Welcome to My World (22 page)

Consequently, one of their favourite games when Harri was growing up was ‘Finding Faces’ – smiling faces in tree trunks; funny faces in the concrete slabs of the patio; a spooky-looking ghost-shape in the woodchip wallpaper in their downstairs loo; and dragons, castles and cartoon characters in the clouds above them as they walked on Dartmoor’s hills behind Grandma Langton’s house. Dad loved doing ‘mirror pictures’ with Harri – making strange and wonderful shapes by folding paper over poster paint splodges. Later in life Harri learned that psychologists used these for conducting mental assessments. This always made her smile, wondering what an eminent professional might have made of Dad’s creations.

Looking at the array of stains across the ceiling, Harri pushes the familiar stab of sadness away and begins to make a mental note of the shapes: butterfly, castle, old man, wine glass . . .

* * *

Stella met Harri from work the following Friday and proudly produced two spa passes from her surprisingly authentic-looking Chanel bag.

‘These, my good friend, are our passports to day-long luxury.’

An audacious thrill zipped through Harri. ‘This is going to be such a great weekend, I know it!’

Stella linked an arm through Harri’s as they walked down the High Street. ‘Just think, H: a whole day of amazing treatments and relaxation, then a whole day of shopping. Utter bliss – well, apart from the boring bit tomorrow night, of course.’

‘Which just happens to be the main reason for this trip, can I remind you?’

Stella snorted. ‘Yeah, well, I’m only going to that because your Dan bloke’s a hottie.’

My Dan
. Harri giggled and felt her cheeks turning pink.
If only
. Still, the thought of an entire evening in the presence of the man who held the key to her dreams was fantastic – and enough of a reward to quiet her concern about not being with Rob for a whole weekend when he was at home. Of course, Rob had been fine about her spending the weekend away. He’d even arranged a long overdue game of five-a-side with his former Dynamo Stone Yardley teammates, followed by a lazy afternoon (and evening too, no doubt) in the Star and Highwayman.

‘Go,’ he’d urged her, amused at her reluctance to leave. ‘It’s about time the tables were turned on me. I’m actually looking forward to being the one pining at home for a change.’

‘So, are you packed?’ Stella asked. ‘Yep. Did it last night.’

Stella stopped dead, yanking Harri back like she was on a bungee rope. ‘
Last night!
My life, Harri, I can’t believe you left it so late! My case has been packed
for a week
. Planning, H. It’s essential for a trip like this.’

An hour later, they were speeding down the M40 in Stella’s baby blue Nissan Figaro. Christina Aguilera was blasting from the impressive sound system and Stella was singing along loudly. Harri leaned back in the comfortable seat and let herself relax. This was by far the most spontaneous thing she had done since posting the fateful
Juste Moi
letter months ago – and this time nothing was going to go wrong. Maybe, she thought to herself, a weekend abroad could be the next step. And then . . . who knows what I might find the courage to do? ‘Baby steps,’ her mother always used to say, ‘take baby steps and then you’ll be amazed by what you can achieve.’

The sun was just sinking below the horizon when the lights of Oxford came into view. It was all Harri could do not to whoop out loud as they drove through the impossibly gorgeous streets, and even Stella turned down the music to take in the view.

Stanton Lodge was a gorgeous Regency building of honey-yellow Cotswold stone, surrounded by a small hedged garden. Stella parked and they carried their cases to the large, dark blue front door surrounded by wisteria blooms. Harri pressed the brass doorbell and a short, immaculately dressed woman opened the door.

‘Hello, ladies. Come in, come in!’ She ushered them along a brightly lit hallway, painted in a calming palette of creams and soft, grassy greens, towards a mahogany desk, where a young man in a dark blue suit smiled to greet them. ‘Leo, these ladies are staying with us tonight. Will you check them in and then help them with their bags?’

‘Yes, Mrs Hammond.’

‘Excellent. I’ll let you settle in and then if you would like some tea I’ll be in the drawing room, just over there.’

‘That would be great, thank you,’ Stella replied, clearly loving the attention and the luxurious surroundings.

Leo carried their cases up to their second-floor room. Harri caught her breath as she walked inside – the room was easily as big as the whole of the downstairs of Two Trees Cottage. Two double beds were covered in luxurious linen and matching curtains hung gracefully from the large picture window. The cream carpet sank beneath their feet and ran through into the generous en suite bathroom, complete with slipper bath and an extra-large shower cubicle. Thick, white towels were draped over the heated rail and a basket of Crabtree & Evelyn toiletries had been placed on the glass shelf above the washbasin.

Stella waited until Leo had left the room before letting out a loud shriek and flinging herself on the nearest bed. ‘How fab is this, eh?’

Harri sat down on the other double and gently stroked the brocade counterpane. ‘It’s wonderful, Stel. It must’ve cost a fortune.’

‘Correction: it
did
cost Julian a fortune!’

‘Stel, I feel awful about that.’

‘
Pah
, don’t. He can afford it. He said I was worth every penny,’ she grinned.

Harri didn’t dare to think what that little statement implied about her friend.

Half an hour later, Harri and Stella were enjoying tea and generous slices of rich, home-made coffee and walnut cake in the Lodge’s elegant drawing room. Mrs Hammond refilled their bone-china cups and smiled at her guests.

‘Would you like some more cake?’

Stella accepted, having wolfed her first slice down, but Harri politely declined, still enjoying every morsel as if she needed to capture and savour every moment of the weekend.

‘So, what have you planned during your stay, ladies?’

‘We’re going to La Mer tomorrow and then a book launch in the evening.’

Mrs Hammond leaned forward with interest. ‘A book launch? How splendid! Which author?’

‘Dan Beagle – the travel writer. He’s a bit of a hero of mine,’ Harri replied.

A wide smile lit up Mrs Hammond’s perfectly made-up face. ‘Daniel! Oh, how wonderful!’

Harri’s pulse rate shot up. ‘You know him?’

‘Yes, I know him very well. You see, I was a teacher in my former life and Daniel Beagle was one of my best students.’

‘That’s amazing. What subject did you teach?’ Harri asked, on the edge of her seat with excitement.

Mrs Hammond’s laugh was like a twittering soprano. ‘
Everything
, my dear! I was his very first teacher at primary school – but even at that young age, I knew he was destined for greatness. I’ve followed his progress with great interest.’

‘Do you ever see him?’ Harri’s question carried a slight sliver of hope.

‘Heavens, no. Haven’t seen him in years. Mind you, my friend still sends his mother Christmas cards.’

‘Oh.’

‘Well, there you go, H,’ Stella laughed, once they were back up in their room, ‘you now have a great excuse to start a conversation with the Beaglemeister. “I know your first teacher”– you have to admit, it’s an original chat-up line.’

Harri ignored her friend’s amusement and hid behind Dan’s latest book.

That night, after a sumptuous dinner, Harri snuggled down in the impossibly comfortable bed, luxuriating in the sensation of cool Egyptian cotton against her skin. Resting her head on soft, peach-scented duck-feather pillows, she closed her eyes and drifted into a dream.

She had just arrived at an airport in some far-flung destination, the hot tropical air shocking her body as she descended the steps from the aircraft onto the baking tarmac, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight. An overwhelming sense of euphoria claimed her entire being: this was it – she’d finally conquered her fears and travelled across the world to arrive here. Everything around her was new and unfamiliar – accents, languages, smells, sights and sounds launched a dizzying assault on her senses. After collecting her case, she walked through into Arrivals, watching as her fellow travellers were claimed by waiting families, welcomed with tears and smiles. A sudden cold shot of panic hit her stomach as, scanning the faces of strangers clamouring around, she realised nobody was waiting for her. Struck by a blow of complete loneliness, she pushed her way through the happy bodies until she emerged on the other side, looking back at their unrestrained glee with aching eyes. Why had she come all this way just to feel as lonely as she did in her little cottage in Stone Yardley? Resignation sapping every ounce of strength from her body, she started to walk back towards the check-in desks. At that moment, a figure appeared in the sliding airport terminal doors, sprinting towards her, his features thrown into shadow by the sunlight behind him.

‘Wait!’ he shouted. ‘Please, Harri, wait for me!’

Squinting against the sun, Harri watched the approaching man until he reached her side, sea-green eyes wild with emotion as his strong arms pulled her close to his body.

‘I thought you weren’t coming. I thought I was going to be all alone,’ Harri sobbed against his chest as his hands traced tiny circles across her shoulders.

‘I’m here now, Harri. You’re with me and you’re safe – and that’s all that matters. The world is ours for the taking. You’ll never be lonely again.’

Lifting her head, Harri stared into the shining depths of Dan’s eyes as his soft lips enveloped hers, her body shaking as their embrace intensified. Breaking the kiss, Dan buried his head in her neck, his breath hot against her ear.

‘Harri . . . oh, Harri . . .’

‘Mmm . . . Dan . . .’

‘
Harri!
Wake up, you saddo.’

The dream dissolved like Alka-Seltzer in water as Harri came crashing back to reality, opening her eyes to see Stella’s amused expression inches from her face. ‘Nice dream?’

‘I – er – I . . .’ Harri stammered, frantically trying to get her bearings.

Stella threw her head back and laughed loudly. ‘You were
so
dreaming about Dan Beagle!’

A burning flush dashed across Harri’s cheeks. ‘No, I wasn’t.’

‘Liar. You were talking in your sleep, hon.’ She slapped the back of her hand to her forehead like Sarah Bernhardt on a lime-lit stage. ‘“Oh, Dan, Dan, kiss me, Dan!”’

Thoroughly embarrassed, Harri turned away. ‘Get lost.’

‘Aw, come on, H, it’s sweet.’

‘Stop mocking me and do something useful – put the kettle on,’ Harri retorted, battling the ample cosiness of her bed to lift her leaden frame up to a seated position.

Stella held her hands up in surrender. ‘OK, sorry. You have to admit, though, it’s a lovely thing to have a dream like that. All I dreamed about last night were fluffy towels and expensive carpets.’

As she turned her back to fiddle with the tiny travel kettle in the corner of the room, Harri had to smile. Dreaming about lavish home furnishings in celebrity houses was probably the ultimate turn-on for her friend.

Stella brought back two cups of tea and sat on Harri’s bed. ‘Didn’t mean to mock, H. I honestly thought it was sweet.’

‘It’s just a silly dream, that’s all,’ Harri replied, sipping her tea.

‘Hey, it’s cool, honestly.’ Stella reached across and squeezed Harri’s hand. ‘You’re allowed to have dreams, you know. We’re here for a fantastic weekend and nothing’s going to spoil it, OK? We are going to have the most phenomenal English breakfast, and then we are going to be pampered, buffed, massaged and polished to within an inch of our lives. And then, my nutty friend, we are going to go and lust after that hunky explorer of yours for
hours
tonight. And tomorrow, we shop. So drink your tea, get your little sleepy bum out of bed and let’s do this!’

When Harri was little, bathtime was her favourite time of the day. It wasn’t just the chance to play with the yellow rubber duck in the bathwater that made the experience so magical – it was the feeling of being completely safe and afterwards, sitting on Mum’s lap swathed in a huge, yellow bath towel, having her hair towelled dry.

This memory returned in comforting splendour as she lay back on a beech-wood recliner in an enormous white, fluffy towelling robe in the luxurious surroundings of La Mer. Despite her amusement at Stella’s near-obsessional fascination with the day spa, Harri had to admit that it was stunning. Every detail had been carefully considered and no expense had been spared to create a sanctuary of peace and relaxation. Subdued lighting, heated floors, sumptuous pools and soothing music added to the exclusive ambience and the treatments were more indulgent than Harri had ever experienced.

After a Sea Salt Buff, she was relaxing with a tropical fruit smoothie, enjoying the tingle of her glowing skin, waiting for Stella to return from her Hot Stone Massage, when a woman in her mid-forties padded past and paused to bestow a glowing smile.

‘
Heaven
, isn’t it?’ she breathed.

Harri nodded. ‘It’s really nice.’

The woman extended a freshly manicured hand. ‘I’m Sonia. This your first time?’

‘Yes. My friend brought me.’

Sonia giggled and sat down on the recliner next to Harri. ‘It’s my ninth time here. Just can’t seem to keep away. My – erm –
friend
brought me too, only he’s at a business meeting for most of today. Dreadful shame that he can’t be here to enjoy it, but so generous of him to let me experience it for him, don’t you think?’

Smiling politely, Harri took a long sip of smoothie to stifle her mirth. Sonia smoothed down one of the flaps of her towelling robe, looking like an overly pampered cat that had unexpectedly acquired a large amount of cream.

‘Makes all the hassle worthwhile, I suppose . . .’ The definite pause was obviously Harri’s cue to enquire further, but, in a rare moment of selfishness, Harri declined the invitation. After a couple of awkward seconds, Sonia decided to press on regardless. ‘He’s married, you see. Brings me with him on his . . . shall we call them
business
trips? Wife has no idea, by all accounts. She’s so bound up in being a mother to his kids that she can’t see how
unfulfilled
he is, poor lamb . . .’