Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
In the morning, Stella was grateful that it was time to get up, even though her head felt as if she’d not slept at all. Judging by the snatches of dreams that kept coming back to her, she suspected that the strong beer and her mind were working together to sort through some of the events of the past few days. Although she didn’t have a headache as such, she was groggy and hoped a bath would put her right.
She slid into lavender bubbles up to her neck and propped her bad arm on the side of the bath, wrapped in a carrier bag. Her plan was to steep for as long as it took for the hot water and lavender to do their job. With nothing else to occupy her mind, it was impossible not to think back to the bath that Benedict had run for her, scattered with rose petals from his garden. A rose-filled bath. Now was that really the work of someone who wanted to be just friends? Then there was the near-miss kiss, of course. Not something that would occur in a strictly platonic relationship, surely. Stella asked herself for the hundredth time why she couldn’t be happy with someone nice and uncomplicated, without ties, emotional baggage and hang-ups about people’s beliefs. The only trouble was, there were umpteen men like that around, but Stella hadn’t felt anything for any of them. She’d had relationships, and could count them on the fingers of her good hand, but they’d always fizzled out when she lost interest. At this rate, she’d be alone for the rest of her life, which she wasn’t entirely unhappy about. No, that wasn’t strictly true, but being alone was the safest option for her, and one that meant not having to open herself up to a new world of pain and loss because she’d lost too many people already in her life and didn’t want to lose any more. If the price for that safety was being alone, then it was a price worth paying.
Clear-headed and newly resolved, she surfaced from the water and clambered out of the bath. Once dry, she dusted her skin with violet powder to lift her spirits and looked at her wrist splint, wondering how much longer she’d have to put up with it. The hospital in Oxford had made an appointment with a local clinic for a check-up this Saturday, and it couldn’t come soon enough. In the meantime, she had a couple of astrology readings booked in during the early evening, so she’d need to produce the charts and spend some time analysing and interpreting them ahead of her video calls with clients. She’d have to type her notes one-handed, which would probably take her at least twice as long as usual, so she’d better get cracking straight after breakfast.
By early afternoon, Stella had finished analysing the birth charts and had made a good start on the interpretations, but the one-handed typing was driving her up the wall and she was also famished, which was as good a reason as any to take a break. There wasn’t much in the fridge, so unless she wanted beans on toast for lunch, she’d have to hit the shops. While debating whether to go shopping or to make do and mend, her phone rang. It was an unknown number. She was about to reject the call but picked up in case it was the clinic calling about her appointment.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Stella McElhone here.’
‘Hello, Stella,’ said a woman’s voice on the other end. ‘It’s Catherine here. Catherine Telford. Daniel Redman’s grandmother.’
‘Oh, yes. Hello, Catherine. How are you?’
‘I’m very well, thank you. And how is your poor arm?’
‘On the mend, thanks. I’m off to the doc’s at the weekend for a check-up.’
‘Well, here’s hoping you won’t have that splint on for very much longer. It’s the wrong time of year to be walking around with such an ugly thing on your arm, especially on such a pretty girl.’
‘Catherine… what are you after?’
‘All right, you got me. I’m coming up to London on Saturday afternoon and wondered if you’d let me buy you lunch.’
‘Ooh, I don’t know about that. It’s very kind of you to offer, but you know, things are a bit, well… you know.’
‘I know exactly how things are, my dear, but I feel bad since we hardly got to say hello before you were suddenly gone again. Go on, just one tiny lunch, with absolutely no strings attached. Besides, you’d be doing me a favour. There’s a fabulous little brasserie near you and I can hardly go alone. I’m just not one of those people who can sit on my own with a book.’
‘What about Bob? Surely he’d like to go with you.’
‘Alternative arrangements. What you don’t yet know about me is that I’m a cricket widow. Please say yes to lunch. It would make me very happy.’
Stella thought for a while. On the one hand, seeing Benedict’s mother-in-law risked picking the scab off a wound that was still healing, but on the other, she was a lovely woman and it felt unkind to turn her down.
‘Stella, are you still there?’
‘Sorry, yes. I’m deciding.’
‘And have you decided yet? ’
‘Yes. I will come to lunch with you, but only if we can go halves.’
‘You drive a hard bargain. Agreed. Shall we say one o’clock? I’ll book a table and text you the details, and we’ll meet there on Saturday.’
Saturday was starting to look like a busy day. The appointment at the clinic was at ten in the morning, but that should leave plenty of time to get home and change. If nothing else, she had a pleasant lunch with a kind companion to look forward to, provided that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Catherine for the wrong reasons. She made a firm resolution to resist any urge to ask questions about Benedict, beyond those absolutely required for the sake of politeness.
On Saturday morning, Stella got up early and went to the clinic in nearby Maida Vale. She arrived far too early and put in some time walking the canal path, admiring the brightly painted houseboats moored alongside, which explained why the area was known as Little Venice. It struck her as a pleasant way to live and she made a mental note to watch out for future houseboat-sitting opportunities.
Still early for her appointment, she sat in the medical centre waiting room for what felt like an age. There appeared to be no obvious queuing system. Rather, the receptionist called out names seemingly at random and Stella wondered whether the system was based on favouritism or on likely longevity: those who looked like they had a few years left on the clock could afford to sit about a while longer. To take her mind off the queue, she buried herself in the magazines that were piled up everywhere. By the time she’d discovered how to cook a vegan stroganoff and three new ways to part her hair, the receptionist finally called out her name and pointed her down a narrow corridor. Stella knocked on the door and entered the examining room. The doctor smiled sympathetically at the splint.
‘I bet you can’t wait to be rid of that thing in this heat.’
Stella nodded in agreement and they discussed the weather while the doctor removed the splint. She examined Stella’s pale, slightly withered arm.
‘It’s healed incredibly quickly. One of the many joys of youth.’ The doctor went on to provide advice for aftercare: not to overdo it at first, but equally, to stop favouring her good arm.
After thanking the doctor, and mentally thanking Meredith for her psychic healing powers, Stella took her pale arm out into the sunshine to catch some healing rays. It felt strange now that the splint was finally off. On the way home from the clinic, her arm felt light enough to float away and it took a while before it started to feel normal again. She wouldn’t be lifting weights with it anytime soon, but at least her arm was on the mend.
Back in the flat, Stella stepped out of the shower. She’d given her sore arm a good scrub to liven it up and daubed on some arnica healing cream that had a refreshing lemon and ginger scent. After a rummage in her wardrobe, she laid out a couple of frocks, finally opting for a white broderie anglaise pinafore, which would be perfect for such a warm day. She dried herself, dressed and slipped her feet into a pair of white sandals. After a quick check in the mirror, she grabbed her bag and headed out into the hot midday sun, relieved that she’d chosen such a light dress. The restaurant was on the high street, just past the Tube station, but she guessed Catherine would most likely take a cab from Paddington, rather than do battle with the underground.
On the high street, the delicatessens and bodegas bustled with life and Stella slowed down as she neared the restaurant on the corner. It was a red-brick Victorian affair, a former pub by the looks of it, and an old sign announced in ornate gilt script that the building had once been known as The Sir Isaac Newton. She allowed herself a small smile. How appropriate when the father of gravity was widely reported to have owned a handful of books on astrology, although she was aware that his collection did include at least one tome that refuted astrology. Sir Isaac Newton or no Sir Isaac Newton, Stella worried that this place was going to hurt her pocket. Still, it was only lunch so she’d get away with having just the one course and she’d choose whatever was cheapest on the menu.
Inside, she gave her name to the ma?tre d’, who invited her to follow him. The restaurant was sunny and bright, courtesy of a large glass atrium and the sunlight reflecting off the glasses hanging above the bar. She was shown to a table at the far side of the restaurant and was a little disappointed when the ma?tre d’ held out a chair for her and she found herself facing the wall with her back to the door. Given the option, she’d have preferred to sit the other way round so she could see Catherine coming in, whereas now she’d have to keep twisting awkwardly if she wanted to see anything. She toyed with the idea of switching places, wondering if it was possible to stand up without making her heavy chair scrape loudly, but she was saved from social ruin when a waiter arrived to take her drinks order.
A tall cylinder of sparkling water with ice and lime soon appeared in front of her, which would give her something to do with her hands until Catherine arrived. Stella was never any good at being in restaurants on her own – she shared that much in common with her lunchtime companion. Pavement cafés were doable as they were designed for sitting and watching the world going by, but in the confines of a restaurant, she always felt self-conscious dining alone. Since she spent so much of her life alone, this meant that she very rarely dined out, so today was something of a novelty for her.
Resisting the urge to fiddle with the cutlery, she held her hands together in her lap, wondering whether the quiet restaurant would fill up without her even realising. Maybe the waiter had sat her here so she wouldn’t feel stared at by other customers, but it still felt strange. Eventually, she heard the door open, and when she turned around in her seat, she was pleased to see Catherine coming towards her, but was surprised to see Bob holding the door open behind her. She stood up to greet them both and asked Bob what had happened to his cricket match.
‘Oh, I’ve seen the start of play and they’ve broken for lunch now, so I thought to have a bite with you both here, if you don’t mind the imposition.’
‘It’s no imposition at all and it’s lovely to see the pair of you.’
‘How’s the arm? Good riddance to that splint, I expect?’
‘It’s fine thanks, Bob. And yes, I’m glad to see the back of the splint.’
‘Bob, why don’t you get busy with the wine list and choose us a nice crisp white,’ said his wife. ‘We could use a cold glass of wine on a lovely day like this, couldn’t we, Stella?’
‘It’s a bit early for me…’ Seeing Catherine’s expression, Stella gave in gracefully, ‘but I’ll make an exception for you.’
The waiter came, took the wine order and asked if they were ready to order their food. Catherine said they needed more time and shooed him away, and when Bob raised his brows at his wife, she frowned at him. Stella sensed domestic disharmony in the air. Deciding that discretion was definitely the better part of valour, she excused herself to the ladies so they could fight it out between them.
Well away from the zone of conflict, she leaned on the vanity counter and sampled the soap, followed by the hand lotion. Both smelt weirdly good enough to eat. That was probably just her appetite kicking in as breakfast had been ages ago. Another five minutes should be long enough to give the Telfords time to sort themselves out. Was Bob’s nose out of joint because he’d been co-opted into having lunch when he’d have preferred to grab a pie and a pint at the cricket ground? He hadn’t seemed unhappy when they’d arrived, but why was he even here in the first place? Perhaps Catherine had changed her mind, deciding she didn’t have much to say to Stella, after all, and had fetched her husband along as a buffer zone. Poor man, having to miss his match when he was so near to his beloved cricket ground.
Bob was a lovely man, but Stella was a bit disappointed by his appearance as she’d been hoping that Catherine might share some news of Benedict. Probably just as well he was here, though, otherwise she’d only be tormenting herself with news of what she couldn’t have. With a final dab of the lovely hand lotion, she stopped dawdling, knowing she couldn’t lurk in the ladies any longer without looking bad-mannered or just plain weird. Hopefully, she’d given Catherine and Bob enough time to get the bickering out of their systems.
When Stella came out of the bathroom, she nodded to the ma?tre d’ and returned to her table. Catherine and Bob had obviously not stopped bickering and had taken it outside. In their place, looking quite sheepish, was Benedict. He was wearing a sand-coloured moleskin jacket and one of his lovely sky-blue shirts, open at the neck. Her heart gave an involuntary leap, and she tried not to trip over her own feet as she walked towards him.
It felt like a hundred miles back to the table. Part of her was tempted to turn and run. It would serve him right if she did, for messing her around so much, but one more look at him told her she was going nowhere. When she reached the table, Benedict stood and pulled out her chair. Stella sat woodenly and stared at him with glassy eyes, feeling drunk even though she’d not yet touched a drop of wine. She looked at his pale eyes and the crinkles surrounding them, which told her without looking at his mouth that he was smiling at her.
‘Hello, Stella.’
She swallowed and barely managed to croak a reply. Then they fell into silence, which was broken only by the waiter arriving to take their order. They weren’t anywhere near ready, but the waiter, who evidently had decades of experience with this sort of thing, had judged the situation perfectly and provided a welcome third-party distraction.
‘Thank you,’ said Stella, who hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. ‘I’ll have a very well-done steak and salad.’ It was a brasserie, so they’d be bound to have steak and salad, but so much for choosing the cheapest item on the menu. She’d just have to cut back on her shopping for a week or two.
The waiter paused with his pencil poised above his pad.
‘How well done exactly, madam?’
‘Oh, about five seconds before the smoke alarm goes off, please.’
‘Very good, madam.’ The waiter noted the order without so much as a roll of his eyes and Stella admired his restraint.
‘And for you, sir?’
‘Same, thank you.’
The waiter poured the wine that Catherine had ordered. Benedict raised his glass, but Stella wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.
‘What exactly are we toasting, may I ask?’
After a brief pause, Benedict raised his glass again. ‘To your arm being back in commission.’
This was pretty disappointing as toasts went. She hadn’t been expecting a declaration of undying love or anything, but a toast to her arm bordered on pathetic. She raised her own glass about an inch and forced a half-smile. Taking a large gulp of wine, she decided to be direct.
‘Is anyone going to explain to me how I met Catherine for lunch, she turns up with Bob, they start having a domestic, I go to the ladies and when I return there’s you?’
‘Yes, there’s me. I expect you do want an explanation. Where to begin?’
‘The beginning isn’t a bad place to start.’
Stella’s initial delight at seeing Benedict was wearing thin and now she felt mostly cross. A busy restaurant wasn’t the time or the place for an emotional outburst, though, so she smoothed her dress over her knees and examined the cutwork on the hem for a couple of seconds to calm her down.
‘Nice frock, by the way.’
At this, her head jerked up. Nice frock, by the way? Honestly, she may as well be passing the time of day with Ernie on her way in and out of the building. Next, he’d be calling her mate .
‘Mm, thanks a lot. Anyway, back to the beginning.’
‘You’ll perhaps recall that I was meant to be working away this weekend…’
‘Vaguely.’ She was able to recall his every planned move in perfect detail, but there was no reason for him to know that.
‘Bob had spare tickets for Lord’s, and he asked if we’d like to go. It was a great opportunity to take Daniel to his first proper cricket match…’
‘So, you cancelled your work trip. I get that. But would you care to explain why you’re here with me and not at Lord’s with Daniel?’
‘We-ell, I’d arranged to meet Catherine and Bob here for lunch, and then we were going to go to the cricket ground, and Catherine was going to go shopping.’
‘Benedict, does that mean you didn’t know I was going to be here?’
‘Yes. No.’ He looked down at the table. ‘That is… no, I didn’t know you were going to be here.’
‘I see.’ This was getting worse by the minute. He was only here under false pretences and was probably counting the seconds until he could escape.
‘And you, Stella? How were you snared?’
‘Catherine called and asked if we could meet for lunch.’
‘She did, did she? And was no part of you suspicious that my mother-in-law wanted to meet you for lunch? Right here on your doorstep when she lives seventy or eighty miles away at a conservative estimate.’
‘Why would I be suspicious? I’ve no idea where she lives, and people come to London all the time. What, do you think we’ve been set up by your mother-in-law?’
‘There’s no think about it, Stella. Catherine’s never shied away from interfering, but this has to be her finest hour.’
Stella didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘Do you think Bob was in on it?’
Benedict shrugged. ‘He wouldn’t have had much choice and probably agreed as he was getting a day at the cricket out of it. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Daniel was in on it, too.’
Stella looked around the restaurant. ‘Was Daniel here?’
‘We all were. I arrived with Daniel, but we’d hardly sat down and said hello when Daniel said he needed the bathroom. Bob said he’d take him. Then about a minute later, Catherine said she needed to powder her nose. Before I could object, she’d gone, almost at a trot. I was just beginning to wonder if the three of them were all right when you appeared in front of me.’
Stella finally laughed. ‘I can promise you something. Catherine is one-hundred percent not powdering her nose because I was hiding in the ladies for almost fifteen minutes trying out the hand-cream and she didn’t come past me.’
‘Why on earth were you hiding?’
‘Your in-laws seemed to be on the verge of a domestic, so I was giving them some space.’
‘Giving them some space? Oh, Stella, we’ve both been well and truly had.’
It was hard knowing whether to be happy or angry at Catherine’s plotting. Mainly, Stella just felt sad to learn that Benedict hadn’t come here of his own free will.
‘Apart from anything,’ she said, ‘I bet you’re pretty cheesed off that your in-laws have kidnapped your son and gone off to the cricket without you.’
‘I’ll get over it. Besides, I’m somewhat consoled by the fact that Catherine has had to forego a lovely lunch in excellent company. Instead, she’s going to be stuck at an all-day cricket match. She absolutely loathes cricket. The thought of her sitting in Lord’s all day makes me curiously happy.’
‘Professor Redman, I never knew you had such a malevolent streak in you.’
‘I bet you never knew my mother-in-law had such a manipulative streak in her.’
‘No, and she seemed like such a sweet old lady, too.’
‘Don’t let her catch you calling her old.’
This made them both smile and they clinked glasses. Stella had barely taken a sip of wine when Benedict waved to someone behind her. She turned around in time to see Daniel run in, followed by his grandparents. Before the trio crossed the floor, a waiter quickly laid three more places at the table.
Daniel arrived first. ‘Daddy! Stella! Grandma and Grandpa took me on an adventure, but I wanted to come back and – oh, Stella, I can see your arm again. Is it better?’
‘Much better, Daniel. And how are you?’
‘Hungry.’
‘Then you’d better come and have something.’ Stella patted the chair beside her and the little boy sat down, soon followed by his grandparents.
‘All right, son,’ said Benedict. ‘What do you want to eat?’
Daniel grinned at his father. ‘Burgers and fries and orange juice with ice cubes and then some ice cream.’
‘Well, let’s start with one burger and see how you get on.’
Bob ruffled his grandson’s hair. ‘Tell you what, old boy, let’s leave after the main course and I’ll buy you the biggest ice cream we can find in the cricket ground. Will that hit the spot?’
‘As long as I can have monkey blood on it, Grandpa.’
‘Monkey blood?’ said Catherine. ‘How utterly grotesque.’
‘No, it’s delish.’ The little boy grinned. ‘At my birthday party, Stella asked me if I wanted monkey blood on my ice cream. ’
On seeing his grandmother’s grimace, Stella explained that this was simply the term for raspberry syrup used by children in the north-east of England, but this explanation didn’t seem to reduce her anxiety and Catherine took a good swig of wine from Benedict’s glass .
The waiter took the three new orders. With a straight face, he informed the table that as the smoke alarms hadn’t yet gone off, the steaks weren’t quite ready, which meant all the orders would arrive at the same time so everyone could eat together. While they waited, Benedict offered the wine to his in-laws and Daniel got his large glass of orange juice with ice. He happily fished the ice-cubes from his drink and crunched his way through them, setting everyone else’s teeth on edge.
While he crunched, he swung his legs. ‘Stella, I’ve missed you loads. Why haven’t you been back to see me?’
‘I’ve missed you too, Daniel. Sorry, I’ve not been to see you, but things have been a little, uh, well... Anyway, tell me what you’ve been up to in the school hols.
‘I’ve been learning how to train dragons.’
‘Oh? Dragon-training sounds very exciting.’
‘It is. I’ve been learning how much dragons like crystals and jewels. They eat them and it helps to keep their fire burning. That’s why the babies are born in crystal eggs, so they’ve got some food to light their fire as soon as they get born. If I’m very good, I think Santa might bring me a baby dragon for Christmas.’
On hearing this news, Benedict’s eyes widened, and no wonder. If dogs weren’t welcome in the Redman household because of Aunt Miranda, then a baby dragon stood no chance.
‘Draw breath, lad,’ said Bob, ‘or you’ll run out of steam.’
Sitting as close to Stella as he could without actually sitting on her knee, Daniel continued to discuss his ambitions concerning his prospective pet.
‘Have you picked a name for this baby dragon of yours? ’
‘Yes, I’m going to call him Rory because of all the roaring he’ll do.’
‘That’s a lovely name, and I can’t wait to meet Rory.’
Stella was glad that Catherine, Bob and Daniel had returned. The atmosphere prior to their arrival had been awkward to say the least and it was good to have some light relief and effortless conversation. Catherine was making great play at being innocent of any interfering, behaving as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and there was no way that Benedict was going to admonish his mother-in-law in the restaurant, if at all.
When the food came, the table continued to be lively, and it was lovely to feel part of this family again, even if only for an afternoon. Daniel looked to be enjoying it too, acting up to the combined attention of his father, grandparents and Stella. He was being ticked off (although not too energetically) by Catherine for eating with his fork in one hand while his other was tucked around Stella’s good arm.
She doubted if Benedict and his in-laws were truly happy, because times like these must bring it home to them more than ever that Anna should have been here, central to every person at the table, bar Stella. As soon as she’d had the thought, she pushed it out of her mind, determined to stop torturing herself. It made no sense to waste this precious time worrying about what Benedict and his in-laws might or might not be thinking.
When they neared the end of their meal, there was a slightly heated argument about the bill. Stella wanted to pay for herself, but no one at the table would hear of it, and she was told in no uncertain terms to put her purse away. Benedict wanted to pay for everyone but Catherine insisted that she do the honours as atonement for her wicked deeds. As negotiations became protracted, the waiter approached the table with a small salver bearing a booklet embossed with the name of the restaurant. While Benedict and Catherine continued to fight it out, Bob slipped his credit card to the waiter with impressive sleight of hand. Daniel beamed at his grandfather, and the waiter gave a small but knowing nod as he retreated from the table. When the waiter returned to deliver the receipt, along with some chocolate truffles, Catherine and Benedict finally surfaced, as if from underwater, blinking and trying to catch up with what had gone on. Bob took the receipt and folded it into his wallet, winking at Daniel as he did so.
‘Well, me boy, what say we get off to the match?’
‘Yes, Grandpa.’ Daniel got down from the table. ‘Daddy, are you coming? It’s a shame Stella can’t come as well. I bet she’d love to see the cricket.’
‘I’m not so sure about that, son. You go and have a good time with your grandparents.’
‘But, Daddy, I can’t go home without saying goodbye to Stella. Can I go to her house after the cricket do you think? I’ve never seen it.’
‘I don’t know, because it’ll be late when you come out of the match.’ Benedict glanced at Stella. ‘We’ll have to see.’
‘But, Daddy…’
‘No buts. I said we’ll have to wait and see.’
Stella looked at the boy’s sad little face. His upset was probably more to do with his father not going to the cricket with him, and nothing to do with seeing her flat. Perhaps she should clear the way for him. As they said goodbye to the restaurant staff and headed outside, Stella leaned over to Benedict.
‘You should go to the cricket and let Catherine come shopping with me as per our original plans. She doesn’t even like cricket–’
‘I most certainly do like cricket,’ interrupted Catherine. ‘And I wouldn’t miss an afternoon at Lord’s for the world.’
Benedict brushed crumbs from Daniel’s face and clothing and gave him tips on what to watch out for at the match. The boy nodded solemnly at each instruction. It was unbearable allowing a father to sacrifice something as important as his son’s first cricket match, and Stella stepped back, drawing Catherine with her.
‘You meant well by switching places so Benedict and I get to spend some time together, but separating father and son for Daniel’s first match? That’s not something I want on my conscience. Please come shopping with me. Let the men go to the cricket this afternoon, and I’ll arrange to meet Benedict soon and we’ll get this thing sorted, I promise.’
Catherine opened her mouth to object but thought better of it. She touched her son-in-law on the shoulder to get his attention, and when he turned, she passed her ticket to him.
‘You need to be there with Daniel today. Orders from above.’
Benedict looked at Stella and mouthed ‘thank you’. After brief goodbyes and promises to collect Catherine after the match, the three male generations of Daniel’s family left. Stella was acutely aware that she’d probably thrown away the last chance she had to make a go of things with Benedict.
‘You did the right thing, my dear,’ said Catherine. ‘Now, you promised me shopping, so let’s get cracking in the West End, shall we?’