Page 62 of The Do-Over

‘The one John Curbishley knocked up?’

‘A little crude, Alasdair, but that’s her. We had this mad property development idea, sold up and are the current proud owners of a watermill and ten acres of land in Kent.’

‘A watermill? What the hell would you want with a watermill?’

‘A question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately, strangely. We were going to convert it into a sumptuous family home and sell it on for a fat profit, but now it looks like we might be going to open it as a tourist attraction.’

‘Sorry, none of this makes sense. Well, the words make sense, but they don’t tally with the Thea I thought I knew. Are you having some kind of breakdown? An early mid-life crisis? I mean, it’s one thing to give up a partnership at one of the most prestigious law firms in the country, but this is next-level extreme. Do I need to stage an intervention?’

‘I’m fine, honestly.’

‘It doesn’t sound like it. Left to your own devices, I worry you’re going to turn into one of those weirdos who gets off on standing in the corners of rooms in National Trust buildings, hissing at people not to touch stuff. Give me the postcode. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

‘Really, Alasdair, there’s no need.’

‘There’severyneed. You patently need saving from yourself, Thea, and that’s what I’m coming to do. Oh, and also because I have an expensive bottle of fizz with your name on it. You haven’t mysteriously sprouted a husband and five adorable kids dressed in matching gingham frocks in the last nine months, have you?’

‘Even I’m not that fast.’

‘Good, because I’d be having a word with the fucker if you had. One of the finest legal minds in the land, running a sodding watermill? God help us all. Postcode, please.’

In spite of myself, I’m smiling as I give him the address of the mill. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed talking to Alasdair. His straightforward, no-nonsense approach to life might be just what I need right now. And, given that George has staged a disappearing act just at the point things were starting to get interesting, maybe some straightforward, no-nonsense sex will help me to get some perspective and cheer me up as well. Unfortunately, just as my libido starts to wake up, I realise that might prove tricky; Mum and Phil’s is out as they’ll be there and I don’t want to have to explain Alasdair to them, let alone run the risk of them overhearing anything. The mill is the other obvious place, but there’s no furniture or anything there. For a moment, I allow myself to contemplate spreading a blanket over some hay bales in the barn, before glancing at the outside temperature display in the car and seeing that it’s five degrees and we’ll freeze to death, assuming someone doesn’t come along and catch us in the act first. I’m open minded about al fresco sex, but notwhen it comes with a side helping of pneumonia and a hint of arrest for indecent exposure. Perhaps it’s for the best; I don’t want Alasdair to think he can just waltz in and pick up exactly where we left off, particularly while there’s the faintest chance of sorting things out with George.

Thinking of George again makes me realise that Alasdair has at least taken my mind off the whole sorry mess we’re in, for now at least.

28

I can’t help smiling when Alasdair pulls up outside the mill late the same afternoon. Ben and Rebecca have taken Rollo and Louis to the cinema, so I’m on my own.

‘La Porsche obligatoire?’ I ask as he climbs out of his car and we hug. ‘Has someone been made partner?’

‘Well, ever since one of the most promising junior partners in the company’s history unexpectedly threw in the towel, they’ve admitted pretty much anyone, even me,’ he quips. ‘Although I have to say, I think I’ve left a few bits of the car behind on your track. Janice sends her love, by the way.’

‘How is she?’

‘Awesome, as ever. It’s very remote out here, isn’t it? I was half expecting the satnav to start warning me that “here be dragons”.’

‘Cut it out. We’re only five miles from Ashford.’

‘Ashford? I have heard speak of this place called Ashford many years ago, I believe. Is it the city of legend, where the pavements are made of gold and the fountains flow with milk and honey?’

‘Hardly,’ I say, laughing. ‘But there is a high-speed rail link to London. Thirty-seven minutes and you’re in St Pancras. How long would it take you to get to St Pancras from your flat?’

‘Longer than that, I admit, but who wants to go to St Pancras anyway? It’s a terrible place, and the only reason to be there is if you were catching the Eurostar to get as far away from it as possible. Are you going to show me around then?’

‘You weren’t joking. It’s an actual bloody mill,’ he says in wonder a little while later. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’

‘I told you. The original plan was to convert it and sell it on, but it turned out that it was salvageable, and you can’t get permission to rip these things out unless they’re beyond saving.’

‘I feel like I’ve stepped back into the nineteenth century. And it actually works, does it?’

‘It does.’ Although it’s really nice to see Alasdair, who looks as out of place as he evidently feels, in his expensive brogues, tan chinos and immaculately ironed light blue shirt, his critical appraisal is making me feel surprisingly protective about the mill.

‘Ernest and I ground some flour earlier this week,’ I tell him proudly.

‘Who’s Ernest?’

‘He’s the guy from the Historic Industrial Buildings Trust who’s helping us.’

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