Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Sophie was having a party. Well, it was more like she’d had a party thrust upon her.
‘Having fun?’ Thomas asked as he filled her glass with sparkling wine.
‘Yes, great,’ said Sophie, hoping it sounded more genuine than it felt.
He and Sebastian had come down to help her unpack the stuff from the old house, which had been in storage for a few months while the renovation work was being done on the new one. And Jack had come over from Australia to muck in too. Now it was pretty much sorted, they’d decided she needed to have a housewarming party before they all went home. She hadn’t had a say in it.
Normal Crommelin behaviour.
But it was good to have a test run of the adjusted layout of the house, she told herself, observing the flow of people from the kitchen to the dining area in the new extension, on to the sitting room and then back round through the hall to the kitchen.
The circular plan worked really well for entertaining, just as Rey had said it would. It was just hard dealing with having so many people in it. Especially as she didn’t know any of them. Somehow, Thomas and Sebastian had managed to find a surprising number of people to invite in a town where neither of them had ever been before. Jack told her they’d put something on Facebook to make the connections. Sophie had come off social media since Matt had died – it made her feel too exposed – and the very thought of what they might have posted made her shudder. ‘Tragic dead artist’s wife seeks like-minded Hastings folk for fun and friendship.’ Ugh.
She wished Rey was there.
‘How do you like this fizz?’ asked Thomas, holding up his glass to look at the wine against the light.
‘It’s very nice,’ she said. ‘What is it?’
‘Local gear. An old mate of mine moved down here a few years ago and he makes it. He’s got a whole vineyard thing going. Repurposed the family property. He donated a couple of cases for the party, which was decent of him. He’s supposed to be coming tonight, so I’ll introduce you. Nice chap. We were young guns together at Warburg’s. Now, who else haven’t you met?’
‘I’ve just got to go and ask Jack something,’ said Sophie, needing a moment’s respite from pretending to be delighted to meet new people. She’d just got into the sitting room when someone grasped her arm.
‘Hi, Sophie,’ said a woman who looked vaguely familiar, but nothing more than that. She had long grey hair, with a centre parting.
‘Hi,’ replied Sophie as brightly as she could muster, having no idea who this person was.
‘I’m Lorraine,’ the woman said, smiling with her eyes tightly crinkled up and her head on one side. ‘My husband, Terry, used to work with Matt at Goldsmiths? We had lunch one time, when you two came down here house hunting? I’m so sorry about Matt.’
Maaaaatt .
Sophie forced herself to smile. It took a big effort. This Lorraine was speaking in a particular patronising tone of voice that some people seemed to feel compelled to use when mentioning Matt. She was sure she meant well, but it still made Sophie’s skin crawl.
‘You’re very kind,’ she managed to get out, remembering the lunch now. Lorraine did something with felt, which she’d talked about a lot, referring to it every time as ‘my work’. Matt had been funny about it afterwards, calling everything he touched ‘my work’ in a sappy voice. He hadn’t liked the husband much either, who was clearly resentful of Matt’s success.
‘You must come for supper,’ Lorraine was saying, still with that half-cocked smile on her face and the Sunday-school tone. ‘I’ll message you on Insta? We have a great girls’ night once a month. You’ll love it.’
A girls’ night? Was that how it was going to be now? Not invited with the men anymore? Was that still a thing? Fear of the predatory widow? Great. More crap to deal with. She was a pridow as well as a gridow.
‘Is your lovely husband here?’ Sophie asked, smiling back at Lorraine with her own head on one side. ‘I’d love to say hi to him.’ Terrrrrrrrrrry .
It had the desired effect. Lorraine’s patronising smile dropped. ‘Yes,’ she said, tightly. ‘I think Terry might be in the kitchen...’
‘I’ll go and see. I need to check on the food anyway. I’ve got something super in my oven.’ She couldn’t help smiling to herself as she turned away.
She walked right into Sebastian. He smiled back at her.
‘Good to see you cracking a grin, Soph,’ he said, putting an arm round her and giving her a hug. ‘Are you enjoying the party?’
Sophie paused before replying. She liked all Matt’s brothers but had always got on best with Sebastian, perhaps because he was the most like Matt. The other one who’d gone to art college.
‘I don’t quite know, Seb,’ she said.
He looked at her, his intelligent eyes full of caring concern, but the Crommelin mischief still there too. His colouring was lighter than Matt’s, his hair dark brown rather than black, but he had the same firm jaw line and full lips. The genes Beau had inherited. Jack looked more like her.
‘I’m so grateful to you and Thomas for everything you’ve done, but I just don’t really know what I’m feeling most of the time these days. Comfortably numb, I suppose.’
Sebastian nodded. ‘That makes sense. And I’m glad you trust me enough to be honest with me about it. I did wonder whether this was a bit “too soon”.’
He said it in the particular way that had been an ongoing joke between him and Matt and it made Sophie smile to hear it again. Sebastian had exactly the light touch people like Lorraine didn’t have.
‘But you know how Thomas likes to push everything forward,’ he continued. ‘Fall in, men, quick march... and I’ve found over the years it’s easiest just to go along with it. Matt was the only one who ever stood up to him.’
Sophie gave him a little hug. He’d looked so bleak as he said it. He’d lost a brother, she reminded herself, his best friend, really. It wasn’t all about her, and although Sebastian and Matt had been a bit competitive, as the two ‘arty’ ones in the family, they had also been particularly close.
‘How’s Freya?’
‘Oh, you know,’ he said, ‘telling everyone what to think as usual. Especially me.’
‘Well, she is paid to have opinions.’
‘True – and doesn’t she know it.’
‘I love Freya,’ said Sophie. ‘She’s hilarious.’
‘She does coat her missiles with mirth,’ said Sebastian. ‘Otherwise she’d be unbearable. And you know she loves you too, Soph. Please don’t become a stranger now you’re down here. You know you can ring me any time you need to talk to someone, and if you ever want a shot of London energy, come up and stay with us. We’d both love that.’
‘Thanks, Seb,’ said Sophie. ‘I will, but now I’ve got to go and check on the food.’
She kissed him on the cheek and headed out to the hall, starting to feel desperate to have a moment on her own. She glanced at the stairs, wondering if anyone would notice if she went up to her room for a bit and lay down on the bed, but as she hesitated, someone knocked on the front door.
Screaming internally, Sophie opened it to find a man about her age, perhaps a little older, with grey hair and appealingly crinkly eyes. He was smiling and holding a large box.
‘Hi,’ said Sophie, plastering on a welcoming expression, ‘come in.’ Come in to my house, total stranger, and join all the other people I don’t know .
‘Hello. Are you Sophie?’
She nodded.
‘I’m Charlie Renton,’ he said, waving his fingers as well as he could while holding the heavy-looking carton. ‘I would shake your hand, but mine are a bit full.’
‘Gosh,’ said Sophie, noticing that the brand name on the box was the same as the delicious sparkling wine Thomas had organised, although the box was an oddly flat shape for wine. ‘Is this more of that wonderful bubbly? Was it you who gave us that?’
Charlie nodded. ‘But this is a different version. In tins. Where shall I put it?’
‘That’s so kind of you,’ said Sophie. ‘And how clever to can it. Can I give you hand?’
‘Just show me where you want it,’ said Charlie. ‘I’ll follow you.’
She led the way through to the kitchen and helped him put the wine down next to some garden tubs full of ice that Thomas had arranged next to the central island, where he’d set up the bar. Charlie crammed as many cans as he could in among the ice and, as he stood up, Sophie noticed he was wearing faded pink corduroy trousers held up by pink braces. On his feet were pink wellington boots.
She couldn’t help smiling.
‘Sorry about my, er, look,’ he said. ‘Work gear. I didn’t have time to change. One of my people injured themselves and I’ve been at A&E for four hours. His wife turned up eventually, so I was able to get over here.’
‘Gosh,’ said Sophie. ‘Thanks so much for coming after that – and you do fit in rather well in my pink kitchen in those trousers. It’s almost camouflage. Would you like a glass of your lovely fizz, or do you go straight from the tin?’
‘The tins are great. I’d love to know what you think of them, but if there’s a bottle open, I’ll have a glass. If it’s not a pain for you.’
‘I’ll get you one.’
He deserved one of her nice champagne flutes, she thought, not the cheap party glasses, and headed over to the far side of the room to find one. As she opened the cupboard door, she heard Thomas’s unmistakable voice.
‘Charlie boy! Good man! You finally made it. Are you living on country time now?’
Then there was the unmistakable sound of Thomas’s usual back slapping and Sophie heard Charlie say, ‘Good man...’ and she glanced round to see him slapping Thomas back.
Just another of Thomas’s apparently endless network of City boys, despite the endearing trousers. They were like stags, or hares, those men, with their weird courtship rituals. She could just imagine Matt rolling his eyes at Sebastian at this point and then the two of them would have disappeared off together somewhere, leaving Thomas with his hearty friend. The Arties and the Hearties had been another of Matt and Sebastian’s ongoing jokes.
A wave of intense sadness washed over her as she remembered how they used to make each other laugh about it. The sudden sense of loss was so overwhelming she had to hold onto the countertop with her spare hand to steady herself. In that moment, she would have given absolutely anything to have Matt walk through the door. Even the Matt who had made that awful announcement to her. She just wanted him back, whatever he’d done. She wanted his arms around her. The void was unbearable.
She hadn’t realised she was standing stock still, staring into space with an empty champagne flute in her hand, until Charlie appeared at her side.
‘Is that for me?’ he said, quietly.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Sophie. ‘Sorry, I was distracted.’
He reached for the glass and put his other hand gently on her shoulder, looking into her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry about your husband,’ he said, in a gentle but normal voice, no pious simpering. ‘Thomas told me what happened to Matt. Just awful. Tom was so proud of his brilliant artist brother. Such a terrible shock for you all, especially you and your sons. Absolute shit.’
Sophie gazed back at him, a bit stunned, and found she was smiling, although she could also feel tears forming in her eyes.
‘Thanks, Charlie,’ she said. ‘That’s exactly what it is. Utter crap.’
He patted her shoulder – was that the version of the man-to-man back slapping that their mob used for women? – and looked as though he was about to say something else, but before he could speak, Thomas joined them, his overbearing presence like a planet eclipsing the sun.
‘Ah, good man, you’ve met the sis-in-law,’ he said, clapping Charlie’s back some more.
They must be quite bruised by the end of a day of it, Sophie thought.
‘Sophie, this is Charles Renton, the bloke I was telling you about. Wine. We call him Charlie.’
‘Yes,’ said Sophie. ‘We’ve met, and Charlie has very kindly brought another case of his lovely fizz – in tins, which is exciting.’
‘Fair play,’ said Thomas, rubbing his hands together. ‘Well, best we finish it, eh? You can always bunk down here, Charlie boy, so you don’t have to stay off the booze and drive back to the farm down tiny lanes in the pitch black. I know how lethal they are from Somerset. That’s we why keep a full-time driver down there now...’
Here we go , thought Sophie, wondering how long this boast-a-thon would last and feeling extremely irritated that Thomas had just invited a total stranger to stay the night in her house. Even though he did seem nice, it was too much. The thought of more back slapping at breakfast was too much.
So she was glad to hear Jack calling her from the direction of the dining room.
‘My son wants me,’ she said, turning back to Charlie. ‘Once again, thank you so much for all the wine.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’d like to come and see where I make it sometime.’
‘I’d love to.’
‘Thomas has my number.’
‘Ah, yes, I’ll ping it over to you,’ said Thomas. ‘If I can figure out how to do it on my new Apple watch. It’s the latest one, great bit of kit, I just had it sent over from the States.’
Sophie saw him lift his left wrist to demonstrate and grabbed her opportunity to leg it over to Jack.
‘Hey, Mumpty,’ he said, putting his arm round her and kissing the side of her head. ‘I thought you might like a break from the Hearties.’
Sophie smiled, happy that he remembered the joke too.
‘Uncle Seb and I have got a bit of an Arties’ colony going in here and we thought you should join us. It’s really fun. Your neighbours are epic.’
Sophie still flinched a bit whenever she went into the dining room because it was furnished with the big table from the old house with the mash-up of old chairs that Matt had customised. Including the one with Mickey Mouse ears that he had always sat on. He’d carved and painted the ears himself and screwed them on to the back of an old school chair. Everybody loved it – especially the boys – but Sophie could hardly bear to look at it. He’d been leaning on it when he’d made his announcement.
She was relieved to see Sebastian was sitting on it, which softened the impact, in between two older women, who were her neighbours.
‘This is where the real party is,’ said Sebastian. ‘I’m getting all the red-hot Hastings goss from Agata and Olive here. You’ve really lucked out with your neighbours.’
‘Haven’t I?’ she said, sitting down. ‘You two were so great when all the building work was going on. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.’ She raised her glass to each woman in turn.
‘You’re more than welcome, sweetheart,’ said the younger of the two women. She looked like she was in her early seventies and was wearing old denim dungarees with a stripey Breton shirt, a red bandana knotted at her neck. ‘We’re stoked to have you here, aren’t we, Ags? Three good women in a row, now.’
‘And the people before...’ said the older woman, bringing her hands up in the air by her head. She had a strong accent, something middle European. ‘They were so boring. How do you say it, Olive? Like shitty bat?’
As they laughed, Sebastian put his arm round the old lady’s birdlike shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze, grinning as he caught Sophie’s eye. Sophie knew exactly what he was telling her. He loved the characterful old girl in her Napoleonic-shaped orange hat and bold graphic sweater – and Matt would have too.
Sophie smiled back. That was the first thing she’d thought when she’d met Agata, who always seemed to wear a striking hat of some kind. Matt would immediately have asked if he could draw her.
‘Agata’s got something to tell you,’ said Sebastian. ‘Go on, tell Sophie about the cake.’ He held up a plate with a slice of the poppy seed cake Sophie had made for the party from a recipe Agata had given her, written out in shaky handwriting.
‘Did I make it wrong?’ asked Sophie. ‘Is it horrid?’
‘No, darling,’ said Agata. ‘It is beautiful, but I have a confession to make.’
‘OK...’ said Sophie, puzzled.
‘You know how I told you it was my aunt’s recipe from Czechoslovakia, before the war... I’m afraid it was not. I copied it out of Good Housekeeping last week, but I thought you would like the story – and I knew I would like the cake, so...’
Sophie looked at her blankly, taking it in, then burst out laughing, throwing her head back and really letting go.
The rest of the group joined in and when they all calmed down again, Sophie realised she’d just had one of those rare, precious moments when she’d forgotten about Matt and all the complications of being the gridow/wronged wife hybrid and had just been herself again, if only for that tiny instant.
Buoyed up, she allowed herself to hope that living in this house, with these two doughty women on either side, might be just what she needed to get through it.