A Perfect Proposal (37 page)

‘Why has no one done it before then? My late husband inherited those shares when he was a small boy.’

‘Because the shares relate to a piece of land from which it’s hard to extract oil – or it
was
hard. Drilling equipment has got so much better, more sophisticated. And oil is much scarcer now.’ Sophie wished that she had Luke with her and cursed Ali for taking him away. If only she’d boned up a bit on the oil industry before coming.

‘The price of oil has gone down recently,’ said Mr Littlejohn. ‘I don’t see your argument at all.’

‘Of course it fluctuates,’ said Sophie fluently. She was fairly certain she’d never used that word in conversation before. ‘But fossil fuels are in short supply these days.’

‘They’ve just discovered oil in Siberia. I don’t believe they’re scarce at all,’ said Mr Littlejohn. ‘It’s a con put about by the ‘“Greenies”.’ Here he waggled his fingers in the air to indicate inverted commas. Then he drained his cup decisively and set it down on a small table, making it wobble.

‘And what would it cost?’ asked Mrs Littlejohn. ‘We can’t afford to go shelling out on wild business schemes.’

‘It wouldn’t cost anything!’ said Sophie, immediately realising that it probably
would
cost something – possibly quite a lot. They’d have to hire an American lawyer or someone to negotiate for them.

‘There’s no such thing as a free lunch,’ said Mr Littlejohn, tapping the side of his nose knowingly.

‘I know but they’re wasted, just sitting there. They could make us all a lot of money!’

‘I don’t think we’d want the upheaval,’ said Mrs Littlejohn.

‘There wouldn’t
be
any upheaval,’ said Sophie, briefly
wondering if this woman thought she’d have to go out to the oil wells herself, wearing a hard hat and carrying a pick. ‘It would just be a cheque in the post.’

Both Mr and Mrs Littlejohn shook their heads in unison and Sophie gave up. She didn’t say anything, she just slumped a little and another cushion toppled. Maybe if she hadn’t been broken-hearted she’d have persevered, but she didn’t have the energy.

‘The thing is, young lady,’ Mr Littlejohn persisted, sensing he’d won the battle and was now going to make sure of the war. ‘We don’t know you from Adam—’

‘I do have my driving licence,’ she muttered, ‘and I am quite obviously female.’ But she didn’t expect to be heard. Mr Littlejohn was delivering a lecture and nothing was going to stop him.

‘You come into our house talking about drilling rights, wanting to take my wife’s shares—’

‘I wasn’t going to take them! I just wanted—’

‘—so you could do what you liked with them. Well it’s not on.’

Wanting nothing more than to run away, Sophie located a place for her cup and saucer and put them carefully down. Then she stood up. ‘I do understand. It’s not a problem. It is a bit of a shame for the other members of the family, some of whom really, really need the money, but if that’s the way you feel …’

‘You’re just a slip of a girl,’ said Mrs Littlejohn, magnanimous in victory. ‘How could we be expected to trust you?’

‘Would you have trusted me if I’d been a man?’ she asked, buttoning up the jacket she’d never taken off.

‘An older man, yes,’ said Mrs Littlejohn, following Sophie into the hall, obviously keen to get her out of the house.

‘I’m sorry to have troubled you,’ said Sophie. ‘Goodbye.’
And she opened the front door and let herself out to freedom and fresh air.

As she drove back to Moira’s she realised she’d have to go back to her family a complete failure. This jaunt to Cornwall had achieved nothing – for her family anyway. She’d hit a dead end with the drilling rights; she had no job; she’d have to explain where Luke was and why she wasn’t ever going to see him again. It was a disaster. The only comforting thought was that Moira would understand.

‘You don’t look as if you’ve cheered up at all,’ said Moira when she’d opened the door to Sophie.

‘I haven’t. I failed in my mission.’

‘Well, come in. I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘Tea would help. They had the nastiest sort of coffee: strong but tasteless. Oh and the house! If I never see another frilled settee or matching curtains, covers and carpet – that didn’t actually match – it’ll be too soon.’

Moira laughed. ‘Talking of houses, I’ve got news!’

‘About the house? Already? That was quick.’

‘They say it’s not what you know, it’s who you know, and I do know some useful people.’

‘Well, tell me then! I need something positive to think about.’

‘Come and sit down. Did you have lunch? I’ll make you a sandwich. I’d have made soup but I’ve been out.’

‘Do you feed everyone like you do me?’ asked Sophie, slipping into her chair at the table. It felt like home now.

‘Pretty much. I get a lot of satisfaction from making people feel better. It goes with the acupuncture. Do you like mustard?’

‘No thank you.’

‘Nor me! I just don’t get it! I don’t like wasabi either. But you do like ham?’

‘Yes please.’

Very few minutes later a sandwich containing ham, salad and just a smear of mayonnaise was put in front of Sophie.

‘Right, now tell me about the house,’ said Sophie, once she’d taken a couple of bites and Moira was satisfied that she really was eating.

‘Well, it’s owned by an old lady who’s gone into a nursing home. Apparently her relations – pretty distant – aren’t sure what to do with it.’

‘Oh?’ Sophie took another bite. Food definitely helped. She’d managed not to think about Luke for – well – a couple of seconds at least. Except that’s exactly what Luke had said, so he was back in her head again. She sighed and took another bite.

‘Yup. It needs so much doing to it. They can’t decide if they should do it up and sell it, or just sell it. Or divide it into flats.’

‘You did find out a lot! If you get fed up with acupuncture you could become an interrogator.’

Moira ignored this. ‘The thing to do is buy it from the old lady. If you wait until she dies it’ll take for ever, what with the will and all, and it’ll get in a worse state.’

‘I’m not buying it!’

‘Didn’t you say Matilda might want to?’

Sophie nodded.

‘Well, if she does, she’ll have to move fast. The old lady could die at any time and then it could take years before it was properly on the market.’

‘The trouble is, I don’t know if Matilda
really
wants to buy it.’

‘Well, I think you should email her and tell her what you know,’ said Moira. ‘After all, she wanted you to find out if it was for sale. You have. If you explain the situation to her the matter is out of your hands.’

‘Yes …’ Suddenly Sophie wasn’t sure she wanted it out of her hands. ‘She might put Luke on to it.’

‘She might.’

‘Then I wouldn’t have to do anything.’

‘True.’

‘Which would be good. I have enough to do with this drilling-rights business.’ Just for a moment she wondered if this were true. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of negative thoughts. ‘Although how I’m going to get round those wretched people, I don’t know. Did I tell you their bungalow stank of turkey giblets? And they had gnomes in their garden but not a single blade of grass?’

‘No! That’s cruel!’ Moira understood what a serious matter this was.

‘That’s what I thought!’ said Sophie and they both laughed. ‘We could start a society. “Green Homes for Gnomes” or something.’

Moira shook her head. ‘No. We have lives.’

‘Well, you do,’ said Sophie. Hers had nothing much worthwhile in it any more.

Moira was not having this. ‘So do you! You’re young, you’re lovely, and you’re talented!’

‘And broken-hearted.’

‘Are you?’

Sophie nodded. ‘There’s no way in the world that Luke could not have got a signal or a moment to ring me by now if he was going to. He’s not going to. He’s gone back to his real life and realises I have no place in it. I would never fit in.’ She paused. ‘He probably thinks it’s kinder this way.’

Moira didn’t speak and Sophie was grateful that she didn’t call Luke vile names or rain abuse on the heads of all men. She put her hand on one of Sophie’s, which was clenched in her lap.

‘You won’t feel like this for ever,’ she said eventually.
‘Either you’ll find out why Luke hasn’t been in touch or –’ and she obviously felt this was the more likely scenario ‘– you’ll fall in love with a lovely Cornishman!’ She squeezed Sophie’s hand. ‘It is absolute hell, what you’re going through, but you will get over it. Everyone does. Very few people go on loving people who’ve behaved badly to them for ever.’

‘It just feels like for ever,’ said Sophie, to whom this had never happened before. ‘Probably.’

Moira nodded. ‘It can drag on a bit but it does fade away. Eventually you can’t think what you ever saw in the person.’

‘You’re talking from personal experience.’

Moira nodded. ‘My ex-husband. My sun rose and set with him. When he left I thought I’d never be happy again. Now I really can’t remember why I liked him in the first place. He was dreadfully grumpy and didn’t have much sense of humour.’

‘Luke has a sense of humour but he doesn’t let it out often.’

‘That’s why you’d …’ Moira cleared her throat. ‘Come and stay down here and I’ll find you a lovely man who’ll make you laugh all the time.’

‘I do like the sound of that,’ said Sophie, ‘but I don’t fall in love often. Some people seem to do it all the time but I can’t. Shame really.’

They sat in silence for a couple of moments and then Moira said, ‘Well, let’s go and see what Matilda has to say.’

‘I wish I knew what her plans were. If it was just she wanted to see it, well, she’s had photographs.’ She thought for a minute. ‘What would be rather lovely would be to take a whole lot more pictures, Photoshop them a bit, and then send them to her so she could get them printed and framed.’

‘What a lovely idea!’

‘And if it’s frightfully expensive we could get Luke to do it.’ She paused. ‘You could contact Luke and suggest it.’

Moira sighed softly. ‘Come on, let’s tell Matilda what we’ve discovered.’

Sophie glanced at her watch. ‘It’s still only nine o’clock in Connecticut.’

‘Elderly people get up early.’

Sophie sent an email, explaining about the old lady and her indecisive relatives and carefully not mentioning Luke, and then Moira rang up a builder friend of hers and arranged to meet him at the house. ‘I think it would be good if you could give Matilda some idea of how much she’s going to need to spend on it if she is thinking about buying it,’ said Moira.

‘But will your builder friend come and look? We’re in no position to offer him the work.’

Moira smiled very slightly. ‘He’ll come if I ask him.’

Sophie nodded in comprehension. ‘Well, that’s good. It’ll be lovely to have something positive to do in connection with a beautiful house. That way I’ve got something to think about apart from a …’ She tried to think of an epithet for Luke that fitted and failed. ‘… man, and a project that seems to have reached a full stop.’

‘I’m glad to hear you’re being positive already,’ said Moira. ‘And your project hasn’t come to a full stop, more a semi-colon. You’ll find a way to bring your giblet-boiling relatives round somehow.’

Sophie shrugged, trying to look convinced.

Moira and Sophie were in the walled garden discussing if it should have a swimming pool in it or be returned to growing vegetables. Sophie kept changing her mind. Suddenly Sophie noticed Moira’s expression change. She turned to see why and saw Luke.

Her heart responded, making her gasp for breath with pleasure, while all the time her brain was saying, No, don’t
be pleased to see him. He’s not yours. She forced some moisture into her mouth in case she had to speak. With luck Moira would say something. She did.

‘Oh, hello! Where did you spring from?’

‘I came as soon as I could.’ He was wearing a business suit and polished shoes; his voice was very tight as if he was keeping himself under control.

Despair swamped Sophie, making her sway a little. When he’d left her, and she hadn’t heard from him, a tiny part of her had hoped there was some reason for it, some silly excuse she hadn’t thought of, and things might really be all right between them. At his tone the hope died like a spark from a fire that won’t light, leaving nothing.

He directed his attention to Sophie. It was as if she were being spoken to by a statue carved from ice. ‘What have you been telling my grandmother? Giving her ideas about buying this place? Actually buying it? I couldn’t believe it when I heard!’

Sophie searched for some words, any words, but her brain had disconnected, leaving her with only emotion.

Moira glanced at her quickly. ‘I don’t think Sophie’s done anything—’

‘Who’s that man?’ demanded Luke.

‘He’s a builder friend of mine,’ said Moira. ‘He’s only here to—’ She stopped as Ali appeared, also looking angry.

‘It seems things have gone quite a long way,’ said Ali. ‘They’ve engaged a builder who’s crawling all over the house – oh, hello, Sophie.’ Her previously friendly manner had disappeared.