‘Of course.’
Luke nods but I can tell he’s got something on his mind.
‘You said we should be supportive,’ I remind him. ‘And she needs the help.’
‘I just wonder if it’s the right thing to keep giving her little bits of money every now and then. We don’t know what she spends it on.’
‘Family is family, right? But that doesn’t just apply to your family; it applies to my family too – no matter how dysfunctional we are. I mean, it’s easy to be there for your family. They’re all so lovely and it comes back the other way, too. My family are more … challenging.’
Luke sighs. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I just didn’t think of it that way.’
‘You wanted me not to run the other direction when things are uncomfortable, when things are emotionally difficult, andI’m doing my best, Luke. And it’s not like I didn’t warn you what she was like.’
He leans over and kisses me. ‘How did you get to be so wise and wonderful?’
It warms me that he chose that last word to describe me. Even so, heat creeps into my cheeks. ‘I don’t know about that.’
‘Well, I do.’ He lies down, putting his head on my lap, facing up to look at me and lets out a long, slow breath. ‘Thank you, Jess. I must admit, I was so tired when I got in that I wasn’t really in the mood for this, but now I realize it’s exactly what I need.Youare exactly what I need.’
I smile and kiss him on the top of his nose.Mrs Wonderfulmode well and truly activated.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LUKE
Five Months Before the Anniversary Party
He can almost smell the money in the air as he arrives in Dulwich Village. It’s hard to believe he’s driven through rough areas and council estates on his way to this leafy and rather affluent suburb of South East London. The sort of people who live here can afford to send their boys to the exclusive private school nearby that has spawned politicians and literary greats for generations.
He pulls into the carriage driveway and up to the side of a large, white Georgian house. Stunning. He hasn’t even stepped out of the car before Elena comes running out of the front door, a huge grin on her face. Also stunning. Her dark wavy hair is loose, flowing over her shoulders, and her eyes are shining.
‘Gorgeous, isn’t it?’ she asks, with that slight twang of a Colombian accent that he hardly notices anymore.
He gets out of the car and closes the door behind him. ‘Yes,’ is all he says in reply. There are more words to describe this beautiful grand dame of a house, thousands probably, but none of them are within his reach right now; he’s too caught up takingin her lines and proportions, her tall windows and long veranda with black-painted wrought-iron posts.
‘Come,’ Elena says, beckoning him. ‘Come look inside!’
He catches a whiff of her perfume as she hugs him quickly, then she grabs his hand and practically drags him through the front door and into a hallway with smooth York flagstones and an elegant staircase with a carved mahogany handrail atop an ironwork banister. He steps closer to look at the details. The scotia moulding along the stringer run alone is enough to make his mouth water. And the gilded details on the metal uprights … chef’s kiss.
‘Is this original?’ he asks.
‘Some. A few sections were damaged, but the craftsmen did a good job patching her up, no?’
‘No … I mean, yes. I can’t even see the joins.’
Elena smiles at him. ‘I knew you would appreciate this! I talk to my friends and tell them what I do, but no one else gets how satisfying something like this is.’
He smiles back, thinking to the half-second glance his wife gave his phone when he showed her the pictures of this place. ‘No, they don’t.’
He spends the next hour investigating every nook and cranny of the house, which is furnished and styled, ready for the new owners to move into. Elena has done one heck of a job with the design on this one.
They end up in the kitchen, which has three sets of French doors that lead onto the veranda. It’s full of marble and clean lines, yet still feels homely. He spots the reclaimed church pews instantly. They look even better in the flesh – or the grain – however you are supposed to put it.
‘Did you buy this one to flip it?’ he asks, seriously impressed. The price tag on a house like this has to be upwards of three million.
‘God, no,’ Elena replies, laughing. ‘This is beyond my budget. I did the design and also project-managed the restoration for the owners.’ She wistfully runs her slim, elegant fingers along the marble worktop. ‘I haven’t flipped any houses in the last couple of years, but I’m thinking I’d like to get back into it.’ She meets his gaze, a cheeky glint in her eye. ‘Are you interested? You always said you might be one day. I could do with a partner.’
He looks around the light, airy space, despite the deep colour of the cabinets. What he wouldn’t give to work on something like this. While even if they combined resources they wouldn’t be able to stretch to this, maybe they could one day. It would certainly beat pouring the concrete foundation for yet another conservatory.
