Appointment at the Altar

Desperately, Lucy forced her lungs back into working mode. Breathe in, breathe out. Remember?

‘Hi,’ she said.

Fortunately Guy didn’t seem to notice that her voice was all over the place. It was amazing how much wavering up and down the register you could fit into such a short word. Thank goodness she hadn’t tried anything longer, like good afternoon.

‘Show me your new shoes,’ he said. ‘I want to see how much you’ve changed.’

He studied them with interest when Lucy reappeared in the shoes. ‘What do you think?’ she asked, pointing her toes.

‘Very nice.’ Guy glanced up at her and smiled, and Lucy’s heart duly performed a breathless somersault. Pathetic.

‘I’ve been borrowing Meg’s shoes, but they’ve all got such high heels that I could barely walk by the end of the week,’ she told him, horribly afraid that she was babbling but unable to stop it. ‘I thought I should buy some of my own, so I took your advice and asked for a small advance on my salary.’

For some reason it seemed important to let him know that she wasn’t relying on her friend more than she had to. She hadn’t forgotten his comment about the way she let everyone else look after her. ‘That way I don’t have to keep borrowing off Meg.’

She had put some money aside already to pay Meg rent for her room too, although she knew that her friend would insist that it wasn’t necessary. What with buying shoes and taking control of finances, really, she was turning into Susan Sensible.

‘I could only afford one pair, so I had to get shoes that went with everything.’ Lucy regarded them dubiously. ‘Black isn’t as much fun as other colours, but it’s more practical, I suppose.’

Guy’s eyes gleamed as he inspected them. ‘You’ve done well, Cinders. You’ve managed to buy sensible shoes that are sexy at the same time. I like the bows too. They show a sense of fun.’ He looked back up at Lucy. ‘I’d say these shoes still have a lot of you in them, though. That sensible side is new, but the rest of it is still definitely you. You’ve changed, but not too much. That’s good.’

A blush crept up Lucy’s cheeks and she sat down abruptly, bending her head to hide her face as she made a big deal of pulling off the shoes and shoving her feet into her faithful trainers instead. Hoping her normal colour would have returned by then, she stood up. ‘We’d better go,’ she said.

‘So, how is your challenge going?’ asked Guy as he manoeuvred the car out of the tight parking space. ‘I hear reception is a very different place since you’ve been working there.’

Was that good or bad? Lucy wondered. ‘I like my job,’ she admitted cautiously. ‘More than I thought I would. And everyone is very friendly.’

He glanced at her as he waited to turn into the main road. ‘That’s what they say about you, too.’

‘Me?’ she said blankly.

‘I understand you’ve set up a counselling service in reception?’

Lucy flushed slightly. ‘Oh, that was just someone who seemed very upset when she arrived. Her boyfriend had dumped her without warning, and she was obviously in a state. We rang up to her department to say that she’d been a bit delayed and I made her a coffee and let her talk for a bit until she calmed down-but it was only for a few minutes,’ she told Guy in case he thought she had been wasting company time. ‘And Imogen was on the desk all the time.’

‘I’m not angry with you-far from it,’ he said. ‘She wouldn’t have been able to concentrate if she’d spent the day bottling up her feelings and, as it was, she managed a meeting with me and the head of her department. She told me afterwards that you’d really helped her.’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ said Lucy uncomfortably. ‘I just listened.’

‘Sometimes that’s all the help you need,’ said Guy. ‘Sometimes all you want is a friendly smile when you come in the door, or someone who can see what needs to be done and gets on with it without waiting to be told.’ He smiled at her as they drew up to some traffic lights and he put the car into neutral gear. ‘You’re doing a good job.’

Lucy actually blushed. ‘I didn’t think you really noticed us on reception.’

‘I always notice you,’ said Guy.

Bridget Dangerfield lived in an enormous house in Belgravia with a white stucco front. ‘It’s much too big for her,’ said Guy as he locked the car. ‘I’ve been trying to persuade her to move but she won’t hear of it.’

He let himself in the imposing front door, calling a ‘hallo’ to announce their arrival, and led Lucy up the stairs to the first floor. Bridget was waiting at the top, leaning on two sticks. She was a handsome woman, tall and shrewd- eyed, and her big hands were adorned with some spectacular diamond rings.

‘You shouldn’t have got up, Ma,’ said Guy, kissing her on the cheek.

‘Of course I need to get up,’ she snapped at him. ‘I’ve never welcomed a guest sitting down and I’m not going to start now. Besides, I’m supposed to be practising getting in and out of my chair.’

She turned her attention to Lucy, eyeing her appraisingly as Guy made the introductions. ‘So you’re Lucy?’ she said. ‘Hmm. Guy was right. You’re very pretty.’

‘Sorry, did I hear that right?’ Guy grinned at his mother, pretending astonishment. ‘Guy was right. I’ve never heard you say that before! Are you feeling quite well, Ma?’

‘I don’t have much cause to say it often,’ she retorted, but Lucy thought there was a hint of a smile in her face.

‘You’d better come in.’ Moving slowly and carefully on her sticks, Bridget led the way into a beautifully furnished drawing room that spanned the entire width of the house. ‘Would you like some tea?’ she asked Lucy.

‘That would be lovely,’ said Lucy. ‘Can I help?’

‘Why don’t I get the tea?’ Guy began, but Bridget rounded on him.

‘I’m not gaga!’ she said irritably. ‘It’s my hips that have been replaced, not my brain or my hands! I’m perfectly capable of boiling a kettle. Lucy can come with me and carry the tray. She’ll probably want to stretch her legs if she’s been trapped in that ridiculous car of yours. It’s-’

‘Far too small and far too fast, I know, Ma.’ Guy grinned affectionately at his mother. It was obviously an old argument. ‘You go and make the tea, then, but no telling Lucy any embarrassing stories about my potty training days, OK?’

He settled himself comfortably on a sofa as Bridget snorted and shook her head.

‘He will fuss,’ she told Lucy as they made their painstaking way to the kitchen. ‘And he’s always interfering. He’s been turning everything upside down while I was in hospital! New chair, new bed, new railings everywhere,’ she grumbled. ‘And then he went and employed a nurse! I soon got rid of her.’

Harrumphing, she indicated that Lucy should fill up the kettle. ‘Anyone would think I was sick!’ she said in outraged tones that held only the faintest hint of her Australian background after so many years in England.

‘I’m sure Guy just wants you to be comfortable,’ said Lucy, who was beginning to think that he had much greater reserves of patience than she had guessed. In spite of her insistence to the contrary, it was clear that his mother couldn’t make the tea and hold on to her sticks without a great deal of difficulty, and in the end it was Lucy who set out the cups and saucers, found the milk and the biscuits and warmed the pot, all under Bridget’s eagle- eyed direction.

‘I suppose he told you this place is too big for me, too,’ said Bridget with a grouchy look.

‘I can see why he might think that you’d be better off somewhere a little more…practical,’ Lucy said cautiously, thinking of all the stairs.

‘I’ve lived here all my married life. I’m not moving. I let Guy put this kitchen in here so I didn’t have to go up and down stairs all the time, but that’s enough and so you can tell Guy.’

Lucy looked up from the teapot, suddenly afraid that she might have got hold of quite the wrong end of the stick. ‘You know that Guy and I aren’t…’ she began awkwardly.

‘Yes, yes, he told me.’ Bridget waved her stick in vague acknowledgement. ‘He said you were practically engaged to a stockman at Wirrindago. He sounds most unsuitable,’ she went on with a stringent look. ‘It’s a hard life as a stockman’s wife, Lucy. You’d be much better off with Guy.’

‘Oh, I don’t…there’s really no question…’ stammered Lucy, horrified in case she had somehow given the wrong impression.