split up with Dave. Got to get back out there.’
‘Oh, right, yeah – sorry.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. It was coming for a while,’ she said, biting a biscuit. ‘Between you and me, Jamie was an accident actually, and then we stuck it out for about – ooh – ten years longer than we should have.’
‘How old is Jamie?’
‘Ten.’
They both laughed. Will eased back in his chair. This was OK. She was nice, the flat was nice. The whisky took the edge off thinking about Hannah. For once there was no schedule, no painting, no long, serious discussions. And he could go to bed without watching Hannah turn her back on him.
‘But no, it’s fine,’ Clare said. ‘I’ve been wanting to get the business moving for ages, and now I can. Dave always wanted to live in Brighton, and he’s met someone, so . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Jamie loves it there, too, so it’s OK.’
Clare casually pulled the tie from her bun. Her hair tumbled onto her chest and Will examined the bottom of his glass.
‘So I meant to ask you: why the move to Suffolk?’
He sighed inwardly. It was a subject too close to home tonight.
‘Uh . . . it’s a long story, but we went there when my gran died, for the funeral. And I was showing Hannah where I used to hang out in the summer, and we got lost.’
Clare’s eyes widened. ‘No!’
‘Yeah, in a place called Tornley, down a dead-end. We did a U-turn outside this old house with a “For sale” sign, and Hannah wanted to see inside.’
‘Seriously, just like that?’
‘Yeah. We rang the estate agent and he showed us round the next day. It had been empty for years, so we put in a stupid offer, thinking there was no way they’d take it.’
‘And they did?’
‘Yup. Then it all just happened.’
Clare sipped her whisky. ‘Wow. But you like it, right?’
Will chose his words carefully. ‘Well, it’s got an acre of land and a place to build a studio, so . . .’
‘Oh. So you’ll stop renting at Smart Yak?’
For a second he thought he sensed disappointment in her voice, and put it down to the drink. ‘Well, I spend part of my fee on studio rent, so I might as well invest it in my own place. And Hannah’s idea is to section off a guest area in the house, where clients can stay.’
‘Sounds great. Big life-change, huh?’
‘Yup.’
Her felt her sparkly eyes on him. ‘So . . .’
‘So . . .’
‘So . . . Sorry!’ she smiled. ‘Why don’t you sound convinced?’
It was strange. His head was clearing despite the whisky. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, if your wife loves the house, and you want a studio – well, you didn’t exactly seem upset about not going back yesterday.’
He swirled the drink in his glass.
In this cosy flat, with whisky on his tongue, he nearly told Clare. Then he reminded himself he was drunk, and it was late, and they were here alone.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew how these things could go.
‘Yeah, well, that’s house-moves for you. You know yourself.’ He gestured at her flat. ‘Takes a while.’
‘Tell me about it.’
He put down his glass, and saw her glancing at his faded Celtic-band tattoo again. This time she didn’t look away.
‘I was eighteen,’ he offered. ‘We all got one. I can’t even remember why.’
‘You and your mates?’
He nodded. Clare flung back her blanket and unbuttoned the top of her denim dress. She pulled away one side, and a tangle of blonde hair, to reveal a small blue dolphin diving under a lacy bra-strap. ‘Me too! First year at art college.’
An unexpected sexual volt charged through Will. He shook himself.
Grow up
.
‘Nice,’ he said politely. ‘Anyway, listen.’ He stood up, holding the arm of the chair. ‘Thanks for the whisky. And for the bed. I’m going to leave you in peace now.’
She twisted a lock of hair. ‘No, I’m glad you took me up on staying. There’s a towel under the sink.’
‘Cheers.’
‘Night. Sleep well.’
‘Night.’
As he headed for the bedroom, an
‘Oh, right, yeah – sorry.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. It was coming for a while,’ she said, biting a biscuit. ‘Between you and me, Jamie was an accident actually, and then we stuck it out for about – ooh – ten years longer than we should have.’
‘How old is Jamie?’
‘Ten.’
They both laughed. Will eased back in his chair. This was OK. She was nice, the flat was nice. The whisky took the edge off thinking about Hannah. For once there was no schedule, no painting, no long, serious discussions. And he could go to bed without watching Hannah turn her back on him.
‘But no, it’s fine,’ Clare said. ‘I’ve been wanting to get the business moving for ages, and now I can. Dave always wanted to live in Brighton, and he’s met someone, so . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Jamie loves it there, too, so it’s OK.’
Clare casually pulled the tie from her bun. Her hair tumbled onto her chest and Will examined the bottom of his glass.
‘So I meant to ask you: why the move to Suffolk?’
He sighed inwardly. It was a subject too close to home tonight.
‘Uh . . . it’s a long story, but we went there when my gran died, for the funeral. And I was showing Hannah where I used to hang out in the summer, and we got lost.’
Clare’s eyes widened. ‘No!’
‘Yeah, in a place called Tornley, down a dead-end. We did a U-turn outside this old house with a “For sale” sign, and Hannah wanted to see inside.’
‘Seriously, just like that?’
‘Yeah. We rang the estate agent and he showed us round the next day. It had been empty for years, so we put in a stupid offer, thinking there was no way they’d take it.’
‘And they did?’
‘Yup. Then it all just happened.’
Clare sipped her whisky. ‘Wow. But you like it, right?’
Will chose his words carefully. ‘Well, it’s got an acre of land and a place to build a studio, so . . .’
‘Oh. So you’ll stop renting at Smart Yak?’
For a second he thought he sensed disappointment in her voice, and put it down to the drink. ‘Well, I spend part of my fee on studio rent, so I might as well invest it in my own place. And Hannah’s idea is to section off a guest area in the house, where clients can stay.’
‘Sounds great. Big life-change, huh?’
‘Yup.’
Her felt her sparkly eyes on him. ‘So . . .’
‘So . . .’
‘So . . . Sorry!’ she smiled. ‘Why don’t you sound convinced?’
It was strange. His head was clearing despite the whisky. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, if your wife loves the house, and you want a studio – well, you didn’t exactly seem upset about not going back yesterday.’
He swirled the drink in his glass.
In this cosy flat, with whisky on his tongue, he nearly told Clare. Then he reminded himself he was drunk, and it was late, and they were here alone.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew how these things could go.
‘Yeah, well, that’s house-moves for you. You know yourself.’ He gestured at her flat. ‘Takes a while.’
‘Tell me about it.’
He put down his glass, and saw her glancing at his faded Celtic-band tattoo again. This time she didn’t look away.
‘I was eighteen,’ he offered. ‘We all got one. I can’t even remember why.’
‘You and your mates?’
He nodded. Clare flung back her blanket and unbuttoned the top of her denim dress. She pulled away one side, and a tangle of blonde hair, to reveal a small blue dolphin diving under a lacy bra-strap. ‘Me too! First year at art college.’
An unexpected sexual volt charged through Will. He shook himself.
Grow up
.
‘Nice,’ he said politely. ‘Anyway, listen.’ He stood up, holding the arm of the chair. ‘Thanks for the whisky. And for the bed. I’m going to leave you in peace now.’
She twisted a lock of hair. ‘No, I’m glad you took me up on staying. There’s a towel under the sink.’
‘Cheers.’
‘Night. Sleep well.’
‘Night.’
As he headed for the bedroom, an
Similar Books
