The Love Shack (40 page)

I spend the next few days in a cloud of grief for Grandma, and gratitude that I’ve got Gemma, even if I singularly failed to secure her house with a view. Compared with the very human dramas we’ve endured over the last few weeks, that obviously pales into insignificance. Yet I can’t deny there are moments, such as when we were looking at flats to rent last night so we can move back to the city, when I feel a sense of crushing disappointment about Pebble Cottage.

I’m dwelling on this issue as I’m walking through the hospital car park to visit Grandma – and Dad phones. ‘Hello, son. I just wondered if there’d been any update on Flossie?’

He’s been in touch every day since Grandma’s heart attack and has been surprisingly good to talk to – less emotionally tangled up in it all than Mum, concerned but refreshingly calm. But there are still only so many times you can tell someone there’s no improvement without it starting to get hideously depressing.

‘No news, I’m afraid. The doctors seem to think that we’ve as good as lost her.’

‘I’m really sorry, Dan.’

‘Me too.’ I reach the entrance to the hospital door and hover outside, gazing at a faded parking notice. ‘I’d better run, Dad. I’ve just arrived for visiting hour and I can’t take my phone in.’

‘Okay. Oh, by the way – it’s not your priority at the moment, clearly – but you remember that daft little music company you invested in when you were over here?’

‘Hmm. The ultimate proof that I would never be the next Alan Sugar.’

‘Actually, you might have had the last laugh on that one. It’s just been sold for a princely sum.’

‘Oh, right.’ I can’t muster enough enthusiasm to feel even moderately smug. ‘Good for them. They were a nice bunch.’

‘So nice they’ve made you a little earner.’

‘What?’

‘That money you invested in them. You’re about to get it back . . . and a lot more besides.’

Gemma greets the news with such astonishment and incredulity I’m almost insulted. ‘You? Invested in a company? A company that now owes you twenty grand?’

‘Yes,’ I shrug.

‘When have you
ever
had any money to invest?’

It’s a good point, I suppose. ‘It was my birthday present from Dad.’

‘Wow,’ she mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘What are you going to do with twenty grand?’

‘I believe there are some good deals on second-hand Porsche Boxters these days . . . I’m joking.’

‘Very funny.’

I clutch her hand. ‘If you must know, I’ve been thinking. I know what the owners of Pebble Cottage said – but if we were to add £20k onto the price, surely they might be persuaded to let us have the house – and go and conduct their romantic renaissance somewhere else?’

Gemma pauses. ‘God, I don’t know. I’d kind of reconciled myself with the idea of
not
having Pebble Cottage. Painful as it is, I thought that was the end of it. Part of me felt relieved to have got off the rollercoaster.’

‘It’s within our reach again, Gemma. If we still want it.’

She bites her lip. ‘Well, we could only ask. It’s a straightforward proposition. But this time
we
need to play hardball with
them
. Tell them that we need a decision within twenty-four hours or there’s no deal.’

Chapter 69

Gemma

Six days have passed. SIX. I have never even met these people, yet I hate them with the burning, illogical passion reserved for the first boyfriend that ever cheats on you.

Despite the fact that we’ve got the cash, we’ve got the surveys, we’ve got the legal searches. We’ve got everything these bloody people could want. Yet they still need time to ‘think about it’.

I sit next to Sadie in the HR room, and she glances at the doodles on my notepad.

‘What’s that?’

I look down, realise I’ve sketched a hangman frame, with two nooses. ‘Nothing.’ I tear off the top sheet and stuff it in my bag, looking at my watch. ‘How long are they going to keep us waiting?’

The door swings open and Sebastian walks in with Babs Cartwright, who’s head of our HR department. Babs is approaching retirement but is still a larger than life force in the company. Physically, she resembles a Beryl Cook lady, all formidable bosom and hairdo that looks like she’s slept in rollers since 1984. Personality-wise, she’s loud, outrageously flirtatious and has balls of reinforced steel.

They head for the desk in front of us.

‘Would you like me to go first, Sebastian?’ Babs asks, pouting her tangerine lips.

‘By all means, I’ll be right behind you,’ he grins.

She giggles uproariously, then pulls herself together and contorts her face into a frown. ‘Sadie, am I right in saying you’ve brought Gemma as your representative?’

‘You are,’ Sadie nods.

‘Well,’ Babs goes on, ‘the matter we’re here to discuss is a very serious one with very serious consequences. It is a grave, grave matter. It couldn’t be more grave, or more serious, if—’

‘I think she’s got the picture,’ Sebastian interrupts.

‘We have reason to believe that on Tuesday, twenty-seventh May, you crashed your car into that of Mr Sebastian Boniface. Is this correct?’

‘Yes, I’ve confessed to it,’ Sadie says. ‘Sebastian: I just want to express again how sorry I am and—’

‘You went on to compound the issue by consistently lying about your involvement in the matter,’ Babs continues. ‘Repeatedly presenting untruths to a man who is your superior.’

Sadie lowers her head. If I could give her a hug right now, I would.

And it gets worse. For the next hour, Sadie is bombarded with her list of misdemeanours. Sebastian, it seems, has dragged up every tiny instance in which she failed to tell him about the car. Not to mention producing receipts, documentation and various other bits of paper proving how out of pocket he is – which, to be fair, is enough to make your eyes water.

Sadie’s flimsy attempts to defend herself do nothing but irritate him and make him even more determined to get rid of her. It’s such an obvious witch-hunt they might as well determine her guilt by throwing her in the swimming pool to see if she drowns.

After that one hour, she is broken, defeated. There’s no question about it, she’s going to lose her job.

We are finally asked to leave the room while Babs and Sebastian discuss the matter in detail.

I stand up and follow Sadie to the door when something compels me to stop and turn. ‘May I add something, please?’

Babs looks at her watch. ‘It’s gone lunchtime.’

‘This won’t take a minute.’ Recalling the words of the public-speaking instructor, I roll back my shoulders and project.

‘I cannot leave this courtroom without saying a few words in defence of my friend and colleague.’

‘You’re not in a courtroom, Gemma,’ Babs sighs.

‘Oh . . . um. Well, you know what I mean.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Sadie has been a loyal employee of this company for six years, during which time I’ve worked closely with her. She is one of the most hard-working, dedicated and talented members of staff here. Without her, this company would be a far poorer place.’

Sebastian yawns. And it’s that gesture that prompts a devious thought to bubble up in my head.

I glare at him. ‘The thing is, Sebastian, it’s not as if she’s done something
really
bad. Such as taking drugs on the premises.’

Sebastian freezes and glances up, panic in his eyes.

‘I know there’s no
smoke
without fire,’ I carry on. ‘But anyone decent would defend Sadie. I
weed
. I mean . . . I would.’

Sebastian’s jaw drops.

‘If you’re
ganja
fire her, then I think you’d be making a big mistake.’ I glance between the two of them. ‘A
joint
mistake. I think I’d put this issue back into the . . .
pot
. Especially if you are at all
spliff
on the matter.’

‘Spliff?’ Babs frowns, bewildered.

‘Did I say
spliff
? I meant split, obviously.’

‘Thank you, Gemma!’ Sebastian shrieks. ‘I think we’re done now.’

When I’m in the corridor, Sadie turns to me. ‘I really appreciate you saying all those things. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Gemma.’

My phone beeps.

‘You’re going to be fine. One way or another,’ I reassure her, looking at the message.

It’s from Dan.

Rich has just phoned. Give me a ring as soon as you can. We have our answer on the house.

Chapter 70

Gemma

There’s a pub in Liverpool’s Georgian quarter that Dan and I used to go to all the time. It’s called the Belvedere, is over 200 years old and, although tiny, is just about the most perfect city pub you could ever stumble across.

Dan is already there with Pete and Jade, when Sadie and I walk through the door. They’re all talking over each other, laughing, and I feel a pang of nostalgia for the Friday nights of yore, before we only had someone else’s house to go to and no money to spend.

‘Tell me again the ins and outs of your sorry tale?’ Pete asks.

Dan sighs. ‘The owners of Pebble Cottage have decided not to sell, even in the light of our increased offer. Because they’re no longer getting divorced.’

‘And why are they no longer getting divorced?’ Pete says.

Dan prevaricates. ‘I’m sure it’s for a variety of complex reasons.’

‘But what did they say? Come on, spit it out.’

Dan flashes me a look. ‘They said they read my letter and were miraculously reminded of the value of true love. It made them think, apparently.’

‘So basically, the letter you wrote to them to persuade them to sell the house in fact persuaded them to keep it?’

‘It would appear so. I’m so glad you’re sympathetic,’ Dan says. ‘Gemma, Sadie – what are you drinking?’

‘It’s my round.’ Pete leaps up. ‘But don’t start beating him up till I get back, will you, Gem?’

Jade shakes her head. ‘I don’t know why he thinks this is funny. You must be devastated, Gemma.’

I sit down and kiss Dan, then turn to Jade. ‘Actually, I think it was fate. This whole process had become so messed up and tainted, that when I finally discovered today that there was absolutely no chance this house would be ours, I felt relieved.’

‘I’m glad you’ve said that. Me too,’ Dan confesses.

I glance at Sadie, who’s suddenly gone quiet.

‘You okay?’ I whisper.

She nods. ‘Planning on drowning my sorrows tonight.’

At which point, her phone starts ringing. She takes it out of her bag and breathes in. ‘It’s Sebastian.’

‘Well, don’t keep the man waiting,’ I say gently.

She answers the phone and goes outside.

So we sit and drink and talk and indulge in well-needed light relief with friends who have the ability to make us laugh in even the direst of circumstances. And despite our despair about Grandma, the loss of the house we’ve battled to buy for six months, it reminds us more than anything, that if you’re surrounded by the people you love, people who can dig out a glimmer of fun against all the odds, then you’ve got everything.

Sadie bursts through the door and runs over to us. ‘Gemma! I’m back!’

‘What?’

‘He’s given me my job back.’

I smile, relieved and happy that I’ve played a part, done my bit for Sadie. ‘What did he say persuaded him?’ I ask. Leading question, I know.

‘Apparently, they’ve taken advice from some lawyers who said they hadn’t kept the correct paperwork they’d need if ever they had to answer a case in front of a tribunal.’ She grins. ‘I was saved by red tape! Hallelujah!’ She takes a slug of her drink. ‘I’m sure your speech helped too, Gemma. Obviously.’

Several hours later, we emerge from the pub and weave through the moonlit city streets, the ones I’ve missed badly since living in Buddington.

We go across Hope Street, past the imposing splendour of Blackburne House and towards the cathedral, then make our way down a tiny back street dotted with old-fashioned streetlights. It contains a row of smart terraces, all with sunken gardens.

Dan suddenly grips my arm.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘Look at that,’ he says. I look up and see a For Sale sign, rising high above one of the properties. It’s the type of house we’d originally wanted, months before we’d even looked at Pebble Cottage, but quickly realised would be way out of our price range.

I turn to Dan and say, ‘Won’t it be over our budget?’

He grins. ‘I wasn’t talking about that. Look.’ He nods to the other end of the street and my eyes follow. Pete and Jade are snogging.

Chapter 71

Gemma

It is a week later when Flossie wakes up, on the first cold morning of September, when sunshine shears through the clouds and makes the whole world shimmer.

Belinda cries when she gets the call from the hospital, so hard and hysterically that at first we’re all convinced that it’s the news we’ve all been waiting for and dreading – that Grandma has died in the night.

In fact, she opened her eyes when a nurse switched on the television, and a clip from
Dirty Dancing
happened to be on
This Morning
, followed by a long discussion between Holly Willoughby and Phillip Schofield about whether or not it was the greatest romantic movie of all time.

Against all the odds, Flossie was up sipping tea later that day, and will be allowed home soon. I don’t think I’ve ever seen happiness shine so brightly in Dan’s eyes before.

All in all, it feels like a fitting time to be moving out of Buddington Hall, even if it’s a bit sad that we won’t be here when Grandma comes back – though obviously we’ll be visiting regularly.

I must admit, a part of me will miss living with Belinda, unlikely as that sounds. Okay, I’ll be happy to give her culinary skills a wide berth, plus it’ll be nice not to have to maintain a nun-like silence during every orgasm. But I’ve grown to enjoy having her as my ‘mother-in-law’, I can’t deny it.

‘Any more boxes for this car, Gemma?’ James asks, brushing himself down. We’re leaving the majority of our stuff in Belinda’s garage until we actually own a house and are in a position to move in.