Chapter 17
Nerves had somehow made their way to Pippin Cottage and Lily found herself fussing over the kitchen table before Nick arrived.
She brushed out imaginary wrinkles in the faded embroidered tablecloth, which had seen better days but was still Gran’s favourite.
Gran had also insisted the fine china be taken from the chiffonier and washed and set out for their takeaway Indian dinner.
Lily had put her foot down at Gran’s suggestion of the old brass candlesticks.
‘He’ll think he’s walking into a seance,’ she said to her grandmother.
‘He might be. You never know what ghosts are around these cottages,’ Gran said. ‘I’ve been seeing your grandfather more often lately. He’s often standing in the garden, just by the apple tree near the fence.’
‘Okay, well say hi to him from me,’ said Lily jokingly. She seemed to be moving things for no reason and checking the wine in the fridge was cold enough. ‘It doesn’t feel cold,’ she said as she opened the fridge again.
‘It can’t get cold, as you keep opening the refrigerator. Please, Lily dear, stop fidgeting,’ Gran said from her armchair. ‘It’s only Nick, not the Queen of Sheba.’
Lily felt her cheeks warm. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Sorry, I’m overthinking.’
‘I’m sure he’ll think the table and its setter are lovely, no matter what.’ Gran’s voice had a knowing smugness to it, Lily thought, and before she could react, the doorbell rang, setting her heart racing.
She had worn a white linen skirt and a simple silk T-shirt in a lovely cornflower blue and her feet were bare. Her hair was pulled into a bun and she had tiny daisy earrings in each ear. She adjusted her T-shirt, took a deep breath, and went and opened it.
Nick stood on the doorstep, holding a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand and a large carry bag of food in the other. His hair was messy, as usual, and he was in jeans and a button-down shirt in a pale lemon. Lily’s stomach flipped slightly as she saw him and his smile.
‘Hi,’ she said, suddenly feeling like a tongue-tied teenager. She had been fine around him until now and suddenly she was being pathetic.
Nick’s effortless smile lit up his handsome face. ‘Hello yourself. These are for you,’ he continued, presenting the flowers. ‘And this,’ he explained, holding up the bag of food, ‘is our dinner.’
‘It’s perfect,’ Lily replied, smiling as she accepted both. ‘Come in. Gran’s excited to see you.’
As they walked into the living room, Gran looked up from her newspaper as though she hadn’t been waiting for him to arrive all afternoon, her blue eyes beaming. ‘Nicholas, it is nice to see you. What a lovely idea this is.’
Nick bent to kiss Gran’s cheek. ‘Hello, Violet, you’re looking well. I can take that dressing off tomorrow.’
‘You’re back tomorrow? You might as well move in,’ teased Gran. ‘We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Lil?’
Lily shot her a look but Gran’s smile was so serene, Lily was sure Gran was batting her eyelashes in innocence.
Lily took the food from the plastic containers and transferred it into serving bowls, which she placed on the table.
‘Dinner is ready,’ she said theatrically to the other two.
‘Let me help you, Violet,’ said Nick, assisting her up to standing and then walking the short distance alongside her walking frame.
Soon they were seated, wine was poured and plates laden and they tucked into the delicious, fragrant food.
Dinner was lovely, with Nick entertaining Gran with stories from the hospital and asking her many questions about Gran’s youth. As Lily listened she realised that there was still so much she didn’t know about her grandmother.
Most of the time, Lily found herself watching Nick.
How his eyes crinkled when he chuckled, the delicate way he replenished Gran’s water glass without being asked, and the warmth in his voice as he chatted with Gran.
It was all wonderful. Comfortable. He seemed very at home in this cosy little cabin with her and Gran.
Gran regaled them with stories from her youth, and her marriage and raising Lily’s dad and having Lily stay for the holidays.
Nick, for his part, listened intently, laughing at the appropriate moments and asking just the right questions to keep Gran engaged, but after dinner and a cup of tea and a shortbread biscuit, Lily could see Gran was fading.
As the evening progressed, Gran’s yawns increased. ‘I think it’s about time this old lady turned in,’ she said, struggling to her feet.
Both Lily and Nick moved to assist her, but Gran turned them away.
‘I’m not completely decrepit yet,’ she admitted with a wink.
‘Goodnight, dears. Nicholas, it was nice to have you over for dinner. Thank you for bringing such a delicious assortment of delights and I will see you tomorrow,’ she said and she moved with her walker to the stairs.
‘Goodnight, Violet,’ Nick murmured, gently. ‘Thank you for having me.’
Once Gran had climbed the stairs, the room fell silent. Lily busied herself clearing the table, acutely conscious of Nick’s presence as he insisted on helping.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Lily objected as Nick started scraping plates into the rubbish bin.
He smiled at her over his shoulder. ‘I want to. Besides, if we do the dishes now then you won’t have a mess when you wake up.’
They settled into a comfortable rhythm, Lily drying while Nick washed.
The domesticity of it all didn’t escape her, and she found herself wondering what life would be like with a man like Nick.
She had dated in London, and had a boyfriend while at college, but the performing world wasn’t conducive to long-term relationships.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Nick’s voice interrupted her thinking.
Lily blinked, realising she had been staring at the same plate for about a minute. ‘Oh, just… thinking about London.’
‘Do you miss it?’ he asked as he rinsed off a plate.
She thought for a moment. ‘I don’t actually. I mean I’ve been busy here. In London I have more time but I do nothing with it. I work two jobs but the shifts are becoming few and far between and then there are auditions.’ She paused.
‘Actually, and this is a secret…’ she said. Nick put down the scrubbing brush and leaned against the sink. Dammit, why did he look so handsome?
‘I have been teaching singing and piano at home. That’s how I’ve been supplementing my income.’
Nick frowned, his face confused. ‘Why is that a secret? It sounds like an entirely sensible thing to do.’
Lily sighed, ‘There’s this idea, that to resort to teaching means you’ve failed. It’s weird, and hard to explain but you’re supposed to be doing it, not teaching other people how to do it.’
She picked up a bowl and started to dry it with the checked tea towel.
‘Yes it’s weird,’ said Nick. ‘But it’s also a bit elitist. I mean how else are people supposed to learn?’
‘I know,’ Lily said. ‘And the worst thing about it…’ She paused.
She hadn’t yet admitted this to anyone and here she was spilling her secrets over sudsy water to her grandmother’s nurse.
‘It’s the most rewarding and fulfilling thing I do in London.
I can’t explain why but I love it. I love encouraging people and seeing their faces when they learn the tricky bars in the song or hit the note I knew they could reach. ’
‘That’s amazing, Lily; maybe you should do it full-time and give up the other jobs you have. Is it worth it financially?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, it is, but my mother would be furious and most of my college friends would think I had failed.’
Nick rinsed the last dishes and then cleaned the sink the way a health professional would, so it was shining and whistle-clean.
‘Let me understand this. Your mother and friends would rather you drag yourself around London for horrible jobs on a minimum wage than teach what you’re good at in the safety of your own flat and make more money for less work?’
Now that he said it out loud, she realised how stupid it sounded. ‘Well Nigel my housemate knows, but when I told my mother I didn’t want to take the place at the college to do performing, I wanted to be a music teacher, she told me that I was wasting my talent.’
He stared at her for what felt like a lifetime. ‘Thank you for sharing that with me, Lily,’ he said. She swallowed, aware the energy between then had changed. Lily became acutely aware of how close they were standing and the warmth emanating from Nick’s body.
‘Lily,’ she heard Gran’s voice say from upstairs. ‘Can you bring me my heartburn medicine? The butter chicken seems to have stayed in my chest.’
‘Of course,’ she said and smiled at Nick. ‘I should go and check on her.’
He picked up his car keys and wallet that he had left on the bench.
‘Thank you for the dinner,’ she said. ‘It was lovely.’
Nick nodded. ‘It was a great night. Thank you for hosting.’
‘See you at rehearsals,’ she said, and he nodded and then left her alone in the cottage, wondering what would have happened just before Gran called down. Perhaps she was imagining it all; it had been a while since she had any sort of flirtation with a man.
Get it together, Baxter, she told herself. You’re acting like a silly lovestruck ingénue and he is just being nice. You’ve been attention-starved for too long. Time to grow up and stop acting like a teenager.
She picked up Gran’s tablets and turned off the lamps and locked the doors.