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‘Why? What gave you the impression that I was ready to be “out there”? I nearly got smothered by busty Barbara, for goodness’ sake. I should get danger money for that!’
I burst out laughing at the memory.
‘Look, I know we’re both wary, but I trust you and I’d like to see where this could go,’ he tells me, when my giggles have subsided.
‘I trust you too,’ I reply.
I’m still smiling stupidly at him when Bronwyn brings our coffees.
‘Elliott, do you know Bronwyn?’ I ask. ‘Bronwyn, this is Elliott, my boyfriend.’
Elliott blushes crimson as Bronwyn squeals with delight and envelops us both in a massive hug.
‘You guys look so good together,’ she gushes. ‘I just know you’re going to run and run. Wait till I tell Daisy and Katie, it’ll make their weekend!’
‘Is she always like that?’ Elliott asks, once Bronwyn has disappeared again. The noise from the kitchen indicates that she’s wasted no time in sharing the news with Daisy.
‘She’s lovely, if a bit in-your-face. Expect a Saturday invitation, as they’ll want to get to know you properly, I’m sure. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,’ I add, registering the look of terror on his face.
‘Thanks,’ he replies. ‘I think I might need it.’
28
Elliott has been largely silent on the drive to Uckfield. I think he’s a bit anxious about what he’s let himself in for. I’ve explained that my father is a successful businessman with a number of companies, but I’ve been pretty vague on the details. One of the things I’ve enjoyed about getting to know Elliott is that he doesn’t have any idea about my background. Unlike James and his family, Elliott has got to know me as Sophie the next-door neighbour, rather than Sophie the daughter of a billionaire. I’m aware that’s all about to change but again, unlike James, Elliott doesn’t exactly need any more money. He’s struggling to cope with what he’s got. I just hope that Dad can help him to start to make some sense out of it all.
‘Here we are!’ I tell him brightly, as I turn into the drive and punch the number into the keypad. Thankfully, I’m up to date with the codes again, so the gates open straight away.
‘Oh, wow!’ Elliott exclaims when the house finally comes into view. ‘Which bit do your parents live in?’
‘Umm, all of it,’ I reply.
‘Bloody hell, Sophie! I know you said your dad was successful, but this is a bit more than that. You could have warned me.’
‘Yeah, well. As someone said to me earlier today, I haven’t exactly hidden it from you, I just haven’t advertised it.’
‘Yes, but… oh, God. I should have worn a suit or something,’ he says, looking down in horror at his shirt and jeans.
‘Why? They’re just people, Elliott. Trust me, you’re fine as you are.’
‘They’ll probably take one look at me, decide I’m some sort of no-hoper, and immediately forbid you from having anything more to do with me,’ he moans.
‘Umm, where would you like me to start unpicking that?’ I reply. ‘One: the main reason we’re here is because you have all this money you don’t know what to do with, which kind of rules out the no-hoper element. Two: this isn’t the Victorian era and my parents don’t get to dictate who I go out with, and three: you look absolutely fine and they’d think you were some sort of weirdo if you pitched up in a suit anyway.’
He looks distinctly unconvinced as I pull up on the gravel in front of the house. The front door opens just as we’re unfastening our seatbelts, and Margot comes striding out.
‘Welcome home, Miss Beresford-Smith. Mr and Mrs Beresford-Smith are expecting you and your guest in the withdrawing room.’
I love Margot, but I really wish she wouldn’t do this. Every time I bring someone to the house for the first time, she insists on being very formal. I’m also amused by her assumption that I’ve changed my name. The reality is that I’ve been meaning to do it, but there are so many forms and whatnot that I just haven’t got around to it yet.
‘Hello, Margot,’ I reply. ‘This is Elliott. Elliott, this is Margot, my parents’ housekeeper.’
‘Delighted to meet you, sir,’ Margot says, and I swear I detect the tiniest hint of a curtsey. God bless her, she does like to see the niceties observed, even if I frequently have to suppress a giggle when she’s like this. I practically drag Elliott into the house, and I’m aware of his eyes popping out of his head as he surveys the hallway.
‘Is that you, Sophie?’ my dad’s voice calls.
‘Hi, Dad!’ I reply, grabbing Elliott’s hand and tugging him in the direction of the drawing room. Unfortunately, he seems to be rooted to the floor.
I’m just about to hiss, ‘Come on,’ at him under my breath when Dad strolls out into the hallway.
