The Look of Love (23 page)

‘And career-wise, she couldn’t act her way out of one,’ Daisy then bitched through her scary smile. ‘She couldn’t do sincerity if her pet puppy died right there on the set.’

‘And thus you completely shred the hard-won professional rep of a three-times Oscar nominee!’ Saul had commented wryly. ‘Way to go, Daisy!’

Keith the cat was stretched out across the end of Bella’s bed. James would have had a fit if he’d seen that. No pets, had been his adamant rule when he’d lived at the house, convinced that they were put on the planet solely for the carriage of germs and disease from the outside world into his near-sterile sanctuary. Bella wondered if Molly remembered that her instant reaction on being so very gently told that Daddy wouldn’t be living at home any more was a hugely excited, ‘So can we get a puppy?’ Bella had been tempted to go along with the idea, having in mind something big and protective and friendly, along the lines of Nana in
Peter Pan
, but the thought of taking care of two young children alone, as well as having to clear up after a whopping great dog, had been just too much. They’d settled on the spoilt and lazy kitten that was now
the big, sprawling Keith. She reached down and stroked his ears. He twitched slightly and stretched out a broad paw, claws showing, browny-pink pads flexing.

What an idle life cats have, she thought; how blissful to know that all your needs are catered for by one devoted person. Not that she’d have wanted her own life to be like that, but having had almost total lone responsibility for the home and children made her pretty fierce about James wanting to stroll in and cash in half the house. But today, Bella resolved that James, the filming and all hassles would be firmly off the radar. She would concentrate on catching up on some work, if partly to keep tonight’s dinner with Saul out of her mind and her adrenalin level under control. She didn’t want – or intend – to feel all fluttery about a man again. It took ludicrous amounts of energy and brain space. It led to trouble and let-down, and the recovery-time from Rick wasn’t, she felt, quite over yet: she was sticking with the no-involvement rule. Not that getting involved with a man who wasn’t really over the loss of an adored wife was anywhere close to an option.

There was plenty to do with this spare day; Charlotte had emailed, wanting an update on the progress of the shoot, and nudging for a few gossip snippets to keep her interest going. And Bella’s publisher was wanting her to check over the cover copy for the next Orchard Girls book.

And there was her mother … since she’d come out with her ‘I’m getting married’ bombshell, she had, maddeningly, not been around to talk about it. On her return from the police station she had had a shower, packed an overnight bag and raced eagerly off into the evening to meet Dennis, assuring Bella she’d be back the following afternoon. She and Dennis were off to break their good news to his son Toby in Oxford, and planned to stay overnight at the Randolph hotel. Bella had about a hundred questions, if she could only pin Shirley down for a proper conversation. She tried the term ‘stepfather’, and found it rather strange and slightly wrong, as if it turned her into a little girl again. Maybe this Dennis too would find the idea a bit flinch-making, and they could happily agree it was never to be uttered. But most of all, she hoped he was a Nice Man. He must be. Shirley had had a few suitors over the years and had always, in the end, decreed them ‘not enough fun’. How lovely that she must have found one who was. Never too late, was the message there.

From downstairs, Bella could hear the sounds of Molly crashing around in the kitchen. Strange how quite a delicately built girl could manage to make so much noise and be so heavy-handed while doing nothing more physically demanding than sliding bread into a toaster and taking butter and marmalade out of the fridge. Bella hoped she wasn’t scratching the new
worktop or splodging marmalade on the glass splashback. A little part of her was feeling this wasn’t quite her kitchen just now but belonged to Saul’s production company, which meant they should all treat it as if they were house guests. Ridiculous, but unshakeable; after all, it was possible that at the end of the filming, in a moment of fervent site-clearing, some of the crew would simply unbolt all the new doors, lift the worktop and load it all into a truck while she was down at Waitrose. As with so many things in life, it was probably best not to get too attached to it too soon.

Bella climbed out of bed, put on her cosy old towelling bathrobe and padded down the stairs. Keith followed, miaowing for breakfast and plaiting himself dangerously around her feet.

‘You OK, Moll?’ Bella asked, going to switch the kettle on. ‘School early today?’

‘Mmm.’ Molly, over at the table and flicking through a magazine, mumbled through a mouthful of toast. ‘Carly’s pickin’ m’yup.’

‘That’s lucky. Oh and you’re not wearing grey! You look lovely – that vanilla top is perfect. You’ve been checking through your colour swatches, haven’t you? Maybe there’s something in it after all.’

‘Er, like
nooo
?’ Molly stared at her as if she’d suggested she’d stolen every item she was wearing. ‘This old top was just like
in the drawer
?’

Bella laughed, not believing her. ‘Funny how you and I were both spring … though in my case no spring chicken, of course.’

Molly smiled, her mood softening. ‘Oh Mum, don’t say that. You look great. For …’

‘For my age. Thanks.’

‘No, I didn’t mean … I meant that you look really good – for any age. Or you can do. When you try, like going out and that. I was so right about you and black though, wasn’t I?’

‘Yes, yes, I know. I just wish I’d known years ago – I still think it’s the useful lazy-woman’s option. Listen Molly, as it happens, I’m going out tonight. Will you be all right, just you and your gran? I’m going out for a quick dinner with … er … Saul.’

‘Ooh! I knew it! He fancies you! And of course I’ll be all right; I’m nearly eighteen, not
eight
, Mum.’

‘OK, OK, sorry! And as for fancying me, he
like so
doesn’t, as you’d say. It’s just a friendly thing, a sort of thank you for letting them use this place at such short notice. Though as I’ve got pretty much a new kitchen out of it I should really have invited him out, I suppose.’

‘“Just friendly”. Yeah right! So where are you going and what are you going to wear?’

‘Er … oh a restaurant in Covent Garden … and I haven’t thought what to wear yet. I’d wear my lovely
black dress but … I don’t know, I try not to believe in all that colour stuff, but I can’t feel the same about that frock now.’ She sighed, thinking of her shiny Joseph dress. That could have been so perfect, but apparently only if she’d bought it in purple. And possibly if she didn’t still associate it with the Rick disaster. Oh well. Not that it mattered what she wore, really. As she’d said, this was just a friendly thing. She really wasn’t going to race into the town just for a very quick look-see at the shops in case the absolutely perfect pull-it-all-together little frock was on the first rail she looked at, begging her to take it home and make her evening perfect. No.

The kettle was boiling. Decaffeinated tea now, she decided as she felt the adrenalin zapping again. She chose a tea bag from one of the crew’s selection of boxes, something that might minimize the risk of blood-pressure overload.

‘You should ask Gran. She always looks great. She could do that Daisy’s job
so
easily – she’ll tell you what to wear.’

‘If she were here,’ Bella said. ‘She’s …’

‘Out with Dennis. Yes I know.’ Molly took her plate and mug to the sink and hesitated for a moment.

‘The dishwasher’s on the left,’ Bella reminded her. ‘Where it’s always been. So you know about Dennis?’

‘Oh ha ha,’ Molly said. ‘Did she tell
you
about Dennis?’

‘Well … yes.’ Bella was wary. It was down to Shirley to do the marriage announcement. It wouldn’t be fair to break the news to Molly without her say-so – or did she know about it already and was thinking the same? ‘Why, what’s she said to you?’

Molly looked guiltily breezy and replied, ‘Oh nothing much! Only that she’s
seeing
him!’

‘OK – well I don’t know much about him either. I’m sure she’ll say a lot more about him soon.’

‘Yeah, maybe. Gotta go. Just going to brush my teeth. And Mum?’

‘What is it? Are you sure you’re OK about tonight? If Gran’s off out again, you could have Carly round or someone else; I’ll leave you some fancy instant food in the fridge if you want.’

‘Giles. Can he come over tonight?’ Molly looked at the ground, suddenly finding something fascinating about the walnut floor.

‘Yes, of course he can. So long as …’

‘Eeuw, Mum, don’t say it! I promise! And just to make sure, you could lock your bedroom door!’ And she was gone – a flash of messy wheat-coloured hair, her vanilla top and skinny jeans and she was up the stairs, the cat (now full and needing yet more sleep) bounding up after her.

‘I only meant … don’t let him get in the way of your schoolwork!’ Bella went to the doorway and called rather lamely after her.

‘No you didn’t, Mum!’ Molly yelled back over the banisters. ‘You meant “Make sure you don’t get pregnant!” Maybe I’ll remind
you
about that when you go out with that Saul bloke tonight!’

Good grief, Bella thought, laughing as she went back to her tea and put a croissant into the microwave, when did it become OK for daughters to talk to their mothers like that?

Bella had dealt with emails, written a few taster paragraphs about the programme for Charlotte and wasted half an hour looking through the estate agent details of the dismal rabbit-hutch premises that James thought would suit her so perfectly. Now she had, strewn across her bed, just about every outfit that she’d bought over the past decade. For the first time, she rather wished Daisy had insisted on trawling through each of the fashion victims’ own wardrobes. In a bossy instant she would have been able to give Bella an idea of what ‘mid-season’ was about, and how to dress for going out with a man who was Just a Friend on an autumn night that might turn chilly. ‘Layers are
key
,’ she could almost hear Daisy insisting vehemently into her ear, completely disregarding the fact that layers,
however thin the fabric of each, do tend to bulk out anyone who is over a size 8.
That
much, Bella didn’t need Daisy to tell her.

In a decisive moment, Bella picked out skirts, trousers, a couple of dresses and three jackets, none of which she’d worn for ages, and stuffed them into a binbag. Wow, that felt good. She looked around the room and, still intent on purging, added a heap of no-longer-used make-up items.

‘There!’ she said, feeling satisfied as she started hanging her diminished collection back in the wardrobe. ‘That’s so much better.’

‘Talking to yourself?’

Bella heard herself shriek and her heart rated doubled. James was standing in the bedroom doorway, smirking at her.

‘How the hell did you get in? And what are you doing up
here
?’

‘You’d left the garden doors open,’ he said, not shifting from the doorway. She moved closer, brandishing a metal coat hanger, and he backed away.

‘I opened them to let fresh air in, not stale husbands,’ Bella snapped. ‘You can’t just sneak up the stairs like that.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he said, ‘I only meant …’

‘Look, James, I don’t care what you meant. You can’t
make free with the premises after all this time, no matter what it says on the deeds.’

‘Deeds. Yes, that’s what I’ve come about.’

‘Then you should have called me. Right now, I’m busy. I’m sorting.’

‘So I see. Ready for a relocation situation?’ he asked eagerly, eyeing the remaining clothes on the bed. She pushed past him, going down the stairs with her bulging binbag.

‘No, not for moving. Just to get rid of too much stuff. Come on James, out of my house. I’ve got things to do. We can catch up another time, just give me a call.’

She heard him mutter ‘
Our
house’ not quite under his breath, but let it go.

‘Oh but while I’m here … er … your friend Dina?’ James lingered in the hallway. ‘Is she, you know … spoken for?’

Bella smiled, feeling almost fond of him for a moment. ‘Oh James, in spite of all your corporate-speak nonsense that sounds really quite sweet and old-fashioned!’

He shrugged. ‘Just a small but apposite paradigm shift in terminology,’ he said. ‘It seemed to fit. Anyway, is she? I’m just curious.’

‘No, she’s not with anyone just now, is the answer to your question. Dina’s husband died suddenly after an episode with …’ Bella hesitated; this was Dina’s private
territory. ‘He had a heart attack, several years ago. Overdid it in sport, all very unexpected.’

‘Sport’ was broad enough. No need to mention the prostitute or the school-style cane.

‘And she hasn’t found someone since?’ James looked quite excited. ‘Has the world gone mad? A beautiful woman like that on her own? One who cares about soiled cutlery? She seems the sort to keep Dettol wipes in her car.’ Bella thought he looked more thrilled at this possibility than he would have if Dina had kept an extensive array of pleasure-enhancing lubricants in her Fiesta’s glove box.

‘Do you know, I think she probably does. Her car always smells extremely pine-bleachy, that’s for sure; like a freshly cleaned public loo. And she keeps special driving shoes too, and takes off her street ones before she gets in.’ James closed his eyes in bliss; he looked close to swooning. One brief meeting in the restaurant and it was the dental nurse thing all over again: instant infatuation.

‘Dina is part of our
Fashion Victims
programme, so she’s here most days just now,’ Bella went on. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you give me a call some time tomorrow and I’ll see if I can fix a meeting for the two of you?’

Well, she thought, as he bounced happily back to his car, at least it might distract him from selling the house.

‘You mean you don’t want to come over? Empty house?’

What do I have to do, beg? Why has he gone remote all of a sudden? Molly sat on the stairs wondering this as she listened to Giles breathing into the phone. Breathing, saying nothing. What was that about? Usually he never stopped talking. And where had he
been
in the last few days? He hadn’t turned up in school. She’d texted him four times today – not one reply.