Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
The next morning, I woke up early, happy to see Nick sleeping next to me in the big bed.
I kissed his cheek without waking him and pulled on his robe, which was hanging on the back of the door.
I picked up my clothes – I had managed to place the beautiful dress carefully over the back of a chair, carried away though I had been – and peered out of the door.
The passageway outside was quiet and it seemed a good time to make a dash for my own room, whilst everyone else was still asleep.
Once there, I hung the dress up carefully and stepped into the shower.
It was only then that, as I soaped myself, my neck felt unexpectedly bare: the necklace Paulo had given me, the necklace I always wear, wasn’t there.
I searched around the bottom of the shower in a panic, worried that it would be washed down the drain and lost forever, but I couldn’t find it.
I quickly rinsed off, dried and dressed then, grabbing Nick’s robe, hurried back to his room.
He was no longer in bed, but I could hear the shower running and his pleasant baritone singing Let it snow!
Let it snow! Let it snow! I hung up the robe and turned back the rumpled duvet, instantly spotting my necklace lying on the sheet.
I snatched it up gratefully and looked at it closely; the delicate chain had broken and would need to go to a jeweller to be fixed.
I sat on the bed and stared out of the window, where the snow had stopped falling, but the sky was leaden.
I was not normally given to flights of fancy, but the breakage of the necklace the very first night I had spent with another man after Paulo felt like some horrible kind of portent.
But then the bathroom door opened and Nick came out, his evident delight to see me there sweeping away any upset.
‘Good morning,’ he said, bending down to give me a lingering kiss. ‘I thought you’d done a dawn dash in my robe, but I’m glad to see you’re both back.’
‘Only for a moment,’ I said, pushing the broken necklace into my pocket.
‘It’s time for me to go to Marilise and she’s going to want to hear all about the evening.
In fact, can you send me any photos you took?
I have a few, but I’d love to show her as many as possible – you know how she loves them. ’
More kisses nearly made me late, and I jogged down the corridor with Nick’s murmured words still making me smile: ‘Don’t tell her everything, will you?’
I found Marilise on good form, and half an hour later we were eating breakfast at her table by the window and looking through the pictures from the night before.
‘I was right about the dress,’ she said, sounding pleased. ‘You and Nick make such a lovely couple. And don’t worry, I’m not going to interrogate you, but I do know that you weren’t pretending. I’m glad. Now, who is this person sitting next to you? He looks very handsome, but rather slick.’
Grateful for her discretion, I talked her through the best parts of the evening: the concert, the food and the sleigh ride home, reliving it with her until it was time for her morning nap.
After our swim, which cleared the last vestiges of sleep-deprived, champagne-fuelled fuzziness from my head, Marilise and I decided to wrap some presents to put under the tree.
An avid online shopper, parcels had been arriving for her throughout the past few days and, with both the girls out, it was a good opportunity.
‘I’ll go and make us some tea,’ I said. ‘And I’ll find Astrid and tell her not to come in.’
I knew that Marilise had bought her a glamorous pair of tangerine-coloured satin pyjamas with turquoise piping, and it would be such a shame if she saw them and spoilt the surprise.
But when I pushed the kitchen door open, all thoughts of Christmas surprises flew from my mind, for Astrid was sitting at the kitchen table, her head on her folded arms, sobbing her heart out.
I ran over to her and touched her shoulder gently.
‘Astrid?’
She lifted her head and quickly began rubbing the tears from her eyes, although she could not stop them spilling out.
She tried to apologise, but her words were snatched away by tearing sobs and she dropped her head again.
I pulled a chair up next to her, grabbed the kitchen roll from the side and pushed a piece into her hand, then I sat quietly, my arm around her, and made soothing noises.
Eventually, she started to quieten, the gulps became shallower, and she raised her head again and dabbed at her eyes with the tissue.
I stroked her hair away from her hot face.
‘Tea?’ I asked.
‘Yes, yes, please,’ she said, sniffing, and I stood up to put the kettle on.
At the same time, I surreptitiously texted Marilise to warn her that I wouldn’t be back for a little while and she should start the wrapping without me.
A few minutes later, we were both clasping large mugs of tea and had made inroads into the plate of ginger snaps I thought it was necessary to also put out.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I asked.
She nodded, blotting a few more errant tears.
‘It’s Philip,’ she said, which came as no surprise. ‘He’s – he’s emailed to say…’
She started crying again and grasped for her phone.
She tapped it briefly, then handed it to me.
I read the email on the screen, which was cold and businesslike, calling off not only the wedding but the entire relationship.
With some time to reflect, he had written, I do not believe that it would be beneficial to either of us to continue our association.
I wish you all the best for the future. I had never met the man, but I hated him on poor Astrid’s behalf.
‘Wow,’ I said, putting down the phone. ‘Your association. Were you selling him insurance?’
She laughed at this, as I had intended.
‘Not sure he was the good bet I thought he was,’ she said, her voice shaky. ‘How could he? How could he, Laura? By email. We’ve been together over two years, and I thought we were all right.’
‘Forgive me, Astrid,’ I said, ‘but you deserve a hell of a lot better than all right.’
She shrugged.
‘But it was so wonderful for India.’
‘Well, India didn’t have to be married to him,’ I said stoutly. ‘She’d have gone off to university or something else in a few years’ time and you would have been stuck on a Texan cattle ranch with this cold fish.’
She giggled.
‘He was, rather. At first, I thought he was great fun, a good old-fashioned Dallas cowboy with an oilwell or two, but’ – she lowered her voice as if he could hear her – ‘he was rather boring.’
‘Well, there you go, then,’ I said. ‘You’re bound to feel heartbroken; it’s the shock as much as anything, but it doesn’t sound like there’s much to get over.’
‘It was a shock,’ she said. ‘But I’m crying as much for India as myself.
Not just the ranch and the horses,’ she added quickly.
‘But where are we going to go now? I’m sure that Nick’s going to sell Lyonscroft and Marilise will move to London.
We could go, too, of course, but what will India do with Firefly? ’
The tears began to fall again.
I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Nick the day I arrived at Lyonscroft, when I had thoroughly overstepped, but he had sworn he would never sell the house from under Astrid.
Had he ever spoken to her about it? Had he changed his mind?
I didn’t want to tell Astrid about it and get her hopes up, in case I was wrong, and I also wanted to get my own feelings in order.
She seemed very sure that he was about to sell and disappear off around the world again, and where did that leave him, me and our burgeoning relationship? Maybe Steph had been right.
‘Astrid,’ I said gently, tearing off some more kitchen roll and handing it to her. ‘I think you need to speak to Nick. I know he hates this house, but I can’t imagine him pushing you all out to sell it, especially with Marilise so frail.’
Astrid gazed at me, her huge blue eyes swimming with tears.
‘I shouldn’t say it,’ she whispered. ‘But Marilise, well, she, oh dear, that is to say, she won’t be around forever. I can’t expect him to keep the house for me.’
‘Well, I think you can,’ I said. ‘If it wasn’t for the way the inheritance went, with Nick’s father so obsessed with his son getting the house – the house he doesn’t even want – it would be yours, anyway, as his widow.
This is your home; you’ve lived here for, what – over thirty years?
’ She nodded miserably. ‘India’s happy here.
I know she’s not Nick’s blood sister, but he obviously thinks of her that way.
He’s not going to turf you out, Astrid, I’m sure of it. ’
A wan smile came to her face.
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I do,’ I said firmly, although who was I to make such decisions about a man I had known a few weeks and she had known for almost his entire life? ‘But please speak to him. You can’t go on feeling worried like this.’
‘I will,’ she promised, scrunching the damp kitchen paper up in her hand. ‘Now, what were you supposed to be doing? I’m sure I’m keeping you from something – can I help?’
‘Quite the opposite!’ I said. ‘I came in here to make tea and instruct you not to come into the dining room. Marilise and I are wrapping presents.’
‘Oh, how exciting,’ she said. ‘I think I might go upstairs and do the same thing, with some Christmas music on the radio.’ Her face fell again. ‘But what am I going to do with the gifts I bought for Philip? Do you think I should send them to him?’
‘No,’ I practically shouted. ‘No. Why don’t you give them to me, with the receipts, and I’ll look into returning them?’
‘You’re so kind,’ she said, another tear teetering on her lower lid.