Chapter 25
By the time lunchtime rolled around, I was toying with the idea of going for a walk by the canal.
Just to see if Emma was right and Cooper really was back.
Not because there was a magnetic pull that had me wanting to be in the same space as Cooper.
Nothing like that whatsoever. The more sensible side of my brain was telling me to get a sandwich from the bakery and ignore the boat entirely, but I was curious and the boat was nagging at me like a half-finished project in my crochet bag.
I needed to see him. It. I had to see it…
At five to twelve, though, the door jangled open and Richard came in. He was dressed for work in a dark blue suit and pink shirt, brown loafers tapping on the floor. He must have come straight from a viewing. He still had his zipped-up folio under his arm.
‘Hey,’ I smiled at him, feeling a little awkward because Emma was just in the back room behind me, making a Pot Noodle. I wasn’t sure how she’d react to seeing him. ‘Didn’t expect to see you until tonight.’
‘Eh, I binned off a few rental viewings – thought I’d take you out to The Black Swan for lunch.’
‘Really?’ I couldn’t help bursting out. The Black Swan was a swanky gastro-pub up past the viaduct, nestled into a bend in the canal.
It was the sort of place you went for special wedding anniversaries, not a quick workday lunch.
Mum and Dad had been for one of their friends’ retirement parties and said the food was ‘finicky’.
I’d looked their menu up and seen the prices jumping out at me, prices starting with twos and threes, for sandwiches.
Guillotines had been built for less.
‘Yeah, really,’ Richard laughed at my expression. ‘You deserve a treat – you’ve been working really hard.’
‘I’ll be back in the hour, though, right?’ I asked Richard, uncertainly.
He pulled a face. ‘Come on, Tabs, live a little. Close up for the afternoon. You can invite Emma if you want. I can afford it.’
While I dithered, Emma appeared through the beaded curtain, noodle pot in hand. ‘I’ll mind the shop,’ she told me, without really engaging with Richard. ‘Don’t worry about it. I can make some posters to advertise the Stitch and Witch on the laptop, get a few more people in.’
‘If you’re sure,’ I said, not wanting to put her out after we’d only just made up.
‘You’ve been here on your own for a few days, I can handle one afternoon,’ she said, still not looking at Richard, which I could tell was bothering him from the way he moved around a little further into her eyeline. ‘Have fun and I’ll hold down the fort.’
‘Great!’ Richard said, without waiting for me to make up my mind. He took my hand and tugged me out from behind the counter. ‘Let’s go – car’s outside.’
Richard’s car was fancier than my little run-around.
He needed to be able to run clients to and from the office for multiple showings where necessary and the car was a reflection of the company.
I relaxed into the leather seat and enjoyed the air-conditioning as he drove us out of Leaford and through the lanes to The Black Swan.
‘This is a nice surprise,’ I said, as we went over a stone bridge and I looked down at the canal flowing under it, smiling at the sight of moorhens zipping about after each other.
‘Like I said, you deserve it.’ Richard reached over and squeezed my knee. I managed to suppress the urge to pull back. Just.
We drove up to The Black Swan, the car crunching over pristine white quartz gravel.
The pub itself was a Tudor building that had always been some form of alehouse or other, as was proudly noted on the sign outside.
Now painted charcoal grey with black beams and a sign picked out in gold, it looked the perfect mix of modern and traditional.
Outside, the slate planters were full of late summer flowers, all of them so dark purple that they appeared velvety black.
I felt a pang for the garden that I’d probably never get to have, not in a flat anyway.
Richard wasn’t keen on a house and loathed the thought of mowing grass every weekend.
Apartment living was the future, according to him.
Richard practically dragged me across the car park in his excitement and, once we reached the door and were greeted by a smiling hostess, I hoped he’d relax a bit. He was making me nervous and it was only lunch, for God’s sake.
‘Table for Hollings?’ he asked.
I watched as the petite brunette hostess ran a scarlet manicured finger down her reservation book. She looked up and smiled. ‘Party of four? Right this way.’
Four? I looked askance at Richard but he avoided my gaze and followed the hostess.
She led us through the main restaurant area, where the wooden floors and tastefully rustic décor felt warm and inviting.
Our table was in the attached conservatory, surrounded by beds of more black flowers and within view of a mini-orchard of ripening apples.
Beyond the trees the canal was surrounded by reed beds, almost hidden.
We were seated at a table for four, covered in a black tablecloth. The tableware was white with gold trim and I didn’t really want to touch any of the delicate glassware in case I broke something. In terms of celebrating our reconciliation, this felt like a little much.
‘Who’s joining us?’ I asked, unable to keep a faint note of suspicion from my voice. I wondered if this was some sort of investors’ lunch for his business and he was trying to kill two birds with one expensive meal by inviting me along.
Richard took a breath and reached for my hand on the table.
‘Tabby!’
I jumped a little and the table full of expensive glass and china rattled alarmingly.
Richard shot me an admonishing look. But my flicker of irritation over that was quickly swamped by the surprise at seeing both my parents entering the conservatory.
The hostess ushered them in and I took in Dad’s suit (the classic black one he only got out for funerals or weddings) and Mum’s eye-wateringly bright fuchsia and coral floral wrap dress. What were they doing here, dressed up?
I glanced at Richard and saw him smiling at them, polite and without teeth.
Oh God. Was he… was this how he was going to propose?
Right now, after only days of us being back together?
That felt too soon. Much, much too soon.
Panic made sweat prickle all over me and I tried to discreetly wipe my palms on my skirt before getting up to hug Mum and Dad.
‘Mum, Dad, this is a surprise,’ I said, trying to smile as if I wasn’t suddenly a nervous wreck inside.
‘I know!’ Mum’s voice ricocheted around the glass walls and I saw Richard wince. She was clearly pleased with how this reveal had been carried out. As she and Dad took their seats, she kept looking at me and beaming. I wanted to mouth ‘what’s happening?’ but sensed it would just spur her on.
The hostess brought menus in black leather covers and a carafe of lemon water. I poured myself a glass and tried not to neck it.
Richard was in no hurry to get to the point of this lunch, it seemed.
He and Mum chattered about the menu and Dad scoffed at the prices.
I was in private agreement. I could appreciate good food as much as the next person but eighteen pounds for grilled asparagus on sourdough?
Twenty-two for a bowl of soup and some bread? Had the world gone mad?
I dithered over the menu so long that in the end, when a waitress came to take our order, Richard just said I’d have what he was having.
Mum ‘awwwwed’, like this was adorable. In fact, I was slightly embarrassed but didn’t want to make a scene.
I could pick the anchovies out of the starter, and it wouldn’t kill me to eat salad for both the first and second course.
At least it wasn’t as expensive as the eight-ounce steak and truffle frites. I’d had water bills for less.
‘This is so nice,’ Mum sighed, smiling at the pair of us, while the waitress brought out the wine Richard had ordered and poured for us. Dad was still looking slightly poleaxed by the menu prices, goggling at the vase of flowers in front of him with a slight eye twitch. I could only sympathise.
‘It is,’ Richard agreed. ‘Always so good to see you two, and it seems especially important now… when Tabs and I are moving into a new phase of our relationship.’
Oh, God! He was going to propose. The sheer panic the idea filled me with made me feel physically sick.
I was immediately overcome with guilt that this was my response to Richard planning for our future.
What was wrong with me? I was in a very nice restaurant with my parents and my boyfriend of three years and he was apparently about to ask me to marry him.
And my instinct was to push over the table and sprint for the nearest toilet?
‘I’ve recently been doing a lot of soul-searching, a lot of thinking and preparation for the future,’ Richard said, picking up his glass and clearly getting ready to give a toast. ‘In the past few days, it’s become clear that big changes are on the horizon.’
Mum made a high-pitched noise I’d previously only heard One Direction fans produce. She was fixated on Richard, as if he was about to pop the question to her rather than me.
Richard reached over and took my hand. To my embarrassment, I twitched away slightly and had to stop myself from whipping my fingers away from his entirely.
He ignored this and cleared his throat. ‘Tabs, you are… everything to me. You’re the fuel in my engine, the scaffolding on my skyscraper… the sparkle on my diamond.’
Mum grabbed Dad’s hand with such force that he jumped, jolting everything on the table. Richard glanced peevishly at him for a fraction of a second, before returning his attention to me.
‘Tabitha – I’m all ready to take us to a new level. All you have to do… is say yes.’