‘How? Don’t let them in, will you?’
‘Quick, go on upstairs.’ I walk out of the lounge and turn off the hall light, ushering Sophie out and up the stairs. She starts to say something else, but I give her a stern glare and wave her away. I think I must look braver than I feel.
Once her footsteps have receded and I hear the distant sound of the attic door closing, I take a breath, put the chain across the door and pull it open.
Eighteen
FIONA
I slip on the oven mitt and slide the salmon en croûte out of the oven. It’s far too hot to be cooking, but Nathan is fond of home-cooked meals whenever he manages to make it back in time for dinner, so I always keep a few standby meals in the freezer.
Right now, Nathan’s sitting at the table out on the deck. He’s sipping a glass of wine and scrolling through his phone. I won’t say anything, even though he always has a go at me if I ever dare to look at my phone while we’re eating. His short brown waves are perfectly swept back off his face by insanely priced hair wax. Even his relaxing-around-the-house clothes are smart – a pale-grey short-sleeved shirt, designer shorts and sunglasses. Beneath my apron I’m wearing an Issey Miyake green crepe dress that Nathan bought me last month. He said it looked perfect with my chestnut hair and hazel eyes. My hair is naturally wavy, but Nathan prefers it when it’s straightened.
I dish up the salmon, remove my apron and take the plates outside. There’s already a bowl of mixed salad leaves and a bottle of chilled wine on the table. Nathan looks up and smiles, setting his phone down next to his plate.
‘This looks and smells amazing, Fi. So do you.’ He looks me up and down appreciatively.
‘Thanks. Hope it tastes as good.’
‘I’m sure it will. You’re a fantastic cook. I’m so lucky to have such a talented wife.’ He leans back in his seat. ‘Successful in business, incredible in the kitchen and spectacular in the bedroom.’
Normally I’d lap up his praise, but today I don’t feel anywhere near as wonderful as he’s making out. I feel like I’m barely holding it all together.
Nathan’s expression darkens at my lack of response. ‘Everything okay, Fi? I just complimented you, you know.’
‘Sorry, Nath. Thanks. I’m not quite with it. Got some stuff on my mind.’
‘What stuff?’ He cuts into the salmon en croûte, and stabs a chunk with his fork, blowing on it gently.
‘Molly handed in her notice.’
Nathan takes his first mouthful and chews. ‘Delicious. You could give Ed a run for his money, Fi. Set up a rival gastropub.’
‘Thanks. It’s quite easy to make though.’
‘Don’t run yourself down. I’ve told you about that before. You’re a bloody good cook.’
‘Yes, okay, you’re right. Sorry. Did you hear what I said about Molly?’
My plan is to mention the fact she’s pregnant and see what his reaction is. The thing is, ifI’vestarted having maternal thoughts, maybehismind has changed too. Maybe he’ll be open to the idea of having a family. Although part of me knows that if this was the case he’d have let me know straight away. I’ve never known Nathan to shy away from saying what he thinks. I always used to love that about him. His directness.
When Nathan and I first met it was refreshing to have a man tell me he liked me without playing all those ridiculous dating games. He actually called me when he said he was going to call, rather than waiting an arbitrary amount of time so as ‘not to seem too keen’. It felt like I was being wooed by a proper man, not some stupid kid who didn’t know his own mind. Nathan certainly wasn’t afraid of commitment. He knew what he wanted, and he went for it. And what he wanted wasme. But how might he feel about the idea of children now? I need to plant a seed without being too obvious.
‘So Molly’s leaving.’ He shrugs. ‘So what? Big deal. Assistants like Molly grow on trees. She’s not exactly winning any employee of the year awards.’
I need to play this carefully. ‘It’s nice she’s pregnant though. Her boyfriend proposed as soon as he found out and they’re moving away to be closer to family. It’s exciting for them. Starting their own family. A new adventure…’
Nathan takes a few more mouthfuls and then breaks to pour some more wine. I’ve barely touched my food. My appetite seems to have disappeared. I blame cooking in the heat, but deep down I know it’s more than that. Nathan is deliberately not engaging with my conversation. It’s boring him. He doesn’t want to talk about assistants and babies. He isn’t interested in starting a family, and I don’t feel brave enough to tell him how I really feel.
I briefly think about mentioning the tax officers, but those words stick in my throat too. Instead, I pick up my wine glass and take a few large gulps. The cold liquid feels good sliding down my throat. I like the way it blurs my thoughts and dulls my anxieties, blocks things out, allowing me to gaze out across the water and imagine I’m a bird skimming across the surface of the lake, heading out somewhere far from here where there are no worries.
‘How’s the Carmichael job?’ Nathan asks.
‘Good. They’re going super contemporary.’
‘Sounds expensive. That’ll be good for your portfolio.’
‘Although they do like to change their minds, so who knows what we’ll end up with.’
