A Village Affair by Julie Houston

Author:Julie Houston [Houston, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2018-10-02T16:00:00+00:00

18

I Owe You One, God…

I was forty. Half my life gone already. I lay in bed on the following Sunday morning, taking stock of my life so far.

Mark had always said he’d been planning a great surprise for me for my big birthday back in April, and that I’d never guess what it was. Well, he’d been spot on there: ten out of ten for originality, Mark darling. April and my big birthday had come and gone and, he’d put off the much-lauded surprise until the summer break, and then, because I was so busy preparing for my new deputy headship, postponed it again until the October half-term holiday, which was now just a week away. I wonder what he has planned, I mused, as I pulled up the duvet over my head and decided I deserved another half-hour in my pit. A cruise? A trip to the Aurora Borealis? Or to that ice hotel up in the Arctic Circle? Was October too early for that? I did hope it hadn’t been that: I hate being cold. God, can you imagine going to bed on ice? The very thought made me chilly, and I stretched out my legs searching for the hot-water bottle I’d started taking to bed to replace Mark’s warm feet. Daft bint, I chastised myself, I was going nowhere with anyone. Let alone my husband whose biggest surprise had been to bugger off with my best friend.

Sod that for a game of soldiers. I sat up in bed and grabbed my iPad.

I searched around on the internet until I found just what I wanted: Clementine’s, just down the road from here. I’d met Clementine herself several times, her daughter being a pupil at Little Acorns. Under David Henderson’s patronage, she’d built up a national reputation in a very short time and there was always a waiting list for her very select fine-dining restaurant, and her cookery school classes were booked as soon as they were advertised.

Bugger. Everything completely booked for months ahead. I’d suddenly had the brilliant idea of taking Fi and Clare out to thank them for all their friendship over the years.

There must be a way. I decided I’d get up, have a shower and, after breakfast, wander down the lane to see what turning up in person might achieve.

Tom was already up, squirting brown sauce into a pile of bacon sandwiches and, for once, reading the Sunday papers rather than deciphering exponentials and logarithms. To my utter shame, I’d still not talked to him about his – oh God, what did I call it? His sexuality? His preferences? Every time I’d been about to take the plunge, Freya had walked in on us or the phone had rung or he’d been so involved in a textbook he’d given me a murderous look for even daring to disturb him. Basically, I’d lost my bottle, asking him if he fancied a cup of tea and a brownie rather than if he fancied boys.

I made myself a coffee and sat down with him.

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