Falling for you

Will kept the camera rolling. This was perfect. In his diffident, apologetic way he said, ‘So you’re concerned about your mum.’

‘Of course I’m concerned about her!’ Kate looked at him as if he were mad.

‘Not so long ago, the two of you seemed, well, not so close.’

‘She’s my mum. Until she gets in touch, I won’t even know if she’s still alive.’ Kate paused, then said abruptly, ‘OK, switch that thing off now. Don’t try and make out I’m just some cold bitch who was always horrible towards my mother.’

Will, having switched off the video, was now replacing the lens cap and fitting the camera back into its carrying case. He said mildly, ‘I wasn’t trying to do that, but I’m glad you spotted it.’

‘Oh, don’t practise your amateur psychology on me.’ Kate looked defensive. ‘I know I wasn’t that great when I came back to live here, OK? I was under a lot of pressure.’

‘That great? You had an attitude problem the size of Texas.’ To soften the blow, Will said, ‘Anyway, you’ve come on in leaps and bounds since then. And I’m glad you appreciate your mother more now.’

I know I do.

‘ You sound like a trendy vicar,’ snapped Kate.

Will patted her arm. ‘Right, I’m heading over to the hospital. See if Oliver’ll speak to me.’

When he’d ambled out of the pub, Dexter stopped sweeping up spilled peanuts and said, ‘Does he have his eye on you?’

‘Fancies me rotten, if that’s what you mean.’ With a brief smile, Kate said, ‘It’s pretty obvious. He hangs around our house like a puppy, half the time when Dad isn’t even there.’

‘I have exactly the same problem with Nicole Kidman.’ Dexter nodded gravely, then waited. ‘And?’

‘Oh please, I know I’m ugly but I’m not that desperate.’ Kate’s lip curled with derision. Will Gifford just has a high opinion of himself. He can’t quite believe I don’t fancy him back.’

Will persuaded Oliver to come outside the hospital and talk to him, just for five minutes.

‘I’m so sorry, it’s a terrible thing - to happen.’ Will was genuinely sympathetic. ‘How’s Tiff?’

‘Not so good.’ Rubbing his face, which was grey with fatigue, Oliver said, ‘The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s ... you know. Hard.’ He paused, indicating the whirring camera. ‘Do we have to do this now?’

‘Your wife has left you,’ said Will. ‘We need to see your side of the story. You do have a reputation as a ruthless businessman,’ he pointed out. ‘This way, the viewers will be touched by your anguish.’

Angrily Oliver said, ‘I don’t give a fuck about the viewers. It’s not their sympathy I’m after.

Tiff’s my son and I love him.’

‘Of coarse you do, of course you do.’ Will’s voice was consoling. ‘It’s a tragic situation. What a way for your wife to find out that you had a love child actually living right there in Ashcombe. How did she feel about that?’

‘Not too happy, obviously.’ Oliver’s tone was curt. ‘She’s gone, hasn’t she?’

‘Do you think she felt humiliated? Made a fool of? Do you have any idea,’ Will persisted,

‘where she is now?’

A look of pain crossed Oliver’s face. He shook his head. ‘Look, I can’t concentrate on this. I need to get back to the ward.’

‘Would it be possible to have a word with Juliet? Do you think she’d come out and speak to me?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Oliver had already turned to leave. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Hang on, did somebody switch front doors? Am I in the wrong flat?’

‘Surprise,’ Estelle sang out, flinging her arms round Will, covering him with kisses and simultaneously dragging him through to the living room.

‘Oh wow,’ said Will, staring. ‘Cushion city.’

‘I just thought I’d tidy up.’

‘And buy some cushions.’

‘I might have got a bit carried away,’ Estelle admitted.

‘Hey, you heard the rumours about the national cushion shortage and grabbed them while you could. That’s completely understandable.’ Will nodded. ‘When you can only buy them on the black market, we’ll be millionaires.’

‘Sorry,’ said Estelle.

‘Shh ... eleven, twelve, thirteen.’ He grinned. ‘Thirteen cushions. In one room.’

‘I found this great cushion shop in Barnsbury.’

‘And candles.’ He did an exaggerated double-take. ‘And a rug. God, and everything’s so clean.’

‘ I just wanted to help.’ Estelle hung her head; the cushions had cost an absolute fortune. Then again, it was Oliver’s money, so who cared?

‘Hey, listen, you don’t have to do all this.’ Lifting her chin, Will said, ‘I’m just glad you’re here. I’d be happy to live with you in a tent.’

You might be happy, Estelle thought, but I jolly well wouldn’t be. Unless it was a luxury tent.

But it was so sweet of Will to reassure her like this.