What Holly's Husband Did Page 10

  Instead I allowed myself to be led, soft and pliant, up the staircase, stepping over Rupert who was now dozing at the top, and into the master bedroom, where Alex gently proceeded to make love to me. It wasn’t by any means the superior bonk. But it would do. My husband was actively demonstrating that he loved me. And this time my heart was singing.

  20

  When I awoke the following morning, it was to see my husband setting a cup of tea down on the bedside table. He kissed me on the forehead.

  ‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ he smiled.

  ‘Hey,’ I yawned and stretched, letting the duvet slip so he could see my bare breasts. I was more than up for a repeat of last night. Perhaps things were finally, finally, changing in the bedroom department. ‘How are you?’ I caught his hand, squeezed it in mine. With a bit of luck, I was looking tousled and sex-kittenish.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said, gently reclaiming his hand. ‘Enjoy your tea. If you don’t mind, I want to sit in the conservatory with the Sunday papers and chill for a bit.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said lightly. ‘Would you pass me my phone, darling?’

  Alex handed it to me before disappearing downstairs to claim some downtime. Fair enough. It was Sunday, after all. I looked at my mobile. A text from Sophie.

  Can I skip Sunday lunch at Granny’s? Only Tabitha’s asked me to stay here for roast dinner and it would be really cool if you said yes xx

  I tutted. Oh well, why not. At least she wouldn’t be bored stiff with all the adults, and I could get reacquainted with Aunty Shirley and Jack without worrying about dashing back home because my teenager was fidgeting.

  Sure. Enjoy. But we’ll pick you up on our way home. Compromise! xx

  Compromising seemed to be the name of the game when it came to a teenager in a perpetual battle to not exactly give in, but at least meet each other half way.

  I then went on Facebook to see what my tiny army of friends were up to. Ooh, goodie! Two friend requests. I frowned. Both were from men I didn’t know, good-looking and sporting military uniforms. I ignored them, instead clicking on the messages icon to read a notification.

  Greetings! I am contacting you because I can tell from your picture that you are a very kind person and will help me. I am a Nigerian prince with an enormous amount of money that I have to keep secret from my Government. Please can I deposit the money in your account? For this supreme favour, I will give you half. All you have to do is tell me your bank details and passwords. Have a fabulous day, dear friend!

  Yeah, right. I blocked “Prince Tunde Oteduko”, and then looked at my status. I hadn’t a clue what to write. Did it really matter? Did anybody truly want to know? I looked up as Rupert came into the bedroom, tail wagging optimistically and hoping for walkies.

  ‘In a minute, boy,’ I said, picking up my tea and quickly drinking it down.

  He took this as his cue to jump on the bed for a cuddle, which prompted me to tap out:

  In bed with my hairy man …

  I grinned as I thought of Jeanie reading my status. She loved hirsute men. I could imagine her now demanding to know if Alex’s chest had more than five hairs. If I told her it looked like a rug she’d probably faint with desire. I snuggled into Rupert and he sighed contentedly, as did I. Relationships with dogs were far less complicated than relationships with husbands. Yawning, I settled back against the pillows and closed my eyes. Just for five minutes…

  ‘What time did you say we had to be at your mother’s for Sunday lunch?’ asked Alex.

  I opened my eyes again. ‘Oh, not for ages. One o’clock.’

  ‘Thought so. Will you be ready in twenty minutes?’

  ‘Twenty minutes? Whatever is the time?’

  ‘Gone noon.’

  ‘What?’ I spluttered. I’d fallen back asleep. How had that happened? Yesterday’s close shave with Rupert must have taken it out of me far more than I’d realised. Rupert looked at me woefully as if to say, “You mean to tell me it’s too late for walkies?” He presented me with his backside, before jumping off the bed. Dear Lord, if it wasn’t my teen sulking, it was the dog.

  Flinging back the duvet, I headed off to the bathroom. How was I meant to make myself look beautiful in twenty minutes? Actually, eighteen minutes. My bladder, having held on for almost twelve hours, seemed to be taking forever to empty.

  Grabbing my toothbrush, I caught sight of myself in the overhead mirror. No wonder Alex had wanted to distance himself. Rather than a sex-kitten reflecting back, I looked more like a dishevelled tiger with stripes down her face – I should have taken more time to remove yesterday’s mascara.

  Walking into the shower cubicle, I blasted it all away. With a bit of luck Mum would be running late but, then again, Dad was a stickler for time-keeping, especially if Mum had delegated him to make the Yorkshire puddings. I’d never hear the end of it if his batter hadn’t risen.

  Stepping onto the bath mat, I gave myself a brisk rub down and hurriedly dressed.

  ‘Darling!’ Alex called up the stairs, ‘what’s happening about Sophie?’

  ‘She’s having lunch with her friend,’ I yodelled back.

  ‘Okay. I’ve let Rupert out for a wee and he’s in his basket. I’ll be getting the car out of the garage.’

  ‘Right, give me two minutes.’

  I hopped my way into a pair of jeans and tugged a t-shirt over my head. No time to glam up. Slicking on some lippy, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, nicking one of Sophie’s scrunchies. It would have to do.

  Grabbing my bag, I hastened down the stairs, pausing only to remove a couple of bottles of wine from the cooler for Mum and Dad, and rushed out to the car.

  ‘Good thinking,’ said Alex, catching sight of the vino. ‘Never turn up empty handed,’ he smiled.

  ‘I think it would be good form to stop somewhere and grab some flowers for Aunty Shirley. We haven’t seen her for years, and I feel bad about that.’

  ‘Sure, there’s a garage en-route.’

  ‘Even better,’ I said, five minutes later, pointing at a lay-by ahead, ‘look, a flower stall. I can buy three times as much for what the garage would charge, and those blooms look absolutely gorgeous.’

  Minutes later, I was back in the car with some glorious bouquets. Their scent instantly made Alex sneeze. We pulled up on my parents’ drive with five minutes to spare.

  ‘Excellent timing, darling,’ I smiled.

  Alex took the wine and went ahead, while I fought my way out of the car with all the flowers.

  ‘You’re here!’ I heard my mother cry. ‘Come in, Alex, come in. You remember Aunty Shirley, of course.’

  I moved up the path, my face semi-hidden by hundreds of petals and frothy gyp. Stepping into the hall, the perfume of the flowers was momentarily covered by the heavenly smell of beef.

  ‘Hello everyone,’ I trilled, moving into the front room where everybody was gathered. Dad was pouring ice-cold Prosecco for the ladies, and beer for the boys. Simon was already here and, for some reason, looking thoroughly over-excited. He was tossing his head about like an impatient horse ready to start running in the Grand National. I spotted my godmother and beamed. ‘Aunty Shirley!’ I said, heading over, ‘it’s so good to see you again! These are for you,’ I said, handing her the flowers and then kissing her on both cheeks, continental style.

  ‘Holly,’ said Aunty Shirley warmly, ‘you look wonderful, dear,’ she hugged me tightly, briefly squashing some of the flowers, and then, as a tall figure came into the room, said, ‘and you remember Jack, of course.’

  I turned, a ready smile on my face, and the breath instantly whooshed out of me. It was the looker who’d given Rupert and me a lift home from the Common last night.

  21

  It took me a moment to recover, if you can even call it that, because I couldn’t quite believe the man walking towards me was the one who’d not only nearly flattened my dog, but rescued him too. My mouth was slowly opening like a fool, and then a blush unfurled from the tips of my toes to t
he top of my head, so that even my hair felt like it was on fire. This was nerdy Jack? Where were the geeky specs? The skinny body? And the spotty face? I gulped as my eyes flitted over his torso which, even to my ignorant eye, was both broad and “built”, and then up to his handsome face. His eyes were smiling with pleasure, and I burned with both embarrassment and girlish delight as he stooped to kiss my cheek. My face instantly felt as though it had been torched and, ridiculously, one hand fluttered up to touch where his lips had been. Realising how stupid that must look, I instantly dropped it back by my side. Out of my peripheral vision I could see Simon noting the effect Jack was having on me. Oh God. No doubt this man was the reason why my brother was almost whinnying with delight and pawing the ground.

  ‘What a pleasant surprise,’ said Jack, stepping back from me.

  ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ I said inanely, suddenly tongue-tied. ‘You remember Alex?’ I said, making a long cartoon-arm and pulling my husband away from Dad and Aunty Shirley.

  ‘Hey, good to see you again, matey,’ said Jack, pumping my husband’s hand. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’

  ‘Well you certainly have,’ said my husband affably. ‘Where are the Joe Ninety specs? I didn’t recognise you!’

  ‘Ah, I had laser treatment a long time ago. Perfect eyes.’ He swivelled the perfect eyes to me. ‘How are you, Holly? Fully recovered after the excitement of yesterday, I hope?’

  Alex frowned. ‘You didn’t mention you’d seen everyone yesterday, darling.’

  ‘It was just Jack. Although, we didn’t recognise each other.’

  Alex was looking bemused now. ‘That’s nice. Where did you see each other?’

  ‘Didn’t Holly tell you? I nearly ran over your dog. Rupert, isn’t it?’

  ‘Y-yes,’ I stammered.

  Alex was now looking incredulous. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘I, um, forgot.’

  ‘You forgot our dog was nearly run over?’

  ‘She was very shocked,’ said Jack smoothly. ‘Unfortunately, the hare Rupert was chasing wasn’t so lucky.’

  ‘You were walking Rupert off the lead!’ exclaimed my husband, sounding aghast.

  ‘Yes, but only around the Common.’

  ‘The Common runs parallel to the road! Whatever were you thinking of, Holly?’

  Bloody Annabelle Huntingdon-Smyth!, I wanted to howl, but here was neither the time nor the place. ‘Rupert needed to stretch his legs,’ I said, defensively.

  ‘Well next time take him across the fields where there isn’t any traffic, and he can chase wildlife to his heart’s content.’

  There was an uncomfortable pause where I was embarrassed for being publicly told off by my husband, Jack was embarrassed for landing me in it over Rupert, and Alex was embarrassed for letting his crossness over my stupidity get the better of him in front of Jack. My brother seized upon the awkward lull in conversation to zoom over with a glass of beer for Jack.

  ‘For you,’ he said, batting his eyelashes coquettishly. ‘Now do tell us, Jack, are you married and, if not, why not?’

  Jack threw back his head and roared. ‘Ah, Simon, it’s refreshing to see that nothing about you has changed over the years. You are as tactful as ever.’

  ‘Discretion is my middle name,’ Simon beamed, ‘but don’t evade the question, you naughty boy.’

  ‘There was nearly a wife,’ said Jack, looking amused, ‘but she didn’t like the idea of creepy-crawlies, or the fact that there would be no en-suite bathroom in the jungle. We parted company.’

  ‘Oh, what a shame,’ said Simon, sounding about as sincere as Vladimir Putin. ‘And no girlfriend?’

  ‘No girlfriend.’

  ‘Or boyfriend?’ said Simon, hopefully.

  Alex rolled his eyes and removed himself to talk to Aunty Shirley and Mum, who were chatting about the benefits of winter pansies.

  ‘There is neither a girlfriend, nor a boyfriend,’ Jack laughed.

  ‘Well I can’t help you with the former,’ said Simon cosily, ‘but if you ever fancy going out for a drink or… anything else… don’t hesitate to give me a call.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jack, smiling, ‘I’ll remember that.’

  I couldn’t help feeling ridiculously pleased that Jack wasn’t partnered up.

  ‘Will you be going back to Africa eventually?’ I asked.

  ‘Never say never, but for now I’m stopping in England. Africa was an adventure, but there is something terribly appealing about running water and a shop at the end of the road.’

  I tried to think of something intelligent to say but as my knowledge of Africa could be written on a postage stamp, instead said, ‘How amusing,’ and gave a tinkle of laughter.

  ‘Oh, Holly, please, no,’ said Simon, looking pained. ‘I hate it when you do that fake laugh. It always sounds like a donkey braying. Ouch!’ squealed my brother, ‘what did you do that for?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, was that your foot I trod on? Please excuse me, Jack. I’ll just see if Dad needs any help carving the beef.’

  Seething, I tossed the last of my wine down my throat and went off to the kitchen to find my father. Between my husband and my brother, I was starting to feel more than a little rattled, which didn’t mix well with the effect Jack was having on me either. For God’s sake, Holly, you’re a married woman. Jack is wonderful eye-candy, but Simon is right. That was a ridiculous bit of laughter – and why were you laughing anyway? Try and be witty and charming. When we sit down to dinner, ask intelligent questions about the book he’s writing.

  I was relieved when Mum told us all to sit up. I pulled out a chair next to Aunty Shirley. Dad topped up everybody’s glasses, and I took a sip of wine from my refreshed glass.

  ‘You’ve turned into a bonny lass, Holly,’ Aunty Shirley was saying.

  ‘She carries her extra pounds so well,’ said Simon sweetly. He hadn’t forgiven me for treading on his foot.

  ‘Do tell me about this new house you’re buying,’ I said, ignoring Simon as Alex sat down to my right. Mum and Dad were sitting at either end of the table. Simon had quickly stationed himself next to Jack who – I palpitated a bit – was now sitting opposite me.

  ‘It’s very pretty,’ said Aunty Shirley, and launched into a long regale about her conveyancing disaster and the builders’ bodge-up, leaving me to discreetly study Jack under my eyelashes, then break out in a muck sweat when he glanced up and caught me looking.

  ‘Can I pass you some potatoes, Holly?’ he asked, smiling.

  God, he was so… so… sexy.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ I said, reaching out to take the tureen, but accidentally clipping my wine glass in the process. It instantly tipped over splashing the contents everywhere, but not before a domino effect of hitting Alex’s glass of beer, which wobbled around on its base. Terrified that the beer would topple over too, my hand shot out to save it, and promptly knocked the bowl of potatoes out of Jack’s hand. ‘Oh God!’ I squeaked.

  ‘Couldn’t matter less,’ said Mum, looking slightly flustered. She quickly gathered up the scattered potatoes. Alex shot me a livid look and began mopping up spilt liquid with his napkin. ‘There!’ said Mum, ‘no harm done. Here, Holly, help yourself, and then pass them round the table. Horseradish sauce, darling?’ she asked, passing me a jar.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said gratefully, taking it from her by the lid … which hadn’t been secured properly. It immediately parted company with the jar, which upturned into my lap.

  ‘Darling,’ said Alex, a slight edge to his voice, ‘you’re being very clumsy today.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ said Mum, scampering off to the kitchen to fetch a wet cloth.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said, as she hastened back, ‘most of it landed in my serviette.’

  ‘Good, good. I’ll get another jar of horseradish.’

  ‘Holly, dear, if you pass me your plate,’ said my father, ‘I’ll load it up while you sort yourself out.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said appreciati
vely, handing him the plate and taking the soggy napkin out to the kitchen bin.

  ‘So,’ said Alex to Jack, once I was back at the table and attempting to eat my dinner without further calamity, ‘Aunty Shirley was saying earlier that you’ve been doing exciting things with crocodiles.’

  ‘Be still my beating heart,’ said Simon, theatrically. ‘The only wildlife I’ve ever encountered are trouser snakes.’

  I flashed my brother a warning look, but Jack seemed unfazed by my brother’s risqué humour, and laughed good-naturedly.

  ‘All for charity,’ Jack explained. ‘The crocs weren’t too troublesome. It was when I was paddling a kayak around the estuary that I had a moment of anxiety. An eight-inch shark fin rose out of the water just moments after leaving the shore. It was only a couple of meters from my kayak, and there had been no mention of sharks during the orientation prior to getting in the water. The guide chose that moment to give me a big smile and reveal that the estuary was home to three different types of sharks.’

  ‘How terrifying,’ said Simon, clutching his chest with one hand and allowing his other to momentarily stray to Jack’s forearm. Talk about any excuse to get touchy-feelie.

  ‘Whatever did you do?’ I asked. Hooray. A sensible question, Holly.

  ‘Thankfully, it lost interest and swam off. To be honest, I was more concerned by the hippos at this point. They’ll snap you in half without a moment’s hesitation. The scariest moment was parking the kayak on a river bank for a breather, and discovering it was an entrance point to the river for a small herd nearby. You’ve never seen us paddle off so quickly. Then they began trailing us along the bank. For big animals they can really shift.’