‘Come in, madam,’ he says when he realises that I’m frozen on the doorstep.
I step into a hallway that’s lined with flickering candles and the impressive Imperial staircase is draped with swags of Christmassy foliage. The butler takes my coat and I follow him towards the living room, which is also filled with candles. There’s an enormous Christmas tree in the corner, shimmering with red and gold baubles. Shelby is standing there in full evening dress and looks every inch like an old-fashioned movie star. His dark-blond hair is swept back, immaculately styled. He’s so beautiful that I could just stand and stare at him all night.
‘This is lovely,’ I manage to say. ‘When did you do all this?’
‘I had someone in,’ he confesses. ‘You like it?’
‘Love it.’ The festive decorations make it look warmer, more intimate than usual.
The butler appears at my elbow with a tray and I take a glass of champagne. ‘Are we having a party?’ I ask Shelby.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘But just the two of us.’
‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.’
‘I haven’t been fair to you,’ he says. ‘I shot off to Birmingham without consulting you and I shouldn’t have. The decision ought to have been a joint one.’
‘It’s your work . . .’
‘I know and, now I’m not going to be around for the rest of the month, I am regretting it.’
‘You should make the most of it. Sounds like you’re having a lot of fun.’
‘I am.’ His eyes sparkle in the candlelight. ‘It’s years since I’ve been on a stage. On television, if anything goes wrong we can retake a scene.’
‘Like when a bunch of unruly alpacas decided to trash the set?’
He laughs. ‘Thankfully, that doesn’t happen very often.’
I don’t think, even if I live to be a hundred, that I’ll forget the humiliation of that day.
‘When in front of an audience, it’s pure adrenaline,’ he continues. ‘Anything can go wrong and frequently does. It makes me feel very alive.’
‘Then it was the right decision,’ I tell him.
‘I wanted tonight to be special,’ he says. ‘It was partly Bev’s doing. She volunteered to step in while we spent some time alone.’
‘She’s wonderful. I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
‘You should be relying on me,’ he points out. ‘I’m sorry to be abandoning you in the run up to Christmas.’
‘It will be all hands to the pump,’ I agree. In fact, I really need to get going tomorrow. If the Christmas tree is arriving that will spur us all into action. We have to do something with the five million dancing lights that Bev’s bought.
‘Want to see what’s on the menu?’ Shelby asks.
I nod and he steers me through to the kitchen where a chef is busy at the enormous range stove with its plethora of doors and hotplates. That’s another thing that terrifies me. How do you cook on that monster?
‘Evening,’ the chef says to us over his shoulder.
‘This is Stephen. He’s been here most of the day preparing dinner especially for us.’
‘Wow.’ Whatever it is, it smells divine. So we sit on the stools at the kitchen island, watching the chef as he works and explains to us what he’s cooking.
Dinner is served in the vast main dining room where candles abound again, there are arrangements of deep red roses entwined with holly on the table and it’s all very fancy. I try not to think that I’d be equally happy with a takeaway on the sofa with Shelby and appreciate all that he’s done for me. The food is wonderful. The house looks spectacular. The champagne is going to my head. He’s made a huge effort and I love him for it. I look across the table at him as he’s telling me a story about one of the actors in the panto and realise that, at this moment, I could not love him more.
After dinner, the chef and the butler leave and, finally, it’s just Shelby and me. He puts some slow music on and, in the living room, we dance by the Christmas tree, holding each other close. I rest my head on his shoulder and enjoy feeling the warmth of his hands on my skin.
We go to bed and I discover that Cunning Bev has packed an overnight bag for me and has brought it here – every eventuality catered for. I must thank her profusely for doing this.
Shelby and I make love and it’s just how it used to be. When he falls asleep, I lie awake curled against him, feeling happy, content. The moonlight streams through the window and bathes the room in a mellow glow. It could be like this, I think. Always. I know how much Shelby wants it. And it’s a beautiful home. Shelby is much more relaxed here than he is at the farm. Would it be too hard for me to leave Hope Farm and live here permanently? It’s a thought that keeps me awake until dawn.
Chapter Thirty
Too soon it’s morning and we’re back to normal. I’d like to say that we luxuriate in each other’s arms, but no – we’re both rushing around, hurtling into the day. Shelby has to head straight back to Birmingham. I need to get back to see if the farm is still standing.
‘This has been wonderful,’ I say. ‘Just what we needed.’
He takes me in his arms and holds me tightly. ‘Come to opening night,’ he says. ‘Ken will bring you. There’s a party afterwards. Put on your glad rags again.’
‘I don’t know . . .’
‘It would mean a lot to me to have you there.’
‘Could Ken bring me back afterwards? I don’t like to leave the farm two nights in one week.’ It’s unheard of and I can’t take Bev for granted. But how can I refuse? It’s hardly a lot to ask that I be there to support him.
‘OK,’ he says. ‘Let’s compromise. Come for the show and party, then Ken can drive you home. It will be a late one, but you’ll be back with your precious animals.’
I ignore the slight barb. ‘Can Lucas come too?’
‘Of course. Nothing would make me happier. If you can persuade him.’
That might take some doing. His father isn’t on his ‘favourites’ list and I’m pretty sure panto won’t be up there either.
As you know, I lay awake most of the night and my brain was very busy. I’d have to make a lot of sacrifices to move in with Shelby, but don’t I owe it to him to try? If this relationship is to work, then I have to be more open to his lifestyle and he to mine. Could I get a manager in to run the farm full time, I wonder? That someone would have to live on-site in the caravan as we need someone here 24/7. But then that would be more expense and eat into our valuable resources. What would I do with the dogs? I couldn’t bring them here. Betty Bad Dog would wreck the place within five minutes. That beautiful Christmas tree would be a goner. Valuable ornaments? All smashed. And what of Lucas? If we lived here would he want come back? My gut feeling is that he’d prefer to stay at the farm in the caravan and, in truth, that’s where I’m most comfortable too. I’d hate to move here and leave him behind. I couldn’t do it.
‘I’m sorry, but I have to run.’ Shelby’s voice breaks into the workings of my frenzied brain. ‘If you’re ready, Ken can drop you off on the way.’