CHAPTER TEN
After a crazily busy week, Friday rolled around again and I was looking forward to Zak’s return.
I’d made his favourite steak pie from scratch, slow-cooking the beef to make sure it was fall-apart tender. I’d even made my own puff pastry, after Fen had said it was quite easy to do. (It really wasn’t.)
Halfway through the rolling and the dotting with butter on the Thursday night, I was beginning to wish I’d never started the whole palaver. But I just kept thinking of Zak and the following evening when he’d be home. The pastry might not be perfect but my welcome definitely would be – and it might even include the sexy underwear I’d bought when I was out shopping with Katja that time...
I was expecting him home around six, and by five-thirty I was ready – hair blow-dried, make-up perfect, and spritzed liberally with his favourite perfume.
I answered his call with a smile, expecting him to say that he was almost home.
‘Ellie? You’ll never believe it!’
‘What?’ He sounded really energised and different.
‘No more writer’s block!’
‘Really? You’ve thought of an idea for a book?’
‘I have. And I’ve started writing it already.’
‘That’s brilliant!’ Hearing the sheer relief in his voice, my eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Zak, I’m so pleased for you. Maybe you could do some writing over the weekend, in between what I’ve got planned for us?’
‘You’ve got things planned?’
‘Well, nothing too strenuous.’ I chuckled. ‘In fact, some of it we wouldn’t even need to get out of bed for.’
‘Oh. Okay.’
There were a few seconds of ominous silence, and my happy heart took a tumble. His reply to my amorous suggestion hadn’t been quite the response I’d been hoping for.
‘The thing is, Ellie... I was thinking I might just stay here and write over the weekend. Just go with it? While I’m all fired up about this new idea?’
‘Oh, right.’
‘It would be a shame to interrupt the flow, you know? And we can always make up for it next weekend?’
‘Of course.’ I wanted to be upbeat, but disappointment was coursing through me.
‘I’ll take you out for dinner to our favourite extortionately-priced restaurant. How about that?’
I laughed. ‘Zak, as long as you’re here, a takeaway at home and a bottle of wine would be just as lovely. Probably better because if I eat too much, I can just get straight into my pyjamas.’
‘Great idea. Except now I’m thinking about you in those stripy pyjama bottoms with that skimpy little pink top you always wear,’ he murmured. ‘Wish I was there with you right now.’
I chuckled, feeling myself soften. His writing was his living and when he didn’t have a project on the go, he was miserable. I was over the moon he sounded happy again. He seemed to be back on track and he needed my support.
So I took a deep breath and said, ‘Of course you should stay there and write, my love. As you say, you should strike when the muse grabs you.’
‘That’s what I thought. You don’t mind?’
‘Well... I was really looking forward to you coming back – and so was Maisie – but we’ll see you next weekend. Like you said, we can make up for it then.’
‘What will you do? This weekend?’
‘Ooh, not sure. But I’ll think of something. Maisie keeps asking to see the new house so we might pop in there.’
‘Really?’
Immediately, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. He sounded worried.
‘Yes. I mean, we won’t stay long. We might even just peek through the windows.’
‘Well, just be careful. Has the builder been over yet to assess what needs doing?’
‘No. Next week.’
‘Right, well, you might be best giving the house a wide berth until he’s been inside and inspected it. I don’t want you or Maisie having an accident while I’m not there.’
Silently, I smiled and shook my head. I loved that Zak was so protective of us. But it really wasn’t necessary. ‘Okay. We’ll wait for him to check it out first,’ I said, crossing my fingers behind my back.
By the time the call ended, I was already forming a plan to cheer up Maisie, who I knew would be really disappointed her dad wasn’t coming home that day as planned.
I glanced out of the window. The cold snap was over and although the wind had picked up, it was so much milder now. Otherwise, my idea wouldn’t be very practical.
I wouldn’t be letting Zak know how we’d be spending Saturday, though.
There was no point worrying him needlessly . . .
*****
As I’d thought, Maisie was crushed she wasn’t going to be seeing her dad. But she perked up when I told her I’d planned something special we could do.
‘I thought we could go over to the new house tomorrow and sort of camp out there for a bit. What do you think? It might be quite exciting.’
Maisie gave me a puzzled look. ‘Camping? In a tent?’ She glanced out of the window at the wildly waving trees. It currently looked as if a Force Ten gale was about to take the roof off, although the forecast was for it to calm down by the following day.
‘No, no. I mean inside. In the new house. We could go over there and explore tomorrow, and you can choose which bedroom you’d like.’
Maisie nodded eagerly. ‘I need a big room, Mum. So I can have sleepovers. Can I have Molly and Beth and Charley for a sleepover?’
‘When we move in? Yes, of course you can.’
‘Is there a TV at the house? Can we watch movies?’
‘Well, no. It doesn’t have power just yet. But it will do, soon.’
‘But what will we do?’
‘At the house? Oh, just look around it.’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘Could we have some cake and play games?’
I laughed. ‘Well... I suppose we could. It’ll be too cold to stay long, though. And there’s no furniture, of course.’
‘The house is empty?’ She frowned, thinking about this. Then she grinned. ‘We could sit on the floor on a blanket and have a picnic.’
‘Well . . .’
‘Can I choose the games? Are there ghosts at the house?’
‘Ghosts?’ I chuckled, trying to keep up with her rather wild thought processes. ‘No. Absolutely not.’
‘Can we have ginger beer and chocolate brownies sitting on the blanket?’
‘I guess we could.’
Her eyes were shining. ‘I know! We could play Poo Bingo!’
‘Poo Bingo?’ I grinned over at her. ‘Aren’t you a bit old for that now?’
‘Mum, you said I could choose the games,’ she reminded me sternly.
I laughed. ‘Okay. Poo Bingo it is. You’ll have to find it, though.’
She pushed back her seat. ‘I know where it is,’ she called, running out of the kitchen. And with a sinking heart, I heard her open the door of the messy cupboard under the stairs and start pulling things out. It was sod’s law the game would be right at the back and then we’d have quite a bit of tidying up to do.
But if playing Poo Bingo would make her happy, that’s what we’d do.
Apart from anything else, I couldn’t wait to be back at the house again...