But Rory, as she’d known he would, simply laughed. ‘I didn’t risk my life; all I did was climb a tree.’
‘She’s an ungrateful old bat,’ said Tasha.
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s grateful. She just forgot to say it.’
Tasha looked at him. ‘You genuinely don’t mind, do you?’
‘Of course I don’t mind.’
She reached for him and pulled him close so that the holey, now-ruined sweater was squashed between them. ‘I love you for that. You’re the nicest person I know.’
‘I love you too.’ His green eyes glittered with warmth.
‘Just think.’ Tasha picked a tiny twig out of his hair. ‘If you weren’t scared of spiders, you’d be perfect.’
Behind them, the window of the cottage was flung open, interrupting their kiss. The old lady eyed them with disgust. ‘What are you two still doing in my garden? This is private property. Go on, bloody clear off.’
Chapter 25
Was their relationship made more thrilling by the fact that it was a secret? Like having an illicit extramarital affair, minus the marital bit?
Flo took a sip of coffee and covertly watched Zander as he read an article in the business section of the Sunday Times. She loved the tiny frown that bisected his eyebrows when he was concentrating, the way his straight dark hair fell over his forehead when his head was tilted, and the way he could be completely engrossed in the words but still capable of idly stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb, as if to silently let her know he hadn’t forgotten she was there.
Oh this was the life, a gloriously lazy Sunday morning in the company of your new boyfriend, with spring sunshine pouring through the windows of the flat. Could anything be nicer? Crikey, and Jeremy was lying on Zander’s lap, utterly relaxed and purring contentedly . . . talk about a turn-up for the books.
So of course it stood to reason that something had to happen to disturb the peace.
The doorbell rang, causing Flo to jump and Jeremy to give her his whoever they are, kill them look.
‘Expecting anyone?’ said Zander.
‘It’s probably just my other boyfriend.’
‘Well send him away. Today’s my day. Want me to have a word with him, tell him to stop being so clingy?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll do it.’ Easing herself off the sofa, Flo crossed the living room and pretended to press the button on the intercom. ‘Hi, Sebastian, look, I’m sorry, but my other boyfriend’s here. What? Yes, I know you’re richer and better-looking than he is, but you still can’t come in, so just jump back into your Lamborghini and leave us in peace. I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?’
‘A Lamborghini?’ Horrified, Zander put down the business section. ‘Lamborghinis are so naff.’
‘I know,’ said Flo. ‘But it’s navy blue to match his helicopter.’ This time actually pressing the intercom button, she said, ‘Hello?’
Then jumped back in dismay as an all-too-familiar voice said, ‘Hello, Florence, it’s Lena. Can you please let me in?’
‘Um, well . . . the thing is, I’m not dressed.’
‘No problem, I’ll just wait here. Throw some clothes on and buzz me in when you’re ready. And you should be dressed,’ Lena added, her tone crisp. ‘It’s almost midday.’
Flo released the button and pulled a face at Zander, who shrugged and said, ‘I have no idea what she wants.’
‘Nor me, but she’s not going to go away. So what do we do?’
He was already lifting Jeremy off his legs, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll wait in the bedroom. Try and get rid of her as soon as you can.’
God, what could possibly go wrong? But they didn’t have any other choice.
Flo waited until Zander was safely out of sight in the bedroom. Then, having checked the living room, removed his half-empty tea mug from the coffee table and rinsed it in the kitchen sink, she pressed the buzzer to unlock the front door downstairs.
Oh well, as soon as Lena was out of here, they could carry on enjoying their lazy, happy Sunday in peace.
‘Hi,’ said Flo when Lena reached the top of the staircase; in a tight-fitting leaf-green sweater and matching narrow jeans, she resembled an elegant grasshopper. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘You mean apart from the fact that I’m the one who should be living in this flat? Apart from that, everything’s just great. How’s the cat?’
‘Jeremy? He’s fine.’
‘Can I see him?’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ Lena’s perfectly groomed eyebrows rose. ‘Because I want to make sure he’s all right. I was talking about the situation last night, and my friend said I should check up on him regularly. Otherwise who’s to say the cat hasn’t died and you’re just pretending he’s still alive so you can carry on living here rent-free?’