one looked hard enough, and switching water lilies with bluebells was no disguise at all. Her publishers had even asked her to sign a disclaimer, ensuring she took all responsibility should anyone instigate legal action.
Obviously Simon would have to read the book sometime, as he’d read all her other books up to date. Preferably he’d read it when she was not around to face his lecture about how stupid he thought she was.
Oh God, why had she left him alone with that box?
She glanced back at the door to her apartment. It remained resolutely shut. Damn, she’d better go back inside and face him.
Natalie had just opened her bag, with the intention of retrieving her keys, when she heard her apartment door softly open and close; followed by the light, bouncy tread of someone wearing trainers. She let her bag drop to her side and pressed the lift call button once again, trying to keep her breathing even. From the corner of her eye, she could see Simon - a smudge of grey against the white painted walls - but she didn’t take her eyes from those illuminated numbers.
The silence stretched out.
“I can’t believe you let Phil into your study,” he muttered.
She felt some of the tension leave her. “Why not? If you took the trouble to talk to him, you’d realise he’s a nice guy.”
“You never let people into your study.”
Why couldn’t he let it go? “Sure I do.”
“You don’t. You’re quite eccentric about it. And as for all those Monet paintings, it’s like a veritable shrine to your sister. Phil must have thought you were nuts.”
Apparently he was not the only one.
The lift arrived. Natalie stepped inside; hardly bothering to check he was with her before pressing the ‘G’. “You make me out to be some kind of obsessive,” she said lightly.
She hadn’t expected him to laugh but she hoped he might smile. She wasn’t prepared for his hand shooting between the closing doors and holding them apart long enough for him to step back into the lobby.
She stared at him in astonishment. “Where are you going?”
“I’m taking the stairs,” he threw back at her. “I can’t deal with you when you’re in this kind of mood. I’ll go to this play on my own.”
“But - ”
“There’s no point arguing, you’ve made it clear you’re not interested in seeing it. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“But I’m going to London tomorrow!”
“Then we shall talk the day after that,” he said firmly, and strode off in the direction of the stairs.
The lift doors began to close. Infuriated at not having the last word, Natalie stuck her hand in front of one and pushed it back. “Maybe I don’t want to talk!” she called after him.
Slowly he turned. “What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded. “Everything I say is wrong.”
“You’re talking to me in the exact same way you talk to your students.”
“Sometimes you act like one!”
“We’re always going out. Parties, pubs, the cinema - occasionally I’d like to stay in.”
He flung out his arms, exasperated. “And do what?”
“I don’t know … Talk, watch TV … have sex … ” When was the last time they’d had sex?
Simon, damn him, was looking at his watch. “I’m going to be late,” he said. “Are you coming, or not?”
“Not,” she said. “If you don’t want to stay with me, maybe I’ll call Alicia and see if she wants to come over.”
“Fine,” he said. “You do that.”
While she was well aware Simon did not like Alicia, there was a distinctly malicious gleam in his eyes.
“What are you not telling me?” she asked him.
“I think it’s more what Alicia is not telling you.”
“Simon!”
“Her mother is reopening Hurst Castle to the public.”
“ What ?”
“And the garden is being completely restored - including the lily ponds.”
It was as though her ribcage tightened, making it hard to breathe. “She can’t do that!”
He shrugged. “She already has. The new head gardener has moved
Obviously Simon would have to read the book sometime, as he’d read all her other books up to date. Preferably he’d read it when she was not around to face his lecture about how stupid he thought she was.
Oh God, why had she left him alone with that box?
She glanced back at the door to her apartment. It remained resolutely shut. Damn, she’d better go back inside and face him.
Natalie had just opened her bag, with the intention of retrieving her keys, when she heard her apartment door softly open and close; followed by the light, bouncy tread of someone wearing trainers. She let her bag drop to her side and pressed the lift call button once again, trying to keep her breathing even. From the corner of her eye, she could see Simon - a smudge of grey against the white painted walls - but she didn’t take her eyes from those illuminated numbers.
The silence stretched out.
“I can’t believe you let Phil into your study,” he muttered.
She felt some of the tension leave her. “Why not? If you took the trouble to talk to him, you’d realise he’s a nice guy.”
“You never let people into your study.”
Why couldn’t he let it go? “Sure I do.”
“You don’t. You’re quite eccentric about it. And as for all those Monet paintings, it’s like a veritable shrine to your sister. Phil must have thought you were nuts.”
Apparently he was not the only one.
The lift arrived. Natalie stepped inside; hardly bothering to check he was with her before pressing the ‘G’. “You make me out to be some kind of obsessive,” she said lightly.
She hadn’t expected him to laugh but she hoped he might smile. She wasn’t prepared for his hand shooting between the closing doors and holding them apart long enough for him to step back into the lobby.
She stared at him in astonishment. “Where are you going?”
“I’m taking the stairs,” he threw back at her. “I can’t deal with you when you’re in this kind of mood. I’ll go to this play on my own.”
“But - ”
“There’s no point arguing, you’ve made it clear you’re not interested in seeing it. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“But I’m going to London tomorrow!”
“Then we shall talk the day after that,” he said firmly, and strode off in the direction of the stairs.
The lift doors began to close. Infuriated at not having the last word, Natalie stuck her hand in front of one and pushed it back. “Maybe I don’t want to talk!” she called after him.
Slowly he turned. “What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded. “Everything I say is wrong.”
“You’re talking to me in the exact same way you talk to your students.”
“Sometimes you act like one!”
“We’re always going out. Parties, pubs, the cinema - occasionally I’d like to stay in.”
He flung out his arms, exasperated. “And do what?”
“I don’t know … Talk, watch TV … have sex … ” When was the last time they’d had sex?
Simon, damn him, was looking at his watch. “I’m going to be late,” he said. “Are you coming, or not?”
“Not,” she said. “If you don’t want to stay with me, maybe I’ll call Alicia and see if she wants to come over.”
“Fine,” he said. “You do that.”
While she was well aware Simon did not like Alicia, there was a distinctly malicious gleam in his eyes.
“What are you not telling me?” she asked him.
“I think it’s more what Alicia is not telling you.”
“Simon!”
“Her mother is reopening Hurst Castle to the public.”
“ What ?”
“And the garden is being completely restored - including the lily ponds.”
It was as though her ribcage tightened, making it hard to breathe. “She can’t do that!”
He shrugged. “She already has. The new head gardener has moved
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