A Hopeless Romantic Part 15

"And you hated it. I remember," Nick murmured, then put his fingers to his lips. "I hear something. Come this way."

They walked down the long corridor, and the unmistakable sound of someone coming up the stairs behind them could be heard, echoing toward them. Someone down below, a rather tentative voice, said, "My lord? Is that you?"

Laura looked at him in alarm, and without warning, Nick opened a door and virtually pushed Laura inside.

"This is my room," he said apologetically. "Charles is just down there, they must think it's him. Sorry about that, don't want anyone to see us, don't want you to have the third degree and all that."

"Goodness, no," said Laura.

"Okay," said Nick. He glanced around, ran his hands through his hair. The room was big, high ceilings, painted white, virtually without any decoration or personal touch whatsoever. There was a clock radio, a portable radio, a mahogany chest of drawers, and a door leading to a bathroom. A dressing gown hung on the back of the bathroom door. It was, in short, a very typical boy's room.

"Look," he said. "I think what's best is if you sleep here, and I'll kip somewhere else. I don't want to plonk you in another room only to find someone trying to hoover you up tomorrow morning. They're pretty fascist around here about hoovering. But they don't ever bother me in my room. Is that okay? Can you sleep here? Sheets are clean on today, which is great."

"Yes, of course," said Laura, giving herself up totally to the adventure of it all. "No problem." She was suddenly very tired. She reached up to take her wrap off, but Nick leaned forward and unwound it from her shoulders. It slid off and he handed it to her, and then he kissed her on the cheek. It was a strange moment; it felt like a strange gesture, intimate yet not intimate, and there was a silence as both of them stood there, rather embarra.s.sed. Laura looked up to find his eyes on her.

"Okay, best friend in Norfolk," she said after a while. "Thank you, thanks a lot. I'm sorry about this."

"No problem at all," said Nick. He walked over to the dresser and took out a big old T-shirt, which he handed to her. "Here. You can borrow this."

"Thanks."

"I'm sorry this is all a bit cloak and dagger. I just don't want you to have any ha.s.sle. I'll knock on the door after eight sometime, is that okay?"

"Great," said Laura.

He raised his hand in a gesture of farewell. "All right," he said. "Sleep well. Don't rifle through my personal possessions, and if you do, ignore the hard-core p.o.r.n."

"Sure, sure," said Laura. "No judging. Night."

"Night," he said, and smiled at her as he shut the door behind him.

The wine, the walk, the unexpectedness of the day-Laura barely managed to text her parents and take off her shoes and skirt, before falling into bed and into a sleep so deep she didn't think till afterward how strange it was that she was here, and how strange it was that it didn't feel strange.

When she woke, funnily enough, Laura knew exactly where she was. She opened her eyes and looked around the room, taking in its appearance in the daylight that shone through the thin curtains at the far end, opposite her bed. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, feeling deliciously relaxed, looked down at the baggy blue T-shirt Nick had given her. It said THORSON TECHNOLOGIES in huge red letters-trying to read it made the letters dance in front of her eyes. Out of the window she could see pine trees in the distance, a ma.s.s of greenish black to the north of the house. A wood pigeon was cooing somewhere nearby. Other than that, it was completely quiet. She snuggled down again and pulled the duvet over her. The bed was huge, the sheets smooth and clean. Laura stretched her arms and legs wide, and still couldn't feel the edge of the bed. She made a star shape with her limbs, like a windscreen wiper under the sheets, and she was laughing to herself at the sheer randomness of it all when there was a knock on the door.

"Laura?"

"Yes," cried Laura in a strangulated tone, getting tangled in the sheets.

"Er-are you decent?"

"Yes, yes! Come in!" Laura said chirpily.

The door opened about half a foot, and Nick's head appeared around the door, his short, thick hair sticking up in tufts. He looked in, obviously rather afraid of what he might find. "Ah," he said with relief, as he saw Laura was sitting up in bed, her arms crossed, under the duvet. He came in and shut the door behind him. She suddenly had a pang of fear-after all, it was a weird situation to be in. Perhaps this was all really embarra.s.sing; perhaps she had in fact made a total fool of herself last night? Was there something she wasn't remembering, some repressed memory where she'd licked him, or broken a Sevres vase?

"h.e.l.lo there." Nick smiled at her in a friendly way. He looked younger in the morning light. "You sleep well?"

"G.o.d, yes," said Laura gratefully. She looked at her watch. "Blimey. It's nine-thirty! I didn't realize it was so late."

She hadn't slept for nine straight hours since...he couldn't remember when. Over a year ago. She stretched again, smiling at him. "Thanks so much, Nick. I'm so sorry about last night-how completely emba-"

Nick raised his hand to cut her off. "Really, Laura, don't apologize. It's as much my fault as yours. I should be apologizing."

"I threw you out of your room, though," said Laura.

"No, I did. I'm a big boy. And it's a big house, you know. I found a study farther down where I could lay my weary head. Two chairs pushed together will do me fine."

Laura's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, no! Really?"

"No, not really," said Nick in withering tones. "The guest bedroom next door but one, actually."

"Oh," Laura said. "Ha-ha."

There was a pause. Laura was suddenly aware of what a peculiar situation it was. She slapped her hands on the duvet and said, "Well. Thanks again. I'd better be going."

"I've asked for some coffee to be sent up," said Nick. "Thought you might like some before you go."

"Oh, great," said Laura. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem."

"I'm going to get dressed," said Laura.

"Oh," said Nick. "I'll avert my gaze, then."

"Well, it'll only take a minute or so," said Laura, as he turned around politely. She hopped out of bed and slipped the T-shirt off, put on her bra and skirt and cardigan, slid on her flip-flops, and pulled her tangled dark-blond hair into a messy ponytail.

"Are you decent?" Nick said after a while.

"Yup," said Laura.

Nick turned round, amused. "That's your daily toilette, is it?" he said. "Very extensive."

"Absolutely," Laura said. "It just saves time. Wear the same panties for a week and they double up as pajamas. It's very handy. You get so much more done."

"I bet," said Nick. "Wow, you must be popular."

She raised her eyebrows at him. There was a knock at the door and the sound of something on the floor outside. "Coffee, sir."

"Ah," said Nick. He waited a second for the sound of footsteps walking away before going to the door; Laura was amused to see that, while everything was utterly relaxed between the two of them, he was not quite so relaxed about anyone else knowing he had had a strange girl in his room last night. What would Charles say? she wondered, as Nick put the tray on the bed. She thought he was probably more austere about these things than his friend. Might not like it, even though it couldn't be more innocent.

Nick handed her a cup of coffee. "Pastry?" he said, indicating a plate of delicious-looking croissants.

"It's like a hotel here," said Laura. "Wow!"

Her host was pouring some more coffee. "Yes," he said. "Slightly different, though. You can check out anytime you want, but you can't leave. Like the song." He looked up and smiled, that disarming smile.

Laura didn't quite know what to say. She looked out the window. "What's that?" she said suddenly, standing up and going over to the window.

Nick followed her pointing finger. "What?" he said.

"There. Jesus, what is that?'

"Oh," said Nick. He came and stood behind her. "f.u.c.k." He gazed out the window. "That's a helipad. And that-that-is a helicopter. Help, I'd forgotten. Rose is coming for the weekend."

"Rose?"

Nick ran his hands through his hair. "Yes. Er-the sister. Charles's sister. With her awful husband. b.l.o.o.d.y Malcolm. There's a thing on Sat.u.r.day evening, a dinner for...s.h.i.t. I should go and..." He groaned, and looked out gloomily. "d.a.m.n. She has brought Malcolm. Help."

There was a light tap on the door. They froze, as if caught in the act. Nick was first to relax. He smiled ruefully. "G.o.d, this is ridiculous. Yes? Who is it?"

"It's Charles," came the calm voice from outside. "Man, Rose is here. I was wondering where Mrs. Hillyard is, I can't find her. Can I tell her-"

Nick leaped up, went to the door, opened it, and had a m.u.f.fled conversation with Charles in the hallway, leaving Laura realizing suddenly that she really should go, she was getting in the way. She looked out the window, from high up on the top floor of the house. How strange it must be to wake up here, even if you'd known it all your life. The countryside sloped gently away from the grounds, the woods of the estate to the north merging into pinewoods, which stopped abruptly, and there beyond them was the sea. There was a fresh breeze, and Laura breathed in, catching the scent of pine and seawater. She felt calm, awake.

"It's a lovely day," she said, as Nick came back into the room.

"It is," he said. He was looking at her, his hand on his forehead.

Laura inhaled again, closing her eyes. It was gorgeous, air you could taste. She sighed, and shivered suddenly.

Nick watched her. "Goose walk over your grave?" he said.

Laura nodded. "Something like that. Right, I'd better go, I think." She allowed herself one last glimpse out the window, and said dreamily, "The beach looks so lovely from here, doesn't it? You must want to spend all day there when it's like this."

"I suppose so," said Nick. "I-where? Oh, it's there. I've never really been."

"What?" Laura gaped at him. "You've never been to the beach?"

"Not really," he said, looking out the window again.

"Nick, sorry, sorry," said Laura, holding up her hands. "You live overlooking that beach, the beautiful sea, and you've never been there?"

"Yes, of course I have," he said impatiently. "I used to go, but when I was small. I mean, I haven't been-you know, since..." He waved his arm vaguely. "It's always too crowded. With people. You know. And I don't really have time to go. Since I came back."

"How long ago was that?" said Laura "Two years ago." Nick backed away, walked across the room. He chewed a nail. "I moved back two years ago."

"Oh," said Laura. "Why did you come back?"

Nick scratched his head. "I had to, when my father died. Before that, I didn't come here much. I was...being stupid, mainly. p.i.s.sing my life away in London. That's why I hate London. And I love it here. It saved me, basically. Charles did, too. And-I'll do anything-well." He stopped suddenly, and sat on the edge of the bed. "That's all."

"Well, you should go to the beach," Laura said, following the thread of the conversation, not really knowing what else to say. She slung her bag over her shoulder. "Right. Well, I'd better be off."

"I should, I know," said Nick unexpectedly. Then he stood up and said casually, "Listen. What are you doing later?"

"What, later today?" said Laura. "G.o.d, no idea. Going to a windmill. Or a b.u.t.tery or something, I expect."

"I meant tonight," he said.

"Oh," said Laura. "Oh." She wanted to see him again, she knew it, but- "Not that that doesn't sound lovely," he said. "Well-give me a call if you need rescuing or you fancy a drink or whatever." As Laura involuntarily opened her mouth, he said, "Relax, old chum. I feel it's my duty, since I'm your best friend here, to make sure your holiday goes well."

"Well, thanks to you," said Laura, "it's actually much better than I thought it was going to be."

"Cool," said Nick.

"Cool," said Laura.

They said goodbye by the back door, the one through which they'd entered last night, a few minutes later. It was nearly eleven, and the sun was climbing higher in the sky. Nick had offered to walk her to the car, but Laura said no, she'd be absolutely fine. He'd given her his number, too. They stood in silence for a moment, suddenly awkward, and then Laura saw Charles approaching them, skirting the formal garden at the back. Laura pushed her sungla.s.ses on her head, held out her hand, and said, "Thanks. I'll-I'd better go."

He took her hand in his, and shook it firmly. He smiled down at her, a smile that was so familiar to her now, so strange.

"Remember what I said about tonight," he said casually.

"Yes," said Laura. "Thank you."

"Fine," said Nick. They grinned at each other. "Are you going to tell your parents where you were?"

"Nope," said Laura. "They'd just get overexcited. I told them when I texted last night. You're Naomi. You're a friend from my first job, and you work for the Wetlands Trust."

"I do, do I?" said Nick in amus.e.m.e.nt, as Charles reached them.

"h.e.l.lo there, again. It's...Laura, isn't it?"

"Good morning," said Laura, resolved not to be embarra.s.sed or obsequious. She smiled at him, then turned back to Nick and said, "Maybe I'll see you later, Naomi." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for a lovely...er...thanks for a lovely evening."

As she walked away, her heart was beating strangely fast. She looked back, but Nick had already turned and was heading toward the front lawn, his tall, rangy frame solitary against the vast expanse of gra.s.s, toward where a voice was bellowing forth.

"Nick! You're there. h.e.l.lo. Where's that useless sister of yours? Lavinia not up yet? The roses have got ash-rot, you've been over-watering them, you must tell Fletcher..." came a voice from behind him, heels on the terraces. Lady Rose Balmore's strident tones rose above the garden and floated over to them. Nick answered, his voice inaudible, and the sounds of greeting, familiar exchanges, gradually faded away as he slipped back into his life, and Laura continued on her way across the lawn, up to the path she'd taken on that strange night before. She was in no hurry. She'd slept so well, the tired feeling behind her eyes had gone, and she could feel the sun on her arms, on her hair, as she walked away from that strange world, back to hers. She turned and looked at the house as she reached the gate. It looked so different in the morning sunshine, gold and glittering, with green all around it. Windows were open all over its facade, and she could hear the hum of a tractor in the distance, and the coos of the fat pigeons in the dark trees to the north.

chapter twenty.

A s Laura walked round the side of Seavale over an hour later, dodging the deck chairs, she could hear her parents and Mary making polite conversation over what was clearly an early lunch.

"Pa.s.s the ratatouille, would you, Angela dear?"

"Yes, Mum. Would you like some more water?"

"No, thanks. Is there any wine left in the bottle?"

"George?" said Angela. "George, is there any wine left?"

"No," said George. "Oh, well."