came here. Have you had breakfast?’ he asked suddenly, his eyes running down my body.
‘I came straight here.’
‘Now you mention it, I can tell,’ he said with a twitch of his lips, looking at my coat and stepping back to open the door. ‘Come in. You look cold.’
‘Forgot my hat and my scarf. And my gloves. I was in a bit of a hurry.’
As soon as I stepped inside, I saw myself in the big gilt mirror. My coat was inside out and my hair was sticking up on one side where I hadn’t brushed it. I looked an absolute sight with my bed head hair, flushed cheeks and scarecrow wardrobe.
‘Oh, God, I look a sight.’
‘It’s an interesting look,’ he said. ‘Tell me what happened to your mother.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘She fell off a ladder.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘She’s seventy-one.’
‘I’m surprised she’s climbing ladders at that age. What was she doing?’
‘You don’t know my mother. She’s an academic; my parents have a lot of books … a lot of bookshelves. Some you need a ladder to reach. And apparently some books you just have to have when there’s no one else around to help you.’
‘Ah, stubborn?’
‘You do know my mother.’
He smiled at me, his eyes kinder now and running over my face. ‘You look tired. Come on, I’ll make you some breakfast. You look like you could do with a nice fry-up.’
‘That sounds bliss, thank you. I didn’t get much sleep last night but –’ I looked at my watch ‘– I’m sorry I can’t stay too long. I’ve got to go back to the hospital to pick her up.’
‘Will you stop apologising?’
‘But I’m letting you down. The gingerbread house.’
‘The gingerbread house can wait. What time do you need to be at the hospital?’
‘She’s got an appointment at the fracture clinic at twelve and, dependent on how that goes, we’ll get a taxi back to her place.’ I frowned. ‘And then I’m not sure what. My dad’s away in the States at the moment, although I’m hoping he’s going to get a flight home later today.’
‘That is bad luck, especially when your dad’s not there.’
‘Yes, and of course I was at work, so uncontactable. Mum was not best pleased when I finally rocked up at the hospital at midnight.’
Nate led me through the corridor, down some steps to a big square basement kitchen as I surreptitiously took in the beautiful house. I thought Bella’s house was all World of Interiors; this was even grander. ‘Shades of Pemberley,’ I murmured to myself. This house was gorgeous. The hall had an octagonal wooden table with an enormous glass vase, which I suspected when his wife was in residence would have always had a large arrangement of tall-stemmed, lush flowers. A rather grand staircase curled away from the hall with a rich chestnut banister that curved elegantly around to the next floor. Its white treads were punctuated by a striped carpet runner in shades of teal and beige which was held in place by shiny brass stair rods.
Off to the left, double glass doors opened into an elegant lounge with deep velvet sofas in pale eau de nil and white-painted furniture including another big mirror over the white plasterworked fireplace. Stylish lamps with overblown shades in pastel colours and big clear glass bases were arranged around the room. It looked light and bright and almost too neat and tidy to venture into. I’d have banned anyone from taking red wine in there.
The kitchen, while echoing those designer statements, felt a lot more homely and it looked as if this was where Grace and Nate spent most of their time. It opened out into an L-shape; to the right a long glass-roofed dining area and to the left a small cosy seating area with a two-seater sofa, an armchair, a television, a DVD player and a stack of Disney DVDs. Grace was sitting at a bar stool at the long wooden breakfast bar that ran the whole length of the kitchen area, surrounded by colouring pencils and bits of paper.
‘Tea, coffee?’ asked Nate. ‘Take a seat.’ He waved to the bar stool next to Grace. ‘Sorry, I should have taken your coat.’
He seemed a little bit flustered, as if me turning up at the wrong time had thrown the script. I got the impression that if I’d been on time he would have had a script.
‘Have you said sorry?’ asked Grace, not looking up from the drawing she was colouring in with fierce concentration as I took the stool next to her.
‘Yes, and I’d like to say sorry to you too.’
She shrugged and carried on carefully nudging at the lines of the unicorn on the paper with her pink pencil. ‘It’s OK.’
Her indifference tugged at my heart and I glanced over at Nate and saw his mouth tighten.
‘No, Grace, it’s not OK. I said I was coming and I really was, but my mum had an accident last night. So she had to go to hospital.’
Grace’s mouth pressed in a firm line. But she didn’t say anything.
‘She broke her leg and she had to stay the night.’
At that the little girl did look up. ‘Has she got crutches?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’m going to see her later, when they put the cast on her leg.’
‘Maddie at school got a broken arm. She had a blue cast. I’d have a purple one.’
‘Can you choose?’
‘Oh, yes, because Edward Palmer had a red one. Because of football. Do you like football?’
‘Not especially.’
‘Me neither. I do gymnastics and dancing.’
‘What sort of dancing do you do?’
‘Ballet, jazz and tap. I like the tap dancing. But ballet –’ she pulled a face ‘– it’s boring but Mummy likes me to do it.’ She sighed. ‘When I’m grown up I’m never doing anything boring.’
‘That’s a good plan,’ I said.
Nate rolled his eyes as he poured two cups of coffee and handed one my way. ‘I’d offer you a biscuit … but the biscuit burglar has been to visit this week and all the chocolate ones have gone.’
Grace was suddenly very studious with her drawing, nodding in agreement.
‘I hate it when that happens,’ I said. ‘And why do they always steal the good biscuits and leave the custard creams behind?’
Nate laughed. ‘You have the same burglar.’
‘Only when I remember to buy biscuits.’ My shopping habits were erratic to say the least.
‘We do
