things, even for leaving the loo seat up.
‘Only if it’s well paid,’ I say back.
As Jack drives off, I walk home smiling to myself, already eager for Monday to come round. There’s something about him. I can’t put my finger on it, except that all I know is I’m looking forward to getting to know Jack Baker.
18
My wild dream of Jack and I skipping off into the sunset like the Heron clan is interrupted with a ‘Hello’. Guy stands by my side with a coffee, modelling a different hat today, this one like a French beret, and he’s wearing black-checked trousers that make him look like a chef. Most men couldn’t get away with this outfit, but somehow it works on Guy. ‘Want to do a circuit?’ he suggests as if we were in the gym.
‘So how’s it going with Jack?’ Guy asks, sharing his coffee with me. ‘Have you seen him yet?’
This time I am glad to be able to report the news that I have seen him, this very morning, and I now know that he lives in Bath.
Guy looks surprised.
‘I know. I can’t picture him there either,’ I say.
‘Bath is a fabulous place,’ says Mari, catching us up. ‘One of my friends moved there. Beautiful architecture and I love the theatre.’ She peers more closely at Guy. ‘What are you wearing?’
‘Trousers,’ he says as his mobile rings.
When Guy disappears to take the call Mari huffs and puffs that his international phone bills must cost the earth. ‘By the way, Blaize is flying in from the States.’
‘Blake?’
‘Blaize,’ she corrects me, ‘Blaize Hunter King.’
Who the hell is he?
‘Come on, Gilly, I’ve told you about him. He’s one of the best-known interior design agents in the States, buys stuff for all his celebrity clients.’
‘Right, sounds great.’
‘It’s serious money. He’s dropping by tomorrow morning, called me late last night. Serious money, Gilly,’ she repeats. ‘We need to roll out the red carpet, OK?’ She peers more closely at Guy. ‘Why is Hatman dressed in his pyjamas?’
‘I love the way Flora asks after Trouble before me,’ Guy says, putting his mobile back into his pocket.
‘How is she?’
‘Fine. Have you ever had this urge to travel?’
‘No, not really. It would be great to be adventurous and backpack my way across Tibet, but . . . I love hotels,’ I admit.
‘I’d rather sleep outside under the stars,’ Guy says.
‘I’d rather look at the stars drinking champagne from my terrace.’
Guy is strangely quiet. ‘Are you all right?’ I ask. ‘Do you miss her?’
‘Yes . . . oh, Trouble, don’t eat that!’ he despairs when he sees her with what looks like half a Yorkshire pudding in her mouth. We liken the park to a buffet. ‘I do miss her, but I’ve got to get on with it,’ he says. ‘Flora funded me for three years while I did my horticultural course, so it’s my turn to support her.’
‘I see, so this travelling is her time.’
He nods. ‘Exactly. She’s only away for another couple of months.’
‘Listen, don’t shoot me down . . .’
Guy pretends to shoot me.
‘But why don’t you join her for a week? I could look after Trouble.’
He shakes his head. ‘Thanks, Gilly, that’s so nice of you, but she has to do this for herself.’
We reach the zebra crossing. ‘Right,’ he says before adjusting his cap. ‘I’d better go.’
‘See you Monday,’ I call over my shoulder as I head off to work.
Ruskin and I walk briskly towards the tube station when I hear ‘Gilly!’ I turn to see Guy catching me up. ‘I was just thinking . . .’ He hesitates. ‘What are you up to at the weekend?’
‘Um, just pottering,’ I tell him.
I know Guy well enough now not to care about sounding boring or lacking invitations on my mantelpiece. There’s no doubt my social life isn’t quite what it used to be. Things have slowed down. The wheels have stopped turning.
I smile. ‘How about you?’
‘I need to buy a suit for my sister’s wedding.’ He twists his hat round,
‘Only if it’s well paid,’ I say back.
As Jack drives off, I walk home smiling to myself, already eager for Monday to come round. There’s something about him. I can’t put my finger on it, except that all I know is I’m looking forward to getting to know Jack Baker.
18
My wild dream of Jack and I skipping off into the sunset like the Heron clan is interrupted with a ‘Hello’. Guy stands by my side with a coffee, modelling a different hat today, this one like a French beret, and he’s wearing black-checked trousers that make him look like a chef. Most men couldn’t get away with this outfit, but somehow it works on Guy. ‘Want to do a circuit?’ he suggests as if we were in the gym.
‘So how’s it going with Jack?’ Guy asks, sharing his coffee with me. ‘Have you seen him yet?’
This time I am glad to be able to report the news that I have seen him, this very morning, and I now know that he lives in Bath.
Guy looks surprised.
‘I know. I can’t picture him there either,’ I say.
‘Bath is a fabulous place,’ says Mari, catching us up. ‘One of my friends moved there. Beautiful architecture and I love the theatre.’ She peers more closely at Guy. ‘What are you wearing?’
‘Trousers,’ he says as his mobile rings.
When Guy disappears to take the call Mari huffs and puffs that his international phone bills must cost the earth. ‘By the way, Blaize is flying in from the States.’
‘Blake?’
‘Blaize,’ she corrects me, ‘Blaize Hunter King.’
Who the hell is he?
‘Come on, Gilly, I’ve told you about him. He’s one of the best-known interior design agents in the States, buys stuff for all his celebrity clients.’
‘Right, sounds great.’
‘It’s serious money. He’s dropping by tomorrow morning, called me late last night. Serious money, Gilly,’ she repeats. ‘We need to roll out the red carpet, OK?’ She peers more closely at Guy. ‘Why is Hatman dressed in his pyjamas?’
‘I love the way Flora asks after Trouble before me,’ Guy says, putting his mobile back into his pocket.
‘How is she?’
‘Fine. Have you ever had this urge to travel?’
‘No, not really. It would be great to be adventurous and backpack my way across Tibet, but . . . I love hotels,’ I admit.
‘I’d rather sleep outside under the stars,’ Guy says.
‘I’d rather look at the stars drinking champagne from my terrace.’
Guy is strangely quiet. ‘Are you all right?’ I ask. ‘Do you miss her?’
‘Yes . . . oh, Trouble, don’t eat that!’ he despairs when he sees her with what looks like half a Yorkshire pudding in her mouth. We liken the park to a buffet. ‘I do miss her, but I’ve got to get on with it,’ he says. ‘Flora funded me for three years while I did my horticultural course, so it’s my turn to support her.’
‘I see, so this travelling is her time.’
He nods. ‘Exactly. She’s only away for another couple of months.’
‘Listen, don’t shoot me down . . .’
Guy pretends to shoot me.
‘But why don’t you join her for a week? I could look after Trouble.’
He shakes his head. ‘Thanks, Gilly, that’s so nice of you, but she has to do this for herself.’
We reach the zebra crossing. ‘Right,’ he says before adjusting his cap. ‘I’d better go.’
‘See you Monday,’ I call over my shoulder as I head off to work.
Ruskin and I walk briskly towards the tube station when I hear ‘Gilly!’ I turn to see Guy catching me up. ‘I was just thinking . . .’ He hesitates. ‘What are you up to at the weekend?’
‘Um, just pottering,’ I tell him.
I know Guy well enough now not to care about sounding boring or lacking invitations on my mantelpiece. There’s no doubt my social life isn’t quite what it used to be. Things have slowed down. The wheels have stopped turning.
I smile. ‘How about you?’
‘I need to buy a suit for my sister’s wedding.’ He twists his hat round,
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