way clear for her to step up into the role of manager of the busy Berecombe office. Both she and Pete were in high spirits, looking forward to some good food and copious amounts of champagne. The evening had been warm and sultry and the doors to the terrace had been flung open to a starry midsummer night. Maybe she’d had too much fizz, or maybe she’d just been carried away by the romance of the night but she’d tripped onto the terrace, longing for some cooler air after dancing for hours.
Adrian had been leaning against the low stone balustrade, sipping from his champagne flute and staring into the darkened garden. As he heard her, he turned and smiled.
‘Of all the terraces in all the world, you had to walk onto this one.’ He held out a second glass and she took it.
It was a complete romantic cliché. She’d not even wondered why he had two glasses when he was alone, but had fallen for it. She had perched on the stone wall and chatted. He was very handsome and, even in a room full of sharply tuxedoed men, he stood out. Glossy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and the whitest, most perfect teeth she’d ever seen. It was only when he took her back into the ballroom for a slow dance that she realised he was shorter than her by several inches. Usually, things like that mattered to her a lot; she put a premium on how things looked. Being with a short man, especially as she was addicted to perilously high heels, just didn’t look right.
Adrian Williams was older than her, an established property developer, obviously monied and the most sophisticated man who had ever taken an interest. At first, she had been fiercely attracted. After that initial evening, he took her out on a series of imaginative dates. They enjoyed a helicopter ride along the coast and attended a Mozart concerto followed by the most sumptuous Thai meal Tash had ever eaten. After Adrian had discovered Tash’s love of penguins, he’d even arranged a picnic next to the penguin pool at Bristol Zoo. And he’d not laid a finger on her. It had made her even more desperate for him. They’d finally consummated the relationship while on a long weekend in Paris. The fact that he’d booked separate rooms decided it for her. The sex had been mind-blowing. It hadn’t been much of a leap when he’d asked her to move in with him in the executive detached he’d just bought on the outskirts of Berecombe.
When she’d queried why he’d bought it, he’d laughed and said he spent his working life on building sites and wanted something easy to come home to. Then he’d grabbed her by the waist and kissed her until her lips were numb.
Emma warned her she was rushing into something, but her mother seemed delighted she was happy, and Pete was ecstatic as she was on fire at work and exceeded all her monthly targets. Tash ignored them all and found, to her surprise, that she enjoyed coming home to the same man every night. The sex continued to be amazing even if, occasionally, Adrian coaxed her into doing it when she really didn’t feel like it.
And then, when the honeymoon glow had faded, another side of the genial, indulgent Adrian emerged. Earlier in the summer he began buying clothes that he wanted her to wear. Tash didn’t mind so much the racy underwear and peephole bras; she found them hugely funny. She was less of a fan of the wide-legged trousers he insisted on, the expensive but figure-concealing cashmere sweaters. He pouted and sulked when she tugged on the slim skirts and jackets she preferred for work. ‘Wouldn’t you rather be warm and comfortable?’ he wheedled, as he held out the tunic he’d just brought home.
Tash surveyed the navy blue top with dismay, looking at its high V-neck and discreet pattern. Her lip curled. ‘It’s lovely, Ade,’ she said without thinking. ‘But it’s something my mother would wear. Thank you but it’s just not my thing.’ She’d registered his suddenly shuttered look and wondered what she’d said. That night, after he cajoled her into a marathon bout of sex, they had their first row. She’d hurt his feelings, Adrian said. Rejected his generosity. Tash felt guilty. The top was obviously expensive. She agreed to wear it at the weekend.
He developed other weird habits too. Flying into a jealous rage if she talked about Pete too much, picking her up after a night out with her girlfriends saying it was so she could have a drink but always too early, when the evening had only just got going.
Tash had toyed with the idea of leaving but something always tugged her back to her original feelings for him. After a tantrum, Adrian lavished attention on her. He talked about taking a long holiday in south Africa, of buying an apartment in Paris. The house was convenient for work and she liked the kudos of his money. She put his moods down to work stress; when things were tough, he suffered stomach problems. Besides, how would it look if the relationship folded? Everyone told her she had the perfect life. How could she admit it was anything but? So, she shrugged his contrariness off. She knew loads of friends who had problems in their relationships. She was a strong, confident woman. She could handle a man like Adrian.
He came up behind her as she sipped her wine. Reaching up, he kissed her neck and exclaimed, ‘Good, you’re back! Just in time.’ He smelled of shower gel.
Tash felt a rush of affection for him and was relieved. Maybe things weren’t so bad, after all? She turned and smiled. ‘You’ve gone to so much trouble.’
‘I know you love my casserole. Creamy mash to go with it, loads of butter. You sit down and I’ll serve. Pour me some fizz, will you? I held off until you were back.’
‘I’ll get fat,’ Tash complained, filling his glass and topping up her own.
‘Nonsense,’ he called through from the kitchen. He reappeared, wearing his butcher’s striped apron and carrying a casserole pot. ‘Besides—’ he winked ‘—I like some meat on my women.’ He placed the dish on the trivet and disappeared to get the potatoes.
Once they’d eaten, Tash sat back replete. ‘That was one of your best, Ade. Delicious. I’m going to have to unbutton my skirt though. I’ve eaten far too much.’ She reached around to the back of her work skirt and sighed as the waistband eased.
Adrian gave her an odd look. He stared at her stomach intently and then took a breath. ‘You’re not … you don’t think we’re pregnant?’ He paused, and stared owlishly at her.
‘God, no. At least I bloody well hope not.’ Tash shuddered.
‘Don’t swear Natasha, you know I don’t like it.’ He picked up his flute of prosecco and sipped thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t mind, actually. Having a baby, I mean.’
‘Well, I would,’ Tash answered, robustly. ‘It’s not the right time for me. I want to make area manager before I’m thirty and try to set up on my own eventually. A baby wouldn’t fit into that.’
‘You could always give up work.’ Adrian clocked her horrified expression and back-tracked. ‘Or go part-time?’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No babies. Not now.’ Not ever, she added silently. And not with you, came the echo.
‘Well, that told me,’ Adrian said but cheerfully enough. ‘A discussion for another time. Shall we take the coffee into the sitting room? I’ll clear up later, there isn’t much to do.’
Ensconced on the sofa leaning against Adrian, with some Puccini on in the background, Tash felt more mellow. She looked around at the cream and white décor and couldn’t help feeling slightly smug. She’d had a great day at work, a man who had cooked her a superb meal and this wonderfully luxurious house to come back to. At this very moment, her life seemed as perfect as the image she tried so hard to put out to the world. To
