want lunch at one-thirty,’ he said.
Oh do you?
‘Yes, Pippa said you did. Well we generally have it ready from one, as we explained in the joining notes. But just come out when you’re ready and help yourself. Everything will be out on the table. I’m making vegetable soup …’
‘I’d prefer it in here,’ he said.
Oh would you? Would you indeed?
Well I’d prefer to be a stone lighter and six inches taller.
I’d prefer to drive an Aston Martin.
I’d prefer to have swishy, glossy hair instead of this unmanageable brown mop.
I plastered a smile on my face and moved the table closer to his chair so he could reach it. I’d made him an eight-cup cafetière in a rather sarcastic way; if he got through that lot before lunch he’d be crashing off the ceiling.
‘Fine, of course. Whatever you want. It would be nice to meet the others though wouldn’t it?’
He looked up, his expression stony. ‘What others? I didn’t know there would be any others. Is that what all that noise is?’
‘Oh, but I told you …’
‘Pippa assured me I would have the house to myself. I made it perfectly clear what I wanted. I assumed she had listened. I assumed you had.’
Assume? Hmm.
I started to edge away from him and towards the safety of the kitchen. ‘Pippa must have misunderstood. I could give you a hand to get to the table if you need one?’ I said.
He looked up and fixed me with a dark blue stare. The sort my school sports teacher used to give me when I said I had forgotten my gym kit for the fourth time.
‘I don’t need a hand,’ he said, ‘just lunch. At one-thirty. Is your name really Billie? What’s that short for then? Wilhelmina?’ He gave a snort of amusement.
‘No, actually it’s short for Billericay,’ I said sadly. ‘It’s been a complete nightmare all my life.’ I bit my lip and looked away.
He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Really? I’m so sorry, I mean I didn’t mean …’
I took pity on him. ‘I’m kidding. It’s short for Sybilla, which is just as bad really isn’t it?’
He didn’t answer.
I went back to the kitchen and when I had closed the door I’m afraid I stuck my tongue out at him.
Elaine was still rifling through her capacious handbag and pulled out some printed emails with a little harrumph of satisfaction.
‘Look, I did ask for the ground-floor room. I thought I had. Is there another one perhaps?’
‘No, I’m afraid not, Elaine. I am sorry. I feel terrible. Obviously, I will put you into a really nice room as near the stairs as possible and refund the price difference you’ve paid. Sorry.’
Elaine smiled and cocked her head towards Oliver’s bedroom door. ‘It’s fine, dear; I can see how you’re fixed. I’ll just have to manage. Don’t you worry. I expect it will do me good; I’m getting very lazy these days.’
‘Well thank you for being so understanding, Elaine.’
I took her case up to the room. It was at the top of the staircase, a pretty room above the kitchen with a delightful leaded dormer window overlooking the garden. The single bed was high and stately with a deliciously plump duvet and pillows. I was suddenly tired and I could have crawled in for a power nap myself given half a chance.
Elaine was delighted. I introduced her to Nancy and Vivienne and I left them to settle in while I went back downstairs to finish off blending the soup and unwrapping the cheese. I took a glorious wedge of Stilton and waved it at Oliver’s room in a gesture of defiance – and of course at that precise moment he opened his door and caught me in the act. Oh FFS.
He stood and raised his eyebrows at me and I froze, the cheese in front of me like an axe head.
I started to wave it around. ‘Just airing it,’ I said, ‘like you do.’
‘I’ve not seen that done before,’ he said, narrowing his eyes.
‘Really?’ I put it behind my back. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No, I was just wondering what the Wi-Fi code was?’
‘It’s all on the welcome sheet,’ I said, briskly efficient. ‘One was left on your bedside table.’
‘Was it? I hadn’t noticed.’ He looked around vaguely.
You mean you didn’t try looking. Give me strength, why do I bother?
I went to fetch it. ‘Here we are. The Wi-Fi code is there under the section headed Wi-Fi code. See?’
His mouth twisted a little. ‘So it is.’ He went to close the door and then hesitated. ‘Thank you.’
Good grief!
Helena came downstairs.
‘Everything OK?’
‘Perfect,’ I said, arranging the cheese on a slate platter with some grapes and celery sticks.
Helena started wiping down the worktops. ‘Nancy says she’s got into such a muddle with her WIP, she’s almost tempted to start again. How’s the soup coming along?’
‘It will need seasoning I expect. I haven’t been able to concentrate on it. There’s still no sign of Nick Fitzgerald. I hope he won’t be long. It’s twelve-thirty.’
Helena started opening the cupboards looking for side plates while I ran two French sticks under the cold tap before putting them into the oven to crisp up. There was a fresh block of butter in the dish; we were just about ready. I went rummaging through all the cupboards and drawers to find glasses and cutlery so I could set the table. It’s always difficult the first few hours in a strange house because no one knows where anything is and it’s a steep learning curve.
Suddenly Oliver’s door opened again. By the expression on his face he was not happy. ‘Do you have to make such a bloody racket?’ he said. ‘Shouting at each other! Opening and closing doors! Crashing around. I’m trying to work and it sounds like there’s an elephant on the loose out here.’
Flaming cheek! I know I might have put on a couple of pounds recently but there had been an offer on Wagon Wheels and I’d forgotten how much I liked them.
‘So sorry,’ I said, ‘but of course that’s the disadvantage of a ground-floor room. You could always go into the big sitting room. It’s right at the front of the house, very quiet and there’s a lovely wood burner in there. Very cosy.’
The oven timer beeped and I went to get the bread out
