Page 19 of An Unholy Affair
Cyrille: I’m here for you. Bisous à ma petite putain.
Kisses to my little whore. Jack rolled his eyes and smiled. Cyrille may take the piss, but he never judged. Jack took a breath and opened the messages that seemed the most difficult to answer.
Estelle: I’ve told the boys. If there is anything we can do to help, you only have to ask. Promise? You can stay with me in the livery if you don’t want to be near your mum, or at the Manor as there’s always tons of rooms empty. Let me know, okay?
Henry: Estelle just rang with the news about your dad. I’m so sorry. Can I do anything? Do you want some company?
Connor: I just found out from Estelle that your dad has passed on. This must be really difficult for you in so many ways. How’s your mum doing? Your sister? Let me know if there is anything I can do. I know it’s early days, but I’ll pick up a leaflet about bereavement counselling from work. I get off shift at six if you want to meet up? Henry and Finn should be free as well. Big hugs, Connor.
Connor: Seriously, Jack, anything you need at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.
Finn: Mate, I just heard about your dad from Stelle. Want to get shitfaced?
Jack createda group chat with all of them and sent a message.
Jack: Hey all. Thanks for the messages. You up for the pub later? I need to make sure Mum’s okay first. Horse and Hounds at eight?
Finn: See you there.
Henry: Me too.
Connor: Me three.
Estelle: Me four xxx
* * *
Eveline smiledacross the small table at Leslie. ‘Well, isn’t this nice?’
They were seated by the window ofThe Colour Palate, a restaurant on Foxbrooke high street owned by local chef Leia Perry. She ran it with her boyfriend, and the food was not only local, but out of this world.
‘Indeed,’ Leslie replied.
Eveline indicated the menu in his hand. ‘Have you seen anything you like?’
He scrunched up his nose and his glasses rode higher on his face. This was the fifth time he’d done this in the last twenty minutes, and Eveline chastised herself for having counted every one.
On paper, and in person, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Leslie Porter. At thirty-five, he was the same age as her, with a pleasant face, average build and height, and all his own hair. He’d been polite and well-mannered since meeting her at the rectory, and she felt safe in his company. Of all the men she’d met through the Christian dating website, he was the most promising by far.
‘The prosciutto is hand cured and apparently the pork belly is melt-in-the-mouth,’ she said.
His glasses rode up his scrunched nose for the sixth time. ‘I don’t eat pork. It’s unclean meat.’
Eveline froze, glad she had yet to mention the two pigs currently rooting around the rectory garden, the sides of meat in the curing room she’d created upstairs, and the chest freezer full of sausages.
‘Jesus didn’t eat pork and I like to lead my life by his example,’ Leslie continued. ‘I think I’ll have the vegetable soup to start, then the fish. What about you?’
The chance for a husband and children is more important than bacon. She swallowed. ‘Sounds lovely. I’ll have the same.’
After Leia took their order, Leslie leaned forward.
‘So, Eveline, in our online exchanges, you haven’t told me anything about your family.’
Breathe. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about. ‘My father, Peter, is in the motor trade. He lives in Kent. My mother is called Diana and lives in Germany with my stepfather and half-sisters.’
Leslie’s glasses rose a centimetre. ‘Your parents aredivorced?’
Eveline pasted on a brittle smile. ‘Yes. When I was ten.’
