Notting Hill in the Snow. Jules Wake
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keeping it half closed. A guard at the gate and I wasn’t getting through. I could see that I wasn’t about to be invited in, no matter how cold it was.
‘I’m sorry I’m so late but—’
‘I thought I’d made it quite clear. I’m not in a place where I can let Grace be messed around.’ He raised a single eyebrow that spoke volumes.
‘I know. You did. But I couldn’t phone because my phone’s dead and my charger is at work. And that’s why I had to come. To explain. I feel really bad about it.’ Although, of the two of them, Grace seemed the more forgiving. ‘I’ve come to apologise and explain.’
‘Well, thank you for coming and don’t worry, I don’t need your excuses. If it was important enough for you to come, you’d have been here. Clearly you’re a very busy person. Unlike you, I have responsibilities.’
‘My mother had an accident,’ I blurted out. ‘She’s in St Mary’s. I was there till five o’clock this morning. I slept through my alarm this morning.’
‘Oh,’ said Nate and I felt a flash of satisfaction at seeing the uptight, snotty front deflate almost immediately. ‘My goodness, is she OK? What happened? Has she been in an accident?’
‘She had a fall. She’s OK but it was a long night. Hence me oversleeping, for which I’m genuinely very sorry. Despite going to bed at five, I wasn’t going to let you down. I had every intention of coming but my phone died and I didn’t wake up until –’ I looked down at my watch ‘– thirty-five minutes ago.’
‘It should be me apologising for being such a dick. I’m sorry, you’ve had a rough night and you still came here. Have you had breakfast?’ he asked suddenly, his eyes running down my body.
‘I came straight here.’
‘Now you mention it, I can tell,’ he said with a twitch of his lips, looking at my coat and stepping back to open the door. ‘Come in. You look cold.’
‘Forgot my hat and my scarf. And my gloves. I was in a bit of a hurry.’
As soon as I stepped inside, I saw myself in the big gilt mirror. My coat was inside out and my hair was sticking up on one side where I hadn’t brushed it. I looked an absolute sight with my bed head hair, flushed cheeks and scarecrow wardrobe.
‘Oh, God, I look a sight.’
‘It’s an interesting look,’ he said. ‘Tell me what happened to your mother.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘She fell off a ladder.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘She’s seventy-one.’
‘I’m surprised she’s climbing ladders at that age. What was she doing?’
‘You don’t know my mother. She’s an academic; my parents have a lot of books … a lot of bookshelves. Some you need a ladder to reach. And apparently some books you just have to have when there’s no one else around to help you.’
‘Ah, stubborn?’
‘You do know my mother.’
He smiled at me, his eyes kinder now and running over my face. ‘You look tired. Come on, I’ll make you some breakfast. You look like you could do with a nice fry-up.’
‘That sounds bliss, thank you. I didn’t get much sleep last night but –’ I looked at my watch ‘– I’m sorry I can’t stay too long. I’ve got to go back to the hospital to pick her up.’
‘Will you stop apologising?’
‘But I’m letting you down. The gingerbread house.’
‘The gingerbread house can wait. What time do you need to be at the hospital?’
‘She’s got an appointment at the fracture clinic at twelve and, dependent on how that goes, we’ll get a taxi back to her place.’ I frowned. ‘And then I’m not sure what. My dad’s away in the States at the moment, although I’m hoping he’s going to get a flight home later today.’
‘That is bad luck, especially when your dad’s not there.’
‘Yes, and of course I was at work, so uncontactable. Mum was not best pleased when I finally rocked up at the hospital at midnight.’
Nate led me through the corridor, down some steps to a big square basement kitchen as I surreptitiously took in the beautiful house. I thought Bella’s house was all World of Interiors; this was even grander. ‘Shades of Pemberley,’ I murmured to myself. This house was gorgeous. The hall had an octagonal wooden table with an enormous glass vase, which I suspected when his wife was in residence would have always had a large arrangement of tall-stemmed, lush flowers. A rather grand staircase curled away from the hall with a rich chestnut banister that curved elegantly around to the next floor. Its white treads were punctuated by a striped carpet runner in shades of teal and beige which was held in place by shiny brass stair rods.
Off to the left, double glass doors opened into an elegant lounge with deep velvet sofas in pale eau de nil and white-painted furniture including another big mirror over the white plasterworked fireplace. Stylish lamps with overblown shades in pastel colours and big clear glass bases were arranged around the room. It looked light and bright and almost too neat and tidy to venture into. I’d have banned anyone from taking red wine in there.
The kitchen, while echoing those designer statements, felt a lot more homely and it looked as if this was where Grace and Nate spent most of their time. It opened out into an L-shape; to the right a long glass-roofed dining area and to the left a small cosy seating area with a two-seater sofa, an armchair, a television, a DVD player and a stack of Disney DVDs. Grace was sitting at a bar stool at the long wooden breakfast bar that ran the whole length of the kitchen area, surrounded by colouring pencils and bits of paper.
‘Tea, coffee?’ asked Nate. ‘Take a seat.’ He waved to the bar stool next to Grace. ‘Sorry, I should have taken your coat.’
He seemed a little bit flustered, as if me turning up at the wrong time had thrown the script. I got the impression that if I’d been on time he would have had a script.
‘Have you said sorry?’ asked Grace, not looking up from the drawing she was colouring in with fierce concentration as I took the stool next to her.
‘Yes, and I’d like to say sorry to you too.’
She shrugged and carried on carefully nudging at the lines of the unicorn on the paper with her pink pencil. ‘It’s OK.’
Her indifference tugged at my heart and I glanced over at Nate and saw his mouth tighten.
‘No, Grace, it’s not OK. I said I was coming and I really was, but my mum had an accident last night. So she had to go to hospital.’
Grace’s mouth pressed in a firm line. But she didn’t say anything.
‘She broke her leg and she had to stay the night.’
At that the little girl did look up. ‘Has she got crutches?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’m going to see her later, when they put the cast on her leg.’
‘Maddie at school got a broken arm. She had a blue cast. I’d have a purple one.’
‘Can you choose?’
‘Oh, yes, because Edward Palmer had a red one. Because of football. Do you like football?’
‘Not especially.’
‘Me neither. I do gymnastics and dancing.’
‘What sort of dancing do you do?’
‘Ballet, jazz and tap. I like the tap dancing. But ballet –’ she pulled a face ‘– it’s boring but Mummy likes me to do it.’ She sighed. ‘When I’m grown up I’m never doing anything boring.’
‘That’s