‘Yes, I know, but will you buy here yourself?’
‘Oh, I’d love to, and fully intend to do that, just as soon as I can,’ he assured her.
‘And just as soon as he’s elected, he’ll treat it as a holiday cottage,’ Luke told me quietly. ‘Where do you live, Poppy?’
‘Just across the road.’ I pointed through the bay window. The drizzle had abated and the dark night had gathered softly outside the glass. I was feeling rather warm and happy now. The wine was flowing through my veins and I was amongst friends; some old, some new, hopefully, I thought, looking into Luke’s greeny-blue eyes, liking the way they matched his jumper. But I wasn’t too far from home: not too unsafe.
‘Pretty,’ he said, presumably referring to my cottage, but very definitely looking at me. ‘Will you stay there, d’you think?’
‘Oh, yes,’ I said, surprised. ‘At least, I think so. It’s the children’s home and we love it.’ It hadn’t crossed my mind to move. It had always been the only thing about my marriage I’d loved. My dear little house, having my friends close by, Jennie next door. It was my compensation for Phil. But Phil wasn’t here any more and now it occurred to me that I didn’t have to cushion myself against him. It also occurred to me that with the money I was about to inherit, I could easily sell and buy somewhere bigger, even prettier. Would I want that?
‘I just wondered if you’d want a new start,’ Luke said carefully. Kindly, though. Not artfully or nosily, I decided.
‘I might,’ I agreed. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. But a new start doesn’t necessarily involve moving house, does it?’
‘No,’ he concurred. ‘It doesn’t. It can mean all sorts of things.’
‘And it’s not as if I need to move. Not as if, geographically, I’m surrounded by too many fond memories and need to get away,’ I said, thinking as I spoke. ‘I’m sure many widows have that problem.’
He regarded me carefully. ‘I like that about you, Poppy.’
‘What?’
‘The way you tell it like it is. No flannel.’
I thought about this. ‘I think that’s new,’ I told him. ‘I think I’ve spent the last six or seven years not telling it how it is. Particularly to myself. Living a bit of a lie to accommodate others.’
‘You mean, to accommodate your husband?’
‘Yes, Phil, but ultimately the children. Mostly the children. Who wants to rock a boat that’s holding what we love most?’
‘So … d’you think you’d have ever left him? If he hadn’t – you know …’
‘Died?’ I sighed. ‘Who knows? I’d certainly fantasized about it. Fifty ways to leave your lover and all that. But I’d never actually considered doing it.’ I shrugged. ‘The two are very different things.’ I smiled. ‘And I’ve always been a bit of a wimp. What about you, Luke? What are your family commitments?’
‘Oh, I’ve just got a mum and a sister.’
My smile froze.
‘Not that I live with them, or anything. I’ve got a flat in town.’
‘Good, good,’ I said, horribly unsettled. ‘And are you … close to them? Ring them twice a week? Sometimes more? Bring them with you to choose soft furnishings, sofas?’
He frowned. ‘God, no. My sister, Nicky, is far too busy. She works for
‘Excellent!’ I breathed. I liked the sound of the Chambers women.
‘My dad encouraged Mum to live in style before he died. He had this theory that – blimey, what’s that?’
Sadly this fascinating insight into Luke’s exotic family – where did the organ fit in? – was cut short by a rap on the window. We all swung about to behold Sylvia, Angus’s wife, glaring in furiously. Her spectacles were glinting ominously, her steel-grey perm rigid. Angus went pale and instinctively hid his wine glass behind his back. She disappeared and then the doorbell rang, long and shrill. We all stood about like naughty children as Peggy, who’d gone to get it, could be heard placating her at the door.
‘Yes, I’m sorry, Sylvia, we
‘But you’re not even reading! Or even sitting in a circle! Just standing around gossiping like you’re at a cocktail party. I rang the doorbell, twice!’
‘Ah yes, first meeting, though, you see. Just swapping ideas. Batting them about, to and fro. And we thought a relaxed environment
