Page 54 of The Wedding Pact
That’ll be the day, August thought, but Mrs Haverley nodded. ‘Fine. How do you find the bed in the master?’
‘Wonderful,’ exclaimed Flynn.
‘Very soft,’ chimed in August.
‘Thank you,’ they added together.
‘I don’t like a soft bed myself, too much bounce,’ Mrs Haverley said, inspecting the doorframe. She looked directly at August then. ‘But I am old and have a bad back, of course, and you are young. I expect young people don’t mind a bit of bounce.’
Mrs Haverley stalked past them out towards Flynn’s room and August was dumbstruck for a moment. Had that been a twinkle in Mrs Haverley’s eye? Had she just made a bit of a naughty joke? No …
In Flynn’s room it was back to business, and Mrs Haverley ran her finger over the window pane like Mary Poppins checking for dust, and there was a quiet tap on the door.
August excused herself for just a moment to see who it was, and as she walked away she heard Mrs Haverley spot the scripts on the windowsill and ask, ‘What are these?’
‘Those are August’s – she’s an actress and they’re scripts, one is for an audition she has coming up,’ Flynn replied.
‘What has she been in?’ she heard her reply from the other room.
Poor guy, she’d be back to rescue Flynn in just a moment. Opening the door, expecting to find her most regular visitor, Callie, to be standing there with her yoga mat or some more baked goods, she was surprised to see a smiling, and slightly dishevelled, Abe Haverley.
‘Hello,’ August said, taking in his stubbled jaw and just-got-out-of-bed hair. He wore a sweatshirt with the sleeves drooping down over his fingers, jeans, and trainers with the laces tucked in instead of done up.
‘Morning,’ he said, his expression sheepish. ‘Is she here? I completely overslept.’
‘She’s here,’ laughed August. ‘I didn’t know you were coming along too, we’ve started “the tour” without you.’
‘Mum asked me to come down to Bath at the last minute yesterday – she needed a hand with some things – so I’m a bit all over the place.’
‘I have a pot of coffee on if you’d like one?’
‘That would be amazing.’
Abe followed her into the kitchen and she watched him as he took a gulp of the strong, black coffee she poured him from the percolator. How was this the same stuffy grump of a man they’d met on their first day? He cleared his throat and stood tall, and for a second she saw a flash of Serious Abe again, until he said, ‘Now, if Mum asks, I’m late down because I was on the phone with the internet company, all right?’ She nodded, and he grinned, placing a hand on her shoulder for a millisecond. She liked that they had a little secret, a little moment.
Returning to Flynn’s bedroom with Abe in tow, she heard that the conversation hadn’t progressed too far.
‘You’re not sure?’ Mrs Haverley was asking with incredulity. ‘You’re not sure if your wife has been on the silver screen?’
Flynn must be wracking his brain in there, August thought as she hurried back in, he must be worried about saying ‘no’ if she had and he’d forgotten.
‘He just means he’s not sure of the title,’ August said smoothly, entering the room. ‘I had a small part in an Italian film, years ago, the title is quite complicated but roughly translates as “Fun adventures on a Tuscan vineyard”.’
‘Do you speak Italian?’ Mrs Haverley asked.
‘No, thankfully I just played a tourist on a wine tour, so my couple of lines were in English. Look, Abe’s here!’
Mrs Haverley simply nodded at that, and at her son, and opened the window, sticking her head out to wipe her finger along the glass on the outside. Abe walked across the room to join her.
‘Is that true?’ Flynn whispered to August. ‘You were in an Italian movie?’
‘Mmm-hmm,’ nodded August, and then added, ‘Well, actually, no. But I did audition for it. I just didn’t get the role.’
Mrs Haverley brought her head back in, sighed, and lingered in the room for a moment longer. Without a word about the state of the window, she nodded and exited, as swiftly as she’d entered. She and Abe moved through the bathroom and kitchen with a similar tight-lipped rigidity, and with every passing minute August and Flynn could feel beads of sweat forming at the back of their necks.
Back in the living room Mrs Haverley faced them, her mouth pinched, and regarded the two of them for a moment.
August reached for Flynn’s hand to add an extra layer of happy-couple-dom, at which Mrs Haverley gave a curt nod and turned towards the door. ‘Everything seems in order,’ she said, her long fingers clasped over the doorknob. Looking over her shoulder back at them she asked, ‘Nothing is broken or causing bother, I trust?’
