At Home With The Templetons (34 page)

Gracie frowned. ‘Spencer, I told you ‘

Tom unself-consciously put his arm around her. ‘Maybe we’ve time to go for one, Gracie.’

‘One?’ Spencer said. ‘Better than nothing, I guess. It’ll have to be your round, though. I’m skint.’

Two hours later, she, Spencer and Tom were still in the pub two streets away. Spencer was in high-octane form. He’d been away with Hope and Victor, he explained. Touring Wales with them, as they searched for a possible location for another of their rehabilitation clinics.

‘I’m kind of Hope’s pet, Gracie, aren’t I?’ Spencer said. ‘That’s one word for it. Charlotte’s word is parasite.’ ‘Gracie! Don’t listen to a word Charlotte says.’ He turned to Tom. ‘Hope had an epiphany, Tom. Did Gracie tell you? A true miracle. The skies opened above her one day, a large hand appeared, a finger pointed and a deep voice said, “Never drink again, fall in love with a very rich, very old ex-alcoholic called Victor and spend the rest of your days spoiling your favourite and only nephew Spencer.” And like magic, that’s exactly what happened. Neither of us have looked back since.’ ‘Congratulations to you both,’ Tom said. Gracie just rolled her eyes.

Spencer laughed. ‘Gracie, just because Hope appointed me the Chosen One, there’s no need to be so scornful.’

‘The Chosen One? Spencer, you bleed her dry and I’m amazed you get away with it.’

‘Bleed her dry? I’ll have you know I work hard for every penny she gives me. I’m her Voice of Youth. I keep her in touch with what the young people of today are thinking, what drugs they’re taking, what they like to drink too much of. You think those clinics of hers are so successful without that kind of insider knowledge? She needs me as much as I need her. It’s the perfect relationship.’ He lifted his pint, took a big swallow, then grinned again. ‘Enough about Hope and me. Let’s just talk about me.’

At first Gracie laughed alongside Tom at all the stories Spencer told of misadventures in his social life, calamities in his occasional work life. Officially he was taking a gap year before doing his A levels and going to university. Unofficially he had no intention of doing either. He told Tom - Gracie already knew - that all he really wanted to be was rich, as quickly and easily as

possible. So far, though, it had been all pain and no gain. His attempts to get work in share trading had failed. The music business was his next goal, he’d decided. Not as a performer but as a manager, where the real money was. Unfortunately the closest he’d got to any musicians was picking up glasses in a nearby venue, and he was already on a warning there for sneaking drinks from the bar. He somehow made it funny.

‘I’m starting to think it might have something to do with me,’ he said. ‘It’s all right for you, Tom, basking in the love of a grateful sporting nation, your talent moulded and coaxed and cherished,

a place in the cricket academy set aside for you, like a seat at the throne of some royal sporting kingdom. What about serfs like me? The talentless scum of the earth? Do you need someone to bleach your whites? Polish your bat? Carry your ball’

Gracie decided she’d had enough of feeling stuck in a locker room with a thirteen-year-old. ‘Okay, Spencer, thanks. We get the idea.’

He turned his attention to her. ‘We? “We get the idea.” The royal we? The royal couple?’ He laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. ‘How long has this been going on between you? A week? Ten days at the, most? No need to carry on as if you’re about to celebrate your fiftieth wedding anniversary, up there on your fluffy white lovey-dovey cloud, Gracie.’ He took a big sip of his drink. His fifth pint. He was drinking two rounds for every one of theirs. So far, Tom had bought every round. ‘Excuse me for putting a dampener on love’s young dream and all of that, but a little look at the facts of the situation here mightn’t do you any harm. In the real world, Gracie, there are things called holiday romances. Have had one or two of them myself, as it happens. Nothing like being a glass collector to be able to scope out a room for visiting international beauties. They come, I see, I conquer. Now, young Tom here, sure, he looks like a gentleman on the outside, beautiful manners, as my mother didn’t stop banging on about on the phone last night - “And he cooks too. No wonder Gracie is smitten”.’ He did an uncomfortably good imitation of Eleanor’s voice. ‘But my role in this family is to keep us all real, Gracie, and I don’t want you thinking more of this than there is, okay? Tom’s here on a holiday. He’ll be gone without a backward glance one day soon and it’s up to me to keep your feet on the ground and stop you from getting too attached or too hurt, or thinking ‘

Gracie didn’t stop to hear any more. She stood, picked up her red coat and was outside seconds later, hands shaking from anger or the cold wind, she wasn’t sure which. In less than a minute she’d gone back in time, back to being the little girl standing on the sidelines as Tom and Spencer hatched plans and had fun without her. How dare Spencer come crashing in like this, reclaim Tom as if they were back playing at the Templeton Hall dam again. And why hadn’t Tom said something, stood up for her, stood up for what was happening between them? Because what Spencer had said was true? Of course. That was it. How could she have been so stupid? It was just a holiday romance for Tom, a little interlude overseas before he went back home and his life was taken over by cricket once and for all …

She heard the door open behind her, then a voice.

‘If we hurry, we’ll be able to get to the five o’clock session.’ She spun around. Tom was there, buttoning his coat, carrying her scarf. She’d left it on the back of her chair.

She said nothing, just stared at him.

‘Unless you don’t want to go to the cinema any more? Pity. I liked the sound of that film.’

‘What about Spencer?’

‘I don’t think Spencer would like the sound of that film. In fact, Spencer isn’t invited to see that film.’

‘You don’t want to stay in there? Stay with him?’

Tom pretended to give the idea some consideration. ‘Let me think. Choice one. Stay in a pub and watch an old childhood friend get progressively more drunk and insulting. Choice two, go to see a film with my beautiful, non-holiday romance girlfriend, just the two of us. Or maybe not go and see a film. Go for a walk. Go and count bridges. Do anything that keeps me close to her for as long as possible. I really can’t decide.’

‘But he’s your friend. I thought you were enjoying it.’

‘He’s your brother. I thought you were enjoying it. Sorry, Gracie. I’m not a big drinker. A few pints do me.’

‘So why did you stay as long as you did?’

‘Because he’s your brother. Because he was - is - my friend. I liked him. I still like him. I just didn’t like the rubbish he started to spout at the end. When he sobers up, I’ll tell him. Rule number one for dealing with intoxicated patrons, Gracie.’ He smiled. ‘Spencer’s not the only one who’s worked in bars. You can’t talk sense to anyone when they’re drunk.’

Gracie relaxed.

He gently draped the scarf around her neck, once, twice, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. ‘So, the film? Or the walk? Or the bridges?’

‘Can we just go home?’ ‘Option four, you mean?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Can we run rather than walk? Hail a taxi, even?’

She smiled. ‘There’s the minor problem of Spencer having a key. I suppose I could always get the locks changed.’

‘Poor Spencer. Do you want to check he’s okay before we leave?’

She hesitated. Right now, she’d be happy if she never saw Spencer again. She always forgot what a troublemaker he could be. But he was her little brother. Her too-often insulting, annoying, misbehaving little brother … She should say goodbye at least. She put her head back in through the pub door. Spencer was up on a table brandishing a pool cue like a guitar, miming to a Bon Jovi song on the jukebox. A pair of pretty young women were cheering him on. She called his name several times. He didn’t hear her.

‘Bye, Spencer,’ she said. Then, linking arms with Tom, she turned and

walked down the street towards home.

Over the next week, Gracie kept waiting for something to change between them, for the gloss to fade. It didn’t happen. It got brighter. London became an enchanted city, filled with beautiful buildings she and Tom wanted to see, plays and films and comedy they wanted to watch, parks and gardens they wanted to visit together. The sun shone five days in a row. They even managed another night out with Spencer, a good night this time, a pizza together and then a band in a local pub. Spencer spent most of the evening pointing out how well behaved he was being.

One afternoon, Gracie was surprised to get a phone call from Hope. Her aunt got straight to the point. ‘Gracie, I hear things have become quite serious between you and this Tom Donovan. I think I should meet him again, don’t you? Cast my approval. No arguments, please.’

The next day she and Tom were standing outside the Dorchester Hotel in Mayfair, as ordered. Tom had been happy to agree, curious to see the ‘new Hope’ in action.

‘Don’t be nervous of her, will you?’ Gracie said to him as they walked in through the grand entrance. ‘She’s really quite different these days.’

‘I’m not nervous,’ Tom said.

‘She’s sober, but she’s still herself, if you know what I mean. Quite sharp-tongued, but there’s nothing to be afraid of.’

He laughed. ‘I’m not afraid, Gracie. I think you’re the one who is.’

She stopped. ‘You’re right. I am. I’m terrified.’

Hope was sitting in one of the prime positions in the elegant lounge area of the hotel. She stood up, looking every inch the rich, successful woman, dressed in a beautifully tailored crimson suit, very high shoes, her face perfectly made up, her dark-brown hair cut in an expensive and flattering style. Gracie thought of her mother, too busy with her two teaching jobs to spend time on fashion and make-up. She preferred her mother’s looks.

Hope gave her a dramatic kiss on each cheek, told her in an off-hand way that she was looking lovely and then turned her full attention to Tom, gazing from top to bottom.

‘Well, well. Look at you,’ she said in her mannered voice. ‘Didn’t you get tall, dark and handsome while none of us were looking? Come and sit here next to me, Tom Donovan. Tell me everything you’ve been up to since I last saw you. What has it been, five years?’

‘Closer to eight, I think.’

‘Time does fly when one is having fun and sobering up. You’re a cricketer, is that right? I do like an athletic man. You workout a lot, do you, from what I can see?’

An excruciating half hour later, Gracie stood up. She couldn’t take much more of Hope’s far-too-flirtatious behaviour, she decided. And as amusing as it was, she wasn’t sure Tom could cope with having his hand held by Hope much longer either.

Hope didn’t try to stop them, checking the elegant gold watch on her wrist and saying she had an appointment to go to herself. ‘Another client, as it happens. My darling Victor and I are fighting them off these days. Society’s mess is fortunately our gain.’ She kissed her niece on both cheeks again, kissed Tom far too close to his mouth and then stood back and looked at them both, nodding thoughtfully.

‘Yes, Gracie, I approve. He’s handsome, he’s smart, he’s got beautiful manners and quite frankly, a gorgeous body. A shame he’s Australian rather than English, but I suppose you can’t have everything. Off you both go now. And I know you’ll talk about me once you’re out of earshot, so do make sure it’s complimentary, won’t you?’

They barely made it out onto the street again before they both started laughing.

Two days later, Tom suggested to Gracie they go travelling together. She’d been dreading him telling her he’d decided to move on from London. She’d heard all about his trip so far, how much it had meant to him to feel so free, to decide on the spur of the moment where to go next. She wanted to travel too, but there hadn’t been the opportunity or the funds yet. She’d thought she’d finish university first. But now she wasn’t so sure about that. Perhaps she could take a year off. After Tom had gone back, for example. Go back to Australia, perhaps, to see Templeton Hall again. See Nina. See Tom.

‘Have you ever been to Scotland, Gracie?’ he asked, as they lay on her bed together, legs entwined. They were both reading, fully dressed, but Tom’s caresses on her bare arm were making her feel it was time they did take their clothes off again.

She looked up from her book, already feeling her eyelids go heavy, the gentle molten feeling in her body, wondering again how it was possible to just want to have sex with him all the time, as though she was some kind of addict. ‘Did I want to make love, did you say?’

‘That was my next question.’ His hand moved further down. ‘But can you answer the Scotland one first? Before I get too distracted?’

‘No, I haven’t been to Scotland.’ ‘Would you like to?’

She closed her eyes in pleasure as his hand slipped under her Tshirt.

‘Gracie, are you ignoring me?’ ‘Mmm.’

‘Scotland? Yes or No?’

‘Yes. Some day, definitely.’ She kept her eyes closed.

‘On Friday? With me? And then Ireland maybe? Wales? Europe? The world?’

Her eyes snapped open. ‘Go travelling together? You and me? Together?’

‘Don’t you want to?’

She sat up. ‘I’d love to. I’d love to. But I thought this was your big trip, your chance to run free.’

‘I’ve done that. I ran free as a bird in Asia. Now I’m here. Now I’m with you. I want you to come with me. I’m begging you to come with me.’ He rolled off the bed in a graceful movement, landing on his knees on the side of the bed. ‘I beg you, Gracie Templeton. Come travelling with me.’

‘But I can’t. I have to be back at university in three weeks’ time.’

‘I’ll have you back in time, I promise. I’ll walk you to the

university grounds myself. Sharpen your pencils. Carry your books. Shine a crate full of apples for your lecturers. But come travelling with me first.’

She laughed. ‘I don’t have a rucksack.’ ‘I’ll carry your clothes in mine.’

‘I think my passport is out of date.’ ‘We’ll renew it.’

‘I haven’t got much money.’