‘You deserve it,’ Rupert says, taking my hands in his. ‘Listen, I know things have been tough for you, it’s not been an easy few months, has it? I know that it’s difficult to step into someone else’s shoes.’
I shake my head, blinking rapidly. He’s right, it hasn’t been easy at all. In fact, it’s been a hundred times harder than I ever imagined it would be. Maybe he was paying attention to me when I said things weren’t right after all.
‘I can see that you’re exhausted – let’s go to the cottage, have an amazing weekend, just the two of us, and then I’ll get my Emily back… the Emily I know and love. A fresh start for both of us.’ He gets up and pulls me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me. The Emily I know and love. I let myself smile into his shoulder.
Later that afternoon, I mull things over. By booking the cottage, Rupert clearly wants to make amends for all the arguments we’ve had recently. I let my gaze fall on our wedding photo, the two of us smiling at each other as if no one else existed. I love Rupert, and I love my life with him. He’s made mistakes when it comes to telling me about Caro, I can see that, but how would I react if my loved one had died? Wouldn’t I find it hard to talk about things?
Reading over the booking again, I smile to myself. We’ve had a stressful few months since the wedding, and Rupert is clearly making an effort. Maybe I should too. Sadie’s words ring my ears. I’d get the plans drawn up anyway. A spark of excitement lights in my belly. I should do it, as a surprise. And then Rupert will be thrilled, just like Sadie said, and he’ll know that I care about him, that I’m committed to the relationship and to making him happy.
I run upstairs into the spare room that Rupert uses as an office, riffling through the filing cabinet until I find the folder marked ‘Orangery’. Holding my breath, worried in case the plans aren’t there for whatever reason, I slide out the paperwork, shuffling through until I find it.
‘Bingo.’ I unroll the plans and see the garden area marked out. It could work. We could put in a small pool close to the house, with a cute little cabin alongside for a changing room. We would still have room for the borders and shrubs, and even a barbecue area. I could sell it to Rupert that it’ll save us money on holidays in the long run, as we won’t need to go away, and anyway, like Sadie said, he’ll be happy once I take the initiative and show him how lovely it could be.
On impulse, I dial the number on the business card in the file for the building company.
‘Hi,’ I say, excitement making my breath come short as a gruff voice answers, ‘I wondered if you could help me? I’m looking at getting a quote for a swimming pool…’
The builder remembers the house, and Caro (not such a surprise, really), and he asks me to send over my ideas via email. It’s not long before he gets back to me.
‘Yeah, your idea isn’t going to work, I’m afraid.’ He sounds apologetic and I try not to let my disappointment come through.
‘Really? What’s the problem?’
‘It’s too close to the house, to be honest. The site you’ve marked out is where the first soakaway is. The second soakaway is next to it, which means you don’t really have the space to fit a pool in there. You could do it further down the garden, but that makes access to the site a bit difficult. It’ll cost you.’
‘Oh. OK. Thank you for your help anyway.’ Despondent, I hang up, and re-roll the drawings. I tidy the file away, not wanting Rupert to know I’ve been in his office. I had been so thrilled by the idea, and so excited when Sadie had said that despite Rupert’s response, he would have loved it, and now it’s not going to work anyway. I’ll just have to find some other way to make things up to Rupert.
‘Bloody hell, Rupert, this is gorgeous.’ I crane my neck to peer out of the car window at the yellow stone cottage, as he pulls onto the wide drive.
‘Come on.’ Rupert hops out of the car and I race him to the front door, letting him catch me and kiss me until I am breathless and panting on the doorstep. ‘Let’s check out the bedroom.’ He waggles his eyebrows at me as he unlocks the heavy front door and pushes it open, and I follow him inside.
The ‘cottage’ – if you ask me, it’s more of a mansion than a cottage – is stunning. Flagstone floors lead into a country-style kitchen, the kind I can imagine myself bringing up a huge brood of children in, and then out onto a terraced area, with a pool and a hot tub tucked away in the corner for privacy. I trail my fingers over the sharp, marble kitchen counters, slide off my shoe and dip my toe in the icy cold water of the pool, run my fingers over the fronds of the thick ferns that line the garden borders, eager to soak up every part of this stunning house. It’s not the sunshiny, scorching heat of Morocco or the Caribbean that I was craving, but this will definitely do. I turn to Rupert as he stands at the kitchen counter, wrestling the foil from a bottle of vintage champagne, and let a knowing smirk play across
