Rules for Dating a Romantic Hero (7 page)

‘Harsh,’ Laura said, but she knew he was being serious. She bit her lip. ‘Maybe.’

‘What are you so afraid of?’ Paddy pushed the beer towards her.

Laura shrugged. ‘I can’t say. It sounds stupid.’

‘Come on. What is it?’

Laura found it hard to speak. She poured herself a glass of wine and drank most of it, all without looking at Paddy. Her heart was thumping in her mouth.

‘Um – I suppose I don’t want things to change.’ She said it in a small voice. ‘I don’t want him to realise I’m not good enough for him. Nick needs someone so much, and I can’t … I can’t be that person. And I’m also scared I won’t be good enough for him. That I’ll let him down. And Dad, and Mum. So maybe it’s easier to just be here with you, having a drink. Two drinks.’

Paddy thumped the table so hard Laura jumped. ‘There! There you go!’

‘Oh shut up,’ Laura said.

‘I mean it. I’m totally right. Laura, in ten years’ time do you really think the ideal dream would be you and me sitting at this table drinking beers? ’Cos I think that’d be pretty tragic. Things change. It’s scary because you don’t recognise your new life for a bit, but then you get used to it. You think it’s the house and the title and all of that, but it’s not. And your mum and dad don’t care, they’re so proud of you already, can’t you see that? Everyone is, you lunatic.’ Paddy stood up, hugging himself. ‘I’m bloody brilliant. It’s not anyone else, it’s you. You’re the one creating all these obstacles. Because you don’t recognise your life, and you’re afraid of what you see, and you shouldn’t be.’

‘Where on earth did you get all that from?’ Laura asked.

‘
The Sound of Music
was on TV last Sunday. I’ve never seen it the whole way through.’

‘You’ve never seen
The Sound of Music
the whole way through?!’ Laura was astonished. ‘I don’t even know what to say to that, Paddy. How have you managed to know me thirty years and not seen it?’

‘Dunno.’ Paddy opened a packet of crisps. ‘You go on about stuff too much sometimes. But anyway, that’s what the old bird says to Maria before she starts singing “Climb Ev’ry Mountain”. Think about it, Laura.’

Laura drank a large gulp of rosé. ‘But you’re forgetting something.’

‘What?’

She smiled. ‘Lara. Explain that one away.’

‘Oh.’ Paddy looked stumped. He sat back down again. ‘Yeah. I forgot about her. Sorry.’

Laura fixed the bookshop’s computer programme. She rang the wholesalers and yelled at them. She even got down on her knees and fitted the metal trim to the carpet. Not for nothing had George Foster instilled his children with a love of DIY and Robert Dyas. ‘Where are you off to now, Laura?’ Casey asked her when they’d finished going over the books.

‘Up to the house,’ Laura said.

Casey smiled shyly. ‘Of course! You’ll see his … Nick. Oh, that’s lovely.’

You’re what? Twenty-eight? And your husband left you and your two kids for a barmaid and your boyfriend’s just dumped you, yet you’re still excited about the girl having the Cinderella romance with the man with the title and the big house. Oh ladies, nothing’s going to change while we’re still obsessed with that.

Laura didn’t say this, obviously. Instead, she nodded. ‘Thanks a lot, Casey,’ she said, patting her arm. ‘You’re doing an amazing job,’ and she stumbled out before Casey saw the tears in her eyes. She didn’t look back.

It was nearly a mile from the gates to Chartley Hall and, knowing she’d probably be driving straight back again afterwards, Laura decided to stretch her legs and walk up to the house. As she cut through the meadows and passed into the formal estate she breathed in. The scent from the wild roses and honeysuckle tangled in the hedgerows seemed to hang heavy in the air. Before her the dark green row of oak trees were totally still.

Chartley Hall shone golden in the waning sun. The windows glittered, the lead glass like diamonds catching the light. The rounded towers with their black iron weather vanes each seemed to tear a hole in the blue sky. Laura stopped and stared, as though seeing it for the first time, not the last. It was beautiful.

As she drew closer, she heard shouts from behind the house and the clank of builders’ ladders. Then one of the vast library windows on the first floor was flung open. The glass caught the sun, glinting with fire. Laura stood still in surprise. You didn’t just open the library windows. Its collection of books was priceless, the famous Hogarth Happy Marriage series of drawings was hung there and everything had to be kept at a certain temperature. But someone was swinging the window to and fro, like a maniac, catching the light. She had almost reached the great forecourt when the vast front door opened and Mrs Simmons, the new housekeeper, appeared. She welcomed Laura with a thin, nervous smile.

‘Good evening, Laura, how nice to see you.’

‘Evening, Mrs Simmons,’ said Laura, mounting the steps. ‘I wondered if—’

‘His lordship particularly wanted me to look out for you, he said to send you straight over to the maze.’

Any faint hope she had of doing this in private was gone. ‘Great. Thank you. I’ll … great.’ Laura strode off, feeling like a prisoner on her way to the Tower.

The maze had only recently been restored. It had once been one of the glories of the house and something of an early tourist attraction. Prime Ministers, Turkish Sultans, European nobles: they had all paid special visits to Chartley in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries to see if they were clever enough to make their way to the centre and out again.

But after Nick’s mother left, his father and the house fell into a Sleeping Beauty-like trance and the maze was, along with so much else, forgotten about. The box hedging had been allowed to rot and die, and when Laura first came to the house it was a large yellowing mulch, from which there was no sign of the original layout.

One night, not long after she had returned from America, she and Nick had been in the library, turning over old books together, with no sound but the two of them and the crackle of the log fire in the huge grate while an autumn storm raged outside. It had been a lovely if sometimes awkward day, getting to know and trust each other again. Suddenly, Laura had given a yell of exclamation, ‘Look! Look, Nick! These are the old plans for the maze. This is it! It’s bloody it!’ He’d come over, the fire reflecting and flashing in his dark eyes. Glancing at the old yellowing papers she’d spread out on the wide table, he’d turned to her.

‘God I love you, Laura Foster.’ He’d caught her in his arms and twirled her round until they collapsed on the floor in a happy heap, and the plans nearly went up in flames.

When she reached the maze, she stopped at the entrance to the glossy box hedges and glanced into the dark green. It was quiet here, separated from the rest of the park by an oval of oak trees. Stone benches flanked the outside of the maze and a wood pigeon called lazily through the afternoon haze.

‘Nick?’ she called awkwardly. ‘Nick, it’s me. It’s Laura.’

No answer. She turned round. A blackbird, hopping along the grass, eyed her curiously.

‘Nick?’ she yelled again.

Should she just go? She looked round again, not sure what to do. The setting sun hung over the bottom of the huge park like a giant, rose-gold ball.

‘I’m inside,’ came a distant voice. ‘Come and find me.’

Laura hesitated.

‘Who is that?’ she called.

The voice laughed. ‘Laura, it’s me, you idiot. Who else would it be?’

Laura entered the maze. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, listening carefully. Her heart was in her throat at the idea that he was so near and yet so distant from her. ‘It might be … well, some kind of homicidal maniac. Waiting with an axe. You can’t be too careful.’

‘You’re right.’ His voice was nearer. She turned the first corner, back on herself. ‘If I was a homicidal maniac with an axe, I’d definitely spend hours making my way to the centre of a maze then lie in wait for hapless visitors. That’s definitely how I’d ply my trade.’

Laura stopped. The spicy, grassy smell of the box hedge hung over everything. At the end of the passage were two turnings. An arrow had been hung from the tree, and a sign, decorated with bunting, said:

‘It’s cheating to have a maze where you point out the route.’ Laura kept following the arrows. ‘Now I’m further away than I ever was.’ There was silence. ‘Nick?’

But there was no answer. She put her hand to her collarbone and breathed deeply, trying not to feel panicked or cross. She walked on slowly, following the curve of the circle almost back to where she’d started.

Then she saw the next sign, festooned with fairy lights.

Laura frowned. ‘Nick?’ The path doubled back again to the outermost circle of the maze. This couldn’t be right, could it? She read the sign again, her heart pounding.

And suddenly she heard her grandmother Mary’s voice. She used to hear it all the time in the year or so after she’d died, but not recently. Not until now.

You have a great capacity to love, Laura. Use it. Stop wasting it. Throw yourself into it and don’t be scared.

‘Nick?’

She started walking again, more quickly this time. The maze twisted to the left and then to the right, but each turn had an arrow showing her the way, and at the end was another sign, covered in flowers, bunting and fairy lights.

‘Nick?
Nick
?’

‘I’m here,’ the voice called back. ‘I’m right here.’

She walked to the end of the hedge, two more turns and she was at the centre, and there, waiting for her, was Nick. In one hand he held the last arrow. His face was white, his dark eyes fixed on her.

‘Laura, you’re here,’ he said. ‘You’re finally here.’

Laura took it all in: the fairy lights strung along the hedges, two chairs decorated with wild flowers, and a table covered with clutter, material and bits of wood, as Nick came towards her.

‘Lavinia and Charles helped me. Are you surprised?’

Laura’s head was spinning. She stared up at him. ‘Why have you brought me here, Nick? To make some kind of fool of me?’

He froze for a second, and his voice was quiet when he answered. ‘I thought … it’s supposed to be a surprise.’

Her voice was hard. ‘A surprise for me? Or for Lara?’

He looked blank. ‘For you, of course – what’s Lara got to do with it?’

Laura pulled out her phone and took a deep breath. ‘You sent me this text, didn’t you?’ He glanced at it. ‘And then I saw you and Lara together. On the street outside your flat. You didn’t see me.’

Nick sounded bewildered. ‘Who are you? Someone out of
Midsomer Murders
? Why are you stealing my texts and following me around town?’ He took her hand again. ‘Laura, I know I’ve been an idiot the last couple of weeks. A total prick. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’ He kissed her fingers, each in turn. ‘The estate has been taking all my time lately, Rose has been winding me up and Charles is distracted because of the kids and my lunatic sister. I know I’m not patient enough sometimes, I don’t put myself in your shoes. I’ve been trying to sort it all out so that I could—’