When Alice Met Danny (15 page)

‘Oh, hello. Sorry, I was miles away.’ She opened the window.

‘Good morning, Alice. Not at church?’

‘No, I’m doing a bit of checking up on my tradesmen.’

‘Have they done a good job?

‘Very good, I think. Do you want to come in and take a look?’

‘Definitely. I’ve been dying to see what you’ve done.’ She let him in through the front door. He shook her hand formally, held it just a fraction longer than necessary, but she found that she didn’t mind. She conducted him on a tour of the house, taking in the new extended kitchen diner, the brand new bathroom, and finally the new third bedroom. She walked over to the window and looked out. The garden was still very unkempt.

‘I’ve got new turf going down soon, so the garden should look a lot nicer.’ She heard his footsteps behind her and caught a whiff of aftershave. He came right up to her shoulder and spoke gently into her ear.

‘It will all look wonderful. You are a very clever girl. As well as being a very beautiful girl.’

Alice could feel his breath on her neck as he spoke, and she stood stock-still, frightened to move for fear of touching him. She knew that if she did, she might initiate something she wouldn’t be able to stop.
Or would I want to stop it?
She was saved by a movement below her. It was Vicky in the next-door garden with little Danny. Alice leant forward and tapped on the glass to attract her attention. She heard
my friends call me Danny
step back. The moment had passed. She breathed out surreptitiously and turned towards the door.

‘Well, do you like what we’ve done to the place?’

‘I think it’s delightful. I was wondering, Alice, could I offer you dinner some time? Maybe one night next week?’

‘I thought you said things started falling apart when you cooked.’ She made a joke of it while she analysed her feelings. Did she want to go out for dinner with a man so much older than she was? Would it be weird? She shot a glance across at him. He really was a handsome man and there wasn’t an ounce of excess fat on him. He even had a full head of hair. Mentally she shrugged her shoulders.
What the hell? Why not?

‘I wouldn’t dream of inflicting my cooking on you. There are some fine restaurants in the town. We’ll choose one of them.’

‘Well, I would love to, thank you.’ She remembered Danny from London. ‘Any evening but Friday, I think.’

‘Tuesday?’ She nodded. He smiled broadly. ‘Excellent. Shall we start from here? Say half past seven?’

‘It’s a date.’

With that, she accompanied him downstairs and let him out of the front door, then went through to the kitchen and unlocked the new sliding French window onto the garden. Vicky and Danny were waiting in the sunlight.

‘Hi Vicky, how’s it going?’ She walked over to the fence. ‘And how’s my boyfriend?’ Hearing her voice, the little boy looked up with a broad grin and waved his arms.

‘I told you you’d got a fan here.’ Vicky held him up so he could see Alice. ‘Morning coffee?’

‘I’m going to owe you so many teas and coffees by the time this place is finished. Thanks, yes, I would love one.’ She let herself out of the back gate and joined Vicky in her kitchen. She held out her arms for the little boy.

‘So how far have they got next door?’ Vicky filled the kettle. ‘Tea or coffee?’

‘You know me; tea please.’ She bent down and blew in Danny’s face. He chortled. ‘Everything’s moving on really well. A couple of weeks for the plaster to all dry out, and then I can get the decorators in. Then it’s the kitchen, carpets and bingo; all done.’

‘So you could be in by midsummer?’

‘I suppose so.’ Alice sounded a bit hesitant. ‘I’m still trying to make up my mind whether to leave Woodcombe. That’s where I’m renting at the moment. It’s a lovely little village. Do you know it?’

Vicky half-turned, thought better of it and turned back again. ‘Yes, I do. You’re right. It’s a super little place.’

They chatted as they drank their tea. As Alice played with little Danny, she decided against mentioning her dinner date with Danny the windsurfer this Friday, or the invitation to tennis she had received the previous day, or the invitation to dinner she had accepted less than ten minutes earlier, all of them from his namesakes.
What is it about me and men called Danny?

Vicky had some good news. ‘You know I told you I was thinking of doing a PGCE? Well, I got in touch with the university and they’ve offered me a place to start in September.’ She looked excited.

‘That’s great news. But what happens to little Danny here?’

Vicky smiled more broadly. ‘He comes with me. There’s a crèche there. They’ve got it all organised. I can hardly wait.’ She looked up at Alice. ‘And what about you? Weren’t you trying to get onto an MA course?’

‘I’ve got an interview next week. Fingers crossed. You never know, we might be fellow students. I bet you’re thrilled.’

‘You can’t begin to imagine just how thrilled, Alice. This last year has been a pretty tough time, all in all.’

Alice resisted the temptation to probe further. Instead, she cast a glance down at the little boy. ‘But it’s had its compensations.’

‘What more could a woman ask for?’

Chapter 26

Around one-thirty Alice realised with a start what she had totally forgotten up till that point. Where was her tennis racquet and what was she going to wear to play? The tennis skirt she had worn the last time she played had long since disappeared. She managed to find her old racquet tucked into a tall cardboard box, along with a selection of umbrellas. There were even some moth-eaten balls, but no tennis clothes. She emptied all the unopened boxes onto her bed in blind panic. There was a limitless choice of work suits, but very little clothing of a sporty nature.

At last, as she about to scream, she upended the last box and found a selection of bikinis, swimming costumes and summer clothes. Mercifully, amongst these was a pair of shorts. They were even a light, almost white colour. She ripped off her jeans and pulled on the shorts, desperately hoping they would still fit. They did, although they were tight. She gave herself a critical look in the mirror. Her legs were pathetically white. She looked closer.
Oh my God, and hairy!
She sat back on the bed and drew her right leg up to examine it closer. As she did so, there was a tearing sound. The shorts had ripped in half around the seat.

‘Bugger, bugger, bugger.’ She was almost in tears.

She looked at her watch. It was almost two o’clock, and she was supposed to be there at half past. She pulled off the shorts and threw them onto the floor. They were beyond repair. There was nothing for it, she would have to wear jeans. She fished out a pair, hoping that the seams would be strong enough to avoid a repeat of the shorts fiasco. To make matters worse, it took her another ten minutes of desperate scrabbling in cupboards, boxes and under beds to find a decent pair of trainers. As a result, as she walked up the drive to Daniel Tremayne’s house, racquet in hand, she felt as if she had already gone three sets with Rafael Nadal.

Daniel, on the other hand, looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him. He was wearing a pair of smart white tennis shorts and a plain blue T-shirt. He was bending down, pulling some weeds from the flower border by the front door, exposing a pair of strong, suntanned legs. This view of him did nothing to improve her equilibrium. Flustered, she started to apologise as soon as she saw him. He smiled as he heard of her misfortune.

‘Good afternoon, Alice. If it’s any consolation, I had to rush into Exeter this morning to buy myself a new pair of shorts and a racquet. I think the mice must have got the old ones. If I’d known you were similarly afflicted, I could have taken you in with me. Anyway, you look stunning, as ever.’

She began to calm down. ‘Where’s the court?’

‘Round the side of the house. Come on, I’ll show you.’ He reached into the porch and brought out a racquet and a tube of balls. He held them up with a smile. ‘I was already walking out of the shop when I managed to remember balls. Otherwise we would have been in a real fix.’

They walked round, through a magnificent display of rhododendrons, their colours ranging from pale pink, through purple to deep red.

‘How fantastic. Have you ever considered opening the gardens to the public?’

He dodged the question. ‘I’ve got an old photo inside of my great grandfather, standing proudly by as these were planted. The date on the back is October 1913.’ His voice grew more serious. ‘If only he had known what lay in store just a few months later.’

Alice looked up. ‘I’m deeply into the First World War at the moment.’ His eyes flicked across to hers. She started to tell him about Danny’s letters, hoping they would not be too depressing. As it turned out, it had quite the opposite effect.

‘I’d love to read them, if it might be possible. I have been doing a lot of research into the Great War. A number of my family lost their lives in it.’

‘Four, if I remember correctly.’ Alice thought back to the war memorial in Woodcombe. He was impressed.

‘How on earth did you know that?’ They rounded a corner and the tennis court came into view. Surrounded by slightly rusty netting, it had an old tarmac surface. He started to apologise. ‘They tell me it should really be ripped up and resurfaced. I told them I would wait until my game improves. At the moment it’s a good excuse for missing the ball.’ He pushed the old gate. It opened with a creak.

Alice explained about seeing the names on the war memorial as she left the church after meeting him for the first time. ‘Since then, since finding the letters, I’ve found all sorts of interesting websites. I am pretty sure I have been able to locate my soldier. He was killed on the first day of the battle of the Somme.’

‘July first 1916 was a truly awful day.’ He sounded very grim. ‘Two of my relatives were killed that day.’

‘Were they with the Devonshires too?’

He looked up and caught her eye. ‘One was. Who knows, maybe he served alongside your man. The other was in the RFC; what later became the Royal Air Force.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, enough of that. We’re here to make fools of ourselves on the tennis court. Come on, let’s give it a go.’

They ended up playing for almost two hours. By the end of the session she had worked a couple of things out. First, she was very unfit, and second, he was a hell of a lot better at tennis than she was. When she finally limped off the court and slumped down on an old bench, she was exhausted. He, on the other hand, looked as if he could go another two hours.

‘Well done, Alice. For two people who haven’t played for ages, I thought we did pretty well.’

‘
You
did pretty well.’ She was still recovering. ‘I’m clearly not in the same league as you by any means.’

‘Rubbish. It looked to me as though it was all coming back by the end. Next time we play, you’ll be dynamite.’ He caught her eye. ‘That’s if you’d like to play again.’

‘If I am ever able to walk again, I’ll be happy to give it another try. As it is, I am seriously wondering if I’ll have the strength to get up from this bench.’

‘You can do it, Alice.’ He stood up and offered her both his hands. ‘I’ve got strawberries and cream waiting indoors.’ She reached up, took his hands and let him pull her to her feet. She fell forward against him. He caught her by the shoulders and steadied her. For a moment, their eyes were a matter of inches from each other. He looked down, a hint of a smile on his face. ‘Now, best foot forward. Left, right, left, right.’ Once he had got her moving, he released his hold on her. She started breathing again.

He led her into the house by the front door. The hall was the size of the whole of Duck Cottage, clad all round with oak panelling. Paintings of stern-faced men and elegant horses studded the walls. In spite of her weariness, she looked around with fascination. From the hall, they passed through a pair of fine double doors into the lounge. It looked about the same size as the tennis court, although her rational brain told her she must be mistaken. There were no fewer than four sofas in there, all arranged in the direction of a monumental stone fireplace. The polished wooden floor was liberally strewn with carpets and rugs.

‘Wow! What a wonderful room. What a wonderful house!’

‘I’m glad you like it. There’s been a house on this spot since the Middle Ages. This incarnation owes a lot to the Victorians, but we’ve found medieval traces, like the fireplace for instance. There’s no way of knowing for sure, but the English Heritage lady told us it looked like early medieval. Now,’ he gave her a smile, ‘make yourself comfortable and I’ll go and get the strawberries.’

As he went off to the kitchen, she tottered over to the window. Her legs felt like jelly, not only as a result of two hours of tennis. That moment, back on the tennis court, when she had fallen into his arms, had been electric. She found herself wondering, if he had crushed his lips to hers, whether she would have resisted.

Wait a minute, Alice
. The voice in her head was talking to her sternly.
Daniel is a married man. OK, so they are separated at the moment, but Megan thinks they should get back together. And, anyway, you were in the bedroom of number 23 only a few hours ago agreeing to go out for dinner with another man, another Danny. And now you are swooning like a Jane Austen character. Pull yourself together, girl.

‘Have you pulled yourself together a bit now?’ His voice made her start. She turned back into the room and saw him with a tray. There was a huge bowl of strawberries in the middle of it. Beside it was a mountain of cream. ‘You can have tea, coffee, mineral water or you can have my home brew.’

‘Nothing alcoholic. I’m almost falling over as it is.’

‘I’m just joking about the home brew. It’s homemade lemonade. I use real lemons. It’s not out of a bottle, I promise.’

‘That sounds like exactly what I would like.’ She let him show her to a seat. As she sank back against the cushions, he set the tray down on the table and poured the drinks, passing a glass across to her and then clinking his against it.

‘Cheers. And thank you. I really enjoyed that.’