A Hopeless Romantic Part 14

Laura thought of the red-haired beauty they'd encountered on their way in to the Hall earlier that day. "Do you know, I think I met her today," she said.

Nick groaned. "Oh, G.o.d. Where?"

"In the ticket box. With Sean. They-"

"Don't tell me," said Nick, holding up his hands. "Oh, G.o.d, they're the lunatics having s.e.x in the kiosk you were complaining about earlier. Aren't they?"

"No," said Laura, blushing. "I was just being rude."

"Don't spare my feelings, Laura." He looked resigned. "She's a nightmare, and I've got to do something about it now she's living back at the Hall. At some point."

"It's very nice of Charles to let her stay there," said Laura.

"What? Oh, yes," said Nick. "He's always been fond of Lavinia. Think he has a crush on her, actually."

"He seems lovely," said Laura. "Really nice. It must be a weird life for him, I suppose."

"Why do you say that?" There was a note of defensiveness in Nick's voice.

"Well," she said carefully, "I just mean it's a big responsibility, that house, all those people. And it's not like he's married with loads of kids and a wife, or he has someone to share it all with. It must be weird."

"It is," said Nick.

"Would you want to be him?" said Laura. Nick looked blank for a second. "I mean," she went on, trying to explain, "would you want to swap places, be the marquis? Do you ever think about that?"

"No," said Nick slowly. "You know, I sometimes think I wouldn't be him, not for all the money and estates in the world."

"Well, he's lucky to have you as his friend," said Laura.

Nick was silent. Then he cleared his throat and said, "I'm not so sure about that. More wine? Here, have the rest." He poured the last of the wine into her gla.s.s, and his hand touched hers momentarily as he set the bottle down again. Their eyes met, and they smiled at each other. Laura sat back in her chair, relaxing a little more. There was something so comfortable about him, about his company. Her mind flew back to the mess of tangled friendships and relationships she had left behind in London, and she thought suddenly that it was funny, but here in this pub, with this nice, strange man, she felt calmer, like she was breathing properly, like she could see the vista of her life stretching out over the next few months more clearly than she had for-she didn't know how long. That for the first time she was looking forward to it.

"So, when do you go back to London?" said Nick.

"Sat.u.r.day," said Laura. "Yeah." She gazed reflectively into her gla.s.s. "Got a big birthday lunch for my grandmother on Sat.u.r.day. All the relatives coming up."

"Oh, G.o.d," he said, looking at her with amused sympathy. "If they're anything like mine..." He trailed off.

"They're a bit grim, to be honest," said Laura. She finished her gla.s.s of wine. "They mean well, I'm sure."

"What does that mean?"

"Well-take my aunt Annabel. I'm sure she's not evil, but if you were stranded on a desert island and she rescued you after six months, she'd criticize you for not tidying up the grains of sand. And she'd say the jungle was out of control and you should have pruned it back."

Nick looked at her, trying not to laugh. "Right," he said. "That's some aunt."

"She's not really my aunt, really," said Laura. "Actually, she's like my stepaunt. You know."

"Er," said Nick politely, after a pause in which Laura thought, Oh, no, I'm gabbling. She opened her mouth to ask about his family, but he said suddenly, "So. Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"A brother," said Laura. "Just me and him. He's called Simon."

"Are you close?"

"Yes, we are," said Laura. "I miss him. He's been away, in"-she scrunched up her face, trying to remember the location of the last postcard-"some mountain village in Peru, anyway. I haven't seen him since March. But he's coming back for Granny's lunch on Sat.u.r.day. Hurrah!"

He smiled at her enthusiasm. "Hurrah, indeed. You sound like a close family."

"Well," said Laura. She looked at him. "We are, but-you know."

"What?"

"Well, families. It's all complicated, isn't it? We are close, but we're all quite weird at the same time."

"How so?"

"My aunt, and her brood. That's why I..."-she fiddled with her napkin-"I'm not looking forward to it much. We're all quite different." She was silent then, and twirled the stem of her gla.s.s between her fingers. "Sorry," she said, meeting his gaze. His eyes were warm, understanding. "I don't mean to gabble on."

"You're not," said Nick. "Really, you're not. That's families for you. It is, as you say, complicated."

"How about yours?" said Laura. "Same thing?"

"Yes," he said, standing up. "All very complicated, and it's not on the surface, is it? Give me a moment, I'll settle the bill, and then I'll walk you to your car."

He left her, and Laura watched him go. She felt as if he were holding her at arm's length, and she didn't know why. She looked around the pub, frowning. Then she told herself not to be so silly, not to jump ahead again. She'd only just met him. And it was strange, how she felt she could tell him anything and it wouldn't matter. For the first time in ages, no judging, no agenda, nothing. Just a friendly stranger on a warm summer's night, a gla.s.s of wine, and a proper conversation.

chapter nineteen.

T hey walked outside, onto the moonlit gravel path, out of the floodlighting. As Laura approached the car, she had the sensation of two sides of her brain, the subconscious and the conscious, rushing together for the first time that evening. The subconscious had been hiding something from her, and it suddenly hit her, with the full force of an oncoming train.

"s.h.i.t!" she said suddenly.

The violence in her voice made Nick stop in his tracks. "What?" he said. "Laura?"

"s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t," said Laura, turning around and banging her fist on top of the nearest car. Luckily, it was her car. She turned back to face him. "I can't drive!"

"You can't drive?" Nick said, perplexed.

"No, not that! I completely forgot. I've had..." She quickly added up how many gla.s.ses of wine she'd had, and gave up in despair at three. "I've had far too much to drink. At least three gla.s.ses. Argh." She banged her forehead gently on the roof of the car and let out a m.u.f.fled groan.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have forgotten she had the car outside? She'd relaxed, let herself enjoy the evening-and this was what happened.

"It's okay," said Nick calmly. "Don't worry. You can stay with me."

"No!" said Laura, so loudly both of them took a step back. "Sorry," she continued in a quieter voice. "Oh, stupid! Stupid me! How could I have forgotten I drove here?"

"Do you make a habit of this kind of thing?" asked Nick. "Drinking nearly a bottle of wine and forgetting you drove to the pub?"

"No, never," said Laura. She was cold all of a sudden in the night air. "I don't, in London. I don't have a car. So I always drink when I go to the pub."

"Well, there you are, then," said Nick. "It's different up here, you know."

"I know," said Laura miserably. "I was-enjoying myself, that's all."

Nick watched her for a moment. "Don't look so tragic about it, Laura. It's not a crime to enjoy yourself, you know."

"Yes, it is," muttered Laura, feeling as if she were in some biblical parable, the one where the Lord wreaks vengeance on the stupid girl who is a foolish wanton by removing the last shred of common sense in her brain.

"No," said Nick firmly, "it's not. But it will be if you drive. Look, Laura, come back to the Hall with me. It's five minutes away. You can either stay the night or call a cab. But at this time of night, a cab's going to take over an hour to get here." Laura shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say. "Which is why you might as well stay the night."

"Oh," she said eventually. "But-look, Nick-"

"This isn't a come-on," said Nick in amus.e.m.e.nt. "Seriously, this isn't my dastardly way of taking advantage of you."

He laughed at her, his voice soft in the velvety darkness. Laura stepped away from him, feeling embarra.s.sed. She didn't want him to think-she couldn't bear the idea he thought she might be angling for something, that this was some ploy of hers. Especially not when they'd had, well, the perfect evening, she thought. She didn't want to spoil it, the memory of it, and now she had.

"I know-of course. Really-"

She couldn't see his face, but his voice said in a kindly tone, "Look. I'm your only friend in Norfolk, aren't I?"

"You are actually my best friend in Norfolk," said Laura.

"Well, there you go," said Nick. "Come back, and we'll get you a cab or find you a room."

"It won't be a problem?"

"I shouldn't think so," said Nick gravely. "There's about thirty-five bedrooms, Laura, I'm sure we can find somewhere for you to sleep."

She gave a snort of laughter, then clapped her hand to her mouth. "I didn't mean that! I meant, you won't get into trouble, will you? It's okay for you to-to ask some-some random gir-person back and give them a room for the night?"

"Yes," he said. "I promise you, it won't be a problem."

She shivered. Nick put her wrap around her shoulders and said, "Come on, then, new best friend. Come back to mine. You're getting cold and I'm not standing here all night. You can pick up the car in the morning."

Laura was mightily amused. "'Come back to mine,' eh? You make it sound like you live in a flat next to the post office. And how do I explain what happened to my parents? And how do I explain I'm staying the night, without them getting totally the wrong end of the stick?"

Nick started walking ahead of her. He said shortly, "Well, you make something up. What did you tell them tonight?"

"It's really only a five-minute walk?" said Laura, following him. "I don't believe you. The b.l.o.o.d.y driveway alone took ten minutes."

"We're round the back; this is the edge of the estate to the north," said Nick, leading the way. "The fields over there are corn-the combines are arriving soon, in a couple of weeks, you know."

He strode ahead in silence, Laura following. What a curious mixture he was, she thought, admiring his rear view dispa.s.sionately. Face to face, he was diffident, closed-off, flippant. In repose, or when he thought he wasn't being watched, he was a different person, almost two sides. One, the polite, almost remote man who could make you laugh and was endlessly flippant, never serious. The other, the broad-shouldered, outdoorsy country boy who talked enthusiastically about animal husbandry, whose face and att.i.tude were more relaxed, more human, almost. It was hard to believe they were the same person, and it was strange that she felt so comfortable with him.

"Thanks," she said suddenly. "I'm sorry. About this."

"My pleasure, Laura."

"If we b.u.mp into Charles-" she said abruptly.

"I'll make something up," said Nick. "Don't worry. I'm not a slave there. I'm allowed to bring people back, you know. But you're right. Best if no one sees. People will only gossip."

They had reached the gate beyond the pub's garden. He unpad-locked the bolt and drew back the tall, solid wooden door.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Okay," said Laura, but as he said, "Mind the-" she stumbled into a tiny ditch, a hollow on the other side of the door. Nick caught her hand.

"Sorry," he said, putting her on her feet again and releasing her. "Must get that sorted out, you know. I keep meaning to talk to the guys about it. You okay?"

"Absolutely," said Laura.

Their feet made sc.r.a.ping sounds along the dry earth of the pathway. An owl hooted in the woods to their right. Ahead of them the path swung round by the trees, and as they walked past them Laura drew her breath in.

"The house. Look. It's..."

There in the moonlight, the side view of Chartley Hall appeared in front of them, like a proud lady in profile. The stone gleamed in the moon's light, but the windows were dark. Ahead of them lay a formal garden, knotted with rows of black yew. It looked old, forbidding, magnificent-and nothing like someone's home.

"Nearly there," said Nick. "I love this view."

"It's beautiful," Laura said simply. "Beautiful. You must-" She stopped.

"What?" said Nick.

"Well, it must be quite lonely sometimes."

"It is," said Nick. "Yes, it is." He was silent, standing still. "Right," he said after a moment. "Here we are." And they walked down the gentle slope past the woods to the monolith in front of them, toward a side door in the center of two wings. It was as if the house were swallowing them up, taking them in its jaws, Laura thought, and she craned her neck, looking up to the roof, as Nick unlocked the door and held it open for her. They stepped into a small hallway with a staircase, wood-paneled and painted green, ghostly in the nighttime light. It was tiny, incongruously small, given the vast sh.e.l.l that lay beyond it.

"G.o.d, this is weird," said Laura.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when I stagger back from the pub late at night, the walk home is slightly different," said Laura. "More rubbish bins in my way. Lot more empty fast-food wrappers. A few people lying on the curb, you're not sure if they're alive or dead. That kind of thing."

"Well, this is weird for me, too," said Nick, leading the way up the stairs. "When I stagger back from the pub, I don't usually have some pyromaniac girl with me who keeps. .h.i.tting me and can't drive because she's drunk too much and she's forgotten the car right outside the pub that she drove there."

"Oh..." Laura cast around for the appropriate response. "Shut up."

"Well done," said Nick. "Excellent comeback."

They reached the top of the stairs. Ahead of them was a prim, neat, very long corridor. Laura looked around, almost disappointed not to be confronted with some magnificent vista, a sweeping staircase, a vast airy ballroom, or some such. Nick could obviously sense this, because he said, "Sorry. I should have given you the guided-tour version, shouldn't I, rather than just rushing you up the back stairs. This is my front door, you see."

"Oh, no," said Laura. "Please, don't worry. I had the guided tour today."