The Decision (119 page)

‘OK, OK. Give it a rest. I didn’t bring you down here to insult me.’

‘No, you didn’t. So why did you bring me? Just tell me that, Matt, I’d really like to know?’

‘Well – I suppose – because I like you. I like being with you. I told you that, Louise, blimey, you’re not asking for some kind of romantic declaration, I hope.’

‘Absolutely not. As if you’d know how to make one anyway. There’s only one person you feel undying love for, Matt Shaw, and that’s yourself. Has that ever occurred to you?’

‘Don’t be so bloody rude,’ he said, ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you, Louise, you’ve been really – difficult – all day—’

‘I have not been difficult,’ and she was shouting now, ‘it’s you who’ve been difficult, as you always are, bolshie and rude and – I don’t know why I bother. Just let’s get back to London and then can we please put a stop to this once and for all. I don’t see any future in our relationship, and I’d rather not pursue it any longer.’

‘Fine,’ he said and pushed his foot down onto the accelerator. Outside her flat, he didn’t turn the engine off; she got out and and disappeared inside.

Matt arrived home to find the answering machine flashing.

It was Eliza.

‘I just wanted to thank you again,’ she said when he called her back, ‘for keeping Summercourt. It’s wonderful of you, and I really, really appreciate it, Matt, we all do.’

‘It’s not yours,’ he said abruptly. ‘It’s mine. And I intend to set it up as a trust for Emmie. We working-class folk can play these games too.’

‘I – can see that,’ she said, ‘and I think it’s a lovely idea. So nice, Matt. Lovely for Emmie, lovely for me. And you, I hope. I know you do like it too.’

‘Yes, I do,’ he said, surprising her, ‘I like it very much. And it was great, Scarlett having the baby there. Quite something. How is she?’

‘She’s fine. They’re all asleep.’

‘Good.’

‘Now – did you speak to Louise?’

‘I tried to,’ he said, ‘she lost her temper, started shouting at me. She’s always doing that these days, I don’t know why.’

Eliza took a deep breath. This really couldn’t do any harm.

‘I’ll tell you,’ she said. ‘It’s because she – she cares about you.’

‘She what?’

‘You heard. She’s loved you for years and years, and she thinks you don’t care about her, and I think you do and I think you ought to think about it very hard. She doesn’t need to know you know, if you want to leave it at that, no humiliation involved. But at least think about it. OK? Now I must go. Emmie and Coral are still awake, high as kites. Night, Matt. Take care. And thank you again.’

Matt put the phone down. He felt weak at the knees suddenly. He could never remember feeling quite so – so shocked. Louise! Louise, loyal, sharp, cool, clever, brave Louise, putting up with him all those years, working with him, fielding his rages, listening to him moaning on and on and on, going into the witness box, speaking up for him – could she? Could she possibly? Surely …

He felt as if he was seeing her properly for the first time, as if she had been concealed, behind some strange, distorting glass, unclear, not her true self.

He tried to analyse his feelings for her now and in the past; and wondered if he should have realised how he felt. Which was not how he had thought he had felt. Realised how much she had mattered to him. But – how could he? It had always seemed to him she didn’t like him.

Or certainly found it hard to like him. She had so clearly found him wanting, in a great many ways. She tried to put him down. She was desperate to win battles in the office. She usually did win battles in the office. Which annoyed him. Terribly. In fact just thinking about it now made him cross. But – intriguing. She was intriguing. And – viewed without the distorting glass, she was gorgeous. Of course. He’d always thought that. He and Jimbo had often remarked on it. Reluctantly, given how often she got the better of them. So—

He picked up the car keys, and half ran out of the house. Drove to Paulton Square. Parked outside. Looking up at her windows. Got out of the car, rang the bell. Said, ‘Can I come in?’ into the intercom. She said no. Sounding as if she’d been crying. He rang the bell again. ‘Go away,’ again.

Then, ‘Louise, I’ve been very, very stupid. Please let me come up. I want to see you.’

‘I don’t want to see you.’

‘Yes, you do. Look – Louise, I’m sorry. I’ve probably blown it, but – I – I’ve been talking to Eliza. And she said – well, she said …’

‘Matt, please go away. Eliza had no right to interfere. She’s a bossy cow.’

‘Yes, she is. Bit like you. Probably explains a lot.’

‘Matt, go away.’

He waited. Then, ‘All right, I’ll go away now. But will you have dinner with me tomorrow? Please. Please, Louise. I’d like it so much. We have some sorting out to do.’

‘You have some sorting out to do.’

‘Yes. Yes, all right. But will you? Please?’

A very long silence, then, ‘Yes. All right. And you’d better not be late.’

‘Toby?’

‘Yes. God, Eliza, what time is it?’

‘Don’t know. Late. I wanted to tell you something.’

‘It had better be good.’

‘It is. I love you. So much. I just wanted to tell you again.’

It had come to her as she watched them in the kitchen, all of them, thinking this was what happiness must look like, if you could see it – Emmie and Coral, dozing finally on the sofa, Heather and Alan, her head drooping with sleep on his shoulder, his tie rather dangerously loosened, Charles and Pattie smiling at one another, Jeremy and Mariella holding hands, freshly and foolishly delighted with one another, Archie flirting alternately with her mother and Anna – and upstairs the new little family, all contained in Summercourt’s lovely walls. It had worked its magic today for them all. And – hopefully in London for Louise and Matt …

And it had worked it on her; she had thought, surveying this scene, that she did love Toby so very much. Not wildly, recklessly, desperately as she had loved Matt; that had been a once-in-a-lifetime thing and would not come again: but thoughtfully, carefully, with wiser, less selfish pleasures and gentler, more generous delights. And she needed to tell him, for he might have found today difficult, felt pushed aside; and the fact that she knew he would be pleased to hear from her, even in the middle of the night, proved that she trusted him, to love her and not to fail her.

‘I love you too,’ he said, ‘very much. And thank you for calling. But now I’m bloody tired and I need to get some sleep.’

‘Sorry, Toby.’

‘Don’t say sorry. Just get off the line.’

‘Yes, all right. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, my love. Sleep tight. And don’t pick your nose.’

She put the phone down, turned off the light and lay smiling into the darkness. It was all going to be all right.

And Summercourt was not for sale.