‘But I don’t have anything to wear…’
‘Nonsense. I know for a fact you have that blue dress hanging in the staff loos. That would be perfect. I can’t stress how much fun this will be. It’ll do you good after all you’ve been through recently.’
Did anything escape this woman? Mind you, more notable than her knowledge of Rosy’s wardrobe was the fact that she appeared to have just demonstrated empathy. That had never happened in living memory. And champagne fountains did sound exactly what Rosy needed right now.
Before she knew it, she was sitting in a car with Marion Marksharp, wearing a dress that was too tight, questioning her sanity and clutching to the side of her seat, both hands almost white-knuckled as Marion appeared to have become a rally driver the minute she got behind the wheel.
Rosy had lived in Cornwall for several years now, but had never been down any of these lanes that Marion was now hurtling along, occasionally reversing at speed and singing Celine Dion louder than a whole school assembly. With the hedgerows high and joining like fairy woods (but with a bit more menace – the dark February evening did not lend itself to dreams of midsummer), Rosy began to long for the reassurance of satnav, although she knew that using it around this part of Cornwall was a daft idea – you always ended up in the arse end of nowhere, surrounded by cows or out to sea wondering why you hadn’t stopped at the obvious. Locals used old-fashioned directions and tried to get holidaymakers to do the same, but it was usually a losing battle. Right now, though, satnav would have reassured her that she wasn’t being kidnapped and held to ransom until she too promised to dress only in Cath Kidston. Her empty house was beginning to look like the better of the two options.
She closed her eyes and prayed as Marion hit some very sharp bends and careered down one particularly heart-twistingly steep hill before she realized that the driving had suddenly levelled out and the singing – if you could call it that – had stopped. Opening her eyes, she saw heart-shaped lights sparkling down a very long driveway. This must be it!
Marion drove down very slowly as Rosy stared out of the window, slightly awed by the beauty of the approach, the artful nature of the lighting twisted through the trees illuminating the way. They reached a horseshoe driveway with some truly swish cars parked on it. Half of her wanted Marion to reverse back out and take her home; it was a little intimidating. Only half, though – the other half was itching to get inside and see what else there was. This house was truly modern, and designed to be hidden. And effectively so, seeing that she had never heard of or seen it before. It must be one of the area’s best kept secrets. Her interest was piqued. She could hear that nasal voice in her head:and who would live in a house like this?That was a question she was interested in answering.
She wandered through the front door and just stood in the foyer drinking it in. It was all very modern and open plan, with lots of clean lines and glass. The entrance hall was vast, and full of people milling around. Waitresses meandered through the crowd offering drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and there in the centre was a pink champagne fountain. Wow! She had never actually drunk from one of those before, only ever seen them on television. The whole space was artfully decorated with hearts and cherubs and seraphim but in an attractive way, not an in-your-face garish way. No wonder Marion had avoided cutting out millions of card hearts this year; she clearly had an extravaganza to organize. The woman must be mad doing this alongside the school disco. Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum. Speaking of which… Rosy scanned the room – where was Marion? They had exited the car together and wandered in through the entrance hall and thenpoof, like the Scarlet (sequinned) Pimpernel she was gone. Surely this was her perfect dream – shouldn’t she be somewhere in the crowd, making friends and scaring people?
‘Hello. Pleased to meet you.’ Rosy was taken by surprise as a young man, beautifully dressed, approached her and introduced himself. ‘I’m Chase. You look lost. How about I take your coat and give you a tour?’
‘Thanks, that would be really kind.’ Rosy smiled up at him and his American accent and slipped out of her coat, praying that he wouldn’t spot the Asda label inside. She doubted supermarket clothes had ever graced this house before. ‘I’m Rosy, I did come with Marion Marksharp but she’s disappeared. I was just scanning the room for her and can’t see her anywhere.’
‘Oh yes’ – Chase also had a quick glance about – ‘that’s odd, she’s normally at the centre of everything. Honestly, she’s a marvel, I’ve never met a woman who can organize like she can. If she had been born a couple of generations earlier you guys really would have won the war and been home by Christmas.’
Rosy choked on her drink and spat all down herself. Great.
‘I wasn’t being rude, I’ve known her for ages – she is an amazing woman. Amazing. I don’t know how she does it!’
Rosy managed to keep her eyebrows in place rather than letting them shoot up to her hairline and decided to go with a non-committal smile and nod. She was going to take a bit more convincing.
Chase held his arm out for her jacket, which she handed to him, carefully folded over, taking advantage of the moment to look him up and down.
He was handsome enough – actually, he was bordering on devastating. Could love be like buses, none for ages and thenwhoosh, they all come at once? Blond and tall and built, he looked like some Norse god. A smattering of hair on his chin contributed to the look and there was no escaping his eyes, a bright but deep cornflower blue that looked as if they could see right through you. He shone with confidence; there was no way this man didn’t get what he wanted, and you wanted to be the one who gave it to him.
Then a flash of Matt’s dark curls and scrunched eyes whizzed into her head. She shook it to try and get rid of the image quickly. Now was not the time to be daydreaming about him, not when she had a perfect specimen of manhood right here, bang in front of her, holding her jacket and smiling a welcome.
Alas, as she looked at him she could see that his eyes didn’t quite crinkle like Matt’s, and his hands were beautifully smooth, manicured perfectly, not covered in scratches and wrinkles and dripping with mud. So much for boundaries and The Rule. As much as she wished she were attracted to beautifully smelling, perfectly groomed Vikings in swish houses, it seemed the unconscious part of her was not prepared to make life that easy.
‘Right, let’s go and pop this away then and I’ll introduce you to everybody, Rosy.’
‘OK. Do you know everyone here?’ she asked as she followed him to a door leading off the main room. She hoped that was a cloakroom and she wasn’t just being swept off to a secluded room with a stranger! She figured she’d know when he opened the door, and she could always run for it.
‘Not everyone, I didn’t know you, but nearly, yes. It’s my house!’
Rosy watched as he turned the handle and combined watching with blushing, not out of attraction but embarrassment at her stupidity. He and the house were a perfect match – it was so obvious. And he wasn’t leading her somewhere to hit on her, he was being a great host and making her welcome. When would she learn? Perhaps if she just never uttered a word again, that could solve all problems. Although maybe not so good for her working life, but at least the children would learn how to sign.
She was so lost in embarrassment she had stopped paying attention to the cloakroom only to be alerted again by Chase suddenly blurting out in surprise, ‘Oh my God… right, OK…’ and slamming the door shut again with Rosy’s coat still in his hand.
‘Um, perhaps we should put this somewhere else.’ He turned towards Rosy, hunching his shoulders and beginning to walk away. Rosy, however, was stuck to the spot. Surely she hadn’t just glimpsed what she thought she had? But she had, and there was no unseeing it now. She would forever have the sight of Mrs Marksharp in flagrante with her husband in a cupboard. It would appear the way she drove had nothing on the speed with which she tracked down her husband!
Rosy followed Chase. He still had her coat after all, and there was no way she’d be opening that cupboard door and hanging it up herself. She felt a shudder at the thought of it.
Once they had placed some distance between the cloakroom and themselves, he turned and gave her a look and that was it, the two of them collapsed into contagious giggles.
‘It is Valentine’s,’ Chase snorted.
‘I know but still, I never thought that was a sight I’d see.’
‘Well, they have a strong relationship, that’s a good thing.’
‘You don’t have to look over the table at them during the next governors’ meeting. How will I keep a straight face?’
