It Had to Be You (20 page)

Elliot gazed at his mother in open horror. ‘They’ve just said they’ve got to go.’

‘We’ve imposed enough,’ Lizzy said hastily.

‘I insist!’ she said. ‘We can’t have you staying in a B & B when there’s a perfectly good spare room here.’ She looked at Lizzy hopefully.
Don’t leave me
, her expression seemed to be saying.

Lizzy didn’t dare look at Nic. ‘That’s really kind of you. We’d love to stay.’

Despite the obvious spectre at the feast everyone else made a real effort at dinner.

‘I’ve never had pheasant before,’ Poppet told Cassandra. ‘It’s really nice.’

‘Shot on the estate this morning! There’s a wonderful man in the village who comes up and keeps the game down for us, he can take a bird out through the heart from half a mile away.’

Poppet went pale and put her fork down.

Lizzy was trying to ignore the brooding figure slumped to her left. ‘How long have you owned the Hall for?’

‘The Beestons have been here for seven generations. Beeston Hall was built after the Restoration by Lord Selwyn Beeston, Elliot’s great-great-great …’ Cassandra let out a peal of laughter. ‘Forget it, we could be here all night!’

‘How come your surname is Anderson?’ Poppet asked Elliot.

‘It’s my maiden name.’ Cassandra gave her son an anxious smile when he didn’t reply. ‘Working in the financial world, Elliot didn’t want to draw special attention to himself.’

Elliot gave a strange bark of laughter.

‘Did you say something, darling?’ Cassandra asked.

‘No,’ he muttered.

Lizzy swiftly changed the subject. ‘How did you meet your husband?’ she asked Cassandra.

Cassandra looked relieved at the intervention. ‘You want to know how a small-town girl from Missouri ended up as lady of the manor? I was a penniless student at Rhode Island School of Design, singing in the bars at night to earn myself some money. One night this young man came in by himself and sat at the bar. He was very well-dressed but that wasn’t why I noticed him. He was drinking pina coladas with all these pink flamingos and umbrellas. I thought he was gay!’ She let out a delightful peal of laughter. ‘Turns out he wasn’t gay, because he asked me out later that night and six weeks later we were married!’

She stopped. There was a strange groaning noise from the end of the table. Nic had fallen asleep in her seat and was snoring softly.

‘Does she often do that?’ Cassandra asked.

‘She works really hard.’ Poppet prodded her. ‘Nic!’

She woke up with a jump. ‘What? Is the peacock in here?’

Poppet shot Nic a look. ‘Carry on, Cassandra. It sounds like a real love story.’

‘It really was. Max brought me back here and we didn’t have a day apart until he died eleven years ago.’ Cassandra suddenly looked terribly sad. ‘There’s not a day that goes past I don’t miss him. We never had much money, but we had each other, and our art and our music and our beautiful children, of course. There was always love and laughter around the place.’

Elliot made the same strange sardonic sound. Lizzy was starting to wonder if he had a pheasant bone stuck in his throat.

‘So you’ve got one other child?’ Poppet asked Cassandra.

‘Yes, Elliot’s older sister Skyla lives in America now.’ Cassandra said wistfully. ‘I’d like to see more of her of course, but she’s living a wonderful life out there. And I still have my lovely son.’

They all watched Elliot morosely push a carrot round his plate.

‘Anyway!’ Cassandra said. ‘You don’t want to hear tales of our family all night.’ She gave Lizzy a smile. ‘What do you do for a living, my dear?’

‘I work in PR.’

‘Public relations! How wonderful! I’d imagine it’s very glamorous.’

‘Ha! Hardly!’ Elliot was wearing an expression of complete contempt.

‘He’s only joking,’ Cassandra hastily told Lizzy.

‘It’s all right,’ Lizzy said nicely. ‘It’s just a bit of friendly rivalry between journalists and PRs, isn’t it? They pretend to look down on us, and we pretend to think they’re rude and objectionable, and everyone just gets on with it.’

‘You’re not really trying to imagine you’re on the same level as us, are you?’

‘Elliot, be a little more hospitable to our guests,’ Cassandra said sharply.

‘Our guests?
You’re
the one who invited them.’

‘Elliot!’

He chucked his fork down. ‘I
told
you that all I wanted was to be left alone this weekend. So what do you do?’ He jerked his head at Lizzy and her friends. ‘Invite Wilson friggin’ Phillips round! Genius idea, Mother, one of your best yet!’

‘Oi, I’d better not be the fat one,’ Nic said, trying to make a joke.

Elliot jumped up. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ He stormed out of the room.

Cassandra had gone white. ‘Elliot’s right. I shouldn’t have dragged you girls into this. I just thought if he had some company, someone his own age …’

Her poor hands were trembling. ‘There, there,’ Poppet said. ‘I’ll get you a glass of water.’

Nic had a suggestion. ‘Do you want me to go and have it out with him, man to man?’

‘Thank you, Nic, but I think it will only make matters worse. Oh God!’ Cassandra looked distraught. ‘Now he really never will talk to me again. I just felt I had to do
something.
I’ve never seen him like this before. Amber was the love of his life.’

‘Do you know why they split up?’ Poppet asked.

She shook her head. ‘All he told me was that he’d messed it up. It’s just so sad. They’ve known each other since they were sixteen. Everyone always said they were perfect for each other. Amber was so sweet and so beautiful. She was the only person who could bring the best out in Elliot.’ Cassandra shook her head again. ‘I don’t think he will ever get over this.’

‘Do you want one of us to go and talk to him?’ Poppet suggested reluctantly.

‘Maybe it would help.’ A glimmer of hope crept into Cassandra’s eyes. ‘You’re in PR, Lizzy; you’re good with people! Maybe you can say something and bring him round. Please, Lizzy, I’m at the end of my tether. Will you do it, for my sake?’

There was a light under the last door down the hallway. Lizzy stood outside for a moment before lifting her hand and knocking softly.

‘What?’ a voice snapped.

‘It’s Lizzy,’ she said self-consciously. ‘Can I come in?’

There was a long pause. ‘The door’s open.’

She pushed it open and went in. It was a single bedroom, in the same shabby-chic style as the rest of the cottage. A glowing MacBook Air stood on an old wooden desk in the far corner.

Elliot was standing in his socked feet looking out of the open window. Beyond, the night sky was bright with stars.

‘I’m guessing my mother sent you,’ he said without looking at Lizzy.

‘She’s worried about you, Elliot.’

He gave a derisive snort. ‘Oh really?’

Lizzy took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to shove my oar in, but I have kind of been there as well. You know, with the dumping thing and the ensuing public humiliation.’ She laughed weakly. ‘In fact, contrary to popular opinion, I didn’t think my ex was going to ask me to marry him, but that’s another story.’

‘Girl Who Gets Jilted at 30
^th
Birthday and Headbutts Boyfriend Who Didn’t Actually Get Jilted At All,’ he said moodily. ‘Not quite so catchy, is it?’

Lizzy managed a wry smile. ‘I do know what it’s like to have your private life splashed all over the papers and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.’

There was no response. Something large swooped past the window. Lizzy took a deep breath.

‘Look, I’m really sorry about you and Amber. But it doesn’t help if you lock yourself away and refuse to talk to anyone. You need to be around your friends and family, Elliot.’

He swung round, green eyes bristling with hostility. ‘Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you dabbled in therapy as a sideline. Thank you for your comprehensive analysis of my emotional welfare. Be sure to let me know where to send the bill.’

He stomped across the room and sat down at the computer. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.’

He might be heartbroken but there was no need to be so bloody rude! ‘You need to get over yourself!’ Lizzy retorted. ‘You’re not the first person in the world to get dumped!’

He ignored her and started typing furiously. Lizzy stared at his rigid back and shoulders. At least she could tell Cassandra she’d tried. Pulling the door shut, she left Elliot alone.

Lizzy woke with a jump. Everything was too dark. It took a few seconds to work out why the bed was lumpy and it was so unnaturally quiet outside. She was in a bedroom at the home of a woman she’d only just met, in the middle of deepest darkest Dorset.

Her mouth felt drier than a shepherd’s sandal. Cassandra had ended up bringing out some homemade sloe gin which had made even Nic’s eyes water. Lizzy had a vague recollection of doing the Macarena across the kitchen with a tea towel on her head. Would she ever be trusted to behave when alcohol was put in front of her?

She tried to move her legs, but a heavy weight was pressing against them. Panicking slightly, she grasped her phone and shone the light down the bed, expecting to find some wild animal that had crept in uninvited, or even worse, Leonardo the peacock, but instead she was greeted by the sight of Poppet curled up across her feet, dead to the world.

Lizzy breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t the first time Poppet had gone walkabout and ended up in an unfamiliar bed. Apparently she always instinctively ended up facing the same way her bed was at home, but Poppet’s sense of direction was so terrible that Lizzy privately had her doubts.

‘Pops!’ she whispered. There was a little sigh. Lizzy tried to lift one foot to shake her. ‘Poppet!’

Her friend gave a dreamy smile. ‘Bananas?’

With some difficulty Lizzy slid out of bed, leaving Poppet slumbering happily. Nic was across the room in a narrow put-up bed. She was sleeping how she always did: on her back with her arms folded, as if she were about to be buried. Lizzy glanced over briefly and did a double take. Nic’s eyes were wide open and staring upwards.

‘Are you awake?’ Lizzy whispered.

No reaction. Lizzy crept over and waved her hand over Nic’s face. Nic’s gaze remained fixed on the ceiling unblinkingly. It was really creepy. Was Lizzy the only one amongst her friends with normal nocturnal habits?

She crept out of the room in her polka-dot pajamas. At the end of the hallway Elliot’s door was shut. She prayed she wasn’t about to have an excruciating corridor run-in with him in his underpants. That was one confrontation she would
not
be able to handle.

Mercifully his door stayed closed. Padding along the unfamiliar corridor, Lizzy reached the kitchen doorway and came to a halt.

Cassandra was standing by the window. She was wearing a patterned kimono, her curly hair sitting on her shoulders. The moonlight was streaming in, softening Cassandra’s face and giving Lizzy a glimpse of the rare beauty she had once been.

She was looking towards the hall, a wistful expression on her face as if she was remembering happier times, memories filled with love and life and laughter. Lizzy suddenly felt desperately sorry for this vivacious, arthritic woman, living all by herself in this cottage with its bits of worn, too-big furniture.

‘Cassandra?’

She looked round distractedly. ‘Oh, it’s you, Lizzy. Did I wake you?’

‘No, I needed a drink.’

Cassandra chuckled softly. ‘Yeah, the sloe gin can do that to you.’

She got Lizzy a glass of water and they both sat down at the table. ‘You couldn’t sleep either?’ Lizzy asked.

‘I don’t sleep much these days. It must be my age.’

‘He’ll be OK you know,’ Lizzy said softly after a short silence.

‘I’m not so sure. I know it doesn’t look like it, but Elliot feels things very deeply. Not that he’d ever admit it to me.’ She shot Lizzy a sidelong look. ‘My son pushes me away. Thinks I’m a terrible mother.’

‘Why on earth would he think that?’

There was a wry smile. ‘Probably because I wasn’t like all the other mothers. You may have noticed we’re not exactly conventional up here.’

‘Who wants to be conventional? It’s totally boring.’

‘You do say the sweetest things.’ Cassandra’s face fell serious again. ‘I don’t know, Lizzy. I feel like I lost him a long time ago.’

She looked so sad again. Lizzy didn’t know what to say. ‘Shall I put the kettle on?’ she suggested.

‘Would you mind? It’s just that I’m feeling a little weary.’

‘Leave it with me,’ Lizzy said.

She set about making a pot of tea with Cassandra watching. ‘He used to be such a thoughtful boy, you know. Elliot I mean,’ she told Lizzy. ‘He would pick wild flowers from the garden and make the most beautiful bouquets for me.’

‘Really?’ Lizzy said in astonishment. She couldn’t imagine Elliot doing anything so sweet and sensitive.

Cassandra nodded. ‘Still waters run deep with Elliot. He was always the sensible one in the family, really quite straight-laced at times if you want the honest truth, but there was always this sensitivity about him. It broke my heart when he went away to boarding school, but it’s always been the tradition with the men in this family.’ She sighed. ‘The first time he came home there was already this … distance between us. I feel like I’ve been losing him ever since.’

Lizzy brought the mugs over to the table. ‘I’m sure he’ll come round, don’t worry.’

Cassandra sighed again. ‘I don’t know about that. If he can’t reach out to me now, when will he ever?’

They sat drinking their tea in a companionable silence until the first streaks of sunrise appeared in the sky. Then Lizzy stumbled off to bed, kissing Cassandra good night on the cheek.

When the girls got up the next morning Elliot was already packed and gone.

Lizzy was having a casual loaf through Facebook while Antonia was out of the office. Recently her timeline had become infested with adverts for rapid weight loss, spiritual retreats and yoga pants that held you in. A psychoanalyst would have a field day:
Single. Poor self-image. Feelings of disillusionment. Possible early mid-life crisis.