Tasmina Perry 3-Book Collection: Daddy’s Girls, Gold Diggers, Original Sin. Tasmina Perry

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       19

      Tom Archer stood by his kitchen window looking out into his garden and began to chop the carrots for his casserole. The renovations to his property had been completed exactly two months ago, and so Tom was back living in his Cotswold mansion, having returned from Dorothy Whetton’s seaside retreat. He laughed to himself at how absurd the change was from his life in London. What would I have been doing now if I was still there with Serena? he thought to himself. No doubt recovering from the Saturday night before, drinking Bloody Marys and debating whether to go round to some glamorous friend’s for dinner. Perhaps reading scripts over a cocktail or just talking shop. That’s what they usually did.

      Things are very different now, he thought, staring out onto the lawns bursting with herds of daffodils. The birds were singing in the clear afternoon sky, there was no sound of traffic chasing through the streets and he was alone, enjoying his own company. And he was chopping carrots. He chuckled about his life now, researching and writing his script. The cricket season was beginning, too, and he had joined the local club, the Mitchenham Tennis and Cricket Club, which seemed to have caused much excitement in the village. Ah, the pressure to get in the first eleven, he smiled to himself.

      He was mildly concerned at how easily he had slipped into this new routine. The turning heads and autograph hunters in the local pub had finally subsided, and now he was just Tom, one of the lads in the village who could enjoy a quiet pint and a chat about the council’s plans to move the bus stop from outside the bakery. His friends in London, his agent, his publicist – they had all said this country-living lark was just a passing fad, an inevitable result of his breakup with Serena. But two months in, he was still enjoying it, loving the freedom to do whatever he wanted in his own time without the say-so of the London crowd.

      That wasn’t to say that he didn’t get a little bit lonely. In fact, he had actually begun to look forward to the visits from Edna, his cleaning lady, who came round three times a week to spruce up the house. Maybe I’m more sociable than I thought, he smiled. Which is why he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought to invite his old friend Nick Douglas over before. When Rebecca Willard, Nick’s girlfriend had insisted on coming down too, Nick had suggested that they also invite Cate for the weekend.

      Tom stopped chopping and put the knife down. He had very mixed feelings about Cate’s imminent arrival. He looked at his watch and realized that she, Nick and Rebecca were due to arrive in forty minutes. Yes, he had always enjoyed Cate’s company; the two of them would always pair off at Oswald’s parties, huddled in a corner, guzzling Martinis and poking fun at the rest of the party guests. However, Tom hadn’t seen her since that day she had come down to persuade him into a reconciliation with Serena. It had been a fairly clean-cut break-up with Serena; but he had a nagging feeling that he should let any ties to the Balcon family go. After all, they were her family. They were her.

      What the hell, he thought quickly, putting three bottles of Dom Pérignon 1983 into the fridge and filling some wooden bowls with crisps. He flung open the French windows that led onto the garden terrace and, deciding that it was warm enough for a late-afternoon gin and tonic out there, he struggled to put up the huge cream linen umbrella over the garden table and chairs before lighting the patio heater for extra warmth. Back in the kitchen, he tossed the carrots into a bright orange Le Creuset casserole along with thick chunks of pheasant, parsnips and onions and hoped that a casserole and mashed potato would suffice for his guests. If Serena had been here, she would have demanded he bring in Le Caprice’s outside catering for extravagant canapés and an elaborate five-course meal – just for a casual supper. He closed the oven with a thud. Why didn’t I think of this before? He smiled.

      Cate had been having misgivings about attending Tom’s dinner party, too, almost from the moment she had impulsively accepted his invitation. Now that she was driving through the pretty Gloucestershire villages, getting closer and closer to his manor house, she was even less sure. Even though Tom had been a good friend over the last five years, she was still a little awkward and embarrassed about seeing him. After all, her loyalties were to her sister. She didn’t even know if Tom knew about Michael.

      But most of all, she was seriously anxious about spending the weekend with Nick, especially when he had his girlfriend in tow. Ever since that night in Milan when they had shared that brief kiss, her relationship with Nick had noticeably cooled. The first week back in the office was intolerable for her. Her feelings for Nick seemed to explode overnight to the point where she could hardly concentrate with him working in the next office, but it was clear that their relationship – while still close – was now purely professional and much more guarded. No more long boozy nights in the pub, ostensibly talking about the magazine, but spilling over into laughter and flirtation. No more Sunday brunches and eleven-o’clock-in-the-evening telephone calls to discuss ‘ideas’ and share their excitement. Gosh, she thought to herself in retrospect: what must Rebecca have thought about all that?

      The Mini rattled across a lonely level crossing and past a herd of cattle peeking curiously over a hedge. Thank God she’d been so busy at work she hadn’t had time to dwell on any lost love, thought Cate, turning a CD on. She was big enough to admit she missed him – his humour, his cleverness, his friendship. She banged the steering wheel with her fist. Over the years her sisters had often teased her, laughing about how useless she was at interpreting signals, but she was sure she had read the signs right with Nick. The little things he said, the way he looked at her, his willingness to spend every available second with her. The reason must be Rebecca.

      In anticipation of their meeting, Cate had spent hours that afternoon deciding what to wear. Every outfit that made her feel special also made her look ridiculously overdressed for a relaxed dinner at Tom’s. She had finally chosen a pair of her favourite jeans, a red, cowl-neck cashmere sweater and some high black Louboutin boots; the dark-red flash of the soles never failed to make her feel sexy. She had scooped her hair up into a high ponytail so it swished from side to side when she walked and had added a pair of large diamond earrings that had once been her mother’s. In all her hurry this afternoon, she had forgotten to pick up a nice bottle of wine to bring along for the evening. Spotting an off-licence ahead, she pulled up outside and hurried in to get a last-minute gift, having to settle on a cheap Bordeaux from a poor selection.

      Nick and Rebecca were already there by the time Cate drew up outside Tom’s, Rebecca’s silver TVR sitting triumphantly outside the house. Cate felt slightly sick as she knocked on the front door. This could be awful, she thought. Moments later, the door opened to reveal Tom carrying two gin and tonics. ‘Here she is!’ smiled Tom, ‘the international business-woman of the year. Watch out Rupert Murdoch!’ He stepped forward, kissed her on the cheek and thrust a glass into Cate’s hand, instantly wiping out her butterflies. He turned and led her down the long corridor towards the light-filled kitchen.

      As soon as she stepped into the room, she spotted Rebecca. Not what she was expecting, she quickly decided. She knew Rebecca would be glamorous, of course. The few times she had been to his flat, Cate had spotted Manolos on the carpet and Marni coats flung over a chair, but she hadn’t been expecting her to be quite this glamorous. God knew Nick was attractive, but he was definitely punching above his weight СКАЧАТЬ