing-up’s done before he gets back.’

An hour later, their gossipy catch-up was interrupted by a call from Essie’s brother, Jay.

‘My favourite sister! Hellooo!’

‘What a racket,’ said Essie, barely able to hear him over the background noise of voices and music. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in a library. OK, maybe that’s not true. I’m here in Bath. I drove over for a party.’

‘And did you find one?’

‘Believe it or not, I did. Hang on, let me move somewhere quieter. OK, the thing is, if the party’d been rubbish I was going to drive home. But it isn’t rubbish, it’s great, so now I’ll be heading back tomorrow. Which means . . .’

His voice had trailed off. Essie knew what this meant. She said, ‘You’re spending the night in your car? It’s cold out there, mind. You’ll want to borrow a blanket.’

‘Did I happen to mention you’re my favourite sister?’

She was his only sister. Essie said, ‘You may have done, once or twice.’

‘Ess. Lovely Ess. Can I crash at yours?’

Her brother lived twenty miles away, in Bristol, and had old uni friends in Bath. Three weeks ago, he’d come over and spent the night in the spare room, before heading home the next morning.

‘OK,’ said Essie. ‘Paul isn’t here, but that doesn’t matter.’ She knew Paul wouldn’t mind. ‘What time will you get here?’

‘Who knows? But it’ll be late. Don’t worry about waiting up – just leave a key somewhere and I’ll let myself in.’

‘Fine. I’ll hide one under the blue plant pot by the front door. But don’t make any noise, all right? Because a kick down the stairs often offends.’

‘I’ll be silent! As silent as the grave,’ Jay promised. ‘And I’ll bring you up a coffee in the morning. Thanks, Ess. You’re a star.’

While Essie was on the phone, Scarlett had been inspecting the Christmas cards lined up on the mantelpiece. Now she said, ‘There’s no glitter on any of these cards.’

‘I know.’ Essie had already noticed this; she was partial to a bit of glitter.

‘And no Father Christmas either. They’re all so . . . boring.’

This thought had crossed Essie’s mind too. ‘The word is tasteful.’

‘Who are these people?’

‘Family friends. Of Marcia, mainly.’

Marcia was Paul’s mother. Scarlett pulled a sympathetic face, then picked up a folded sheet of paper that had been tucked behind one of the cards. ‘What’s this, a secret love letter? Don’t tell me Paul leaves romantic notes for you to find when he’s away . . . Oh bum.’ She looked disappointed. ‘It isn’t a love letter.’

‘It’s a round robin,’ said Essie. This one, written by one of Paul’s aunts, had arrived yesterday. She’d read it and started to laugh, and Paul had warned her that there would be more to come. His family, he explained, were very keen on the tradition of sending out round robins; they all did it and would be disappointed if she and Paul didn’t write one too.

‘I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen a real one before . . . Oh my God this is brilliant, Hyacinth Bouquet as I live and breathe!’ Letting out a shriek, Scarlett adopted a Hyacinth voice and began to read aloud:

‘“Jonathan managed not to disgrace himself and scraped through his GCSEs with eleven A stars and one A! Such a shame to have missed out on a full house – we’ve told him he must work much harder in future! Meanwhile, Hugo has been promoted yet again and is now leading a team of seventy – apparently the youngest person ever to hold such a senior position within the company!”’ Doubled up with laughter, Scarlett began skimming in order to pick out the best bits. ‘“Arabella’s violin lessons continue apace . . . she has been inundated with offers to play at prestigious events” . . . oh, and “Letitia’s stay at the yoga retreat in Arizona proved marvellously calming and relaxing after the pressure of her dazzling career in the banking world . . . Our holiday this year was a wonderful month in a villa on the banks of Lake Como, where we became quite accustomed to bumping into a certain world-famous film star on an almost daily basis. Jeffrey grew quite jealous of the attention he paid me on one occasion when I accidentally dropped my sunglasses next to his car!”’