A Little Love (4 page)

It was as if Bobby read her thoughts. ‘I wonder what my dad would say if he could see me now, dressed up like this!’ She gathered up handfuls of her skirt and let it fall. ‘I realised the other day, Pru, I’ve been alive much longer without him than with him and yet it doesn’t feel like that to me. It’s weird, isn’t it, how you can miss something so badly that you only had for a very short time.’

Alfie had died alone, just four months later, in a dirty basement flat in Hackney. Pru had cried for days at his passing, not so much for the manner in which he had died, or even the sadness that Bobby would carry with her, but because Alfie had deserved so much more and for the want of a more stable start and a pinch of self-confidence, he just might have got it.

Bobby had been rather unresponsive to the news of his passing, which worried both Pru and Milly greatly. Sitting her down, Pru had told her it was all right to feel sad and to cry for her dad. Bobby, who was nine by then, had shrugged her shoulders, shaken her fringe out of her eyes and looked squarely at her aunt. ‘I know that, but I have cried all my tears out for him. I knew I wouldn’t see him again when he left me here and it already makes me sad every day – when I wake up, sometimes at school
and
before I go to sleep. I can’t be any sadder, because I’m already the most sad I can be.’

It was so touching and honest and it had brought tears to Pru’s eyes.

Looking at his gorgeous grown-up daughter now, Pru nodded her agreement. ‘It is weird, my love. It’s strange for me too. I still expect him to pop up, all smiles and with something funny to tell me. He could always make me laugh, more than anyone else.’

‘I would have loved him to meet William. He’d have said he was stuck-up at first, but once they got to know each other, they’d have got on great. It wouldn’t have mattered to me what my dad did or had. I would give anything for him to walk me down the aisle. I would love to have him back for just that one day!’

‘Oh, love.’ Pru swallowed the lump that sat at the back of her throat, a lump that she had been trying to shift for over a decade. ‘He’d be so proud of you! But he’s with you always, watching over your shoulder and keeping you safe. You know that, don’t you?’

Bobby nodded. Yes, she knew that.

Later that evening William plonked himself down in Pru’s chair, rubbed his eyes and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He crossed his heavy army boots at the ankles and knitted his palms across the back of his head. ‘I’m absolutely shattered.’

‘You are? I’ve spent the best part of my day at the dressmaker’s with your intended. I reckon I deserve one of your medals. I was there for four hours, but it felt like a week!’

‘Does she look amazing?’

‘What do you think?’

William smiled. ‘I wish I could see her in it.’ He looked into the middle distance.

‘Well you will of course, you wally!’ She laughed.

‘Yes, of course.’ He nodded. Wally indeed.

William yawned. Pru had to admit he looked exhausted. She was fascinated by his confidence, his whole stance, tone and air, which left her in no doubt that he considered himself to be the leader of the pack as the only male in residence. In truth, it felt odd to have a man about their pretty little home; the last time she had shared a house with boys was when she lived with her brothers in her teens. Having never married or even lived with a man, she felt his presence keenly, noting the way he took up space, the way he walked and acted. It brought a different dynamic to the place, changed the atmosphere.

William Fellsley had the confidence that came from being born into privilege and being made a leader of men at such a young age had fine-tuned his innate self-assurance still further. Had she encountered his voice and manner in her youth, she would have scuttled for cover, hiding under a blanket of inferiority. Not now though. Pru hovered in front of the grand fireplace, in her Mayfair home. ‘You seem thoughtful. Tough day at the office, Billy-boy?’

‘Yes, something like that.’ He tensed his jaw and raised his eyebrows, stifling another yawn. ‘There’s a whisper going around that the Colonel has selected me for a course. Not had it confirmed yet, but I’ve been given the nod.’

‘Oh, that’s great, well done, you!’

‘Well, it is and it isn’t. It’s a great honour and very good for my career. I know the promotion board will look favourably on it, but it means at least three months away from home, only coming back every other weekend, which is a bit of a bugger.’

‘Oh no! Really? Bobby’ll be heartbroken. Couldn’t she come and stay with you?’ Pru was already hearing her niece’s distressed reaction in her head. ‘How about I book you both into a nice hotel at the weekends? You could make it into an adventure!’

William shook his head. ‘’Fraid not. That’s a lovely offer, Pru, thank you, but there’s a lot of studying to do. It’s fairly intense. They run events in the evenings and at weekends, which I have to be seen at – team building and so forth, planning sessions. She’d be sitting alone and I couldn’t stand the thought of that. I’d rather she was here being looked after than sitting in a lonely hotel room watching the clock and scoffing the mini-bar.’

Pru clapped her hands together. ‘Well, we shall just have to make the best of it and ensure that those weekends that you are home are really special. Where is your course?’

‘Ashford, Kent. Not too far, but just far enough.’

‘Just far enough for what?’

‘To be a pain in the arse!’

She nodded. ‘You’ll get through it, love. Three months is nothing in the grand scheme of things, not when you’ve got the rest of your lives together. And anyway, what is it they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder?’

‘Yes, something like that. Although, to be honest, I wish we didn’t have to test that theory.’

Pru smiled at him, happy that he didn’t want to be parted from her precious girl.

Right on cue, Bobby flew into the room. ‘There you are, my Captain!’ She plonked herself down on his lap and threw her legs over the arm of the chair, nuzzling into his neck and kissing his face. ‘I missed you.’

‘You only saw me this morning!’ He laughed as she covered his face with kisses like an excitable puppy.

‘I know,’ she purred, ‘but I hate being away from you even for an hour, let alone all day.’

‘This work thing really gets in the way of us having a good time, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes it does,’ Bobby responded without recognising his sarcasm.

William glanced at Pru, both acknowledging that three months of virtual separation might be harder than they thought.

‘All set for the engagement party, Pru?’ William managed to ask over his fiancée’s head.

‘Yes, really looking forward to it,’ she lied.

‘It should be fun. My mother’s really keen to see you again and not just to discuss plans for the wedding cake!’

‘Oh, don’t you worry about that. Guy has already spent hours and hours sketching and modelling. It will without a shadow of a doubt be the cake of the bloody year, if not the decade. He’ll make sure of it!’

Bobby squealed. ‘If I think about it, I might just burst! I can’t wait to see what he comes up with. I trust Guy completely, he’s a genius.’

‘Yes he is,’ Pru concurred.

‘Mother’s invited lots of her old friends and I’ve got chums from Sandhurst coming down. Are you sure you don’t want to come up with us on Friday night? There’s plenty of room in the car. You and Milly would be more than welcome to stay at Mountfield for the weekend. Mum would love it, pouring wine down your neck and getting you to spill the beans on what it’s like inside all those fancy London houses that you get to nose around.’

Pru gave a small cough; it sounded like her worst nightmare. ‘That’s very kind of your mum, love, but I’ve got so much to do for work. Plum’s is always extra busy at this time of year – weddings, christenings and whatnot. Seems that at the first sign of spring the whole country finds a reason for a party. Not that I’m moaning! But I really can’t be away for any longer than I have to be; it’s not fair on Guy. So I’ve booked a car for Sunday and I promise we’ll be there for lunchtime.’

‘Splendid!’ William clapped his hands together.

Yep,
thought Pru,
bloody splendid
. At least she wasn’t going alone. She just hoped Milly was planning on changing out of her tiger suit before the event.

Pru sidled even closer to the exit as her phone buzzed in her handbag.

‘Hello-o?’ She tried to sound jovial and smiled falsely into the mouthpiece.

There was a second or two of silence.

‘Have you seen it yet?’

‘Have I seen what yet, Milly?’ Pru knew very well what her cousin meant.

‘The engagement cake! What do you think?’

‘No, I haven’t, and I’m not actually talking to you, so this is going to be a very short conversation.’ Pru sighed.

‘Ha! But you’re talking to me now!’

‘Only because I
have
to and you know what I mean.’

‘I can’t believe you’re having a go at me. Most people would be concerned if their loved one had taken to their sick bed, or at least they’d offer some sympathy!’

‘Is that what you phoned for, Mills – sympathy?’

‘No! I phoned because I want to know about the bloody cake!’

‘I haven’t seen it, but I promise to call you the moment I have.’

‘No, don’t bother. I’m not remotely interested.’

‘Fine. I won’t.’ Pru closed her eyes.

‘Actually, yes, do. I want to know what it’s like. It’s probably a lopsided dry sponge with uneven icing and wobbly cake toppers, ordered from a knock-off catalogue and made to look like Bobby and Billy-boy. You know the ones: not bad from a distance, but up close the faces look like they’ve been painted by a three-year-old in a hurry. It’ll be nasty and common.’

Pru took in Mountfield, the pale stone of the Queen Anne mansion that looked like a life-sized doll’s house. The carefully trained wisteria that hung in uniform bunches, clipped so as not to obscure the view from the breakfast room window, and the clusters of bistro-chic garden furniture that sat under perfectly positioned willow arbours, offering just the right amount of shade for afternoon tea. ‘I doubt that very much. The only thing that’s common around here is me. And we’ve had this conversation. You know that if it had been down to Bobby, you would have made the cake and provided the food, the whole darn lot. But it wasn’t, it was down to Isabel, who Bobby says was too shy to ask us, in case we thought she was asking for the lot, gratis. And I understand that not everyone is a human bulldozer like you. It’s their party and it’s up to them. Is that why you stayed away, is this all a ruse, you silly moo?’

‘No it bloody isn’t, you daft cow. I’ve been puking my kidneys up since six o’clock this morning!’

‘Nice.’ Pru gave a gentle wave to Isabel, who was sitting in the far corner of the marquee with her cronies, furiously beckoning her over. Pru turned her head, making out she hadn’t seen.

Milly was still mid rant. ‘You’ve got to admit it’s ridiculous, Pru. We’d have happily done it “gratis”, as you put it. As it is, they’ll end up having to pay a fortune for something that will be way below the standards of Plum Patisserie, just cos Mrs Never Shit—’

‘Don’t call her that, Milly.’

‘Or whatever her bloody name is—’

‘You know her name. It’s Isabel.’

‘All right, all right! Just because Isabel thinks she knows best – it’s a bloody disgrace!’

‘Milly, I love you, but you are driving me mad and I have to go. It’s bad enough I am here suffering all by myself, without standing and having a row with you among the smoked salmon canapés and dyed swans.’

‘Dyed swans? Oh that’s just bloody naff!’

Pru laughed. There were no dyed swans, but she knew it would guarantee a reaction. ‘Goodbye, Milly! I’ll see you later. I won’t be late.’

She placed the phone back in her bag, sipped her drink and stared into the crowded marquee. ‘I’m going to bloody kill you, Milly,’ she muttered. ‘Who in their right bloody mind eats five-day-old chicken that’s been left on the work surface for twelve hours?’ Pru hoped that her words would somehow travel from the Oxfordshire countryside to W1 and float through the open window, arriving like a speech bubble, loud and clear for her cousin to hear. They had both been dreading this afternoon and had agreed they would get through it by sticking together, just like they had always done.

Ordinarily, Milly would stick by her no matter what; Pru knew that. She remembered the first time she’d realised that about her cousin. It was a summer’s day and the whole of Blondin Street was out on the cobbles. They were playing stuck in the mud and kick the can when Pru got into a row with Malcolm Hughes, who had called her a weakling. Millicent was almost the mirror image of her, but without the fire in her belly or the natural darts of red and gold that shot through her hair. Their nan always said that if Pru piled up the dynamite, it would be Milly who struck the match. Pru held Malcolm Hughes while Milly punched him; she had to give him double because he flinched and that was the rule. Afterwards, their nan had stood them in front of the fireplace, tutting at their ripped frocks and grubby knees, demanding to know what had happened.

‘Pru told me to hit him and so I did!’ Milly had finally confessed as Pru rolled her eyes skyward.

Her nan bent in close so the sharp bristles on her chin were visible. ‘And if Pru told you to jump off Tower Bridge, would you?’

Milly considered her response as she reached for Pru’s hand and knotted her fingers inside her cousin’s. ‘Yeah. I would.’ She nodded.

Their nan had placed her hands on her hips and looked confused, unsure where to go from there. It clearly wasn’t the answer she had been expecting.

Pru had taken great comfort from the fact that Milly would be at this engagement party with her: her crutch, diversion and reason for leaving. And yet here she was, alone, feeling like the vegetarian option at a rugby team’s end-of-season barbecue. She twisted her diamond ring nervously, hoping it would give her the strength to enter the throng alone. But it only brought flooding back the memory of the day she had bought it. She had just found a window seat in a café in Holborn and was sitting enjoying the spring sunshine after a particularly successful meeting with a publishing company. She was making notes about the centrepiece design for their upcoming sales conference, a cake in their corporate colours that would re-create their bestselling books in miniature, sitting on the tiers like open butterflies, plus a few on invisible wire, poised to land. It would be stunning. She was thinking about the gasps of delight and subsequent column inches it would garner, when she tuned into the conversation on a nearby table and realised to her fascination that they were talking about her. The couple in question were clearly unaware that she was within earshot.