The Little Book Café

‘That’s what I thought,’ he said and gunned the engine down the side street to home.

Chapter 4 (#ud1174c1d-d6b1-520c-bf08-c9ab9da68ae7)

The next evening, as Tash parked her car on the drive after a long day at work, she felt her shoulders drop. She’d been on the phone for most of the day trying to persuade some clients not to pull out at the last moment. There was nothing the matter with the property they were buying, they were just nervous first-time buyers. The problem being the buying chain depended on them and would collapse if they changed their mind. Having flitted between them and their solicitor and the vendor of the house they were buying, she’d eventually coaxed them into agreeing to exchange the next week. A disaster had been narrowly averted and she’d driven home feeling satisfied. The challenges of her job were the things she loved most. Especially if theend result was a happy one.

As she slid her key in the lock and opened the front door, the aroma of chicken casserole, rich with herbs and wine, hit her. Glancing into the dining room, she saw the table was set with lit candles and their best Jasper Conran. A bottle of prosecco sat in the cooler. The exhilaration of a difficult day doing what she loved best and doing it well, fled. The seduction scene unnerved her. It was only too familiar. Adrian wanted something and she wondered what.

From the sounds upstairs, he was in the shower. Half of her wanted to sneak back outside and grab a pizza and beer with Emma. But if she came in late and smelling of alcohol, it would only make matters worse.

Biting her lip, she hung up her suit jacket and slipped off her heels. She padded into the dining room and poured herself a glass of prosecco. How had it come to this? She was skulking around in her own home, trying to second-guess just what might provoke Adrian into a mood.

It had all been so different this time two years ago. She’d met Adrian at a summer charity ball. She’d gone along with Pete Hingham, to represent Hughes and Widrow. Pete had recently been promoted to area manager, leaving the way clear for her to step up into the role of manager of the busy Berecombe office. Both she and Pete were in high spirits, looking forward to some good food and copious amounts of champagne. The evening had been warm and sultry and the doors to the terrace had been flung open to a starry midsummer night. Maybe she’d had too much fizz, or maybe she’d just been carried away by the romance of the night but she’d tripped onto the terrace, longing for some cooler air after dancing for hours.

Adrian had been leaning against the low stone balustrade, sipping from his champagne flute and staring into the darkened garden. As he heard her, he turned and smiled.

‘Of all the terraces in all the world, you had to walk onto this one.’ He held out a second glass and she took it.

It was a complete romantic cliché. She’d not even wondered why he had two glasses when he was alone, but had fallen for it. She had perched on the stone wall and chatted. He was very handsome and, even in a room full of sharply tuxedoed men, he stood out. Glossy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and the whitest, most perfect teeth she’d ever seen. It was only when he took her back into the ballroom for a slow dance that she realised he was shorter than her by several inches. Usually, things like that mattered to her a lot; she put a premium on how things looked. Being with a short man, especially as she was addicted to perilously high heels, just didn’t look right.

Adrian Williams was older than her, an established property developer, obviously monied and the most sophisticated man who had ever taken an interest. At first, she had been fiercely attracted. After that initial evening, he took her out on a series of imaginative dates. They enjoyed a helicopter ride along the coast and attended a Mozart concerto followed by the most sumptuous Thai meal Tash had ever eaten. After Adrian had discovered Tash’s love of penguins, he’d even arranged a picnic next to the penguin pool at Bristol Zoo. And he’d not laid a finger on her. It had made her even more desperate for him. They’d finally consummated the relationship while on a long weekend in Paris. The fact that he’d booked separate rooms decided it for her. The sex had been mind-blowing. It hadn’t been much of a leap when he’d asked her to move in with him in the executive detached he’d just bought on the outskirts of Berecombe.

When she’d queried why he’d bought it, he’d laughed and said he spent his working life on building sites and wanted something easy to come home to. Then he’d grabbed her by the waist and kissed her until her lips were numb.

Emma warned her she was rushing into something, but her mother seemed delighted she was happy, and Pete was ecstatic as she was on fire at work and exceeded all her monthly targets. Tash ignored them all and found, to her surprise, that she enjoyed coming home to the same man every night. The sex continued to be amazing even if, occasionally, Adrian coaxed her into doing it when she really didn’t feel like it.

And then, when the honeymoon glow had faded, another side of the genial, indulgent Adrian emerged. Earlier in the summer he began buying clothes that he wanted her to wear. Tash didn’t mind so much the racy underwear and peephole bras; she found them hugely funny. She was less of a fan of the wide-legged trousers he insisted on, the expensive but figure-concealing cashmere sweaters. He pouted and sulked when she tugged on the slim skirts and jackets she preferred for work. ‘Wouldn’t you rather be warm and comfortable?’ he wheedled, as he held out the tunic he’d just brought home.

Tash surveyed the navy blue top with dismay, looking at its high V-neck and discreet pattern. Her lip curled. ‘It’s lovely, Ade,’ she said without thinking. ‘But it’s something my mother would wear. Thank you but it’s just not my thing.’ She’d registered his suddenly shuttered look and wondered what she’d said. That night, after he cajoled her into a marathon bout of sex, they had their first row. She’d hurt his feelings, Adrian said. Rejected his generosity. Tash felt guilty. The top was obviously expensive. She agreed to wear it at the weekend.

He developed other weird habits too. Flying into a jealous rage if she talked about Pete too much, picking her up after a night out with her girlfriends saying it was so she could have a drink but always too early, when the evening had only just got going.

Tash had toyed with the idea of leaving but something always tugged her back to her original feelings for him. After a tantrum, Adrian lavished attention on her. He talked about taking a long holiday in south Africa, of buying an apartment in Paris. The house was convenient for work and she liked the kudos of his money. She put his moods down to work stress; when things were tough, he suffered stomach problems. Besides, how would it look if the relationship folded? Everyone told her she had the perfect life. How could she admit it was anything but? So, she shrugged his contrariness off. She knew loads of friends who had problems in their relationships. She was a strong, confident woman. She could handle a man like Adrian.

Chapter 5 (#ulink_56096e54-4326-5d94-ba07-77ad1d5e6cf2)

He came up behind her as she sipped her wine. Reaching up, he kissed her neck and exclaimed, ‘Good, you’re back! Just in time.’ He smelled of shower gel.

Tash felt a rush of affection for him and was relieved. Maybe things weren’t so bad, after all? She turned and smiled. ‘You’ve gone to so much trouble.’

‘I know you love my casserole. Creamy mash to go with it, loads of butter. You sit down and I’ll serve. Pour me some fizz, will you? I held off until you were back.’

‘I’ll get fat,’ Tash complained, filling his glass and topping up her own.

‘Nonsense,’ he called through from the kitchen. He reappeared, wearing his butcher’s striped apron and carrying a casserole pot. ‘Besides—’ he winked ‘—I like some meat on my women.’ He placed the dish on the trivet and disappeared to get the potatoes.

Once they’d eaten, Tash sat back replete. ‘That was one of your best, Ade. Delicious. I’m going to have to unbutton my skirt though. I’ve eaten far too much.’ She reached around to the back of her work skirt and sighed as the waistband eased.

Adrian gave her an odd look. He stared at her stomach intently and then took a breath. ‘You’re not … you don’t think we’re pregnant?’ He paused, and stared owlishly at her.

‘God, no. At least I bloody well hope not.’ Tash shuddered.

‘Don’t swear Natasha, you know I don’t like it.’ He picked up his flute of prosecco and sipped thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t mind, actually. Having a baby, I mean.’

‘Well, I would,’ Tash answered, robustly. ‘It’s not the right time for me. I want to make area manager before I’m thirty and try to set up on my own eventually. A baby wouldn’t fit into that.’

‘You could always give up work.’ Adrian clocked her horrified expression and back-tracked. ‘Or go part-time?’

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No babies. Not now.’ Not ever, she added silently. And not with you, came the echo.

‘Well, that told me,’ Adrian said but cheerfully enough. ‘A discussion for another time. Shall we take the coffee into the sitting room? I’ll clear up later, there isn’t much to do.’

Ensconced on the sofa leaning against Adrian, with some Puccini on in the background, Tash felt more mellow. She looked around at the cream and white décor and couldn’t help feeling slightly smug. She’d had a great day at work, a man who had cooked her a superb meal and this wonderfully luxurious house to come back to. At this very moment, her life seemed as perfect as the image she tried so hard to put out to the world. To those who had bullied her at school and made her feel as if her life would never amount to much.

‘Perhaps we should do Glyndebourne next year?’ Adrian said.

Tash shifted against him. ‘That’s come out of the blue.’

‘Not really. I used to go every year before I met you.’

‘It’s funny. You’ve never really talked about then. Before me, I mean. Have you had many girlfriends?’ She twisted her head round to look up at him and caught his quizzical smile.

‘Never a very ladylike thing to ask, Natasha.’ He laughed softly. ‘I had my fair share, I suppose. What about you?’

‘Not the most gentlemanly thing to ask,’ she countered. ‘I was always too busy concentrating on work. Only had one boyfriend before you.’

‘Really?’ Adrian sounded pleased.

‘And at school I was always the fat one with glasses. Had my eyes lasered as soon as I could. None of the boys wanted to know until I was twenty-four and I’d lost three stone and the bottom of bottle specs.’ Tash giggled but there was an underlying note of hurt. ‘Then I had the satisfaction of telling them where to go.’

‘I bet you did. I really can’t imagine you fat.’ He pinched her thigh quite hard. ‘Who was this one boyfriend, then?’

‘Lee Styles. He got engaged to Amy Chilcombe last year but dumped her at the altar.’

‘How awful,’ Adrian murmured. ‘Who’s Amy Chilcombe?’

‘She’s running Millie’s new bookshop. The one where the book club was held last night.’ Tash could have sawed out her tongue with a blunt knife. The book club was a touchy subject. The Puccini ended and the room fell ominously silent. She tensed for Adrian’s inevitable quicksilver change of mood.

‘You still haven’t told me who was there.’ Adrian still sounded relaxed but Tash detected an edge to his voice.

‘Oh, you know, the usual.’ She felt the muscles in his arm stiffen.

‘I don’t know, actually. Tell me.’

‘Millie, Amy, Emma of course. Oh, and Biddy, and some snob called Marti and a few of her acolytes. She lives on the estate.’

‘Natasha please. Executive housing development. It’s hardly an estate.’ Adrian chuckled and then his mood changed. ‘Any men?’ This time there was definite steel in his voice.

‘Erm, a couple. A writer called Patrick Carroll or something and some bloke called Kit, I think.’ Tash said, deliberately vague.