Falling for you

anything nice about her bottom.

‘Slow, slow, quick-quick slow.’ Will, coming up and standing behind her, placed his hands on her hips as they swayed from side to side. Into her ear he murmured, ‘I thought Marcella would never leave. I’ve been counting the seconds.’

‘And Oliver’s upstairs,’ said Estelle, as if he needed reminding. Oliver was currently conducting a four-way transatlantic conference-call, before heading off to Zurich on yet another business trip. In order to allay any suspicions of hanky-panky, Will had to return to London. She wouldn’t see him for at least a week and already the prospect seemed unendurable.

She must endure it, Estelle knew that. Oliver was basically a good man, hard-working — if not a bit too hard-working — and honest. He didn’t deserve to be cheated on.

‘You smell gorgeous,’ Will whispered, nuzzling the nape of her neck.

Oh, he definitely knew how to nuzzle .. .

‘ Bugger,’ squeaked Estelle as the smell of something far less gorgeous filled the air. Snatching up the iron, she gazed in horror at the brown v-shaped scorch mark on the cuff of Oliver’s shirt.

‘Oops,’ said Will with a grin.

It’s worse than oops. This is Oliver’s favourite shirt,’ wailed Estelle. With his own shambolic Worzel Gummidge style of dressing, Will couldn’t begin to understand.

The telltale ting of the phone extension told them that Oliver’s call was at an end and he was on his way downstairs. Flapping her arms in desperation to get Will away from her and simultaneously dispel the smell of expensive burned shirt, Estelle squealed, ‘Oh God, here he comes now, he’s going to go mental ...’

By the time the kitchen door flew open, Will’s video camera was whirring away. Oliver, instantly aware of it but naturally pretending not to be, said, ‘Darling, have you finished my shirts?’

Darling, ha.

‘ Had a bit of an accident, I’m afraid.’ Estelle confessed at once, because there was no point trying to pretend it hadn’t happened, Oliver would spot the scorch mark in no time flat. ‘Burned one of the cuffs.’

His face reddened with annoyance. ‘Not the blue one.’

‘Sorry,’ said Estelle.

Instead of exploding in fury — ‘I wanted my shirts ironed, four shirts, is that too much to ask?’ —

Oliver was obliged to shake his head with good-humoured resignation, because this could end up in the final edit being broadcast to millions.

Helpfully, Estelle said, ‘You could always roll your sleeves up.’

His eyebrows raised in derision, Oliver said, ‘I’m not Tony Blair.’

No, thought Estelle, Tony Blair has sex with his wife.

‘I’ll be leaving in ten minutes.’ Gathering up the other ironed and folded shirts, Oliver headed out of the kitchen to finish packing. ‘A coffee before I go would he nice, if you think you can manage it without burning the beans.’

‘Just ignore him,’ Will murmured when the video camera had been safely turned off.

‘I got off lightly. Thanks to you.’ Estelle’s smile was rueful.

Will gave her a wicked look. ‘You have no idea how much I want to kiss you.’

It wasn’t the first time he’d said this, but it still had the most extraordinary effect on Estelle’s knees. Like Ker-Plunk, she half expected them to give way at any moment, causing her to collapse in a heap on the ground.

‘Sshh.’ Scooting over to the coffee machine, she began trowelling in beans.

‘D’you know what I love about you? The fact that you have absolutely no idea how sexy you are.’

Will followed her, a playful smile lighting up his face.

‘Right, all done. What are you two whispering about?’ Oliver, barging back into the kitchen with his Louis Vuitton case, glanced at his watch.

‘How mean you are to me,’ said Estelle and he laughed, humouring her.

‘I’ll bring you back some of that scent you like from duty free, will that do?’ Oliver dropped a fleeting kiss on her forehead. ‘Don’t bother with the coffee, we need to get going. OK?’ he said to Will, who was dropping him at Heathrow on his way back to London.

‘No problem.’ Ambling around the kitchen, Will collected up his belongings, the video camera, his tatty, haphazardly packed rucksack and a Waitrose carrier bulging with the battery pack and tapes he’d used so far.

‘Ready?’ Always loath to waste a moment, Oliver was by this time hovering impatiently in the doorway.

‘Absolutely. Just one thing left to do before I go.’ Making his way back over to Estelle, Will gave her a clumsy one-armed hug and kissed her noisily on both cheeks. ‘Thanks for putting up with me.’

‘My pleasure.’ Estelle couldn’t believe how deliciously naughty this felt. ‘See you again soon.’

A whole week without Will. She was missing him already. However would she cope?

Chapter 37

Maddy pulled up on double yellows outside Jameson’s, the tiny newsagents on the corner of Tapper Street and Marlborough Hill. She should have said no; the staff at Callaghan and Fox could find themselves another delivery service easily enough if they bothered to scour the Yellow Pages. It felt strange, preparing sandwiches that you knew were going to be eaten by Kerr; for a moment while she’d been making them this morning, she’d been horribly tempted to slip a love note into his chicken and chilli-prawn wrap.