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It pleased her to discover that there was nothing wrong with Magnus’s manners when there was a third person present. He shook hands with Julian and in the few minutes before she and Julian went out to Julian’s car exchanged politenesses and showed that he was not lacking when it came to social graces.
‘I imagined your new flat-mate to be somewhere in his early twenties,’ Julian opined as they drove along. ‘He—Magnus—he’s quite sophisticated, isn’t he? You know, he’s got that sort of confident air about him.’
‘I suppose he has. I’ve not really thought about it.’
‘You’re getting along all right?’ Julian asked.
Taye wasn’t truly sure that they were ‘getting along all right’, but diplomatically replied, ‘I don’t see very much of him. I think he has a date tonight, so I may not see him again before morning.’ And probably not then if he stays out all night up to no good at ‘hers’.
‘Her’ was probably Pen—Penelope, Penny—Taye mused, and then forgot about the pair of them, or tried to, as she gave herself over to enjoying her evening. Julian was three years older than her. He was pleasant and charming, good, undemanding company, and she liked him very much. He was easy to get along with and seemed to agree with everything she said.
So much so that, when she caught herself thinking that she would not mind too much hearing if he had an opposing view, she began to wonder for one panicky moment if she had inherited some of her mother’s traits and would turn into some cantankerous woman who liked to argue purely for the sake of it.
Taye felt better when she thought of the many times her mother had thrown at her that, while she had inherited Greta Trafford’s beauty—her mother’s words, not Taye’s—she had inherited nothing else of her but was in temperament totally her father’s daughter.
‘Shall we have coffee here?’ Julian asked. ‘Or we could go back to my place? I make a splendid cup of coffee.’
Julian had a flat about fifteen minutes away from where she lived. And Taye had once been back to his flat for coffee. They had kissed a little, she recalled, and it had been quite enjoyable getting some practice in. But she never had been too free with her kisses and, while finding Julian physically attractive, he was not so attractive that she lost sight of what was right for her. To make love with him had not been right then. Who knew? It might be at some future date. But for now that time had not arrived.
‘Coffee here, shall we? Do you mind?’
‘Yes, I mind,’ Julian replied, but, as ever the nice person he truly was, ‘But anything you say,’ he added, and grinned.
Most oddly, though, she did not feel like asking him in when he stopped his car outside her building. ‘I won’t ask you in,’ she said, adding quickly for an excuse, ‘Magnus may have changed his mind and decided to do a bit of—er—entertaining at home, and until I get to know him better I shouldn’t like to embarrass him.’ The idea that arrogant Magnus Ashthorpe would ever be embarrassed about anything was laughable, but Julian accepted her excuse.
‘Come out with me tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘We could…’
‘I’d rather planned to visit my father tomorrow,’ she found she was inventing on the spot.
Julian swallowed any disappointment. ‘He lives in Warwickshire, doesn’t he? I think I remember you mentioning it one time. I’ll drive you down, if you like?’
‘I couldn’t let you,’ she answered quickly. ‘It will be no trouble for my father to pick me up from the station. I’d better go in,’ she said in a rush—and just had to wonder what had got into her that, when she quite enjoyed Julian’s company, she should put him off. And why when, as they left the car and he walked to the outer door with her, he went to take her in his arms, as he had a few times before, she should experience a feeling of not wanting to be kissed.
And what was even more odd was that an image of Magnus Ashthorpe should at that moment spring to mind. ‘Goodnight, Julian. I’ve had a lovely time,’ she said.
And, mentally sticking her tongue out at that Magnus Ashthorpe image, she stretched up and kissed Julian—though quickly pulled back when she felt his arms begin to tighten about her. He let her go and she went indoors, still pondering what was going on in her psyche.
To her surprise there was a light on in the sitting room when she went in. ‘I didn’t expect to see you back,’ she recovered to say pleasantly to Magnus, who used the remote and switched off the television. ‘Don’t do that on my account,’ she hurriedly bade him.
‘It had just finished. Have a good time?’ he thought to ask. She liked him better like this.
‘Julian’s excellent company. I’m about to make a drink. Would you like one?’ Perhaps they could set about creating some kind of flat-sharing harmony, some flat-sharing give and take.
‘Thank you,’ he accepted, but followed her into the kitchen.
‘Did you have a nice time?’ she kept up the politeness to enquire.
‘So-so,’ he replied, and Taye suspected Penny was on her way out. Her lips twitched at the touch of whimsy that came to her that the Penny was about to be dropped.
‘Thoughts of Julian make you smile?’ Magnus interrupted her trend—and suddenly he sounded quite grim.
‘I told you—he’s very good company,’ she reminded him. Grief, this man was never the same two minutes together!
‘I seem to know his name from somewhere?’
‘You’ve probably heard of his father—Julian Coombs of Julian Coombs Comestibles. They’re big in—’
‘I know them,’ he cut in. ‘Quite financially sound, from what I hear.’
She did not know how he, an artist, got to hear these things, but, working quite high up with the Finance Director, she knew that Magnus had heard quite rightly. ‘They’re flourishing,’ she agreed.
Magnus looked at her speculatively for long moments. ‘So the son isn’t exactly on his uppers?’ he commented at last.
And Taye at once resented the inference she saw in his comment; as if he considered she would not be going out with Julian were he not loaded. ‘Julian will one day inherit a fortune,’ she said stiffly, in the interests of compatibility doing her best not to fall out with the man facing her.
‘And you’re serious about him?’
Taye felt her hackles rising. She had near enough had it with one Magnus Ashthorpe, and no way was she ready to discuss her love life with him, thank you very much! ‘I might be!’ she retorted, her fine blue eyes flashing.
Hard grey eyes looked hostilely back. Then at that moment the kettle snicked off. ‘Forget the drink!’ he ordered curtly, and, turning about, left her staring blankly after him. Just what had that been all about?
By morning, trying not to think of the longest three months of her life stretching out in front of her, Taye resolved once again to do her best to get some sort of amicability going. To that end, up early and in the kitchen before him, she overcame the thought that if he wanted a drink he could jolly well make it himself.
‘Coffee?’ she offered when he joined her, having only just made a fresh pot.
‘Thanks,’ he accepted. No smile, just a hard stare. And, as if taking up from where they had left it last night, ‘How long have you known Julian Junior?’ he questioned, not the smallest sign of humour in his expression.
Julian Junior! Taye’s decision to try and get some amicability going began to flounder. She could have mentioned that she and Julian worked at the same place, but did not feel inclined to do so. Though she did give herself top marks that she answered Magnus Ashthorpe at all. ‘Ages,’ she replied briefly—and received another of his hard-eyed looks. Resisting the temptation to slam his coffee down on the counter top next to him, Taye controlled her spurt of annoyance and informed him evenly, ‘I shall be away overnight. I’m—’
‘Julian Coombs?’ he barked before she could finish.
To the devil with him. This kitchen just was not big enough for the two of them. Carefully she placed his mug of coffee down near him. ‘Actually, no,’ she replied with hard-won control. ‘Not Julian. His name is Alden. He’s—’
But, making cutting her off mid-speech into an art form, Magnus Ashthorpe did it again. ‘Just how many lovers do you run at one and the same time?’ he snarled.
This time it was she who went without her drink. ‘That’s none of your business!’ she erupted hotly—and got out of there before she gave in to the temptation to hit him.
She was on Paddington railway station before she had cooled down sufficiently to be able to think of something other than the abrasive manner of her flat-share. Oh, why did he have to be the only one to reply to her advert? Just about anyone else would have been preferable.
Taye pushed thoughts of Magnus Ashthorpe out of her mind and took out her phone and rang her father. ‘Hello, it’s me, Taye,’ she said when he answered.
‘Hello, love. I was just thinking about you,’ he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Any chance of you coming to see me some time soon? I—er—need to see you about—something.’
She felt pleased that her father wanted to see her, but was intrigued about the ‘something’ he needed to see her about. ‘As it happens, I’m on Paddington Station as we speak,’ she answered with a smile.
‘Great!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I’ll pick you up in Leamington. Eleven o’clock?’
Her father was on the platform waiting for her when her train pulled in. And Taye, having searched and wondered and speculated all through the train journey to Royal Leamington Spa, was utterly flabbergasted when, not waiting until they arrived at his cottage, he revealed what that ‘something’ was.
Though she supposed she rather invited it when, as they got into his ramshackle car, she more or less straight away asked, ‘You needed to see me about something?’
‘If you hadn’t managed to come here, I was going to try to come to you.’ And, straight on the heels of that, after only the smallest hesitation, ‘I’ve met someone,’ he announced as in his ancient car they trundled out of town and towards a rural area.
‘You’ve met someone?’ Taye asked, not with him for the moment. Then, as it began to sink in, ‘A girl? I mean, a woman?’
‘Hilary’s forty-seven,’ Alden Trafford replied. ‘Do you mind, Taye?’
Taye was more winded than minding. ‘But…No,’ she said then. ‘Just give me a minute to…’ Her voice tailed away. She turned to give him a sideways look. He was fifty-one and, given that he was virtually penniless—her mother would see to that—quite an attractive man. ‘Er—is it serious?’ Taye asked, getting her head back together.
‘I’m going to ask your mother for a divorce,’ he replied, and Taye reckoned he could not get much more serious than that. Her mother would create blue murder!
‘Oh, dear,’ Taye murmured faintly.
‘I’m sorry, Taye. Unfortunately you’ll not be able to get through this without some of your mother’s bitterness spilling over onto you in some way. But you’re living away from home now, and it won’t be all that long before Hadleigh goes off to university. And, while I want to be fair to you both, I want to be fair to Hilary too.’
‘Of course. Don’t worry about us. Um—have you known—Hilary—long?’
‘Three years. But it’s only since New Year—we were both at a friend’s house—that things have—er—hmm—blossomed between us,’ he answered, with an embarrassed kind of cough. ‘Anyhow, I want to marry her, and your mother and I have been separated long enough now to make a divorce between us a quite simple procedure.’
Taye smiled; what else could she do? The divorce might be a simple formality, but the fall-out it engendered would not be.
‘Will I meet Hilary this weekend?’ she asked.
‘I rang her after your call. I asked her to pop round this afternoon and have a cup of tea with us.’
Taye took to Hilary within a very short time of meeting her. Hilary was a widow, worked as a schoolteacher, was short and a little on the plump side—and it was obvious from the way Alden Trafford’s face lit up when he saw her that this woman meant everything to him.
And, as Taye adjusted to this new state of affairs, she could only be glad for him. He had had it tough for long enough. Prior to him leaving their home he had worked in high finance. But, feeling stale in the work he had been doing, he had changed employers—but had not cared for some of their accounting procedures. When he had started asking pertinent questions he had found himself out of a job. He had been unable to find other work and, after a year during which his savings had dwindled, his wife had seemed to much prefer her room to his company—and then his father had died—and he had moved out.
When Taye returned to London early on Sunday evening it was not without a few worries gnawing away at her. That she had taken to Hilary Wyatt caused Taye to feel a little disloyal to her mother. But there was no denying that she and Hilary had liked each other. And, seeing how much Hilary meant to her father and soon realising that he wanted to spend as much time as he could with the woman he hoped to make his wife, Taye had invited her to stay on to dinner.
They were suited, her father and Hilary, but all hell was going to break loose when her mother heard about it. After thinking about it, Taye’s father had decided he would do his present wife the courtesy of telling her in person. In his view, though he considered he owed her very little, it did not seem right to let her find out via the auspices of his lawyer.
Taye let herself into the apartment she now shared with Magnus Ashthorpe, and saw he was speaking with someone on his mobile phone. ‘I’ll come over next week,’ he was saying warmly. ‘No, no.’ He was obviously answering something said on the other end.
Taye decided to take her overnight bag into her bedroom and so leave Magnus to finish his call in private—although for that matter he was quite capable of walking to his own bedroom and taking his phone with him.
Taye had reached her bedroom door when, ‘Leave it with me, Elspeth,’ she heard him say. ‘I’ll deal with it.’
So, Pen-Penny was out? Goodbye, Penelope—hello, Elspeth!
When she thought she had given him enough time to finish his call, though to be on the safe side Taye opened her bedroom door a crack and listened, she left her room. Soon, she suspicioned, when her mother knew about the divorce, there would be enough unpleasantness around without inviting more from anywhere else.
That being so, she decided to ignore the spat she’d had with Magnus yesterday morning. Pinning a pleasant look on her face, she popped her head around the sitting room door. ‘I’m making a pot of tea if you’re interested?’
‘Thanks,’ he accepted, and buried his head in his newspaper.
Waitress service! Now, now, don’t get cranky. She made the tea and took it through to the other room. He lowered his paper as she poured some tea and placed his down on the small table next to him.
‘Good weekend?’ she enquired, attempting to build bridges.
‘Average,’ he replied. ‘You?’
She thought about it. Yes, given that she had been a touch shaken by her father’s news, it had been a good weekend, a happy weekend. ‘Lovely,’ she replied, a smile in her eyes as she thought about it.
‘Hmph!’ Magnus grunted sourly, causing her to want to give up. The man was insufferable! ‘And does dear Julian know about dear Alden?’ he had the nerve to ask.
Does dear Penelope know about dear Elspeth? From somewhere Taye found a smile. ‘Well, they’ve never actually met,’ she replied, keeping her tone as pleasant as she could in the circumstances. ‘But Julian did very kindly offer to save me a train journey and drive me to meet him.’
‘My stars, there’s no end to your brass-necked—’
Taye, having roused him to anger—without any idea why—found tremendous delight in cutting in on what he was saying for a change. ‘Naturally I refused—’
Her delight was short lived. ‘Even you baulked at entertaining two lovers at one and the same time!’ He cut her off aggressively—and insultingly.
She’d had it with him! Oh, how she’d had it with him! ‘For your information,’ she hissed furiously, ‘Alden Trafford is my father!’ And, unable to bear being in the same room with this unbearable man any longer, she sprang up from her chair, tears of she knew not what—anger, hurt—spurting to her eyes. She made it as far as the sitting room door before he caught up with her, and with a hand on her left arm he halted her and turned her round to face him.
He looked down into her shining mutinous eyes. Taye looked belligerently back at him. ‘Oh, hell!’ he muttered, his hand dropping away from her.
‘If that was an apology, I don’t think much of it!’ she snapped, and, feeling better now that the threat of tears had subsided, ‘You’re an insulting, insufferable, diabolical pig!’ she laid into him. ‘And if it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve got your rent and that no one else has applied, I’d kick you out right now!’
He stared at her. And then he laughed. To her astonishment, he actually laughed! His lips parted, showing a superb set of teeth, and his head tilted back and he gave a short bark of laughter.
Rebelliously she continued to look hostilely at him. Then all at once she started to see the funny side of it too. She was five feet nine, and slender with it. He was well over six feet, broad-shouldered and with plenty of muscle. The idea of physically setting about kicking him out was laughable. ‘Well,’ she mumbled lamely, but could not control that, when she had been absolutely furious with him, she could not now stop her mouth from picking up at the corners.
‘Come and finish your tea,’ he persuaded, ‘and tell me all about your weekend.’
Persuaded was the right word. Because, when she was determined cats and dogs would sprout feathers before she would sit sipping tea with him again, she found she was returning with him to take the chair she had so rapidly bolted from.
Though to her mind, as he went and took the seat opposite, there was very little of her time spent with her father that she wanted to tell him about. The fact that her father wanted a divorce from her mother was something that had to be conveyed to her mother before it became general knowledge.
‘You had a lovely time, you said?’ Magnus prompted. ‘What did you do?’
‘Not very much. It was just lovely being with him, relaxing. You know, generally unwinding.’
‘Where do your parents live?’
Taye, a rather private person when she thought about it, could see no harm in him knowing a little of her family. ‘My mother lives on the outskirts of Hertfordshire, my father in Warwickshire.’
‘Your parents are divorced?’
Not yet! ‘Separated,’ she supplied, and, feeling she was being ever so slightly grilled here, was about to ask him about his parents when he picked up from that one word that matters were far from amicable with her parents.
‘And never the twain shall meet?’
‘Something like that,’ she murmured. But, to her astonishment, heard herself confiding, ‘Though I think my father intends to call on my mother fairly soon.’
‘He wants a reconciliation?’
