she has so much on her plate at the moment. Not only has she got two babies to deal with, but her husband Rob has been causing her to worry recently too.
Fliss and Rob are one of my favourite ever couples, simply because they seem so much more right together than on their own. From their meeting in a cupboard playing sardines at a party, past an Eiffel Tower proposal, their huge and wonderful farm meadow wedding, through to Rob delivering Oscar on his own in the bathroom when the hospital had sent Fliss home – they’ve been there for each other in the most incredible way. For my money, two people consistently appreciating each other is a very rare thing, but these two have that in spades. Or at least they have done for the eight years they’ve been together. When everyone else ran out of dizzy love a few months in, until very recently they were still solidly head over heels. Rob’s so reliable, and laid back and supportive and always there, for a guy he seemed too good to be true. But nothing less than Fliss deserved.
Obviously George coming home ridiculously late, and being vague with his replies and turning up on Facebook at places I didn’t even know he’d been to happened so often I’d have been more surprised if they hadn’t. But Rob’s always been so consistent, if his heart misses a beat Fliss notices. It’s not that she’s clingy or possessive because she’s really not. It’s more that they’re so in tune she picks up on the smallest variation. And lately there have been a few instances. Singly I’d have sympathised and forgotten them. But there have been enough now to set my pre-alarm bells ringing. And even though there’s nothing so extreme to make it okay to bring it up with him, there are certainly enough to send her round the bend with silent worry. And kick herself for not getting rid of all that baby weight she put on, and not getting dressed for three years and forgetting about sex. And doing all the things it’s okay to do when someone really loves you enough they won’t give a damn.
So, I hold my hands up – I chickened out and I’ve come back to reassess. Before I launch the bad news dump on Fliss, I want to see if I can improve the situation.
‘So what were you saying about Merwyn earlier?’
It seems like a good place to begin. When life puts brick walls in front of you, you can turn around. Or you can knock them down and march on forwards. That’s the kind of person I am. It’s not always easy, but that’s the outcome I’m trying for here. And Lord Arrogant would do well to note, my demolition hammer’s at the ready. I might have been soft and naive back in the day in Chamonix, but there’s been a lot of water under a lot of bridges since then.
I’m deliberately personalising this by calling Merwyn by name, so I give the dog in question a nudge with my toe and make sure he sees me get a doggy chocolate out of the pocket of my jeans. I stopped short of the emotional blackmail of dressing him up in his super-cute Santa suit which makes everyone melt, but when he sits up and blinks those soulful brown eyes of his and offers his paw, he’s equally irresistible.
But Bill’s not even looking our way. ‘Well behaved dogs are by prior arrangement only, Merwyn isn’t on the guest list.’
Damn. If I’d known this before I could have rung ahead or even tried to hide him, not that I’d have managed that. I might as well come clean. ‘He was always invited, but he was only available to come at the last minute.’
Bill’s blinking at us now. ‘Keep going.’
I’m trying doubly hard here, not to be distracted by the views, and not to lose my cool no matter how annoying he is. ‘He belongs to my neighbour, Tatiana, she’s a model, I’m his stand-in mum when she works abroad.’ I can see I’m not making any impression. ‘He’s a kind of a dog share.’
Bill’s frowning. ‘Still not getting it.’
‘Tatiana got a last minute job and flew off to Prague, there was no one else to look after him so he’s here with me.’ I’m throwing in all the details to make him understand. ‘Merwyn begged me … he was wearing his Santa outfit … I couldn’t refuse.’ That’s how I know how effective it is.
Bill’s raising his eyebrows. ‘So this wasn’t another of Mrs Johnstone-Cody’s oversights?’ He’s so condescending.
‘Merwyn’s all down to me.’ Merwyn’s eyes are still popping, his gaze welded on the chocolate drop, but I hadn’t counted on him drooling quite so much. I’m going to have to grovel fast before he dribbles all over the rather expensive-looking floor. ‘I’m sorry, I assumed dogs would be welcome, they are in all the best on-trend places now.’ Flattery’s not working so I try again. ‘It’s a big castle, he’s a little dog.’ I almost add so get over it, but I manage to bite it back. Instead I get a tissue out of my pocket and try to mop the slobber puddle off the floor without Bill seeing.
Before I know it Bill’s standing in front of us, handing over kitchen roll, studying me through narrowed eyes. It’s actually more like an in depth examination than a look.
‘So you lost the pixie haircut you had in Chamonix?’
Damn, I was hoping we’d get Merwyn the ‘all clear’ before we moved on anywhere else. What I want to talk about is Merwyn’s free pass to a castle Christmas, not sodding hairstyles.
Bill’s stare is so piercing it’s as if he’s turning me inside out. ‘It made you look like Audrey Hepburn in her elfin period. You wore your hat less then too.’ He blinks at me. ‘Come to think of it, you’ve had it on ever since you got here. Are you cold?’
However persistent he is, I’m not giving anything away. ‘I’m fine, it’s just with longer hair I get more bad hair days that need covering up.’ Even if he caught me off guard there I’m so pleased with that reply I throw in a bit more. ‘You know what it’s like, all this damp sea air and salt, it’s a nightmare for messy bobs.’
‘You’ve still got a look of Audrey, even in that woolly hat with the huge furry pompom.’
I let out a hollow ironic laugh. ‘That’s a bonkers comparison. How did you even ski if you’re that blind?’ I can’t say how nostalgic I am for my lovely cropped cut. Or how exasperated I get trying to make my longer hair behave. Now he’s mentioned it, I’m tugging the sweep of my bob fringe down under my hat making sure it’s covering the side of my face properly. ‘You’re right though, I only grew it about a year ago.’
The corners of his eyes crinkle. ‘Both ways really suit you. To my mind dark brown hair is very underrated.’ His face breaks into a grin as he reaches across and gives the strand below my ear a playful tug. ‘And longer is good because it’s easier to pull.’
‘Stop that!’ I lurch sideways.
‘What?’ His lips are twisting into a smile and his laugh is low. ‘It was one little tweak, there’s no need to jump all the way to St Aidan.’
That’s what he thinks. From the shivers radiating across my scalp and zithering down my spine, St Aidan is probably five miles too close. And just because he says something nice doesn’t make him any less arrogant. In fact in this case it only reinforces how great he is at telling lies. I mean, in all our years together George never mentioned Audrey once. Now I’ve got my shuddering under control I need to turn this back onto Bill.
‘You’ve changed a bit yourself.’
He grins and rubs his fingers through his tousled curls. ‘Waving goodbye to Will and his short-back and sides means a lot fewer trips to the barbers.’ His eyes narrow. ‘There’s plenty to pull too, help yourself, any time.’
I
