Fern Britton 3-Book Collection: The Holiday Home, A Seaside Affair, A Good Catch. Fern Britton
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The following months had seen the blossoming of the advertising department and the blossoming of a love affair between its two members. Everything about Dorothy Danvers appealed to Henry. She was upfront and honest, she was attractive but didn’t spend hours on her appearance or feel the need to flirt with every man she encountered. Dorothy wore little makeup and treated men as equals. She was all the things that his life had been lacking.
One evening in her small one-bedroom flat, stomachs replete with Henry’s home-cooked spag bol, they lay on the sofa together watching The Goodies.
Henry turned off the TV, stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.
‘I love you, Dorothy.’
She gazed up into his eyes. ‘I know. I love you too.’
A lump formed in his throat and his eyes shone. She reached up and brushed the unformed tears away. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’
He swallowed hard and, finding her hand, kissed the fingers and the palm.
‘I want every evening to be like this. I want to live with you and be with you every day and every night. As man and wife.’
It was her eyes that filled with tears now. ‘Oh, Henry. So do I. I want to be Mrs Henry Carew so very much.’
Henry paused. He knew this would the hardest thing he would ever do; there was so much at stake here. ‘Dorothy … there is something I have to tell you. Something …’ he gulped. ‘I’m afraid you might not love me after you hear this.’
He let her sit up and face him. Clutching her hands in his, he told her, holding nothing back.
When he had finished, she looked at him, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. ‘This is a cruel joke you’re playing on me.’ She stared at him, willing him to laugh. ‘It is a joke, isn’t it?’
‘I wish it were.’
Hearing this, she buried her face in her knees.
‘Do you hate me?’ he ventured.
‘I am disappointed in you.’ Her voice was muffled by her skirt. ‘I think you’d better go now, Henry. I need to think.’
He thought about falling to his knees to plead with her, or sweeping her up and carrying her into the bedroom. But in the end he walked to the door in silence and let himself out.
*
Dorothy stayed as she was for some time. Her brain was trying to make sense of the enormity of the mess she’d found herself in. Who was Henry? Her Henry had vanished and this other man who could keep such an enormous secret from her had taken his place.
She realised that her feet were getting cold. Rubbing her hands together to warm them, she slowly stood up. Her legs felt as if they didn’t belong to her. She went to the bathroom and ran a bath. The little pilot light leapt into action as she turned the Ascot water heater on and the gas jets hissed with heat.
Dorothy caught sight of her drained face looking back at her from the clouded mirror above the basin. She didn’t cry. She wasn’t sick. Although she felt like doing both.
Instead she came to a decision. In the bath she washed her hair and afterwards towelled herself dry and applied Nivea crème to her skin. Then she cleaned her teeth, got into bed and slept soundly.
*
In the morning she got to work half an hour earlier than usual. By the time Henry arrived she was surrounded by cardboard boxes, packing up her things.
He threw down his briefcase and rushed to her, pleading, ‘Don’t go. Please, Dorothy.’
She looked at him, astonished. ‘I’m not leaving. I’m reorganising the office, that’s all. I think our desks should face each other in the centre of the room. Much more practical, and it’ll mean I get a bit of the natural light from the window.’
He gawped at her. ‘Oh. OK.’
She moved towards his desk. ‘And another thing: book a taxi for six o’clock tonight. We’re catching the Caledonian Sleeper to Scotland. I have reserved us a room in a nice hotel for three nights. When we come back we shall return as Mr and Mrs Henry Carew.’
*
Henry placed the tatty box containing Lawyer, Lawyer back on the shelf.
Dorothy was right. It was time.
‘Morning,’ breezed Pru as she popped a wholemeal bagel into the toaster.
‘Morning,’ replied her sister, who was gazing out into the garden, still basking in the afterglow of memories of Merlin. She looked at her watch. ‘Blimey, sis, you’re up early – it’s only seven thirty.’
‘Well, I don’t want to waste such a glorious day. I was thinking, is there anything I can do to help with the party preparations?’ asked Pru.
Connie gave her sister a suspicious look. ‘Why? That sort of thing isn’t usually your bag.’
‘Well, she is my only niece.’ Pru opened the cupboard containing the mugs. ‘Would you like a tea? Or coffee?’
‘Tea.’ Connie frowned. ‘What’s going on? Who are you and what have you done with my sister?’
Pru gave an uncharacteristic peal of laughter. ‘I’m only offering to make tea, dear.’
There was a sound in the hall and Francis appeared in a pair of rumpled pyjamas, looking as perplexed as Connie.
Pru shot him a beaming smile. ‘I thought I told you to stay in bed. Go back and I’ll bring your breakfast up to you.’
Francis hesitated, not quite knowing what to do. He liked making his own breakfast. He’d grown accustomed to making his own breakfast.
Pru shooed him out. ‘Go. Upstairs. I’ll be there in a minute.’
‘Oh.’ Francis gave a nervous smile. ‘OK.’
Connie stared at Pru’s back as she busied herself with slices of salmon and cream cheese for the bagel.
‘Come on, Pru. Tell me. What’s got into you?’
Pru smiled coyly and in a hushed voice told Connie about the book she’d been reading.
Connie’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. ‘Oh. My. God! Poor Francis! You’ve been practising on him, haven’t you?’
Pru nodded gleefully.
‘I thought you told me you didn’t like sex?’
‘Well, I’ve woken up again.’
‘Blimey. I bet Francis doesn’t know what hit him: nothing for yonks and now you’re going to wear him out!’
Pru leaned with her back against the worktop and gave Connie an earnest look. ‘It was something Belinda said the other day. I think she’s got her eye on Francis.’
Connie gave a hoot of laughter. Pru held up a hand.
‘Honestly, Con! And a couple of days later I read a review about this book and how it had transformed one woman’s love life, so I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about. You should read it.’
‘I did. I skipped to the first couple of dirty bits and found it rather dull. But then I don’t need anything to improve my love life. Greg and I satisfy each other very nicely.’
‘Well, bully for you.’
‘Oh, Pru, I’m sorry,’ exclaimed Connie, seeing the hurt expression on her sister’s face. ‘I didn’t mean to pooh-pooh your new lease of life.’
Ignoring her,