Page 9 of The Good Neighbour

As the Morrisons squabbled, Josh sipped his champagne. For the first time in ages, he could see a tiny glimmer of hope that life would return to normal.

At least I’m not a drag act who’s just seen their career implode on live television.

CHAPTER THREE

Suzanne Chamberlain sat across from Josh in his kitchen. It was the first time anyone other than Madeline had been in the house since Winston had walked out. It took some getting used to.

Suzanne was Josh’s chief designer at his fashion label, Cut. She was a beautiful woman with a mane of red hair and eyes that lit up a room.

“Are you thinking of coming back any time soon?” Suzanne ventured.

Josh sipped his coffee. A fair question he didn’t have an answer for. The idea of breaking out of his bubble entirely petrified him. If life moved on, then his marriage had truly ended.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Soon.”

Suzanne reached across and squeezed his hand. “We’re missing you.”

Cut was a small label. Ever since Winston’s diagnosis, Suzanne had taken control of the day-to-day workings. She ‘d grown adept at making his creations come to life, ably assisted by Martha and Sidney, their in-house dressmakers. Everything else they outsourced, whether it be event management, public relations or accounts. Both Martha and Sidney had worked atCut for almost a year and Josh still hadn’t met them yet. Something he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable about.

Winston’s accusation of him abandoning his label flashed into his mind.

He also had a half stake in the Cut store on the charming little street nearby called Queens Parade. It held collection of artisan shops which were hugely popular in the area and rapidly becoming a tourist destination, thanks to social media.

Even that was primarily managed by Helga Wolf and her flamboyant sidekick, Jean-Paul Toussaint. A highly strung yet very effective Parisian with an eye for fashion and a fantastic way with their customers, he contacted Josh on a regular basis, seemingly oblivious to Josh’s personal catastrophes. Josh suspected Helga was using Jean-Paul as a human shield.

“Anyway,” Josh said. “Tell me about the collection. How’s it coming along?”

Suzanne ran her hand through her hair.

“I can send you the designs,” she replied. “I’d value your opinion. It’s your baby, after all.”

When he’d been supporting Winston, Josh had found time to go through Suzanne’s suggestions and had edited where appropriate. At the time he’d appreciated the link to his life before. Now it left him cold.

Will I ever get my enthusiasm back?

“I trust you,” he said.

“Josh. That’s a major responsibility.”

“You know what I like.”

Suzanne sighed and took a swig from her cup. Josh hated that he was being so unfair to her. Yet, he also didn’t want to take control of Cut half-heartedly. He might end up doing more harm than good. The fashion elite were notorious at sniffing out a collection that didn’t have genuine passion in its creation.

“Fine,” he said, eventually. “Send me some designs.”

Suzanne smiled. “Thank you.”

Josh hopped off his stool, signalling the conversation was over. He didn’t want to be browbeaten into giving her a date for his return. He had no idea.

“How’s Polly?”

Suzanne had married an environmental consultant two years earlier. It had been an exceptionally cool wedding in the Cotswolds. Of course, Josh had designed her dress.

“She’s good,” she replied. “Doing a project in the Orkneys at the moment. She’ll be home soon.”

“Aww, you’re missing her,” he replied as he walked her down the hallway.

“I like to know she’s safe.”