‘I don’t know …’
‘I’d like to do it as quickly as possible. Would a fortnight be too soon?’
‘Shall we see about the marquee and then decide?’ said Gilly. ‘I have a favourite firm I use.’
‘Excellent. Franco would do the catering if we asked him.’ He paused. ‘He’s been wondering out loud why I’m single for long enough.’
‘Maybe we should go back and tell him we’re “coupled up”.’
William kissed her again. ‘One of the reasons I love you – you’re so “down wid da kids”.’
Gilly found this thought so hilarious she had to have a drink of water to calm herself down.
Gilly was very happy when William dropped her off, particularly as he had promised to be back for supper. She walked around the house thinking about what furniture she could get rid of so William could have enough things to make the house seem partly his. He’d need space for his desk. Would under the window in the sitting room do or would he actually like a proper study? In which case the room Gilly currently used for flower arranging and as a general dumping ground could be cleared out and made very nice.
But in the meantime, if she moved Martin’s old desk, which wasn’t very special really, William’s desk would fit. She’d ask Martin if he wanted it although it wouldn’t really fit into his and Cressida’s minimal, modern decorative scheme.
Thinking about Martin made her realise she’d better let him and Cressida know about William and that she should do it face-to-face. She’d email him to invite them over. But the more she thought about telling him, the more nervous she became. She ought to phone but didn’t want to.
She didn’t escape talking to him. He rang right back as soon as he got her email. ‘What is this thing you want to tell us, Ma? Nothing silly, I hope.’
‘What do you mean? What could I be telling you that’s silly?’ She knew exactly what he meant though, and in his eyes, yes, it was silly.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I think it would be better if you came here to tell us whatever it is.’
‘I was going to make the stew you like with the cheese scones.’
‘So, you wanted to butter me up with my favourite food.’
She didn’t bother to deny it. ‘I just thought you’d like it.’
‘Come to us. Tomorrow night? About seven. Cressida would never eat stew and scones.’
Chapter Thirty-four
She brought flowers from her garden, already in her jam jar so Cressida wouldn’t have to worry about finding a vase (she might not even have a vase), some cheese straws (Martin loved anything cheesy) and a book for Ismene. She also got out a bottle of wine from the cellar which she thought looked OK although she couldn’t remember much about it. She’d bought it after a long and persuasive phone call from a famous wine merchant some time ago. Now she really hoped it was nice. On Martin and Cressida’s doorstep, waiting for the bell to be answered, she wished she’d brought two bottles.
‘Mum! Hi!’ said Martin. He hugged her briefly. He made Gilly feel wary.
‘Hello, darling. How lovely to see you! Is everyone well? It seems ages.’
‘Well, come in. Oh, thank you for this,’ he said, taking the bottle and leaving Gilly with her arms still fairly full.
Cressida, looking very well groomed and thin, was perched on the edge of the sofa, her knees clamped together. She had very tense legs, Gilly felt, and now, when she got up, every sinew of them was visible. ‘Gilly! You brought flowers, how lovely!’
‘Yes,’ said Gilly, handing them over. ‘They just need some water. You don’t need to rush around trying to find a vase for them.’
‘Very thoughtful,’ said her daughter-in-law, although Gilly suspected she was the sort of person who thought flowers in jam jars was a bit ‘shabby chic’ and not her style.
‘And where’s my lovely granddaughter?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got a book for her that she might like.’
‘She’s staying with a friend. We felt we could relax more if she wasn’t here.’
‘Oh. Well, let me know if she likes the book. I could get more by that author.’
‘Very kind. She loves reading, as you know.’
‘She’s a credit to you,’ said Gilly, wishing her granddaughter were there in person. A little light relief would have been very welcome. And she loved Issi.
Martin handed her a glass. ‘Sherry, Mum?’ he asked.
She took the glass. She did like sherry but the Tio Pepe Martin served was very dry and she yearned to tell him she liked something a bit sweeter. A nice amontillado was much more her thing.
‘So,’ she said, having taken a sip. ‘Shall we get what I have to tell you over? Tell you now?’
‘No!’ said Martin urgently. ‘Not yet!’
‘It’s no big deal really,’ said Gilly. ‘It’s only that—’
‘Stop!’ said Martin, holding up a commanding hand. ‘Dad’s coming.’
‘What!’ Gilly stopped trying to be well-mannered and restrained. ‘Why? What did you invite him for?’
‘I thought if you were going to be telling us something potentially serious he should be here,’ said Martin.
Gilly took a breath, forcing herself to remember that Martin was away for most of the acrimonious divorce proceedings and she’d made a point of not telling her children quite how awful their father was. Helena knew a lot more, of course. It had been harder to hide it from her.
‘What I have to tell you, Martin, is absolutely nothing to do with your father!’
‘Well, it must be something important or you wouldn’t be making such a big deal of it,’ said Martin.
Gilly drained her sherry glass. This was going very badly. Martin was so hostile. Maybe she should just say that she wanted to get rid of his desk but not say why? But then it would look dreadful if the next time Martin and his family came over William literally had his feet under the table. And there was the party. She’d have to invite Martin and Cressida to that.
She took a breath. ‘Well, there are two things. The first is, I don’t want to sell my house but I do want to get rid of some bits of furniture. I wanted to see if you wanted them.’
There was a short, tense silence. Martin pursed his lips. Then he said haughtily, ‘Well, it’s a shame you don’t want to help out your family, but I accept your decision. And the second thing? It can’t only be that or you wouldn’t be here.’
If Martin hadn’t been such a serious person she’d have said, ‘You’ve got me bang to rights.’ As it was she made a non-committal little sound.
The doorbell jangled and Gilly had time to wonder if it was the most irritating one she had ever heard. Then she heard her ex-husband’s deep, loud voice. ‘She’s still got that sardine can of a car, I see,’ he said. As he was still in the hall it was possible he didn’t intend Gilly to hear him, but it was unlikely.
‘Hello, Sebastian,’ said Gilly.
‘Hello, Gilly,’ he said and bent to kiss her cheek.