He came up behind her as she sipped her wine. Reaching up, he kissed her neck and exclaimed, ‘Good, you’re back! Just in time.’ He smelled of shower gel.
Tash felt a rush of affection for him and was relieved. Maybe things weren’t so bad, after all? She turned and smiled. ‘You’ve gone to so much trouble.’
‘I know you love my casserole. Creamy mash to go with it, loads of butter. You sit down and I’ll serve. Pour me some fizz, will you? I held off until you were back.’
‘I’ll get fat,’ Tash complained, filling his glass and topping up her own.
‘Nonsense,’ he called through from the kitchen. He reappeared, wearing his butcher’s striped apron and carrying a casserole pot. ‘Besides—’ he winked ‘—I like some meat on my women.’ He placed the dish on the trivet and disappeared to get the potatoes.
Once they’d eaten, Tash sat back replete. ‘That was one of your best, Ade. Delicious. I’m going to have to unbutton my skirt though. I’ve eaten far too much.’ She reached around to the back of her work skirt and sighed as the waistband eased.
Adrian gave her an odd look. He stared at her stomach intently and then took a breath. ‘You’re not … you don’t think we’re pregnant?’ He paused, and stared owlishly at her.
‘God, no. At least I bloody well hope not.’ Tash shuddered.
‘Don’t swear Natasha, you know I don’t like it.’ He picked up his flute of prosecco and sipped thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t mind, actually. Having a baby, I mean.’
‘Well, I would,’ Tash answered, robustly. ‘It’s not the right time for me. I want to make area manager before I’m thirty and try to set up on my own eventually. A baby wouldn’t fit into that.’
‘You could always give up work.’ Adrian clocked her horrified expression and back-tracked. ‘Or go part-time?’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No babies. Not now.’ Not ever, she added silently. And not with you, came the echo.
‘Well, that told me,’ Adrian said but cheerfully enough. ‘A discussion for another time. Shall we take the coffee into the sitting room? I’ll clear up later, there isn’t much to do.’
Ensconced on the sofa leaning against Adrian, with some Puccini on in the background, Tash felt more mellow. She looked around at the cream and white décor and couldn’t help feeling slightly smug. She’d had a great day at work, a man who had cooked her a superb meal and this wonderfully luxurious house to come back to. At this very moment, her life seemed as perfect as the image she tried so hard to put out to the world. To those who had bullied her at school and made her feel as if her life would never amount to much.
‘Perhaps we should do Glyndebourne next year?’ Adrian said.
Tash shifted against him. ‘That’s come out of the blue.’
‘Not really. I used to go every year before I met you.’
‘It’s funny. You’ve never really talked about then. Before me, I mean. Have you had many girlfriends?’ She twisted her head round to look up at him and caught his quizzical smile.
‘Never a very ladylike thing to ask, Natasha.’ He laughed softly. ‘I had my fair share, I suppose. What about you?’
‘Not the most gentlemanly thing to ask,’ she countered. ‘I was always too busy concentrating on work. Only had one boyfriend before you.’
‘Really?’ Adrian sounded pleased.
‘And at school I was always the fat one with glasses. Had my eyes lasered as soon as I could. None of the boys wanted to know until I was twenty-four and I’d lost three stone and the bottom of bottle specs.’ Tash giggled but there was an underlying note of hurt. ‘Then I had the satisfaction of telling them where to go.’
‘I bet you did. I really can’t imagine you fat.’ He pinched her thigh quite hard. ‘Who was this one boyfriend, then?’
‘Lee Styles. He got engaged to Amy Chilcombe last year but dumped her at the altar.’
‘How awful,’ Adrian murmured. ‘Who’s Amy Chilcombe?’
‘She’s running Millie’s new bookshop. The one where the book club was held last night.’ Tash could have sawed out her tongue with a blunt knife. The book club was a touchy subject. The Puccini ended and the room fell ominously silent. She tensed for Adrian’s inevitable quicksilver change of mood.
‘You still haven’t told me who was there.’ Adrian still sounded relaxed but Tash detected an edge to his voice.
‘Oh, you know, the usual.’ She felt the muscles in his arm stiffen.
‘I don’t know, actually. Tell me.’
‘Millie, Amy, Emma of course. Oh, and Biddy, and some snob called Marti and a few of her acolytes. She lives on the estate.’
‘Natasha please. Executive housing development. It’s hardly an estate.’ Adrian chuckled and then his mood changed. ‘Any men?’ This time there was definite steel in his voice.
‘Erm, a couple. A writer called Patrick Carroll or something and some bloke called Kit, I think.’ Tash said, deliberately vague.
‘Ah. And was that one of them walking back along the promenade when I picked you up?’
‘Dunno. Might have been.’ Tash hated how defensive Adrian made her feel.
‘Tall chap. Scruffy. Wearing a disreputable beanie.’
‘Sounds like the Kit bloke,’ Tash admitted. She’d have to tell him the truth; he had a way of finding out when she lied. ‘He helped Millie clear up.’ She waited for Adrian’s reaction, without daring to breathe.
‘Ah.’
Tash forced herself to relax. He’d taken it quite well.
Adrian kissed the top of her head. ‘And now, my darling, I think it’s time for bed.’
He made her dress up in the PVC nurse’s outfit. When she complained, he pouted and said that after all the trouble he’d gone to with dinner, it was the least she could do. But, apart from that, the sex was fairly normal. For once.
On her day off Tash decided to go for a walk. She hardly ever went for walks. It wasn’t something she and Adrian did. Meals in expensive restaurants or drinks parties with his business contacts were more their style. Or rather Adrian’s style. She missed the simpler pleasures she’d enjoyed before him. It was funny how life with Adrian had consumed her. She used to love walking her parents’ dog. She hadn’t seen them for ages, or Benji, their over-indulged Westie. So she decided – once Adrian had left for work, she’d go and have a coffee with her mother and borrow the dog for a few hours.
She waved Adrian off at dawn on a peerlessly beautiful August day. The house martins chattered above them as she saw him into his car. He was going on one of his regular trips to Manchester to reccie possible development projects and was grumpy. He hated going away.
Looking up at the birds, he grumbled, ‘We’ll have to clear the guttering before they nest next year. They’ve made a right mess. Put netting up. Bloody things.’
Tash smiled tightly. She handed him his briefcase as he squeezed into the Porsche. She wasn’t the only one putting on weight. ‘Drive safely.’
‘Will do, don’t want to risk any more points on the licence. Cops spot this