Best Laid Plans (18 page)

‘M
onique’s staying at her aunt’s in Paris for a few days,’ Mike informed them.

He had come over to see Oscar and Amy – in that order – and had enthused over one of them. He had taken the news that Amy had resigned from her job and was moving into Snape House badly, even though Amy felt he should be bloody glad that she was going to sort things out. It was all very well him coming up with all these ideas for the business, all these plans of his, but why the hell hadn’t he done so before? Had he been so in awe of Dad that he hadn’t dared speak his mind? Ideas had to be implemented and action had to be taken and if there was one thing she was good at, it was making decisions and taking action.

This business was in serious need of a good shake-up.

It had been one of those exceptional spring days, warmer than average, and although it was tempting to set the outdoor table and eat their meal there they had decided against it and were eating in the kitchen instead.

Christine had cooked salmon with new potatoes and a home-made sauce with some French beans and Mike was demolishing his as if he hadn’t eaten in ages.

‘Did you get the chance to speak to Monique for long?’ Amy asked. ‘What did she say about the cottage? She has been to see it, hasn’t she?’

‘She didn’t say much. She’s met up with her aunt, who
asked her to stay for a few days and she jumped at the chance.’

‘I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t mind a few days in Paris myself. If she plays her cards right she might get treated to some designer clothes,’ Amy said, tongue in cheek because she knew damned well that most of Monique’s vast wardrobe came from charitable sources, in other words, her mother and now the French aunt. She should be so lucky.

‘It was a brave thing to do, driving there on her own,’ Christine said, giving Amy a look she knew well. ‘We mustn’t forget that she lost her mother back in November,’ she added and then, for Mike’s benefit, ‘although as nobody bothered to tell us about that we weren’t able to offer any support at the time.’

‘It was the way she wanted it, Mum.’ Mike was standing firm on that. ‘She didn’t want a fuss.’

‘So she deserves a little treat,’ Christine continued, letting it pass. ‘And I have to say that aunt of hers sounds as if she’s rolling in money. She lives in this huge apartment, doesn’t she Mike, right in the middle of Paris overlooking some avenue or other.’

Amy laughed. ‘I’m glad I’m not relying on you, Mum, for directions.’

‘It’ll be nice for them to spend some time together,’ Mike said defensively. ‘You know that her father never bothers to contact her now that he’s remarried. Poor darling. She’s had a rough time. She reckons she was an unfortunate mistake and by the time her mother realized she was pregnant it was too late to do anything about it.’

‘God, Mike, that’s a terrible thing to say,’ Amy said, genuinely shocked that he should come out with such a thing. ‘I’m sure that wasn’t the case,’ she added although it did give her an insight into Monique’s psyche and out of nowhere she felt an enormous urge to make amends for all the unpleasant things she might have said or done or thought.

‘Families!’ Christine said with feeling. ‘That’s why I’ve always thought of her as my own daughter because she has never really had a proper mother of her own.’

‘I’m your daughter,’ Amy said and it sounded mean and pathetic so she switched the conversation abruptly to the business, asking if there was anything she ought to know before she set foot in the office the following week.

‘You’ll find out as you go.’ Mike sighed and pushed his plate aside, reaching for the jug of iced water. ‘Go easy at first. They’re all a bit sensitive and now that Shirley’s on her way we need to keep an eye on bookings and the diary. She was good at that.’

‘She was so good that nobody else could make head nor tail of her system,’ Christine remarked with a short laugh.

‘We shall soon change that. Have we had any feedback from clients recently? Any criticisms we should be taking on board?’

‘Don’t let’s talk shop.’ Christine started to clear up and Oscar, seeing signs of activity, got up from his basket, stretched and then went to stand beside her at the sink.

‘He’s taken to you, Mum,’ Amy said with a smile. ‘Isn’t that great, Mike? Have you ever thought of getting a dog? I know that Monique likes them. Or maybe …’ she exchanged a quick glance with her mother, ‘are you planning on starting a family any time soon? Shoot me if that’s too personal but it would help us if we knew.’

‘We would love a family,’ he said, cheeks flushing. ‘But it’s not—’

‘Ah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,’ she interrupted hastily, knowing at once what he was
not
saying. My goodness, they were having problems, which was a surprise considering Monique’s comparatively tender years.

There was a short silence, Amy busying herself with collecting up the dishes and carrying them over to the sink. Her mother rarely bothered to use the dishwasher, which sat there still in sparkling condition. She said that she liked
washing up by hand because it gave her the opportunity to stare out at the garden and work out what needed doing.

‘Has Monique seen a doctor?’ Christine was more forthcoming now that the delicate subject had been broached. ‘Have
you
?’

‘No I have not. For God’s sake, Mum.’ He stood up and collected the remainder of the items on the table and they both knew him better than to pursue it. Men were sensitive about issues like that but Amy knew that, now it was out in the open, Christine would be quizzing Monique when she got back.

After they had eaten, it was still fairly light and Christine took Oscar out for a walk down to the village. It was an entirely different ballgame having a walk accompanied by a dog. He was a friendly soul and had already acquired a group of doggy friends, which meant that Christine was making new friends too. Aside from the ladies from church who were more acquaintances than real friends she realized that if she was to make a new start, making friends was the way to go about it. Oscar was the key. He was much admired and it amused her that doggy people said hello to Oscar before they did her.

‘My daughter’s come back home,’ she told the owner of a black poodle, both of whom seemed enamoured of Oscar at first sight.

‘That will be lovely for you.’ The dog’s owner smiled a consoling smile. ‘It’ll help take your mind off things.’

She had heard that expression often recently and was not sure what it meant exactly. If it meant that it would help her forget Frank, how was that possible when he was still around in the house? Not physically around, of course, but, even though Mike had cleared all his stuff away, taking it goodness knows where, there was still so much to remind her of him.

The poodle lady whose name she had already forgotten
had meant well and Christine vowed to take on a more active role in her little community. Just how long had she lived here, for heaven’s sake and she could not think of a single person whom she could count as a true friend. It was hardly surprising, though, for she had been guilty of behaving like the lady of the manor, keeping her distance and not allowing anybody to get close. She’d had some friends when the children were small and she was taking and picking them up from school but, one by one, they had all moved on and for the last five years or so she had spent her spare time with Monique, which had effectively excluded her from other things.

Now was the time to change. She might even start going along to church to which somebody had already issued an invitation. ‘Come and sit with me,’ the lady had said, ‘and afterwards we can have tea and biscuits and a natter.’

She hesitated because she found the holy silence in that place more disturbing than comforting. But she took the view that not many of the folk who attended were truly religious. They went along for different reasons and surely God, if there was one, would understand that, although she might be wise to keep quiet about her doubts. Socially, they were an active bunch and they were always raising money for some thing or another. She could help with that.

She was worried sick now after Mike had let slip that he and Monique had been trying for a baby for a while. Well, of course that would explain why Monique had been reluctant to talk too much about it and she hoped to goodness that there wasn’t going to be a problem there. Hopes faded of her lovely little baby granddaughter or grandson arriving any time soon and in any case, when they went off to France she would not be seeing much of her or him anyway.

When she returned home, Amy and Mike were in the family room chatting and looking relaxed. Mike seemed to have recovered from his bout of irritation that Amy was
diving headlong into the business but then what had he to grumble about? It was he who was jumping ship. Frank would have been delighted that his long-held hopes were finally coming to fruition and she just knew that Amy would quickly whip things into shape. There was a certain steely resilience about her daughter that was at once scary and impressive.

She was not to know then that Mike’s plans of a new life in France were about to fall apart.

A
my was checking through the company records and the audited accounts. She was no accountant but it was clear that everything was in order, which was a relief because she had had a nagging feeling that Shirley had been embezzling funds for years, pulling the wool over her father’s eyes with that flirtatious manner.

She was in her father’s study, which they had not touched so it remained pretty much as it had always been. There was a desk with an old-fashioned in-and-out tray and a Victorian rosewood stationery box. It was a handsome masculine piece with its satinwood interior, writing slope and blotter, never used as such in today’s computer age but attractive to look at. There was a big old bookcase, the books on the shelves reflecting her father’s interest in the Second World War and a few indifferent pictures on the wall, probably not her father’s choice but they fitted in with the green colour scheme.

Sitting at his desk in the big old swivel chair had seemed odd at first but she was getting used to it and saw no reason to change too much in this room. There was a limit to what could be done with a home office and that was how it should be. Oscar had taken to coming with her and was curled up beside her chair when her mobile rang.

‘Hi, Amy, it’s Daniel.’

‘Daniel!’ she felt her heart thud and as she lost
concentration her notes slipped off the desk and thudded onto the floor, several pages fluttering loose and landing on the surprised dog who, affronted, stood up and shook himself free of them. It was lucky Daniel couldn’t see her and the effect his voice had on her. The pleasure at hearing his voice was unexpected in its intensity. She would pick the papers up in a minute. ‘How are you?’

‘How are you, more’s the point? I’ve been worried about you.’

‘Have you?’ She was pleased about that for in order for somebody to worry about you they had to care. She had thought about him from time to time, debated calling him, in fact, but it was so much better that he was contacting her first. ‘I’m absolutely fine. Never better, although, well, obviously I’m still a bit up and down,’ she amended carefully. ‘But I’m just about to get started on taking over the family business so it’s a bit hectic just now. I’m looking through the accounts at this very moment,’ she said with a laugh.

‘Oh God, I’m not disturbing you, am I?’

‘Not at all. My head’s spinning with figures. How are things with you?’

‘All right.’ He sounded cautious. ‘It takes time to get these things off the ground properly but I’m being kept fairly busy and I’ve sent out my first few invoices.’

‘Great. I’ve got a dog,’ she told him happily, noticing suddenly that Oscar was taking an interest in the papers that had showered round him and was now in danger of seriously messing them up. ‘Give me a minute,’ she said, bending down to retrieve them and depositing them in a heap on the desk. The desk faced the window, a real distraction, and she could see her mother out there talking to the gardener, waving her arms about in what was bound to be a serious horticultural discussion.

‘A dog? What kind?’

‘A bit of this and that,’ she said and then as a sudden
thought struck her. ‘Do you like dogs?’

‘You bet. There was always a dog around when I was little but you can’t have one, can you, when you live alone and you’re out all day.’

‘No. It’s not fair on them.’

Oscar, knowing she was talking about him, laid his head on her lap and looked up at her, pleading for a walk. Amy, running out of sensible things to say and needing to move it on from doggy matters, hesitated, relieved when he carried on.

‘I’ve been very busy and as well as everything else I’ve bought myself a flat in town,’ he said. ‘I’d very much like you to see it sometime. How about we meet for lunch next week?’

‘To talk shop?’

‘Hell, no. Just to catch up, that’s all. It’ll be nice to see a friendly face.’

They fixed a date and this time she knew it was a genuine date. She still was not sure of his intentions, for ‘friendly face’ could mean just that, but she had an instinctive gut reaction that he had feelings for her every bit as she did him. She always had, she now realized, but when they worked together they had kept their distance and avoided serious eye or hand contact. It was only when they had let their guard down on that so-called business date at Gardner’s that she had finally admitted to herself that, inconvenient as it might turn out to be, she had fallen for him.

‘Come on, Oscar,’ she said when she clicked off the phone. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

He had called. He had asked her out. And this time she knew exactly where it was leading.

She took the dog up the hill, walking swiftly past the bench. The memory would always be there but it was a lovely walk and they could not avoid it for ever so she had done it several times since then. Letting Oscar off
when they reached the flat top of the hill she watched as, released from the lead, he raced around. There was nobody about and frankly she felt much like doing the same thing, running round and round just for the sheer joy of it, the anticipation of what was to come very nearly overwhelming her.

She caught up with Mike a few days later at the office. He was just about to head off to do an assessment for a potential client and after annoying the lads last time because he had grossly underestimated the time a packing would take, which had shot their already tight schedule to pieces, he was keen to get it right this time. It was not entirely his fault as he felt at pains to point out to her. The difficulty, he told her, was that sometimes the client managed to find a few extra things that they ‘forgot’ to point out to you at the assessment, which always messed things up on the removal day itself.

‘I know but we should always allow a little leeway,’ she said keeping her voice light because she knew he was sensitive about it. ‘Is Monique on her way back?’

‘No. She’s staying over a few more days,’ he said, a certain wariness creeping in. ‘I’ve told her there’s no rush. She might as well stay a while longer.’

‘Is everything all right with you two? There isn’t a problem is there?’

‘No. Should there be?’ That aggression was never far off and she felt her own temper rising because she had only asked a civil question.

‘It’s just that I thought she would be glad to get back and tell you all about it. She must be missing you.’

‘She is.’ He sighed and picked up his briefcase. ‘I’ve got to go. I’m due there at two o’clock and it’s a long drive.’

‘Are you happy for me to ask this Martin guy to revamp the website? It looks like nothing on earth just now. It needs to be snappier, more up to date.’

‘Thanks. Are you saying I did a rubbish job?’

‘No, not at all. You did a fantastic job but it’s years old and I’m just saying it’s tired-looking, that’s all. It was a good effort so there’s no need to be so damned sensitive.’

He nodded, managing a small smile. ‘Sorry. Have a word with him by all means but don’t do anything without consulting with me and Mum first.’

‘She’s given me the go-ahead. Hang on a minute.’ She stopped him in his tracks. ‘You’re off soon and once you set foot in France you’re finished here, Mike. We need to sit down and talk things through and you have to stop resenting me. I can do this. I’ve got a degree in business studies.’

‘Degree!’ he shook his head. ‘And I’ve got bugger all, is that what you’re saying?’

‘No, it’s not what I’m saying. Why do you have to twist everything? Stop being so childish.’

‘Sensitive? Childish? You haven’t got much of an opinion of me, have you?’ He laughed shortly, glancing pointedly at his watch. ‘You don’t know what I’ve had to put up with these last few years. You’ve been out of it, Amy, swanning round those stores of yours doing whatever it is you do while I’ve been stuck here trying to do my best to please that old bugger who thought I was useless, paid me a crap salary and never once said thanks. He made me feel
that
high …’ he indicated with finger and thumb just how. ‘And I shall never forgive the way he gave me a bollocking in front of the lads, not once but three or four times. It was humiliating and I had no option but to stand there and take it.’

‘You had a choice. You could walk away.’

‘It’s not that easy. You can’t just pack in a job out of pique. I’m not free and easy like you. I haven’t got much in the way of qualifications and I’ve not just got myself to think about. I have Monique. I have a wife to look after.’

‘She could get herself a job, a proper job that earns proper money,’ Amy finally exploded, irritated by the ‘free and
easy’ gibe. ‘She’s not incapable, is she? Every other woman I know has a job unless they’re looking after little kids and she doesn’t have any, not yet, and maybe she never will.’ She stopped, horrified at what she had said. ‘Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’

‘I’m off and thanks for that. And you dare to call
me
insensitive.’ He snatched at his jacket, draped it over his arm, went out and slammed the door.

Ouch.

That was a good start, she told herself, noticing that not surprisingly their raised voices had been overheard by a couple of the lads who were out in the yard sorting out the van ready for the day’s job. She needed to calm down and she knew she needed to apologize for that last remark but they had had worse rows over the years and it would be forgotten if not completely forgiven in due course.

Monique’s disappearance – not quite, but it was beginning to feel like that – was worrying her mother more than her. Amy imagined that Monique would be having a lovely time in Paris, shopping, sight-seeing, probably being taken out for dinner by her aunt to some wonderful restaurants. What woman wouldn’t grasp that opportunity?

However she was beginning to see a tiny glimpse of a changing of attitude where her mother and Monique was concerned, a little switch away from the annoying, cloying adoration Christine had shown her daughter-in-law for years. Perhaps it was to do with Amy’s return to the family fold. Or perhaps her mother was at last beginning to understand that Monique was not quite the person she liked to present to the world.

She was a much more complex character than that. Amy had known that for years and now – and not before time – it was starting to dawn on her mother, too. It was ironic, though, that just as that relationship cooled, her relationship with her sister-in-law was just now at an all-time high. Monique had been brilliant at the consolation stuff
after her father had died and Amy felt that if the two of them worked at it, things could only get better.

However, worryingly, it occurred to her that maybe, now that she was back in her beloved France being looked after by her rich aunt, they might have seen the last of her.

And maybe that thought had occurred to Mike too.

The man in the bookshop was extraordinarily handsome, tall and lean with a rangy athletic build, looking as if he could run long distance without breaking sweat. She watched as he reached up effortlessly to the top shelf to pick out a book for a petite lady, his movements relaxed and graceful. Yes, that was it; there was a grace in his manner, a charm as he smiled at the little lady that reminded her of a bygone age. He was wearing pale jeans with flared, frayed hems, sandals and a white linen shirt and he looked pretty good in them. She also liked the exotic touch of a single gold earring in one shapely ear. His hair was dark and curly and there was a touch of the bad boy about him. He was the proprietor of the bookshop and his name, a little fanciful, surely, was Solomon Diamond.

The bookshop was up a side street; a busy thoroughfare between major shopping streets and you could say it was in an ideal position sandwiched between a delicatessen and a beauty salon. She must have walked past it before but had never been inside.

It was in direct competition with a charity shop further along as well as the bigger bookshop chains in town but this had a quaint feel about it. There was a musty, bookish smell as you entered and the shop was long and narrow and went back a good deal further than you would think so that you were drawn deeper into the shop to a small area at the back where you could sit down with your book and have a quick thumb through. There were two comfortable leather sofas here and a low table, a coffee machine and bottled water. Carrying a book with her Christine sat
herself down, smiling at a man who was browsing through a travel book.

It was all exceedingly relaxed. There was no intrusive music blaring out and no pressure to buy and in fact Christine had already noticed that the owner seemed surprised when, roused from what looked like a catnap, he was actually being offered money for a purchase.

She recognized the voice immediately as the one on the phone and found, rather to her surprise, that it tugged at her, as had Frank’s voice in the early days, having much the same ‘wow’ effect. She had caught this man’s eye as she entered the shop, asked politely if she might browse and he had nodded and smiled such a smile that she understood what the expression weak-at-the-knees meant.

Good heavens, she found herself smiling as she was drawn deeper into the interior. She always took care with her appearance on trips to town and today she was wearing a cream jacket over a low-cut black top together with a neat pencil skirt, a style of dress she knew suited her curvy shape. She had recently had a few reddish tints put into her hair and she was wearing it up so as to show off her high cheekbones to advantage. Thank God she had no need as yet to try to hide her neck. So she knew she’d looked pretty good this morning but giving him a flirtatious glance, which she knew she was guilty of, was simply not on because she was ages older than this man and recently bereaved at that. She had no business thinking such thoughts although perhaps this was an attempt by Mother Nature to let her know that she wasn’t quite finished yet.

She could still do it.

She was young enough, she supposed, to have another relationship eventually although it seemed insulting to Frank’s memory to be thinking such a thing quite yet. She imagined that he would give her the go-ahead and tell her to just go for it but the chance also would be a fine thing. She had no idea why the insensitive thought had crossed
her mind but it must have been seeing this man that had triggered it, for men as effortlessly good looking as him were thin on the ground.