Nadia Knows Best (16 page)

On Wednesday morning, Miriam announced to Edward that she was going shopping. She drove across town to a suburb of Bristol she'd never visited before, found the address she was looking for, and parked the car outside the firm of solicitors she'd picked out of the phone book.

“Christine Wilson,” she told the receptionist. “I have an appointment at eleven with David Payne.”

The offices were dull and in need of redecoration. David Payne, in his midforties, matched them perfectly. He was also, mystifyingly, in possession of very little hair yet copious amounts of dandruff. The shoulders of his gray suit were liberally dusted with it. Miriam wondered if the suit jacket in fact belonged to somebody else. She was attempting to distract herself from the problem that had brought her along to these grotty offices in the first place.

“Right, Mrs. Wilson. Perhaps you'd like to tell me why you're here.”

Trying hard to ignore the dandruff, Miriam explained her situation. When she'd finished, David Payne sat back in his chair and shook his seal-like head.

“Oh dear,” he sighed, tapping his pen on the desk. “Oh dear, oh dear.”

“And?” Miriam prompted tightly.

“This could be messy. Very messy indeed.”

She wondered if it could be as messy as going with her initial instinct and hiring a hit man.

“Well, give me a clue. Could I go to prison?”

David Payne's expression was grave. “I'm afraid prison can't be ruled out. It's a… ah… possibility.”

Miriam nodded. Prison, imagine. Glancing down at her fingers, tightly laced together in her lap, she said, “So what do you suggest I do?”

“Not a lot you can do at the moment. As far as you and this gentleman are concerned, the ball is pretty firmly in his court.” Clicking and unclicking his pen, David Payne said, “Frankly, Mrs. Wilson, I wouldn't like to be in your shoes.”

Miriam tried hard not to feel sick; she almost wished she hadn't come now. This was turning out to be scarier than she'd thought.

***

“Bleeuurgh.” Nadia shuddered and jerked away, scrunching her eyes shut and stumbling on the rocky ground. Behind her on the terrace she heard sounds of unconcealed amusement.

Turning, she saw the plumber, the council planning officer, and Jay, all laughing at her.

“Not funny.” Nadia clutched the handle of the spade she'd been using to loosen the earth. Worms were the bane of her life. Why did people automatically assume that when you were a professional gardener you stopped being squeamish about worms? She didn't like them much at the best of times, but she
really
didn't like accidentally chopping them in half with her spade.

Why did worms—especially when they were cut in two—have to be so
wriggly
?

Actually, it probably had something to do with playing in the garden as a child, when Clare had dropped a handful of the things down the back of her T-shirt.

“Worm?” Jay called out; it wasn't the first time he'd witnessed the shudder of revulsion. “Big scary one?”

“Rattlesnake,” Nadia called back. Down by her left foot, both halves of the worm wriggled out of sight.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she gingerly resumed digging. Up on the terrace, Jay and his companions disappeared inside the house. Willing herself not to look at her watch—damn, too late—Nadia wondered if she'd blown her chances with Jay. It was ten past five on Thursday afternoon and there had still been no mention of their date. If he hadn't forgotten about it, or changed his mind, he was officially cutting it very fine indeed. She'd been waiting for him to say something for four whole days now. And it wasn't restful.

Worst of all, she was beginning to understand why Clare refused to give up on Posh Piers, and why she'd agreed to see him the instant he'd phoned her on Monday. The more Jay didn't ask her out, the more Nadia wanted him to.

Frustrated, she shoved her heel down on the spade and carried on turning over the soil in what would eventually be a flowerbed. And now—her watch was almost taunting her—it was quarter past five. What if Jay
had
changed his mind? How dare he! Bloody hell, sixteen minutes past, and she was due to finish at five thirty. Men shouldn't be allowed to say they were going to ask you out then go back on their word. They should be arrested for doing that, it was downright unfair; couldn't they be charged with breach of promise or something? And now it was
seventeen
minutes past five.

Nadia slammed the spade into the ground, exhaled impatiently, looked back at the house, and decided there was only one sensible course of action to take.

She took off her watch and stuffed it in her bra.

***

Jay's voice behind her made Nadia jump. Well, not really, because she'd heard him making his way across the terrace, but she pretended he'd made her jump. It never did any harm to give your boss the impression you were so engrossed in your work you wouldn't notice if Russell Crowe ran through the garden naked.

Except he might hurt his feet on the stones, so maybe he should wear wellingtons…

Anyway.

“What?” She raised her head.

“I said it's almost six o'clock. Everyone else has left.”

“Almost six?” Reaching inside her bra—but in a ladylike way—Nadia pulled out her watch. “Sorry. I just wanted to finish this bed.”

“Dinner on Saturday?” said Jay.

“Sorry?” Inside her chest, her heart did a tiny victory hornpipe.

“Saturday evening. Unless you have other plans.” Jay raised his eyebrows. “Because if you have, that's OK, I'll just—”

“Saturday's great! No other plans,” Nadia blurted out, “no other plans at all!” She wasn't about to make
that
mistake again.

“Fine.” Jay nodded. “I'll pick you up, shall I? Eight o'clock OK with you?”

“Eight o'clock, perfect.” Nadia paused. “I thought you'd forgotten.”

“What made you think that?”

“It's Thursday afternoon.” Honestly, was he thick?

“Oh right. Well, you've kept me waiting.” Jay's look of amusement sent lustful quivers darting down her spine. “I thought it was my turn to do the same to you.”

***

“Will you two please be quiet?” With a sigh, Tilly flung open Nadia's bedroom door. “I'm trying to watch
Blind Date
downstairs and I can't hear the TV.”

“Yes, boss, no, boss, sorry, boss.” Clare mock saluted before breaking into song once more.

“You can't sing. You're tone deaf. It's just horrible,” said Tilly. Hands on hips, she turned to Nadia. “And you sound worse than Harpo. He's cringing downstairs with his wings over his ears.”

“Don't blame us, blame Cher.” Nadia pointed to the CD player, from which Cher was warbling that she belieeeved in life after loooove. “She's singing so loudly we can't hear ourselves. It's all her fault.”

“And who was that yelling just now?”

“Clare. I had the hair dryer first.” Nadia waggled it triumphantly.

Tilly shot them both a look of long-suffering disdain. “God, I'm so glad I don't have a boyfriend. Just turn the music down a bit, will you?”

“Aye aye, boss. Nad, turn the music down.” Clare was pouting like a goldfish, applying lip gloss to her already glossy mouth. Spotting Nadia in the mirror she yelped, “Those are
my
earrings. I was going to
wear
those earrings.”

“They look better on me. Anyway, I let you borrow my belt. Ooh, is that a car outside?”

As a diversionary tactic, it worked like a charm. Clare shot over to the window. Tilly, rolling her eyes, left the room. Cher carried on warbling at maximum volume. Nadia, smugly finishing off her hair in the mirror, experienced that warm glow of anticipation you get when you just know a truly great night lies ahead.

In honor of the occasion she had even—sluttishly but sensibly—slipped a spare pair of knickers and her toothbrush into the side pocket of her handbag.

It was seven thirty and Miriam had already left with Edward for the theater. James was out too, with Annie. Piers, on his best behavior (this week at least), had already rung to let Clare know he was on his way over. And at eight o'clock—give or take a few minutes either side—Jay would be here.

Oh yes, this was definitely going to be a night to remember. Smirking at her reflection—because she was looking rather stunning, if she did say so herself—Nadia wondered which restaurant Jay was taking her to, and if it was actually compulsory to go there. Would the maître d' really be that distraught if they phoned and canceled their table, and went straight back to Jay's house instead?

“Hoooo!” Clare let out a squeal of excitement at the sound of tires on gravel. This time a car really had arrived. She again launched herself at the window. “It's Piers! Yay, we're in the Ferrari!”

“Break a leg,” said Nadia as Clare skipped to the door.

“Break both yours,” Clare gaily called back, already on her way down the stairs.

In those heels, it was a miracle she didn't.

Having primped to the limit, Nadia made her way down to the living room ten minutes later. Tilly was stretched out across the sofa, peeling a tangerine and watching
Blind
Date
. On the TV screen, Cilla Black was pulling comical faces while the couple who'd been last week's date hurled increasingly lurid insults at each other.

“So it was true love then.” Nudging Tilly's feet out of the way, Nadia sat down.

“Absolutely.” Neatly lobbing a piece of peel into the wastepaper bin, Tilly added, “Just like Clare and Posh Piers. Except Piers only loves himself.”

“Sure you're going to be all right here on your own?” Nadia gave Tilly's bony ankle an affectionate rub; only since her thirteenth birthday had she been allowed to stay in the house alone. Tilly raised her eyebrows.

“And if I'm not sure? What'll you do, cart me along to the restaurant like a big third wheel so I can sit and watch you do your flirty stuff with some ancient old man? No thanks.”

“Jay's thirty!”

“OK, maybe not ancient. Middle-aged,” Tilly conceded.

“If he was here now, he'd throw
you
into the wastepaper bin. Thirty isn't middle-aged.”

“Fine, don't get your knickers in a twist.”

My teeny-tiny silky lacy irresistible knickers, Nadia thought smugly.

“Anyway, you don't have to worry about me.” Tilly tore off another strip of peel. “I'm looking forward to some peace and quiet. I'm going to finish up the tub of Snickers ice cream and watch whatever I want to watch on TV without being interrupted.”

About to offer to bring petits fours wrapped in a napkin back from the restaurant for her, Nadia remembered in the nick of time that—fingers crossed—she wouldn't be back tonight.

“OK. But no cocaine, no bingeing on tequila, and no wild parties.”

“Are salt and vinegar chips allowed?”

“No more than two packets.” Reaching over, Nadia ruffled her hair. “Oh, we're lucky to have you. Come here and give your big old nearly middle-aged sister a kiss.”

“Phew, you stink.” Tilly wriggled out of reach. “What're you trying to do to the man, chloroform him?”

Instantly Nadia scrambled into a sitting position. “Oh God, is it too strong? I couldn't smell it so I put a bit more on, then the bottle kind of slipped as I was doing it—bugger, it
is
too strong.” She sprang to her feet, panicking slightly as the giveaway tick-tock sound of a cab outside reached them. Once you'd accidentally splashed on way too much perfume, it wasn't easy to undo the damage. Apart from attacking your skin with a Brillo pad, nothing ever seemed to work. But if she greeted Jay now, she would reek of both Amarige
and
eagerness. Not a good start.

Rushing to the downstairs cloakroom—because a Brillo pad would be reckless—Nadia seized the nailbrush Miriam used to clean her hands after gardening. Dragging it through the bar of Cussons Pearl in the soap dish, she frantically brushed her wrists then ran them under the tap. Now that Tilly had pointed it out, the smell of Amarige
was
overpowering. Gingerly she scrubbed at her—ouch—neck, then splashed on cold water to rinse away the soap and vigorously toweled herself dry. Well, not quite; the front of her white top was splattered with water—but on such a warm night it would evaporate soon enough.

Rrrrrinnggg.

“The man of your dreams is here,” Tilly sang out, a bit too loudly for Nadia's liking. “Is it safe to let him in or has the smell not gone yet?” Feigning concern she added, “Want me to find a clothespin for his nose?”

“I'll get it.” Since it clearly wasn't safe to let Tilly answer the door, Nadia skidded across the hall. She pulled the door open and prepared to tell Jay he was ten minutes early.

Her mouth failed to form the words.

Oh good grief.

“Nadia.” Laurie's green eyes surveyed her with affection. He shook his blond head at her in long-time-no-see admiration. “You look fantastic. Is this a private wet T-shirt competition or can anyone join in?”

The grandfather clock was still ticking in the hall, but the seconds seemed to stretch into hours. Nadia tried to breathe and found she couldn't; the air was stuck in her lungs. Not Jay. Laurie.
Laurie
, whom she'd spent the best part of eighteen months trying to forget. And if she hadn't been able to forget him—because let's face it, who
could
?—she'd certainly made every effort to put him out of her mind. Damn, she'd practically turned not thinking about Laurie into an art form.

And now here he was. The ex-love of her life, turning up out of the blue on her doorstep and giving her the kind of look she remembered so well.

Was it any wonder she couldn't breathe?

Laurie didn't kiss her or hug her. It was just all there in his eyes.

Finally he said, “Who else is in?”

“Um… nobody.”

Behind her Tilly wailed indignantly, “Oh, thanks a
lot
,” before running across the hall and throwing herself into Laurie's outstretched arms. “It's so great to see you again!” She had idolized Laurie since babyhood. “What are you doing here?”

As he hugged her, Laurie's eyes met Nadia's over the top of Tilly's head. “I'm back. For good.”

Nadia couldn't think where her knees had gone to. She couldn't speak.

“Everyone else is out,” Tilly told him. “Your dad's taken Gran to the theater.”

“I saw there weren't any lights on over the road. That's why I came straight here.” Laurie kissed Tilly's thin cheek. “All my stuff's outside in the porch. OK if I bring it in?”

Tilly, flushed with excitement, helped him lug the various bags into the hall. Then, glancing at Nadia's shell-shocked expression, she said chirpily, “Well, better leave you to it! I've got geography homework. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room.”

They watched her run up the stairs, heard her bedroom door slam shut. As they went into the living room, the grandfather clock whirred, clunked, and began to chime. It was eight o'clock.

“Well,” said Laurie. As he paused, Nadia realized there wasn't time to pause.

“Well what?”

“OK. I've been planning this all the way across the Atlantic, so can I just say it? Nad, I'm sorry. I can't believe what I did and I'm really, truly sorry.” His expression was deadly serious. “I missed you after we broke up, I missed you a lot. But there was so much else to do… work was crazy… and I honestly thought I'd done the right thing for both our sakes.”

He took a step closer. Nadia's fingers and toes were now numb.

“And?”

“I was an idiot. I made a horrible mistake.” Laurie shrugged. “I can see that now. Hollywood's a shit place to live. The film industry's crap. I couldn't stand it a minute longer, the people out there just aren't
real
, they're
hollow
.”

“Does this mean they stopped giving you jobs?” Nadia couldn't help it; the question popped out.

“Brrrrkk,” squawked Harpo, beadily eyeing his old sparring partner. “Gillette, the best a man can get.”

Laurie smiled, ignoring him. “The opposite. They're offering me bigger and better jobs. I'm just not interested in doing them anymore. I don't want to be there, because none of it means anything.” Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a crumpled fax. “Here, you big doubter.”

Nadia read the fax from his agent. Addressed to Laurie, it said, “Kid, big mistake. You're kissing goodbye to a terrific career. Get in touch if you change your mind. Hyram.”

“I'm not going to change my mind. Hyram wanted to send me to his shrink.” Laurie's mouth twitched. “Can you see me going to a shrink? Although I left you,” he added with a shake of his head. “Maybe I should have seen one then. What's happened to your neck anyway? Has Clare been trying to strangle you?”

The nailbrush had left its mark.

“Too much scent. I was scrubbing it off.” Jay would be here any minute now. Nadia began to panic.

“Girls' night out?”

Bloody cheek!

“What makes you so sure it's not a man?” Pink with indignation, Nadia prayed that Jay wouldn't stand her up.

Or did she?

“Don't get mad. I rang Dad last week,” Laurie said easily. “He told me you weren't seeing anyone.”

Nadia felt her short fingernails digging into her palms. “Well, I'm seeing someone tonight. And he's a man.” Oh yes, definitely a man.

“Do you want to ring and cancel?”

“No!”

Anyway it was too late.

“No.” Laurie shrugged in good-natured agreement. “Of course you can't do that. It's fine. I'll just wait here until you get back.”

Oh, fantastic.

“Don't look at me like that.” Laurie was pushing his hair off his face, smiling again in that heart-melting, rueful way of his. “Nad, I know this has all been a bit of a shock. No pressure, obviously, but we do have to talk. You go out on your date. Have a great time. I'll keep Tilly company until you get home.” Turning his head slightly toward the door he added, “Sounds like this could be him now.”

Tilly, who'd been eavesdropping shamelessly
and
peeping out of the landing window, came galloping down the staircase.

“He's here! Off you go. Me and Laurie'll have a brilliant time.” She looked eagerly at Laurie. “Do they have Monopoly in America?”

“They do. They also have geography homework.” He grinned and hustled her toward the living room.

“I don't really have geography homework.” Tilly tut-tutted at his naivety. “I was being discreet.”

“Nobody in this family knows the meaning of the word. Come on, I'll teach you now. You and me have to hide and pretend we aren't here. No noise, OK? We don't want to scare off Nadia's date.”

Nadia, her heart in her throat, waited until the living-room door was firmly closed behind them. Although she knew it was coming, the front doorbell when it rang still made her jump. Oh God, how could this be happening to her, how
could
it?

And then Jay was there on the doorstep, smart in a suit and eyeing the luggage on the floor behind her with amusement.

“Somebody leaving home?”

“Harpo.” From somewhere, Nadia dredged up a flip remark. “He says we drive him mad and he's going back to Madagascar.”

“Never mind, he'll be able to ring you.” Jay looked more closely at her neck as she reached for her handbag. “What are those marks? You and Clare been fighting again?”

Through the closed living-room door, they heard Harpo squawk raucously, “Have a break, have a Kit Kat.”

“Come on.” Jay moved to one side, ushering her out through the front door. “I think we can do better than a Kit Kat.”

***

Nadia's brain was too full to concentrate on anything—she felt like an apprentice shepherd struggling to control a flock of sheep that were scattering in all directions. The restaurant Jay took her to was buzzy and fun, but even ordering from the menu was beyond her. Laurie was back, Laurie was back and he was telling her he'd made a terrible mistake. It was all too much to take in.

“Nadia?” Jay raised his eyebrows at her and she realized the waiter was waiting with pad and pen poised.

“Um… I'll have the same as you.”

Big mistake. Nadia flinched when their first courses arrived. How could Jay even think she'd like whitebait?

“So, are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“Sorry?” Oh God, those dear little silvery fish, still with their heads on and their eyes in. Nadia couldn't eat them, she couldn't even bear to look at them. Did Laurie seriously expect to walk back into her life and be greeted with open arms? And what was Tilly telling him right now? Dammit, couldn't he at least have waited until next week to turn up?

Or even tomorrow?

Jay sat back in his chair. “Listen, much as I'd like to put it down to the excitement of being here with me, I somehow don't think it's that. Are you OK?”

Nadia nodded vigorously. This wasn't his fault. “I'm sorry, I just forgot they served whitebait with the eyes still in.”

Jay clearly didn't believe her. His dark eyes were fixed on her face, silently daring her to fob him off again. “What's really wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Nadia.” There it was, the third and final warning.

Exhaling, she pushed the scary whitebait away. “The suitcases. They belong to Laurie.” Oh, the relief of finally saying it. “He came back tonight.”

Silence. At their table, if nowhere else. All around them, laughter and lively conversation and the clink of cutlery carried on regardless.

“He came back,” said Jay. “To
you
?”

“No. Back from the States. But he says he's sorry. He seems quite, um…”

“Keen?”

Nadia shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again. Just as well it was firmly attached.

Helplessly she said, “I don't know. He only turned up ten minutes before you did. I'm a bit…”

“Confused?”

“Could you stop finishing my sentences?” said Nadia.

“Somebody has to.”

She nodded at her pushed-away plate. “Do you want my whitebait?”

“No. Do you want me to take you home?” countered Jay.

“Yes please.” Nadia waited for him to catch the waiter's attention, then settle the bill. What there was of it. Oh well, nobody could say she wasn't a cheap date.

“Not my home,” she told Jay as they left the restaurant. “Yours.”