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‘It’s not really a good time, Rosalind. Can I call you back later?’ I ask her, in the hope she’ll get the message and I can hang up on her. I make a mental note to block her number as soon as this call is over. There’s no way I’ll be calling her back.
‘I’ll be quick,’ she continues, completely ignoring me. ‘It’s about this divorce settlement. You know as well as I do that James can’t possibly pay the amount your solicitor is demanding. It would ruin him. I was hoping that I could appeal to your better nature and we could come up with something more, um,reasonablebetween us.’
I’m flabbergasted. She obviously doesn’t know that James has already agreed the settlement, and thinks it’s okay to stick her nose in.
‘Rosalind, do you have any idea how inappropriate this conversation is?’ I ask her, incredulously. ‘Does James know you’re ringing me?’
‘No, but he’s been very stressed lately and I’m worried that he’s not coping. Look, I know he acted like a fool and I understand that you want to make a point, but bankrupting him isn’t the way to go about it.’
I can hear Alison’s voice in the back of my head telling me to back away, to refuse to discuss it and to leave it to her, but Rosalind has riled me and I can’t help myself.
‘Do you seriously think I’m doing this just to “make a point”?’
‘Well, it’s not as if you need the money, is it? Your father…’
‘You are absolutely unbelievable,’ I interrupt. ‘None of this is any of your business, yet you still feel entitled to ring me up and have a go? Since you’re so obsessed with how wealthy my father is, shall I let you into a little secret?’
‘If you like.’
‘Do you know one of the reasons why he’s wealthy? It’s because he doesn’t let himself be taken for nearly a quarter of a million pounds by a low-rent con artist like your son, and I’m not going to let that happen either. Am I making myself clear?’
‘Crystal,’ she spits, and the tone of faux camaraderie with which she started the call has totally vanished. Her claws are definitely out now. ‘But let me be just as clear in return. Hewilllose the farm that’s been in our family for generations, and itwillbe your fault. How will you sleep at night, knowing what you’ve done?’
‘I will sleep just fine because that’s bullshit,’ I reply. ‘I know about the hundred-acre plot, Rosalind.’
‘What plot?’ She sounds truly blindsided.
‘Ask James,’ I reply, and hang up.
My hands are trembling with anger as I go into the call log and find the icon to block her number. My only consolation is that she genuinely didn’t seem to know about the plot of land that James is refusing to sell; I wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall in that conversation. Unfortunately, her call has completely popped my good mood, and even the delicious bread-and-cheese lunch doesn’t get rid of the dark cloud that talking to her has left. I send an email with the details of the conversation to Alison so that she knows what has happened, and I feel a new surge of anger as I replay Rosalind’s words. I need to let off some steam, so I pull on my coat and go for a good stomp around the block, but all that does is defuse the anger and leave me feeling sad and empty. I’m certainly in no mood to be good company tonight and I decide to call into the café on my way back and make some excuse as to why I can’t go. However, when I get back, it’s closed for the day. I don’t have a number for Bronwyn and I don’t want to disturb her before the time she gave, so it looks like I’ll just have to put a brave face on and make the best of it.
I’m not feeling much better when I ring the doorbell at the bottom of the next stairwell along from mine at seven o’clock, clutching the two bottles of wine I bought earlier. The buzzer goes to let me in, one of the doors at the top bursts open and Bronwyn appears, beaming from ear to ear. She’s wearing a white T-shirt, dungaree shorts that show off her shapely legs, and Doc Martens on her feet. I never really noticed earlier, but she is incredibly beautiful. Her smile takes over her entire face, and her eyes are sparkling with delight.
‘You came!’ she exclaims, as she wraps me in a hug. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you would. Come in and meet everyone.’
She releases me and stands aside so that I can enter the flat. Straight away, I can see that the layout is a mirror of mine but, where my flat is modern and possibly a little sterile, hers is a riot of colour. The walls are covered with paintings, the sofas have throws and cushions that border on the psychedelic, and the theme is continued with the rugs on the floor. It’s not my taste, and I think it might give me a headache if I lived here, but I can’t help but admire the style. Despite the myriad colours and patterns, it all works.
I turn my attention to the other people in the room. I recognise Matt instantly; he’s sitting on one of the sofas with his arm around a curvaceous, dark-haired woman that Bronwyn introduces as Daisy, the owner of the café. If I thought Matt would have forgotten me, I was mistaken.
‘I remember you.’ He beams and turns to Daisy. ‘This is the woman who wanted to buy my van a few weeks ago.’
‘Really? That’s such a good story,’ Bronwyn interjects. ‘I love how you were prepared to buy Matt’s clapped-out old van, just so Toby could have his Champagne reception. That’s really going above and beyond, I reckon.’
I can’t help but smile. ‘I’m just so grateful to Matt for lending it to me and getting me out of a massive hole,’ I tell her, before turning back to him. ‘Have you managed to sell it yet?’
‘Yup,’ he replies. ‘I sold it to a pigeon fancier who wanted something to transport his birds in. He was delighted with it.’
‘Not as delighted as I was to see the back of it,’ Daisy retorts.
At that moment, the door to the kitchen opens and another dark-haired young woman comes out, holding a glass of wine.
‘Dinner should be another half-hour or so. It’s lasagne,’ she announces.
‘Katie, this is Sophie, our new neighbour,’ Bronwyn tells her, indicating me. ‘Sophie, this is Katie, my other half.’
22
The evening with Bronwyn, Katie, Daisy, and Matt carries my mood through the rest of the weekend. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much – actually, it was probably the evening I spent with the girls at Di’s house just after I’d caught James and Becky the first time. However, this one was even better for not having the spectre of James hanging over it. My surprise at Bronwyn’s partner being another woman was nothing compared to finding out that Katie and Daisy were sisters. Yes, they both have dark hair, but the resemblance pretty much stops there. I learned that Katie is at Cambridge University studying for her law degree. She stays in her college in the week but comes back pretty much every weekend. It turns out that Bronwyn only works in the café on Saturdays; the rest of the time she’s a successful artist. Katie told me proudly that the pictures for sale in the café are all hers, and they sell pretty well. She also exhibits in a local art gallery and gets quite a few commissions.
