‘Hugh,’ Dad said, blushing like a schoolgirl. ‘You haven’t seen the best bit yet. Come on, this way.’
The three of us followed him out of the large, airy room and through a second stable door, Joe rattling on about the finishes and fixtures, me mentally planning my summer cottage staycation and Gregory absently poking at things and muttering under his breath.
‘Here it is, the highlight of the tour.’
Dad stood to one side and unveiled his masterpiece with a flourish.
‘Sorry, Dad, I’m never leaving,’ I announced. ‘I’m moving back home.’
‘You most certainly are not,’ he replied, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. ‘But I didn’t do a bad job on the bathroom, did I?’
He had done an incredible job. There were all the usual things you find in a bathroom, toilet, sink, towel rack, but they weren’t important. All that mattered was the massive, cast-iron claw-foot bathtub that sat next to the window, looking out over the rolling fields behind my parents’ garden.
‘Never really been one for a bath,’ Gregory said, twisting the sink taps. ‘Where’s the shower?’
‘Glad you asked. Behold the pièce de résistance!’
Dad crossed the room and opened a door to the garden on the other side of the bath. Outside, jutting out from the side of the cottage, was a rainfall shower the size of a dinnerplate with a smooth pebble floor beneath it and honeysuckle-covered rough stone walls enclosed the space. Two plush bathrobes hung on brass hooks, along with towels so thick the thought of how long they’d need in the drier whenever I washed them made me feel faint. Wafting us back inside, Dad turned on the taps and, immediately, the space filled with lavender-scented steam.
‘Malcolm treated us to a weekend away at Soho Farmhouse for my birthday,’ Dad explained, his glasses all fogged up. ‘Your mother was like a pig in shit the whole time, couldn’t get her out the bloody bathroom so I thought, why not recreate it at home?’
‘It’s very impressive, Hugh,’ Joe said with what sounded like genuine enthusiasm. ‘Much nicer than Soho Farmhouse, I’d say.’
Of course he’d been to Soho Farmhouse. Probably went all the time. Probably with an influencer called Haeyleigh who only wore Lululemon and made him take her photo seventeen thousand times until she was happy with her duck face pout and peace sign combo.
‘This is all well and good,’ said Gregory, backing away from the shower spray as though he might melt on contact with the water. ‘But surely you don’t expect me to stay down here?’
Dad’s smile slipped and he looked over at his friend, crestfallen.
‘You don’t like it?’
‘It’s very … rustic,’ Gregory replied, glancing down at his yellow trainers. ‘I can’t get in and out of that bath with my back and not to be rude but there’s no way on god’s green earth you’re getting me in an outdoor shower. Are you trying to kill me? We’re in England. It’s chilly at night. What do you do about nosy neighbours? What if there’s an unexpected storm while I’m soaping up and get struck by lightning? Best-case scenario, Peeping Toms. Worst-case scenario, flash-fried Gregory.’
‘There are no storms forecast and it’s perfectly warm out here.’ Dad pointed at heating panels hidden in the overhanging roof of the cottage as he turned off the water. ‘And it’s completely private, there’s no way anyone can see in.’
But Gregory held firm.
‘No, I’m sorry. If this is all you’ve got to offer, I’m going to have to head home. I wish you’d told me you were planning to have me camp out in an ancient shed when you offered me a place to stay.’
Gregory was now and always had been a knob. He didn’t mean it, he just wanted to take the wind out of my dad’s sails, but I knew Dad wouldn’t thank me for pointing it out. I didn’t realise how tightly I was keeping my mouth closed until I noticed the muscles in Joe’s jaw ticking exactly the same as mine. Both of us were biting our tongues.
‘You can’t leave before the party tomorrow,’ Dad insisted, looking to me in a panic. ‘Perhaps you could swap with Sophie?’
‘Swap?’ I repeated. ‘You mean, Gregory gets my room and I get to stay here? All weekend?’
‘If you don’t mind moving your things.’
I could’ve passed out from joy. Ditch the overcrowded house and hide out down here, soaking in the tub, reading by the fire and handfeeding squirrels and deer and any other number of Snow White-themed-activities?
‘Works for me,’ I said, already planning my bath schedule. ‘Gregory, you’re welcome to my room. I’ll clear out my stuff right now.’
‘Then it’s settled,’ Dad announced before his so-called friend could comment. ‘Gregory, you’re up in the house, and Sophie and Joe will stay in the cottage.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘Absolutely, positively, one hundred percent not.’
I glared at the three men in front of me and they stared back. Dad seemed perplexed, Gregory looked annoyed, but Joe? He was delighted.
