I Should Be So Lucky (35 page)

‘What I’ve put
Kate
through? All this time, you’ve all known she’d been going behind my back with my
husband
and you can say that?’

‘Sometimes keeping quiet is the best thing all round,’ Naomi said as she followed Viola, who had arranged a tray and was carrying it out to the terrace table. ‘You might learn that one day when you’re older, but I sincerely hope you never have to.’

‘So
are
you selling up?’ Miles asked Naomi, smiling in an anxious sort of way as Viola poured the tea.

‘No. I can’t sell up. But I’ll have the company in the house that you seem to think I need. I’m moving Monica in here. She’s going downhill and I can see she’s going to need looking after. I’m selling a couple of
paintings
which will give me enough to do up the flat a bit for her, for when she gets frail. We’ll muddle through her illness together, and it’ll be a long one, I’m thinking.’

Kate stopped sniffing into a tissue and looked at her mother, puzzled. ‘But why do
you
have to take care of her?’

‘Because I owe her. That’s why,’ Naomi said bluntly.

‘Why do you owe her? Do you mean money?’ Miles asked.

‘No. I owe her something far more precious than that. Loyalty,’ Naomi murmured.

‘Then why not sell this place and move to the flats where she lives?’ Viola asked. It seemed a reasonable idea.

‘Ah.’ Naomi smiled at her. ‘Well, I can’t. The thing is …’ And she waited for a moment, considering, avoiding looking at any of them. ‘The house isn’t actually mine to sell.’

‘Jesus, whose is it then? Did you remortgage?’ Miles looked worried. Viola could almost have laughed.

‘It’s mine for my lifetime, that’s all. You remember Oliver Stonebridge, all of you? Well, of course you do, especially you, Vee, because you saw more of him. Well, he bought it for me. After I die it goes to his daughter. So you see, I can’t sell it.’

‘So …’ Kate seemed to be thinking aloud. ‘What was Oliver to you … Was he … um …?’

‘Yes, he was,’ Naomi said quietly. ‘He was, as you’d put
it
, Kate,
everything
to me. And Monica – well, she was the wife he’d planned to leave. But then he got cancer and there didn’t seem much point causing more hurt than his death was going to, so we just continued as before, until … until he died.’ Bizarrely, she then chuckled. ‘As Rachel would probably say, Viola, “end of”.’

‘So Monica’s
daughter
gets this house after you’ve gone? After you’ve looked after her mother for her and done the flat up at your
own
expense?’ Miles looked as if he wanted to punch someone.

‘Ah well, not exactly, Miles. You see, that’s the thing. He and Monica had a son and he lives abroad. But … and I know this is going to be a shock, Oliver and I
did
have a daughter. It’s Viola who will inherit the house.’

THIRTY

I AM ONLY
a half-sister, Viola thought later as she drove home, not a whole one. She tried saying out loud, ‘Viola Stonebridge Smith’. It had quite a ring to it but it wasn’t
her
. She’d been Hendricks since she and Marco had married and she’d happily stick with that. Half-sister to Miles and Kate. Poor Kate, what she must have gone through. And her mother, with her many years as the secret mistress of a man who couldn’t bring himself to leave his wife. She didn’t know whether to love him for that or hate him. No point in either, she knew. Nothing was to be gained from blaming the dead. She could at least give her mother a choice about the house, though. If it was possible to sell up with her consent, and if Naomi wanted that option so as to move to Monica rather than the other way round, then she’d do her best to make it happen.

To her surprise and delight, as she drove through the
Bell
Cottage gates she saw Greg’s Land Rover parked beside her front door and Greg inside it, reading
The Guardian
with his feet on the dashboard.

‘Hello, you,’ he said, climbing out and hugging her as soon as she was out of her car. ‘I can’t seem to pin you down to a meet-up, so I thought I’d just come here and get you and shout at you for standing me up last night. You are an elusive beast, you know.’

‘I’m so sorry. And I’m so sorry about last night. It’s been a traumatic time all round. So, so sorry. I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve had a moment to catch my breath.’

‘It’s OK, please stop apologizing,’ he said, stroking her hair, soothing her. ‘I’ve got part of the gist. Your ex was here and told me about your daughter and the hospital. He’s taken her out for a late fry-up lunch and said he’ll take her to a film as well, so not to expect them back till much later. He did say I could wait for you in the house, but I thought it would look presumptuous.’

‘Oh, it would have been fine. But anyway, come on in now, please. I need to feel, I don’t know,
grounded
. I’ve just found out things about me that I probably should have known for, oh, most of my life. Takes it out of you.’

‘He’s not so bad, your ex,’ Greg said as they went inside. ‘I thought I’d want to punch his lights out when I rocked up and there he was, like he belonged here. I mean, I didn’t know, did I? I suddenly thought, hey, you’re not as single as I’d assumed.’

‘I’d thought the same about you.’

‘I know. Maybe that blank-page thing wasn’t such a good idea. But there’s time. And your ex, well, he likes a beer and doesn’t support Manchester United, so I reckoned he’s not all bad.’ He looked serious for a moment. ‘You and he, you seem to have a friendly thing going. Reconciliation ahead? Because if there’s a chance that’ll happen, then perhaps I should start on the “Maybe we can still be friends” speech.’

‘Greg!’ She laughed. ‘Marco is as gay as Brighton Pier and lives with a lovely man called James. So, no, I don’t think there’s a chance we’ll be getting back together, much as we’re fond of each other!’

‘Phew, so I’m in with a shout then?’

‘Oh yes. Yes, you are.’ And, as it turns out, as a wonderful bonus you’re not even remotely related to me, she thought a few minutes later when she surfaced for a moment from kissing him. Oh the irony, that she had Kate to thank for that family tree and the discovery that the baby was his tiny cousin. How tenderly he’d held that baby, she remembered. Who couldn’t love a man like that?

‘Excellent,’ Greg said. ‘Which means we have to go and deal with those crocuses one night soon, before they start sprouting.’

‘We do? Why? Are they in the wrong place?’

He laughed. ‘In a manner of speaking. When you didn’t show up in the night I planted the whole lot in a complete pissed-off fury. They spell out, very large and
very
clearly, a
very
rude word. I think in the interest of not upsetting the faint-hearted who happen to be passing on a bus next spring, they really need rearranging.’

Viola giggled. ‘Oh no! All my fault, I’m so sorry! I’ll certainly come out with you and help.’

‘You can. But right now I want to show you my latest soppy gesture, even worse than the gladioli, but you must promise not to laugh or we’re so, as the kids would say,
like, over
.’

‘What gesture? I’m so sorry about those other flowers,’ she said, snuggling close.

‘That was then – and it’s nothing to do with those. It’s this one.’ He led her out through the kitchen doors and on to the terrace. ‘I did it as soon as your ex and daughter were out of the door. Nearly did myself an injury climbing over your back fence.’

It took Viola a few moments to take in what he’d done. The side borders looked just as she’d left them. It was the lawn that was different, so ridiculously different. The edges had been mown so there was a neat, curved border, but the middle had been left long and the grass and rampant buttercups were interspersed with cornflowers, poppies and ox-eye daisies, like a gorgeous, wild and wonderful little meadow.

‘Oh, you’ve made it heart-shaped!’ she gasped. ‘It’s fantastic! You are totally mad, you know? This is
so
stunning!’ She hugged him.

‘The plants are still only in pots at the moment. Even
I
couldn’t get them in that fast. Of course, from down here it’s not the best view.’ He looked at her, sparkly-eyed, and pulled her close.

‘Ah, no, you’re right,’ she said, catching what he meant and feeling instantly thrilled. ‘It would be much better seen from an upstairs window.’ She took his hand and smiled at him. ‘Come with me?’

About the Author

Judy Astley
became an author of witty contemporary novels after several years as a dressmaker, illustrator, painter and parent. She has two grown-up daughters and lives in London and Cornwall with her husband. She has been shortlisted for the Romantic Comedy Novel of the Year, 2012.

For more information about Judy Astley and her books, see her website at
www.judyastley.com

Also by Judy Astley

JUST FOR THE SUMMER

PLEASANT VICES

SEVEN FOR A SECRET

MUDDY WATERS

EVERY GOOD GIRL

THE RIGHT THING

EXCESS BAGGAGE

NO PLACE FOR A MAN

UNCHAINED MELANIE

AWAY FROM IT ALL

SIZE MATTERS

ALL INCLUSIVE

BLOWING IT

LAYING THE GHOST

OTHER PEOPLE’S HUSBANDS

THE LOOK OF LOVE

For more information on Judy Astley and her books, see her website at
www.judyastley.com

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First published in Great Britain
in 2012 by Bantam Press
an imprint of Transworld Publishers

Copyright © Judy Astley 2012

Judy Astley has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781446465370
ISBN 9780593067550

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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