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‘Olly’s very grateful for the dinners and the wine and the use of the car, but what he really needs is a better working environment. He’s been writing at the vanity table in the bedroom and the chair is terribly uncomfortable for him.’
I had a solution. ‘Why doesn’t Olly use Nick’s study? It would be the perfect space. There’s a fireplace, the desk is large, and Nick bought himself one of those ergonomic chairs.’
‘We can’t impose that much,’ Sasha said. ‘Nick’s space must be sacrosanct to you.’
She was right; she knew me well. But this was my choice.
‘Please. Let me decide that. It’s my absolute pleasure to be in a position to be able to help you both. I promise I’ll stop fussing over you and start making sure you have what you need.’
Sasha helped Kitty and me get the study ready for Olly. I packed some of Nick’s bits and pieces away so that Olly could make the space his own. We were chatting about writing, and I’d admitted to them that I wrote a journal, but I said it was just my silly thoughts jotted down rather badly and it was excitingto think that a novel would be written in Nick’s study. Kitty didn’t seem surprised and for a hot moment I wondered if she’d ever found it and read it.
Sasha told us that Olly is exceptionally talented. She said she has feelings about things, and she has a feeling about this and she’s always right. I asked her if she’d read anything he’d written and she said no, but she knew he’d wowed everyone in a creative writing class that he did. He was so good that people had been very jealous of him. But, she said, writing a journal is very valuable, too. You should keep that up.
Olly was delighted with the study. ‘I’m going to be so productive in here,’ he said. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘We’ll have to get you teaching in the Great Hall, next,’ I said to Sasha. It was a joke, and they laughed, but it gave me an idea. What if they lived here semi-permanently? I was already dreading them moving out. They were going to a lot of property viewings and every time they came back from one, I watched from the kitchen window to see their faces when they got out of the car, afraid that they’d look as if they’d just found the place of their dreams.
When they came back yesterday Sasha said that they’d seen one they loved but got outbid. She caught my expression; it must have shown fear and relief.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘Nothing. I’m just going to miss you both when you go, that’s all.’
I worried as soon as I’d said it that it might make her feel stifled again, but she hugged me. ‘You are so lovely,’ she told me.
I’ve made myself a lot more low-key when I’m around them in the Manor. I can see that I’ve been a bit present when they need space to be themselves. As Sasha says, ‘We all need to grow.’ This is going to work well if I keep it up. The last thing I want to do is to drive them out.
23
WEDNESDAY
Nicole
Patrick pours himself another glass of wine. He’s necked half a bottle already, one of Tom’s expensive ones. Nicole is drinking too, but more slowly. She shakes her head when he offers her a top-up. She’s slightly tipsy already, and it’s not a nice feeling. Her grief makes life feel hallucinatory enough.
It’s been a bad day. She’s processing a call she had from Jen this morning, telling her that the police found traces of lipstick on one of the coffee cups in Tom’s den, asking again if she knew who it might be. She didn’t know, she told them. How long will DNA testing take? About a week, Jen said, but we’ll try to expedite it.
Nicole hasn’t told Patrick about the cups yet. She’s desperate to work out who it could have been. She has no idea, but she can’t bear to speculate on it with Patrick.
Again, she remembers their old rivalry, born when they both vied for Tom’s attention as children. Patrick would gloat if he discovered that he knew something about Tom that she didn’t, or if he discovered that Tom had hidden anything from her, and Tom did do that now and then if he thought something would upset her. Sometimes he did it to protect Patrick, because he was protective of his friend. He would neglect to tell her of the latest trouble that Patrick had got into, wanting to avoid her cross or frustrated reaction. He wanted Nicole and Patrick to co-exist so that he could keep them both in his life, even when Patrick crossed lines. The memory of that old rivalry with Patrick is souring things for her a little this evening.
‘Tom was clumsy,’ Patrick says. ‘It makes sense that this was an accident.’ Their conversation has been circling on this, again. The wine is making them both repetitive.
‘He could trip over his own feet,’ she says. ‘Once, in Swindon, he took an old radiator to the tip and when he tried to throw it into the skip it caught on his shirt, and he went over the rail and fell in with it. The men had to pull him out.’
Patrick snorts. ‘That’s so Tom.’
They sit in silence for a while.
‘You hungry?’ he asks. ‘Do you want me to cook?’
She nods. He’s been doing all the meals since he got here and the quality of what he’s prepared has surprised her.
‘When did you learn to cook, then?’ she asks.
‘Recently. I can’t do my job unless I look after myself.’
‘Who taught you?’ She’s fishing for information on potential girlfriends because he’s been coy on the subject since arriving. She’s heard all about his new job and new flat, but not about hislove life, and she can’t help thinking that the kind of radical change that he’s gone through must involve a woman somewhere along the line.
