Saving Saffron Sweeting (24 page)

As my ears rang with alarm, the blood left my fingers. My keys
landed with a clink in the gravel and I scrabbled to pick them up.
When I stood again, I was sure my face was flushed.

‘Scott …?’ I took a gulp of air. ‘Umm,
I think Amelia’s mentioned him … Scott
Jones?’

‘That’s right,’ his mother nodded. ‘He
dropped the
Pennington
.’

‘Said it sounded pretentious,’ Bernard huffed.
‘Silly boy.’

Indeed, I thought. And silly me. Without knowing it, I had just
met the parents.

When Scott called a few days later and
suggested we go out for dinner in Cambridge, I played it cool. On
Jem’s advice, I’d decided the parental thing was an
irrelevant detail.

‘Should I challenge him?’ I’d asked her on the
phone.

‘I wouldn’t,’ Jem had replied.
‘It’s not a big deal, is it?’

‘I just think it’s odd he didn’t mention it.
Now I think about it, I reckon I saw him talking to Bernard at the
council meeting. But I assumed he was there because he’s
friends with Peter.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘you’re not exactly
joined at the hip to your family. I wouldn’t mention it
unless it comes up.’

‘It might come up,’ I said gloomily.
‘I’ve got to work out how to find eighty mouths for
Thanksgiving turkey.’ Daphne and I had moved the meal to
early evening, thinking this would make it easier for working
people.

‘Sounds like fun,’ Jem said wryly. ‘What are
you doing, putting up posters?’

‘Yes, actually,’ I said. ‘And I took a stab at
a press release, but I don’t know if we’ll get any
coverage. I can’t believe I let them talk me into
it.’

‘I’m sure you’re doing fine,’ she said.
‘Anyway, sounds like you can’t lose. Either it’ll
be a disaster and Scott will be happy, or it’ll be a huge
success and your future in-laws will love you.’

‘Don’t call them that,’ I groaned. ‘If I
muck this up, they’ll probably all end up hating
me.’

‘I doubt it,’ Jem replied. ‘Still, you might
not want to mention on your second date that you’re in
cahoots with his mum and dad.’

So, my tactical dinner plan was to look good, eat my food and
not say anything that could get me into hot water. I liked Scott
enough to try not to scare him off.

I liked him even more once we’d climbed the last few steep
steps to the roof terrace of the Varsity Hotel. We had just missed
the sunset, but the colleges and churches of Cambridge were laid
out around us, bathed in the last, gentle light of day.

‘I thought we’d have a drink up here before dinner,
if you’re warm enough,’ Scott said.

‘How could I get cold with a view like this?’ I
shook my head in wonder. I’d never seen the city look so
mellow and lovely. No wonder scientists and poets alike had been
inspired to change the world from Cambridge. ‘I had no idea
this place existed.’

We settled down on one of the outdoor sofas and ordered drinks.
I had repeated my outfit from the parish council meeting, adding my
new cashmere cardigan on top. I was glad of the cardigan; the early
October evening was mild but by no means balmy.

Noticing me buttoning my cardigan, Scott murmured, ‘May
I?’ and slipped his arm around my shoulders.

Not daring to move in case he thought I was shrugging him off, I
caught my breath and held it for a full ten seconds before I
concluded that I had to exhale at some point during the evening.
Nonetheless, I sat very still and enjoyed the changing colours of
the buildings below us, as they sank from gold and rose into earthy
charcoal. The peacefulness of the city and just-glimpsed River Cam
settled me and I realised how content I felt in Scott’s
presence. It should have been weird, having another man’s arm
around me after five years of marriage, but instead being with him
felt natural. I wondered whether further physical contact would
feel as right. Chewing my lip, I blushed, grateful he
couldn’t see my face. At this rate, I wouldn’t be able
to eat any dinner.

‘Either you’re quiet because you’re bored or
you’ve frozen to death,’ Scott said quietly, after we
had sat in silence for a few minutes.

‘No, just relaxing. It’s beautiful here.’ I
glanced up at him as I spoke and found he had chosen the same
moment to look at me. In the low evening light, his eyes were the
colour of slate, his gaze intense. His face was mere inches away
and I could feel his breath on my cheek. He smelled faintly of
citrus: fresh and exciting.

With the slightest tilt of his head, Scott brushed his lips
softly over mine, then pulled back to check my reaction. I leaned
in for more, my eyes on his mouth. He wrapped his other arm around
me and pulled me tight as we kissed deeply. My hand found the back
of his neck and I sighed as I explored his skin for the first time.
This kind of heat had been missing from my marriage for months. I
had forgotten I could feel this level of anticipation, and
certainly not just from kissing.

But, after all, this was Cambridge, not Cannes. British couples
don’t indulge in steamy tangles on hotel sofas. By mutual
consent, we pulled a little way apart. I let out my breath slowly
and tried to remove the lust from my features. I hoped I
didn’t have
wanton wench
glowing on my forehead.

‘Well,’ I said.

‘Well, yourself,’ he echoed, as I sat back a little
and smoothed out the wrinkles in my trousers.

‘Hungry?’ he asked, his voice so silky that he
attached at least two meanings to the question.

I made an awkward little nodding gesture. ‘Are
you?’

‘Ravenous.’ He grinned now. ‘I hope you like
steak.’

Mungo was absent from my doorstep when we got
back. Considering I was carrying a foil parcel of leftover fillet
steak, this was his bad luck. Despite leaping butterflies,
I’d been able to eat most of my meal. Scott had no problem at
all in polishing off a venison pie, followed by lemon cheesecake.
After a good-natured tussle over the bill, he’d allowed me to
pay.

‘That doesn’t seem right. I chose the place.’
He’d shaken his head.

‘Humour me, it makes me feel useful,’ I’d said
firmly.

‘I’m sure you’re very useful.’ He winked
and pushed both of the complimentary chocolates in my
direction.

I hadn’t intended my comment to be flirtatious. Was this a
good time to mention his parents and their expectations that
I’d promote Thanksgiving dinner? Not wanting to rock the
boat, I’d chickened out.

‘Would you like some coffee?’ I asked him now, as he
turned off the car engine.

‘Thanks, yes, but I can’t stay long. I have a
breakfast meeting in the city.’

If he’d dropped that piece of information to help me
relax, I was glad. Kissing him was one thing, but now we were
alone, I was nervous.

Inside my cottage, I busied myself with the kettle and
apologised for the instant coffee.

‘Sorry,’ I told him, ‘I haven’t bought
much stuff. No coffee maker yet.’

‘That’s okay.’ Scott was looking around the
kitchen: high, low and in all the corners. If my mum had walked in
and done the same, I would have told her off for being nosy. Still,
I guessed he spent a lot of time looking at houses and the cottage
was certainly charming.

‘Explore, if you want,’ I told him.

‘Really?’ He seemed surprised.

‘I don’t mind,’ I said, smiling casually, but
thanking my organised genes which had led me to hide Eeyore, my
tampons and other girlie items before I’d gone out. I was
also wearing some of my new undies and there were clean sheets on
the bed. Still, I was relieved he wasn’t staying. Being
prepared was one thing, taking action was another thing entirely.
No matter how much I’d enjoyed kissing him or how comfortable
his arm felt around me, I was nervous of going further.

After roaming around the living room and peering at the
fireplace for a while, he gestured upstairs.

‘Go ahead,’ I said, sitting down with my coffee to
make it clear I wasn’t throwing myself at him.

I heard his footsteps overhead and called out, ‘But
don’t go falling in love with the place. Amelia tells me
it’s probably going to be sold.’

He didn’t answer and I assumed he couldn’t hear me.
I debated taking my sandals off, but decided that was too casual.
There certainly was a lot to navigate when dating. Momentarily, I
missed the ease of curling up on the sofa at the other end from
James, wriggling my toes under his thighs to keep them warm.

‘I never get sick of looking at old places,’ Scott
said, as he came back downstairs. ‘You’ve made it very
comfortable.’

I smiled and he hesitated before choosing an armchair.

‘I didn’t think you’d be here in the middle of
the week,’ I said. ‘I assumed you’d be mostly in
London.’

‘Nope,’ he said, adding milk to his coffee. ‘I
get around a fair bit.’

‘How do you find the places you buy?’ I thought this
would give him the chance to mention Saffron Hall.

He didn’t take that path. ‘It varies. Friends and
contacts give me tips. But I keep my ear to the ground
too.’

‘Do you always go and look at stuff in person?’

‘Always. Yes. I look at the analysis, obviously, but gut
feel is crucial.’ He stretched his legs out in front,
crossing them at the ankle. ‘Would you like to join me one
day?’

So, our fragile relationship had survived the instant coffee
granules. ‘Sounds fun. That is, if you’re sure I
won’t be in the way.’

‘You won’t be. I need to look at a couple of places
next week actually, north of Ipswich. Does Amelia give you a day
off?’

I nodded. ‘Monday, usually.’

‘Monday it is, then.’

‘Did you sleep with him?’ Amelia
looked me up and down the next day.

‘I’m not telling you that!’ I said
indignantly, then, as her eyes gleamed, ‘No.’

‘
No
, or
No, not yet?
’ Amelia
swivelled her chair from her desk towards mine and twirled a foot.
She had been shopping for the new season and was wearing gorgeous
Carvela court shoes, in camel with a dark brown toe.

‘I’m not sure,’ I sighed. ‘I really like
him … but I’m a bit spooked about things going that
far.’

‘So, did he mention Saffron Hall, or …
anything?’ she asked, a bit too casually.

I shook my head. ‘Nope. I still find it a bit odd. But I
avoided asking him directly.’

Amelia sucked the end of her pen, unusually thoughtful. Then she
shrugged. ‘You may as well go with the flow, darling. Just
enjoy it without searching for hidden meaning.’

I shuffled some property brochures. ‘Do you think
it’s too soon … to go to bed with Scott?’ I felt
awkward, but after all, she had been the one forcing me to buy new
underwear.

‘Too soon since you’ve known him? Or too soon since
you broke up with James?’

She’d seen right through my question. The issue
wasn’t whether I was ready to be with Scott, it was whether I
was ready not to be with James. I hadn’t heard from him since
his letter in the FedEx box. The obvious conclusion was that he was
moving on with his life. I rubbed my temples and didn’t
answer.

‘All I can say is, casual flings saved my sanity after
Michael left. Sex with someone new can be a lot of fun. You never
know what you might learn.’

‘Okay, okay, I get the picture.’ We were getting
into the territory of too much information. What kind of sex games
had ignited in Amelia’s fire engine house? And, scary
thought, what had Scott been thinking, as he’d eyed up the
ancient beams and banisters at my place? I coughed in my most
business-like manner and picked up the phone to schedule some
client viewings.

On my way home from work, I decided to call at
Nancy’s house. We were now well into October and I’d
promised to act as her conscience in her dealings with Elijah.
Still, I was nervous of the reception I’d get. It
wasn’t until I’d rung the doorbell that the horrible
thought occurred to me: what if he’d moved in with her and I
disturbed them both? I didn’t want to meet him: I was afraid
of what I might say.

‘If it’s a bad time, I’ll go,’ I
blurted, as soon as she opened the door. Then I saw her red tartan
pyjamas and orange Princeton sweatshirt and concluded she was
probably on her own.

‘Hey.’ Nancy opened the door wider and gestured for
me to enter. I’d been inside her house before, when we first
viewed it. Now, it was much messier. I took in the piles of books
and old newspapers, shoes kicked off randomly, and dirty dishes
piled on the coffee table.

‘I brought wine,’ I said, ‘and chocolate. I
wasn’t sure which you’d prefer.’

Without make-up, her face was sallow. Her bird-like movements
were dull as she sagged beside me on the sofa.

‘We might need both.’ She let her head loll
backwards and closed her eyes. ‘Have you come to say
I
told you so
?’

I shook my head. ‘No … I wanted to see how
you’re doing.’ I was pretty clear by now that she was
not on the brink of a new life with Elijah.

‘Oh, Grace,’ she began, ‘I don’t know
whether I’m more pissed with him or with myself.’

‘So …?’ What on earth to say at this point?
Congratulations
hardly seemed appropriate.

‘So, it’s over. We’re done. Toast.’

‘He wouldn’t leave his wife, then?’

‘No. You were right.’

She started to cry and I passed her the tissues from the coffee
table. The box was almost empty.

‘He was a total jerk,’ she said, between sobs.
‘Like he had nothing to do with me moving to England.
Asshole.’

I patted her hand awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry,’ I
said. ‘Really, I am. He doesn’t deserve you.’

‘But – I wanted – kids,’ she gulped out.
‘I’ve worked my ass off for years and now I’m
running out of time. I’m –’ sob
‘thirty-eight.’

‘You still have time,’ I said, fervently hoping it
was true. I hadn’t made up my own mind yet about children and
now I was husband-less, I needed to believe I still had some runway
ahead of me too.