Page 10 of The Girlfriend

Cherry was nervous. She wanted to be liked.

She looked at the bunch of tiger lilies in her hand, artfully arranged in brown paper with twine, tied like a corset’s stays, and wondered again if they were too much.

There seemed to be a lot of them and they were, well, big.

They should be, she thought wryly, they’d cost her sixty quid.

And then again, lilies were big. She counted the stems: seven.

Surely, that wasn’t over the top? She swapped hands so they didn’t get too sweaty and decided it was too late to do anything about them now.

The important thing was she wouldn’t show up empty-handed.

She turned into the Cavendishes’ street and, checking her watch, realized with a flicker of apprehension that she was going to be early.

Oh, God, she didn’t want to look too desperate or anything.

Quickly she turned down another side street, which, if she followed it around, would bring her to the other end of the road she was in now.

She walked along, pretending to be a little bit lost in case there was anyone around who might know the people she was going to see and a story of her wandering around came out in some later casual conversation.

The idea of it made her cringe with embarrassment.

“Hi. They’re dying to meet you,” he whispered in her ear as a sort of preemptive warning, and then she heard two sets of footsteps approaching.

Mr. Cavendish was first, a large, broad-shouldered man who was used to striding into rooms without any fear of who might be in them.

He wore a short-sleeved shirt tucked into shorts, an odd mix of semiformal and casual, and she felt pinned down by the full beam of his—not unkind—eyes.

He grasped her free hand with more force than was necessary in a confident, brisk male way, and if she was honest, it hurt.

“Dad, this is Cherry.”

“Howard,” he said, introducing himself. “Nice to meet you.”

“Great to meet you, Howard.”

He let go of her hand and it tingled as the bones realigned and the blood rushed back. Then it was Laura’s turn. To Cherry’s surprise and secret delight, the other woman took her hand and, after looking at her in some sort of charmed way, drew her closer and kissed her on each cheek.

“Lovely to meet you, Cherry.”

“You too.” She handed over the bouquet. “These are for you.”

Laura took them with a look of genuine pleasure, and Cherry was glad she’d paid so much for them.

“Oh, they are absolutely beautiful. Thank you.”

Cherry couldn’t quite believe that this glamorous woman was probably the same age as her own mother.

They couldn’t look more different. Laura was tall, statuesque, and a shimmering blonde.

Her cream silk blouse and wide-legged caramel trousers draped over her frame as if they were privileged to do so; the whole effect was one of a burnished gold goddess.

“I love your top,” she found herself gushing, and had to try to suppress the flush that rose up her cheeks.

“Likewise,” said Laura. “That color is amazing on you.”

The flush went higher. Cherry felt as though she’d forced Laura to say something nice in return and she stood there, dumb and smiling and wishing fiercely she had been a little more sophisticated.

“Time for a drink,” said Howard, and he led the way into what Cherry knew would be only one of the reception rooms. She sat on the edge of a long gray sofa and, thankfully, Daniel took the seat next to her.

Laura was a few steps behind and must have put the flowers down somewhere as her hands were free.

She couldn’t have put them in a vase that quickly and Cherry found herself feeling slighted.

Were her flowers lying bruised on a shelf somewhere?

Get a grip, she told herself sternly, she’s hardly going to disappear for ten minutes arranging flowers when you’ve only just gotten here. The flowers will be fine.

“Aperitif?” said Howard.

“Yes, please.”

“Bellini?” However, he was already pouring one and handed it to her. She tried not to let the bubbles go up her nose as she had a sip.

“You’ve been working today?” asked Howard as he continued to serve the drinks.

“Yes, at Highsmith and Brown.”

Laura took a glass from her husband and glided into the armchair opposite her. “Daniel said. Do you enjoy it?”

“Yes, very much.”

“How long have you been there?”

“Not long.” She didn’t elaborate, and in the pocket of silence, she moved her glass to the other hand.

She knew she had to relax, but she was so anxious to make a good impression, her mind was working overtime trying to remember what she did and didn’t want to say.

She was in danger of coming across as rude.

“What did you do before?” asked Howard.

“I was in the hospitality industry.”

Both of Daniel’s parents smiled with what Cherry took to be polite interest. She felt another blush threatening.

It was obvious they knew that she’d said this as a cover for working in a restaurant.

Feeling foolish, she spoke quickly. “Before that, I was in Australia. I was, um . . . I wanted to take some time off after my . . . exams.”

“Which university were you at?” said Howard.

She inwardly cringed. “Er . . . I didn’t . . . but I did do my A Levels.”

What is the matter with me? Trying to justify myself, like a child.

“So you came back and decided to start a career, learn on the job. Very commendable,” said Laura, “especially with the cost of university these days.”

Cherry smiled and nodded along. She knew Laura was covering for her. She self-consciously swapped her glass back into the other hand and wondered what to say to change the subject.

Daniel pulled her from the sofa. “Come on, let me show you around. You can give us your professional opinion.”

She followed him out of the room, feeling like she’d failed the first test. They were barely through the door when Daniel pinched her bum. She only just managed to suppress a squeal and poked him in the arm in admonishment, but, in fact, the intimacy had cheered her.

“The hallway,” he said. “As you can see, we have one.”

“And very beautiful it is too,” said Cherry, aware that his parents could probably hear everything they were saying.

And it was: a gleaming parquet floor led to two large curved white and wood staircases, one going up, one down.

A Turkish rug was placed in front of the marble fireplace, which was flanked by a large armchair, and Cherry wondered if anyone actually sat there.

“You don’t need to worry so much. They like you,” Daniel said in lowered tones, but Cherry gave him a warning look. She’d heard Laura come in behind them.

“I’m just going to finish the soufflé,” she said, and headed into the kitchen.

“We won’t go in there, don’t want to disturb the chef.

” Instead he led her up the staircase. As they got to the next floor, they didn’t stop: “This is Mum’s room,” and he continued upward, as Cherry noted how a whole floor could be dedicated to one person’s bedroom and probably huge bathroom and dressing room.

She also noted that Mr. and Mrs. Cavendish didn’t appear to sleep together.

At the next floor, Daniel led her into one of the bedrooms. “My room,” he said.

“Well, it’s not really, not anymore. But this was the room I had when I was growing up.

” It held a solid oak king-sized bed, a wardrobe, and a desk, but what set it apart was that it was a photographic homage to the man who stood beside her.

Photos covered every wall, every surface: Daniel at Machu Picchu, Easter Island, the pyramids.

A range of extreme sports: mountain climbing, skiing, white-water rafting in the Grand Canyon.

Pictures of the Grand Tour. There were trophies, cups for rugby, cricket, and tennis.

Each one was dust free and gleaming. It was a visual representation of his boyhood and all he’d had access to.

“Wow, quite an achiever.”

“Nothing to do with me. Well, I did run about a bit.... I mean it’s Mum who insists on putting them up.”

“She must be very proud.”

Cherry moved over to the window and picked up a photo of Daniel cycling in the Pyrenees.

Someone, presumably Laura, had marked this on the mounting, along with the date.

As she put it back down, she looked out the window and her eye was drawn to a bluish-tinged rectangle, about three meters by two, in the middle of the lawn. It looked like glass.

“What’s that?”

He came up behind her. “The window. For the pool.”

Cherry turned, wide-eyed. “You have a swimming pool under there? Underground? ”

“Yep. Starts under the garden, goes farther under the house. And off that, under the front of the house, a cellar and a room where Dad likes to hang out, watch movies. And next layer down, small garage. Fancy a dip?”

Cherry stared at the window, tried to imagine what it was like. “Haven’t brought my suit.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Daniel started to kiss the back of her neck, but she squirmed.

“Your mother’s downstairs,” she hissed.

“Yes,” he said, continuing to kiss her.

She pushed him away. “I want to make a good impression. Don’t make me look ruffled.”

“You look absolutely beautiful tonight. Fancy a quickie?”

“Absolutely not.”

A bell rang. He groaned. “My mother has other ideas.”

“Tell me that wasn’t a summons?”

“It’s a large house. She had to call me to the table somehow. What am I going to do about this?” He indicated his groin, which was bulging against the fly of his shorts.

“Think of me naked all through dinner.”

“You are such a tease.” But he loved it, and she knew it. Holding her hand, Daniel led her back down the stairs and they met with Laura in the hallway. She was carrying a tray with four steaming ramekins. “Sorry if I cut the tour short, but this will go flat.”

Daniel dropped her hand as he went to take the tray from his mother. It gave her an irrational sense of abandonment and the nerves swiftly kicked in again.