Cate remembered how it felt driving first Oli, then Max, to Phil and Evan’s old school. They still seemed like babies, but she was amazed how they’d thrived at Hillingdon, returning each holiday with a confident swagger Phil had never possessed.
She handed Lucy a linen towel to dry her hands. ‘It’s strange to think the count and his wife are going to be living in our house whilst we’re in theirs. A fifteenth-century palazzo – it seems so unreal. I wish the TV people had sent through some pictures.’
‘They’ll want to capture your faces when you see the place for the first time. But it’s not the house that’s bothering you, is it?’
‘I’m fine.’ Cate smoothed her hair behind her ears. ‘Let’s go back outside. I might need to rescue Phil from that new golf-club buddy; he can be a bit of a bore.’
‘Wait.’ Lucy laid her hand on Cate’s, her damp sleeve brushing against Cate’s arm. ‘I don’t want to pry but…’ She turned her head pointedly in the direction of the expanse of lawn, mowed into neat stripes.
Cate followed her gaze. Phil stood by the tennis court talking to their new next-door neighbour, leaning in close, his mouth almost touching her ear. He threw back his head and laughed; she tossed her wavy, black hair.
Lucy dropped her voice. ‘If you need to talk, we could go out for a coffee. I’ve been through it myself… more than once. Evan’s always been a hard dog to keep on the porch, as they say in the States.’
Cate stared at her. ‘What are you saying? You think Phil and that woman…? No, that can’t be right! Kiran’s just a friendly neighbour. We’ve had her and her husband round for dinner a couple of times; they seem very happy together.’
‘But where’s the husband now?’
‘Away, working. His water-filter company has contracts all over the world.’
‘Well, when the cat’s away…’ Lucy let the rest of her sentence hang. ‘Come on, let’s get another glass of fizz.’
Cate followed her out onto the terrace, feeling, she imagined, like someone being led through the wreckage of a gas explosion.
‘Pineapple, strawberry and mango kebab?’ One of next-door’s girls was holding out a tray.
‘Uh, yes… thanks.’ Cate stood holding the stick of chargrilled fruit. Phil wasn’t having an affair. She’d know; she was sure she would. But somethingwasoff. Six weeks ago, he’d been thrilled they’d been selected forLuxe Life Swap.They’d had great fun with Lucy and Evan trying to guess where the show would send them – for some reason, they’d all thought of Lisbon. But since the information on their trip to Venice had arrived, her husband had become uncharacteristically snappy. This evening, amongst their closest friends, she could tell by the set of his shoulders, his forced bonhomie, that something wasn’t quite right. But an affair? What nonsense. Phil wasn’t the type.
Cate usually loved their summer parties, the perfect opportunity for their adult friends to get together during those few weeks of peace before the chaos of the school holidays began but thanks to Lucy’s insinuations, she couldn’t relax.
Finally, the last drink was downed, the last four-by-four reversed off the drive.
She climbed the stairs to the bedroom. Ted was lying on the rug. She’d long given up on confining him to his dog bed in the kitchen. He cocked a quizzical ear.
‘I’ll miss you, lovely boy,’ Cate said. ‘But you’ll be fine whilst we’re away; the Venetians are animal lovers. They’ve promised to walk you twice a day; I made sure of that. You’ll be on TV. How do you fancy that?’
‘I don’t suppose he’s too bothered.’ Phil’s voice came from the doorway. ‘But he’ll be a star, our Ted. Who could resist that soppy old face?’ He crouched down to pat him.
‘I wish I’d got my packing done.’ Cate glanced towards her empty suitcase.
‘We’re not leaving until lunchtime. We’ll set the alarm for seven. You’ll have plenty of time to pack and then I’ll run you down to The Evergreens.’
‘I’ve still got to—’ Cate began.
‘He’s your dad, Cate. I wish I’d spent more time with mine.’
‘I know you do.’ Cate slipped her arms around her husband’s waist, tilted her head against his shoulder, felt his head rest against hers. She breathed in the familiar scent of his newly washed shirt, the Aqua di Parma cologne he’d worn on their wedding day that she’d bought him every Christmas since.
‘I love you,’ Phil murmured. He said it so rarely, it meant the world to her when he did.
‘I love you too.’ Cate turned her neck, looking into his sincere, grey-blue eyes. Lucy was so, so wrong. Whatever had been distracting Phil these last few weeks, it definitely wasn’t a secret lover.
‘I can come to The Evergreens, if you like. I could have a cup of tea with the carers; you know I can’t resist their ginger biscuits.’
‘It’s okay, there’s no need. I know you want to drop into the new showroom. Just pick me up after an hour. I can manage that.’
‘Okay, darling. You get off to bed now. I’ve just got to catch up on a bit of work in the study.’
Cate hovered in the bedroom door, watching him walk downstairs. The Evergreens wasn’t a bad place. Everything about it, from the perfectly pruned roses at the entrance to the old, music-hall tunes piped through the corridors, was chosen with care. And the scent of lilies in the entrance hall – despite their unfortunate funeral-parlour connotations – was far superior to the aroma of oxtail soup and disinfectant that hung around some of the places Cate had considered for her dad and swiftly dismissed.
