Page 35 of Wild About You

‘No!’ I cried. ‘Not that it would be a disaster if we had. I could do with a bit of fun.’ She glanced at me warningly. ‘We did attempt a kiss, though.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ She wheeled around and caught my arm.

‘Let’s see,’ I said. ‘Number one, you’ve had a lot to deal with. Number two, it was just a kiss. Number three, it’s not going to lead anywhere, and I’m fine with that.’

She stared at me in the early spring sunshine, the wind rifling her hair. ‘Please be careful, Anna.’ She stomped on. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.’

‘I didn’t tellanyone,’ I said. ‘I’m trying, Fi – trying not to, I don’t know,bleedover everyone! I might be walking wounded at the moment, but I don’t want to bring other people intomyissues. I’ve got to get on top of things and start dealing with things on my own. You know?’

She waited a minute, still assessing me. ‘Right,’ she said finally. ‘But I’m always here. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ I said. ‘Come on, before I sober up completely and leave you to do that photocopying on your own.’

‘Hug?’ she said. I nodded, and we clutched each other.She gives good hugs, Fi; I never trust a friend whose hugs are less than two seconds long, and she’s a good three or four.

‘You really unsettled Jamie,’ she said, as she unlocked the door to the staff office. ‘The way he looked at you when you said you might leave.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Like you’d pulled the rug out from under him,’ she said.

My stomach inexplicably did a back flip. Daytime champagne, never a good idea.

‘He probably deserves it,’ I said airily.

‘So cruel, Anna,’ chided Fi.

I smiled. I was definitelynotgoing to start feeling sorry for Jamie.

CHAPTER 11

Why I agreed to get on a horse, I have no idea. I can only put it down to the fact that I hadn’t had my second cup of coffee and was too bleary-eyed to really understand what I was getting into. Also, Jamie had annoyed me yet again, which seemed to be a determining factor in most of my actions.

I’d been worrying about not getting enough work done, before Fi pointed out that it was generally accepted that no one did any work whilst Roshni, George and their boys were around. They had brought holiday time to Stonemore. Bearing that in mind, I spent a good hour with Roshni discussing the difficulties of her London garden, and finally managed to recover the ability to speak rationally in her presence, largely because it was impossible to be intimidated by someone whose laugh was so raucous.

Each morning the boys tore through the house with Hugo, hallooing at volunteers, staff and visitors alike,followed cheerfully by Roshni who disciplined their descent (‘donottouch that vase, Jake’) and more slowly by George, who was usually complaining about the broadband – even though, as Roshni explained, she was the only one who hadimportantwork to catch up on. They would eventually end up in our office, where amusements would be arranged (the first full day involved a ‘Land Rover safari’ with Callum).

This particular morning, Hugo led the charge, appearing a good thirty seconds before anyone else and launching himself into my lap. I was busy stroking his ears when the boys arrived.

‘Anna Annabel Annie!’ Jake cried. He had an excellent, if approximate, memory for names. ‘We’re going on a horsey today!’

‘Jake, don’t shout at Anna.’ Roshni and Kes had arrived, this time with George and Jamie. I smiled brightly at the family and tapped away at my computer.

‘Lucinda’s lined up a riding excursion,’ said Roshni. ‘Will you be joining us, Tally? She says there’s room for adults too.’

The alarm on Tally’s face was plain for all to see. Surely she hadn’t faked knowing how to ride? I’d started to suspect her carefully cultivated façade of competency was just that. The previous day she’d gone into a meltdown when attempting to enter a calculation into Excel. But pretending to ride? Like rats in London, you were never more than three feet away from a horse at any given time in Stonemore. She must have known she’d be caught out.

‘I can’t,’ she chuntered. ‘I’m wearing vintage Chanel today. And I’m inundated with work. The paintings conservator will arrive at any minute. Maybe you can take Anna – she looks horse-ready – it’s not as if she’ll ruin her clothes.’

I raised my eyebrows at her for the unfair shot. So, okay, I hadn’t managed to put any make-up on today (lipstick goal: failed). And I was still wearing jeans, boots and a Scandi-style sweater. But I was clean! I was wearing perfume! And there was no reason to throw me in the path of thundering hooves.

Tally’s mobile rang and she hurried off with it.

‘Looks like it’s every woman for herself, Anna,’ said Roshni. ‘Will you join us?’

‘No.’ Jamie and I spoke in unison, providing a response so loud, and in stereo, that everything stopped. Even Kes paused from flicking his brother’s right ear.

‘I beg your pardon?’ I said indignantly, finally letting myself look at Jamie. Either he’d been drinking whisky first thing in the morning or he was blushing with embarrassment. A definite first. As was the fact that beneath his waxed jacket, he was wearing jeans (posh jeans, no doubt), along with worn brown Chelsea boots and a copper-coloured sweater that looked as though it cost a month’s salary (my salary, that is). Or maybe it was just him – his high and mighty attitudemadethings look expensive.

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