Page 69 of Wild About You

‘I guess,’ I muttered.

‘Great,’ he snapped. ‘See you around.’ But he didn’t go. He stared at the door, and he hung his head. For a moment I thought he was crying. I sat forwards, trying to urge myself to go to him. Then he turned.

‘You should know,’ he said, and his anger seemed to have drained completely away. ‘This was never just about the sex, Anna. I wanted this. I wantedyou.’ He yanked open the door and walked out.

I couldn’t have spoken if I tried. Frozen, I barely registered the sound of the front door slamming behind him. I was still sitting there when the Land Rover started up and he drove away.

CHAPTER 21

I sat in my empty cottage. I sat in a daze for an hour after Jamie left, trying not to think about the previous night in all its gorgeous pleasure, or the morning with its sadness. And of course, in spite of my trying, I thought of nothing else, so when I accidentally chipped my mug as I put it down on the counter, I started crying.

I thought my crying days were over.

I didn’t want to journal. I didn’t want to speak to Fi or Rose. I wanted Jamie.

I had a shower and dressed, but there was no way I could muster the energy to put make-up on. And when Gerald the mouse flitted past, I couldn’t even be bothered to throw a shoe at him.

In the end, I crumpled to the floor, and sat there, my back against the sofa. Willing myself to be strong, willing myself not to cry. I dragged my phone from the coffee table and dialled a number.

‘Sorry to bother you, Fi,’ I said, when she answered. ‘Is there any way you can come over? I really need a chat. I’m Snookered.’

Twenty minutes later, she was there, arms wide open, ready to listen.

‘I did think there might be chemistry between you,’ she said quietly, when I’d confided in her. ‘Do you really think there’s no chance of things working out?’ She sat beside me on the sofa, mugs of tea cooling on the coffee table nearby.

I shook my head miserably. ‘No chance at all.’

She took my hand and squeezed it, nodding gently in acceptance of what I’d said. We sat there, in the silence. No need to speak, no need for me to justify anything.

There are moments when only a best friend will do.

Three weeks passed, and somehow I managed to avoid seeing Jamie. September came with all of the heat that summer had denied us. The Stonemore Ball was preceded by dry, bright days – days so bright, and so dry, that it seemed a precursor of a long spell of autumnal drought. Climate change was never far from my mind and I felt a faint dread as the days passed, a worry that all the work we’d put into the estate so far might easily be eroded by Mother Nature.

As the ball date neared, Tally was messaged by Lucinda at all times of the day and night. At any suggestion that Lucinda might appear, I would race to another corner of Stonemore and once, memorably, even hid inside a cupboard. In the final week we all directed decorators andcaterers, briefed musicians and prepared attendance lists. It was like the fete all over again.

On the day of the ball, after we’d completed our final preparations, I went back to my desk to watch Forestcam and promptly fell asleep in my chair. I was woken up by Tobias an hour later, already in his Tom Ford suit, perfectly coiffured and smelling delicious. I trudged home rather more slowly than I should have done, and considered staying there – but I had to do this. I booked a taxi, then unzipped a clothes holder and dragged out a black cocktail dress that I’d bought not long before leaving London. After months in jeans, I was pleasantly surprised at how chic it looked: with a high halter neck that exposed my shoulders (I offered a quick thank you to the heavens for the manual work I’d been doing), the black chiffon skimmed my figure, ending in a subtle ruffle at midi length. I put on a pair of emerald-green high heels, which felt slightly like being on stilts after walking around in trainers and boots for so long. Then I made my way gingerly out of the front door to the taxi.

As I stepped into the portico of Stonemore, I could hear the noise of gathered guests and glasses clinking as I murmured my name to the lone security guard on the door, ignoring the buzz of the fourthwhere the hell are youtext from Fi. Hopping up and down on a single leg on the doormat, I took off one of my high heels and emptied out a small collection of gravel that had found its way in as I clattered across the drive.

In the next room, a harp began to play, zooming upand down the scales. Its trilling brilliance reminded me of fairytales, glass slippers, romance. All the things I had to wean myself off.

‘There you are!’ Fi appeared, draped in blue glittery fabric. ‘Comeon!’ She squeezed my shoulder. ‘Lucinda’s about to make her entrance. And you look gorgeous, by the way.’

‘You’re a very kind best friend,’ I said. We traipsed into the hall, and I grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray proffered by a waiter, keeping my head down. It was always a magnificent room but tonight its scale felt even more extraordinary; the lightwell flooded the stone and marble interior with soft evening light, and the polished wooden side tables were set with huge, flamboyant flower displays in blue and white vases, filling the room with scent.

The harpists,plural, were for Lucinda; they’d been one of her ‘non-negotiables’. They were flying through some kind of dramatic classical piece. Still, people carried on talking. Then I heard an enormousgongfrom the far corner.

‘It’s Tobias,’ Fi said under her breath. ‘She made him hit the dinner gong. I haven’t heard that in years.’

It was enough to still the crowd for a couple of seconds. And in that moment Lucinda swept into view on the top landing, between a set of pillars. At the side, I glimpsed Tally, who was desperately fiddling with the long train of the dress before diving out of sight. The gong sounded again, gathering the attention of anyone who hadn’t heard the first one. Then I saw an annoyed-looking Tobias winding his way through the guests, landing between me andFi. ‘Embarrassing,’ he hissed to us. ‘I’m asking for a bonus for doing that.’

‘Consider it done,’ murmured Fi, sipping her elderflower cordial.

‘Babe,’ Tobias nudged me and whispered. ‘What’s this?’ He made a twinkling gesture with his hands in my direction. ‘You look as hotas.’

I was spared from attempting to accept the compliment when Lucinda paused on the top stair and tipped up her chin. Everyone looked up at her.

Her dress revealed her creamy shoulders, then was tightly bodiced before it fell away in a dramatic sweep to the floor and beyond. Yes, she had a train. Behind her, on the landing, was the portrait she had taken the idea from: Lady Georgina, a member of the MacRae clan, who had married into the family. Only the ancestor wore a black dress with a tartan sash, whereas Lucinda’s dress was entirely tartan.

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