Nadia Knows Best (19 page)

Bending down with difficulty, Nadia put the snacky lunch food and drinks into the fridge and prayed the blast of cold air would remove the heat from her cheeks. The meeting between Jay and Laurie had been more or less inevitable, but she'd still found it an ordeal. Letting herself into the back garden, her insides had been doing a Baz Luhrmann-style can-can. She hadn't known whether this was a reaction to seeing Jay again or to seeing the two of them together.

And now Jay was standing behind her in the kitchen doorway.

Slowly straightening up, Nadia turned and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Again,” said Jay.

“I didn't ask Laurie to come here and help me. He just turned up.”

“Just as well he did. He's making a pretty good job of that patio.”

“I know. But it's an awkward situation.”

There was a pause. Upstairs in the master bedroom, they heard Bart and Kevin hammering away at the skirting boards and singing tunelessly along to “It's Not Unusual” by Tom Jones on the radio.

Finally Jay spoke. “It's not awkward. We're all adults. Look,” he said evenly, “you work for me. We get on well. You know as well as I do that if Laurie hadn't come back when he did on Saturday night, things would have gone further.”

Nadia's arms prickled with goose bumps. Phew, talk about coming straight to the point.

“Possibly.”

“Bullshit.” Jay's eyes glittered with amusement. “Definitely.”

“But—”

“But how long would we have lasted? A week? A month? A decade?” He shrugged, presenting her with a
fait
accompli
. “That's the trouble, isn't it? We just don't know. And now we're not going to get the chance to find out, because your old boyfriend came back. It's slightly disappointing, but it's not a catastrophe.”

“Right.” Nadia felt the goose bumps subside in defeat. So, not pistols at dawn then.

“If you didn't want him back, you'd have told him by now. The two of you have a history,” Jay went on. “Long term, you've decided, he's probably a safer bet than I am. The devil you know versus the devil you only work for. And there's no need to look at me like that, I'm just being honest. Basically, you've made your decision, and that's fine. I can handle it. I'm not going to lock myself in my house and drink myself to death.”

Since he was clearly teasing her, Nadia ventured a smile and said, “Well, good.”

“Meeting girls is easy. All it takes is a trip to a wine bar. You see someone you like the look of, you get chatting, they give you their phone number. Mission accomplished.”

“Wine bars? That's where it all happens?” Nadia was finding it increasingly difficult to sound natural; her breathing had gone to pot.

“Not always. You can meet girls anywhere. At the gym,” said Jay. “Or the squash club. Or at auctions, parties, art galleries…”

Was it really that easy? Nadia pictured girls flinging themselves at him everywhere he went. Locking himself in his house and drinking himself to death was beginning to sound preferable.

“Once I even found one crashed in a ditch.”

Oh humor, very droll. Now he was making jokes about the situation. Nadia was inwardly miffed; clearly she was far less important to him than she'd imagined.

Then again, as Jay himself had pointed out, he was the devil she didn't know.

“I'd better get back to work,” Nadia said awkwardly. “The turf's being delivered tomorrow.”

“I won't be around. There's a property auction at the Aztec Hotel. Will he be here to give you a hand?” Jay tilted his head in the general direction of the garden.

“I don't know.”

“Well, take care of yourself. Don't strain that back of yours.”

Did he mean in a turf-laying way or sexually? For a moment Nadia was tempted to blurt out, “I haven't slept with him.”

But she didn't. Telling Jay that would be a bit silly now. Reassuring a jealous rival of your affections was all very well, but it was a pretty pointless exercise if he wasn't jealous.

“And you watch yourself tomorrow.” Remembering what he'd said about meeting members of the opposite sex at auctions, Nadia went on flippantly, “No winking or waving at pretty girls or you might end up accidentally buying the wrong house.”

***

Tilly arrived in the school cafeteria in a state of shock. As she queued up with her tray, she spotted Cal sitting on his own in a far corner, reading a textbook and eating his way through a mountain of chips.

When the tray was filled, Tilly made her way over. Warily Cal looked up; sharing a table for two with a girl was asking for trouble of the heckling kind. But Tilly was too preoccupied to care. Plonking her tray down opposite him—watery spaghetti bolognese, chips, chocolate sponge pudding, and peony-pink custard—she breathlessly announced, “You'll never guess what.”

“My mother says that. It drives me nuts when she does it.” Cal smiled slightly to soften the accusation. “It can mean one of the neighbors has dropped down dead in the garden, or the cat fell into the fish tank or the price of carrots has gone up by two pence.”

“Sorry. My mother does it too. Only when she says it, you know it means she's fallen in love with some new bloke.”

Cal raised his eyebrows in mock-horror. “Is that what's happened to you?”

Tilly gave his skinny leg a kick under the table. “No, you dope. Suzy Harrison's in hospital. She had her appendix out last night.”

“Blimey,” said Cal. “I really hope you aren't going to tell me you're in love with Suzy Harrison.”

This time he moved his legs out of reach before Tilly could kick him again.

“She had the leading part in next week's school play. You know, Sandy in
Grease
? And Gemma Porter, who was understudying her, broke her ankle really badly playing tennis yesterday. Mrs. Durham auditioned for a new Sandy this morning, and I've got the part!”

“Wow, that's great.” Cal was duly impressed.

“It's scary.” Tilly attempted to fork up a twirl of wet spaghetti but it splashed back down onto her plate. Her stomach was in knots anyway; the school's drama productions were well attended and generally a big deal. She still couldn't believe she'd actually plucked up the courage to audition.

Cal, meanwhile, was peering at her plate. “Why's there rutabaga in your spaghetti bolognese?”

He was new to the school. He didn't know. “There's always rutabaga in the spaghetti bolognese. They put rutabaga in everything, even trifle. Oh God, I'm going to be
Sandy
.” Tilly shook her head and shivered with a mixture of elation and fear.

“You'll be fine.”

“It's only eight days away. I've got so many
lines
. What if I can't learn them in time?”

Cal calmly dunked a chip into the pool of tomato ketchup on his plate. “If you like, I could help you.”

“Really? That'd be brilliant.” Reaching down for her schoolbag, Tilly said, “I've got the script right here—”

“Not now.” Cal jerked his head meaningfully in the direction of one of the rowdier tables, where a group of his classmates had just spotted him with Tilly. As they began bawling out the theme tune to
Batman
, he lowered his voice. “After school, OK? I'll meet you at the gates.”

***

Cal had a real talent for voices.

“You should be playing Danny.” Tilly was deeply impressed. “Why didn't you audition?”

They were in the park, lying on their stomachs under one of the chestnut trees bordering the public tennis courts. The script lay open on the grass between them and Cal was reading all the other parts, changing his voice according to whichever character he was playing. All Tilly had to concentrate on were Sandy's lines.

“Can't sing. Can't dance,” Cal told her. “Well, technically I can dance, but I look as if I'm being electrocuted.”

“I'm scared everyone will laugh at me.” Tilly squashed an ant that had crawled onto her forearm. “I don't look anything like Olivia Newton-John.”

“I should hope not. She's prehistoric by now,” said Cal. “At least fifty.”

“You know what I mean. What if they all start sniggering because I'm not pretty enough?”

He paused and looked at her, and Tilly realized she sounded as if she was angling for a compliment. She cringed, not wanting Cal to humor her and say that of course she was pretty. God, that would be so humiliating.

“You'll have the costume on, and your hair up in a ponytail, and heaps of makeup. You'll scrape through.” Cal broke into a grin. “Or you could make all the audience wear blindfolds.”

The butterflies in her stomach melted away. Tugging a single stem of couch grass out of the ground, Tilly waggled it in his ear. In retaliation Cal snatched up one of last season's wizened chestnuts and lobbed it at her. The conker shot straight down the front of Tilly's school shirt.

“Sorry!” Rolling into a sitting position, Cal abruptly stopped laughing. “Oh shit, people from school.”

Following the line of his gaze, Tilly saw a group of Year-10 girls sauntering in their direction. Year-10 girls weren't as alarming as Year-10 boys, but it was a close-run thing.

“I'd better go,” muttered Cal.

“No, don't.” Without meaning to, she laid a hand on his arm.

“What are you two up to?” The leader of the girls approached them, her friends trailing in her wake. Her name was Janice Strong and she wore an astonishing amount of mascara. With her streaked hair pulled tightly back from her face she always reminded Tilly of a drag queen in the making.

“Cal's helping me learn some stuff.”

“Cal? You mean Davis? Is that what you call him?” Janice's tarantula eyelashes shielded her eyes as she lit a cigarette. “What kind of stuff anyway? Homework?”

“I'm in the school play. I need to learn my lines.” Tilly was determined not to be intimidated.

“Aren't you supposed to know them by now?” On the verge of sneering, Janice peered down at the script lying open on the grass, with Tilly's lines highlighted in Day-Glo pink. “Bloody hell, you got the part of Sandy? You're taking over from Suzy Harrison?”

Tilly nodded, tensing up inside and waiting to be scornfully informed that she wasn't pretty enough. But Janice started to laugh. “Ace! That cow Colleen Mahoney went up for it this morning. She was so certain she'd get the part. So you actually beat her to it—bloody good for you, serves the silly bitch right!”

The next moment, Janice and her acolytes had dropped down onto the grass next to them. Tilly found herself being offered a cigarette.

“Cheers.” Since a refusal would undoubtedly offend, Tilly took it and prayed she wouldn't splutter.

“So,
Cal
.” Janice emphasized the name. “How are you helping her with her lines?”

Cal hesitated.

“He's reading all the other parts,” Tilly explained. “He's great at it.”

Playfully, Janice nudged Cal's thigh with her outstretched toes. “Come on then,
Cal
. Let's hear you.”

Tilly saw him mentally weighing up the available options; either run away and risk ridicule or stay and read and risk more ridicule.

Finally Cal turned the page of the script and launched into Rizzo's attack on Sandy, his American accent spot on and his tone suitably bitchy.

At the end of the exchange, Janice and her friends whistled and clapped.

“Bloody brilliant,” Janice exclaimed. She was gazing at Cal with new respect.

“Of course,” Tilly said playfully, “I taught him all he knows.”

An ice-cream van had trundled into the park. As it came to a jangly halt fifty yards away, Cal said, “I'm going to get an ice cream.”

“One for me?” Janice batted her eyelashes as he rose to his feet.

“Sorry, I've only got a pound.”

The occupants of the playground had raced up to the van ahead of Cal. By the time he'd queued up and returned with two Magnums, Janice and her gang had left.

“I thought you only had a pound,” said Tilly as he handed her one of the Magnums.

“I lied.”

“You've won them over.”

“I think you did that.”

Tilly sat up and ripped off the wrapper. Cracking the outer layer of chocolate with her teeth, she took a heavenly bite.

“I think Janice fancies you. She told me you were cool.”

“I have my moments.” His eyes sparkling, Cal said, “Do you think I'm cool?”

Tilly felt a hot sensation flower inside her rib cage. Was this flirting?

Happily the chestnut chose that moment to roll out from under her untucked shirt. Scooping it up, she threw it at Cal and watched it bounce off the top of his tousled head.

“You bought me a Magnum. Can't get much cooler than that.”

With work finished for the day and the patio completed, Laurie was keen to see the rest of the house. This time Nadia made sure she didn't lose her footing on the stairs.

“How long before it's finished?” He inspected the en suite bathroom on the first floor, ran his hands over the marble tiling, then came back into the master bedroom.

“Another three weeks.” Nadia was over by the window, gazing down at the garden. From this angle the shapes of the dug-out flowerbeds were more apparent; it helped to have a fresh perspective.

“How much is he asking?”

“Not sure. When the valuer was round last week, he said it should fetch four fifty.” She would plant hollyhocks against that sunny, south-facing wall. Everyone liked hollyhocks.

“We could buy this place,” said Laurie. He moved up behind her, his breath warm on the back of her neck.

We?
Nadia visualized her last bank statement. “I can't afford it.”

“That wasn't what I meant. I've got the money. Oh, come on”—Laurie broke into a grin—“don't take it so seriously. Buying a house should be fun.”

The turf was arriving tomorrow. Concentrating hard on the prospect of laying eighty square meters of lawn, Nadia said, “I need a bath. My back's too achy to even think about fun.”

Laurie's tone was playful. “Want me to put some more Deep Heat on it?”

Yes
.

Oh God.

Turning away, Nadia said, “No.”

***

“Darling, that's fantastic news.” Miriam gave Tilly a hug. “But next Tuesday, what a
shame
. We'll be away.”

Tilly's face fell. She was beginning to feel like a five-year-old gleefully handing out invitations, only to discover that nobody could come to her party. On the way home in the car, James had regretfully broken the news to her that on Tuesday and Wednesday next week he would be stuck at some work conference in Sheffield. And now Miriam and Edward wouldn't be able to come along to the show either, because on Tuesday evening they were flying off to Venice for a week's vacation.

“I've got six tickets,” Tilly fretted. Suzy Harrison's family, no longer interested in coming to see the show now that their daughter wasn't in it, had donated them to Tilly.

Nadia, fresh from her bath and bundled up in her dressing gown, helped herself to a handful of cold sausages from the fridge and said, “Well, I'll definitely come. I love
Grease
.”

“That's why you've got such a big bum.” Clicking her tongue at Harpo, Clare said cheerfully, “What's Nadia got, Harpo? What's Nadia got?”

“Gotta pick a pocket or two,” cackled Harpo.

“That bird's losing it.” Clare shook her head. “He's got Alzheimer's.”

“And Laurie will want to come,” Nadia persisted.

“Oh Lord, Laurie's driving us up to Heathrow on Tuesday.” Miriam shook her head in apology. “Well, look, that's not a problem, he doesn't have to.”

“It's OK.” Tilly swallowed a lump in her throat. At this rate she was going to be about as popular as the bride who arranges her wedding for the day of the World Cup final.

“Clare's coming,” said Nadia, widening her eyes meaningfully at Clare. “Aren't you?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll just chuck away my ticket to see Robbie Williams in concert, shall I?”

Clare didn't have a ticket to see Robbie Williams in concert. Not having spotted Tilly's trembling chin, she was making one of her ill-timed jokes.

“How about Annie?” Nadia was getting desperate now.

“I already asked her.” Tilly's voice wavered. “But she can't close the shop before six, and that's when the show starts. Last year Mrs. Durham went mental because people kept coming in late and disrupting the performance, so this year anyone who doesn't get there in time has to wait outside the hall until the second half.” As she pictured her personal allocation of six seats in the front row, with only Nadia and Clare there to support her, Tilly's eyes brimmed with tears. Her voice rising slightly, she said, “Suzy Harrison's dad works in New York and he was flying back specially for the show. But that's fine, don't worry about it, I'll be—”

“Tilly.” Miriam couldn't bear it. “Sweetheart, it's OK, we'll come to the show.”

“You can't.” Tilly wiped her wet cheeks. “You're going to Venice.”

“We'll cancel it.”

“You can't c-cancel a v-vacation.”

“If it means this much to you, I will.” Miriam's dark kohl-lined gaze didn't falter. She paused. “OK?”

Nadia slipped unnoticed from the room. Upstairs, she looked up her mother's number and punched it out.

“Tuesday, Tuesday,” mused Leonie, when Nadia had finished explaining. “Hmm, I don't see why not. Sounds like fun!”

Hooray. Nadia heaved a sigh of relief. She couldn't remember ever feeling grateful toward her mother before.

“Fantastic. Could you ring Tilly in five minutes? Just ask her how her day's been, then take it from there?”

Cheerfully, Leonie said, “OK, darling. Bye!”

The transformation in Tilly was instantaneous. Coming off the phone, she erupted into the kitchen and threw her arms round Miriam, clinging to her like a baby koala.

“It's OK, Gran, you and Edward can go to Venice. Sorry if I was a pain before.”

“You're never a pain.” Miriam's heart contracted with love. That was half the problem where Tilly was concerned; unlike most pubescent teenagers, she didn't have tantrums or shouting matches or endless raging sulks.

Her blue eyes bright, Tilly tilted back her head and said, “Mum's coming to see me in the show! As soon as I told her I'd got the part, she asked if she could. They're going to drive up on Tuesday afternoon, Brian, Tamsin—all three of them! Isn't that brilliant?” Tilly looked as if she might burst with pride. Miriam fondly stroked her uncombed blonde hair and pulled out a shred of dried grass.

“Darling, you'll be a sensation. I'm so glad your mum's going to be there.”

“I just hope I don't forget my lines and mess everything up.” Tilly couldn't stop beaming now. The six seats would no longer be humiliatingly empty. She wouldn't be the only one on stage without her family watching.

“I love you,” Miriam told her.

“They'll probably want to stay here for the night.” Tilly was busy conjuring up happy family images. “I expect they'll take me out to dinner after the show, then it'll be too late to drive back. It's OK if they stay, isn't it?”

“Here, you mean?”

“Why not? You'll be away. Tamsin can share my room, I'll sleep on the floor.”

Leonie and whatsisname could have the spare room, Miriam decided. The thought of the two of them cavorting together in her own far more beautiful bedroom in her absence made her feel sick.

“Of course they can stay,” she told Tilly, because what else could she say, under the circumstances? “That's absolutely fine.”

Five people, Tilly thought joyfully. Six seats. She would give her last ticket to Cal.

Tamsin would be so impressed.

***

The next morning dawned grayish but dry, perfect turf-laying weather. At nine o'clock the lorry arrived, the turf was swiftly unloaded and Nadia prepared to get down to business. No sign of Laurie, she couldn't help noticing. No sign of him last night either. Did that mean he was tiring of his attempt to win her over? Had her refusal to fall into his arms, not to mention his bed, caused him to lose interest?

Nadia, her mouth dry, wondered if he'd gone out last night and found himself a more accommodating girlfriend, one who didn't back off every time he went near her and flatly refused to believe a word he said.

Oh good grief, had he?

Sorreee
, sang a spiteful little voice in her head, clearly not sorry at all. Laurie came back, he told you he wanted to be with you. You had your chance, darling, and you blew it.

The disembodied voice probably belonged to the girl who'd succeeded in attracting Laurie's attention last night. Tart.

Lining up the first strip of turf, Nadia knelt and prepared to unroll it.

Bastard.

It was actually really unfair. Like telling someone they'd won Miss World then snatching the prize away because they hadn't raced out onto the stage to be crowned quickly enough.

If she'd
known
there was a time limit—

“Are you stuck?”

The truck driver who'd delivered the turf hadn't shut the garden gate behind him, which was why she hadn't heard Laurie arrive. Turning, Nadia felt a rush of—what? Relief? Love?
Don't get carried away
.

He was here, that was all that mattered for now.