Page 14 of The Price of Love
‘The others.’
‘What, the film?’
‘No, theothers. My brothers and Bree. What are they going to say when they find out that Ganda didn’t just leave me that nose, that therewasreal money, and they didn’t get any of it?’
Katie chewed thoughtfully. ‘Well. For one thing, we don’t know that what he left them didn’t have any money attached. I mean, maybe those books that Ocean got will turn out to be worth millions. Has he tried eBay?’
‘Ocean thinks eBay is a place in Bermuda.’
‘All right, but you never know. And that allotment, maybe there’ll turn out to be oil, or diamonds or something underneath it.’
‘Katie, I think all this talk of money has turned your brain. Evenif— and it is an if so enormous that you probably can’t even comprehend its size — that did turn out to be the case, I don’t think that anyone would pay anything for Ash’s boots. And the dogs . . . cute, yes. Crufts winners, no.’
Katie shrugged and tossed another ball of chocolate into her mouth. ‘Okay then.’ She cudded like a bovine for a few seconds. ‘So, are we dossing off work then, or what? I mean, comeon, Willow, there is a time and a place for sensible discussions and family loyalty and I am here to tell you that right now isnot it.’
‘What, not go in? How will they manage?’
‘Wills, darling, you’re the ad sales manager at the local free paper. One where the headline “Man Finds Cheese” once ran for three weeks. They will manage, trust me. Neil and Clive will cover for us.’
Her enthusiasm was catching and, do you know, once I’d started spending money it became a lot easier. We didn’t exactly clean out the local shops, but we left a lot of clear floor spaceand bare shining chrome in our wake. I bought Katie some clothes, and then we hit Mothercare and I splashed out on the twins, bought myself a gorgeous leather jacket which I’d coveted secretly for months, had an enormous lunch in a bistro neither of us had dared enter before, but did so now with our Monsoon bags held up like status badges and I rolled home just before dark. My arms were full of fresh flowers from the market. Their smell was enough to send my spirits soaring, let alone the knowledge that, even when this lot came off my credit card, and with all the other considerations taken into account, I was still going to have an indecent amount of money left.
Plus, and I hardly dared even to whisper the prospect to myself, if Ganda’s invention went well, there would beanother four hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Dear God, I’d never have to work again. I pushed open the front door with my shoulder. I could run off to some Greek island and sell shell creations on the beach, or buy myself a little cottage in the Highlands and write a bestseller. Or — I began sorting through the flowers, grouping them into vases — I could buy that smallholding I’d always been on about. Only the need to earn a living and pay the bills had forced me to stay at the paper. Ever since I’d snuck downstairs one night at Ganda’s and caught him watching repeats ofThe Good Life, the idea of being self-sufficient had called to me. Having chickens and geese and growing herbs to sell, and wearing flowing dresses and big sunhats and wandering dreamily barefoot through an orchard of flowering cherry trees with an impossibly perfect man on one arm and an immaculate and silent child on the other.
There was a knock at the door and my dream bubble took flight. Standing alongside a pristine convertible Morgan, bearing a hefty amount of flowers, was Luke. I had completely forgotten about him.
‘Oh!’
‘Sorry, did I take you by surprise? I’m a few minutes early, I know, but something’s come up and . . . are you all right?’
‘Umm, yes. Luke, I’ve had some news.’
But Luke didn’t let me finish. He pushed the flowers forward at me. ‘I’m really, frantically sorry about this. These are for you, by the way. But I have to fly out to New York first thing in the morning. James has had some kind of emergency and, look, I won’t bore you with the details but . . .’
He looked perfect, with his hair artfully disarranged, pale linen jacket over cream chinos. So perfect it almost hurt.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘’S okay.’
‘No, Willow, it’s not.’ Luke stepped up close, pressing the flowers against me with his body. The smell of crushed rose petals was almost overwhelming. ‘That’s why I, God, I hope I haven’t taken the most awful liberty here, but, look, I’ve booked a hotel. For us? Next weekend? In the Lake District? If, andpleasetell me if I’m really out of order here, if it’s all right?’
A picturesque breeze ruffled his hair and lifted the edges of some lilies. They brushed against my wrist like a kiss. ‘I think that would be perfect,’ I half-whispered.
Then he had to dash off, something to do with paperwork and visas and suchlike, but it didn’t matter. I was practically orbital, hugging the bouquets to me and whirling around the living room, scattering bits of foliage as I went. Next weekend! A hotel, double room, I hoped. I mean, a man wanting to go away for the weekend was hardly anticipating brisk walks and nightly cold baths, was he? And, even better, I had a whole week to prepare.And, evenbetter— in fact I nearly wet myself with how sensationally brilliant the timing was — I had enough money to buy some quite staggeringly lovely clothes. Underwear, shoes, oh, and I must buy some gorgeous perfume so that, even naked, I’d be classy.
I wandered around, dazed by the faultless synchronicity of it all, and slightly stupefied by the flower scents in the air. The dining table looked like a florist’s practice room, with half-made-up bunches and vases solely filled with daffodils or catkin stems. And some of these flowers had been bought for meby a man. A proper, good-looking, affluent man, who I fancied and wasn’t sick on all the time. God, life was good.
A sudden roar from the road outside indicated that life was about to get worse by a factor of ten as Ash pulled his bike up onto the pavement and came stomping through the open front door. ‘Willow? Oh, fuck, did somebody die?’
‘Shut up, Ash. So, to what do I owe the total nonpleasure? Don’t tell me, you forgot to take the power cable for the laptop this morning.’
‘Nah. Well, kind of. Cal wanted to have a word with you about the laptop, that’s all. Reckons there’s more to it than just a faulty connection.’
‘Have either of you ever heard of the telephone?’ I wanted to be left alone to hug my secrets to me, possibly to ring Katie and hold a hushed, wondrous conversation about designer knickers.
‘I was on my way over there, thought I’d pick you up as I came past.’
‘All right.’ I sighed, and thrust some floppy stems into the sink. ‘Just a minute.’ Then a thought struck me. ‘Ash, have you moved in with him?’
‘Who, Cal?’
