‘Yes, well, I’m used to it. But there are a couple of things I’d like to—’
‘We’re leading on you, as a matter of fact. Double-page spread, picture of you over two-thirds of it, then a column introducing the feature and leading into your interview. And we’ve got you on the cover as well, small picture that is, hang on, I’ll get the dummy. You’ll be pleased, I think. Too late if you’re not, it’s gone to press.’
He disappeared into the features department. Matt and Eliza looked at one another in silence. Then, ‘I am not,’ Matt said, ‘repeat, not—’
Beckham was back. ‘Right. Here it is, look.’ A small shot of Matt, dropped onto the corner of the cover, captioned. ‘The Intropreneurs, the new-style tycoons, talk about life at the top.’
‘What do you think about that then?’
‘It’s – it’s not bad,’ said Matt, ‘not bad at all.’
‘It’s bloody good publicity, I’ll tell you that. You should be grateful.’
‘I – I am, yes. Thank you.’
‘Good. Well, I’m off, see you tomorrow, Eliza.’
He slammed the door behind him. Matt looked at Eliza. She smiled at him, very sweetly.
‘What was it you were saying?’ she asked.
‘Darling—’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘About?’
‘About Summercourt.’
‘Charles, if it’s about finding money to fix the roof, we really can’t help. We’re hardly coping financially ourselves. If we can’t afford to go skiing and you’re fussing about my clothes budget, then we certainly can’t afford to give your parents any money. They’ve got plenty of their own, surely, and they can always raise some on the house, Daddy suggested that when I mentioned it last time, it’s just not fair to ask us—’
‘Juliet, I’ve told you before they haven’t got any money, any at all—’
‘Well, that’s ridiculous, of course they’ve got money, they’re just worrying about their old age, Mummy said Granny was exactly the same, now please Charles, just don’t mention it again, I’m finding it very upsetting. I love your parents, of course I do, but it’s a kind of emotional blackmail what they’re doing – Charles, where are you going?’
‘I’m going for a walk,’ said Charles. ‘I need to think. And please don’t talk about my parents in those terms, I don’t like it.’
Juliet stared at the slammed front door. She felt rather shocked. Neither Charles nor their life together was turning out quite how she had imagined.
He decided he would ask her. It couldn’t do any harm. She could turn him down of course, but then at least he’d have tried. And a few things recently had made him feel, well, differently about her. As if it wasn’t all quite as he had imagined. Like – like that moment in the church. And what that wonderful old bird the godmother had said. And – of course – the way she had kissed him back, that morning in his office. He still didn’t know quite how that had happened. Why he’d kissed her in the first place. Except that he really hadn’t been able to stop himself.
He just wanted to – what? Explore the situation a bit further. That was all.
And so he asked her to lunch, ‘to thank you, you’ve done me quite a big favour, actually, with that article, lot of enquiries’; she said she didn’t get much in the way of a lunch hour; and then he asked her for a drink after work; and she accepted.
And thus it was that Matt Shaw and Eliza Fullerton-Clark informed their respective regular dates that they would be working late the following Wednesday; each adding, without any further consultation with one another, merely obeying some rather basic instinct, that they had no idea when they might be back, and not to make plans for dinner.
Every time she thought about leaving Summercourt, Sarah felt like screaming. Not from misery or outrage or even trepidation, but from a sheer blind panic. Summercourt was not just her home, it was where she belonged, where her entire world was centred. Nowhere else was even imaginable; wherever it was she would feel herself a vagrant.
Summercourt gave her strength, courage, comfort; it was like a staunch, serene friend.
And now people kept telling her she must leave it, that it needed the most appalling sounding sums of money spent on it, that she couldn’t possibly nurse Adrian there.
The prospect seemed very nearly as dreadful as losing Adrian.
It was very close to unbearable.
If only, if only Eliza were to marry Jeremy. She knew it was wrong of her to think like that, to see Eliza’s future in such financial terms, her happiness as something essential to her own, but she couldn’t help it. The thought consumed her. And it wasn’t as if they weren’t in love with each other, they’d be terribly happy. It just had to be a matter of time; and until it happened, she mustn’t make any rash decisions. She would just stay calm and wait.
‘Emma, it’s Jeremy. Look – I just thought I should let you know. I’ve decided to ask Eliza.’
‘Jeremy, I’m so pleased.’
‘Yes. I thought this weekend. We’re going down to Norfolk together, so pretty perfect really.’
‘Absolutely. Well, Ma and Pa will be pleased. Particularly Pa. He’s always saying what a lively girl she is.’
‘I know. Anyway, I’ll have to ask her father first of course. Like to do things properly. Have to dash down tonight, only chance I’ve got. Eliza’s out working or something.’
‘Oh Adrian, isn’t it wonderful?’ Sarah’s voice was shaky. She felt slightly dizzy. ‘If only he could have stayed, I feel dreadful not giving him dinner.’
‘Darling he couldn’t stay, he had to get back, he explained.’
‘I know. And so sweet of him to come at all, it’s such a long way, he really does know how to behave.’
‘Indeed he does.’
‘Oh, Adrian! It’s like a dream come true. Darling Eliza. Oh, how wonderful.’
‘He hasn’t asked her yet. She might not accept.’
‘Adrian! Don’t say that. Of course she’ll accept. Of course she will.’
‘Well, she’s a very independently minded girl. And you know how much that job of hers matters.’
‘Charles, hello, darling. Are you all right?’
‘Yes, Mummy, I’m fine. I just rang to see how Pa was doing.’
‘Pretty well,’ said Sarah cautiously. ‘The drugs really are helping.’
‘Good. Well, I was hoping to come down this weekend, bring Juliet, but she’s not feeling too good—’
‘Oh, I’m sorry – Charles, she’s not – not—’
‘Mummy, she’s got flu.’ Charles’s voice was heavy.
‘Yes, I see. Well, give her my love. Yes.’
‘And how are you?’
‘Me? Oh, darling, I’m just fine. Feeling very good as a matter of fact.’
‘Really? Why’s that?’
‘Oh – well – just had some very nice news.’
‘What’s that, then? About the house?’
‘Oh – no. I can’t tell you, darling. It’s not my secret. I’m sure you’ll hear soon enough.’
‘Mummy, what are you talking about?’
‘Charles, I really can’t say. Except it’s – it’s family.’
‘Family? Well, it must be Eliza. What’s she done? New job?’
‘No, Charles, much better than a new job. She’s – well, Jeremy’s just come down and spoken to Daddy and—’
‘No! Good lord. Fantastic.’
‘But don’t tell anyone, will you? Because you see, she—’
‘Mummy, of course I won’t tell. Promise.’
‘Guess what?’ he said to Juliet over the supper tray he had taken her in bed. ‘Good news.’
‘Well, that makes a change. What is it?’
‘My sister and Jeremy Northcott are getting engaged.’
‘Gosh. That should stop you all worrying about Summercourt.’
‘Indeed,’ said Charles, stifling his irritation at this rather inappropriate response. ‘Now you mustn’t tell anyone because it’s not official yet. I hope you’re pleased.’
‘Of course I’m pleased. If she is.’
‘Juliet, I should think she’s over the moon.’
‘Well, she’s very lucky,’ said Juliet. Her voice had a distinct shake in it.
‘Goodness, Matt. Champagne! How amazing.’
They were in the American bar at the Savoy.
‘Yes, well, I’ve got some celebrating to do.’
‘Really? What?’
‘Oh, two big new clients in one week.’
‘That’s great.’
‘How about you, any news?’
‘I can’t think of anything particularly,’ said Eliza, ‘but I’m happy to share in yours.’
‘Annunciata, hello. How nice to hear from you.’
‘Hello, Emma. You free for dinner on Friday?’
‘Yes, think so, let’s just look – yes. Thank you.’
‘Good. I’ve got some quite interesting people coming.’
‘You always do.’
‘Want to bring anyone?’
‘No. Would you like me to?’
‘What about your beautiful brother? I’ve got another advertising bod coming – creative director of BBDO.’
‘I’m afraid J’s off to Norfolk.’
‘Oh, fine. With the fair Eliza?’
‘Well – yes.’
‘Really? How serious do you think that is? She tries to pretend they’re just friends.’
‘Well, they most certainly are not “just friends”. In fact—’
‘No! Don’t tell me.’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Annunciata.’
‘Goodness, wait till Jack hears about this.’
‘Don’t you dare tell him. It’s totally under wraps, he hasn’t—’
‘Of course I won’t. Must go, Jack wants me.’
‘Jack, you’ve lost our wager.’
‘Which one was that?’
‘The Eliza one. She’s getting engaged. And I’m afraid I was right. To someone pretty blue-blooded.’
‘Oh Christ. Not that tall blond twit?’
‘’Fraid so. But can you blame her? He is one of the richest young men in England.’
‘I really thought better of her. She’s not leaving, is she? I couldn’t stand it.’
‘Well – I hope not. For all our sakes. But—’
‘I’ll have to have words with her. So, how much do I owe you, Annunciata?’
‘Twenty quid. But lunch at the Terrazza will do. I do so love it there.’
‘Eliza, I – don’t suppose you’d like to have dinner now? I’m starving. Or are you busy?’
‘I’m not – not really, no. It sounds lovely.’
‘OK. Well, have you been to Inigo Jones? It’s in Covent Garden?’
‘I have and I adore it. So beautiful.’
‘Great. I’ll go and find a phone and see if I can get a table.’
‘OK. Don’t be long.’
Now why had she said that? How not cool. How extremely sort of – of – Juliet-ish.
‘I won’t.’
He wasn’t long; he came back looking rather pleased with himself.
‘OK. Done. Ready at eight thirty. So we could have another.’
‘What, another bottle of champagne?’
‘If you like. It suits you, champagne.’
‘Thank you. In what way?’
‘Well – it’s got class.’
‘Matt, we’d probably better not get onto that.’
‘I didn’t mean that sort of class. I meant totally first rate.’
‘Right. Well – thank you. You’re pretty classy yourself. In a totally first rate sort of way.’
‘You reckon?’
‘I reckon. You’re clever. And funny. And that’s a great shirt.’
‘Thanks. I had it made. To my own specification.’
‘Really? Where?’
‘Chap in Jermyn Street. You know by the time we’ve walked to Inigo Jones, it will be well past eight. We could just have some more champagne there.’
‘OK. Pull me up. Oh, dear. I feel a bit dizzy. Might just go to the loo. I’m sure I look a complete fright.’
‘You look lovely,’ he said and his voice was very serious.
‘Juliet? Mummy. How are you, darling?’
‘Bit better. Horrid bug, this, though.’
‘Charles hasn’t got it?’
‘No, no.’
‘Any news?’
‘Well, yes. Apparently Eliza’s going to marry Jeremy Northcott.’
‘Goodness. From everything I’ve heard about him, that should solve all their problems. Stop them worrying you about it. So unfair.’
She felt very – odd. Sort of – well, very sexy. Almost uncomfortably so. She kept fidgeting about in her seat. He noticed.
‘You OK?’
‘Oh – yes I’m fine. You?’
‘Very OK.’
It was odd, being with him when he was relaxed. And when she was relaxed. So often they were fighting. She said so.
‘Yeah, I suppose we are. Why do you think that is?’
‘Oh – can’t imagine. Because you’re such a stroppy bugger, maybe?’
‘I am not stroppy.’
‘Matt, you are very stroppy.’
There was a silence; he picked up his glass and scowled into it.
‘And I suppose you’re not?’