Chapter 30

The next morning when I woke, Miles was facing away from me, breathing lightly. Emboldened by the wine, I'd asked if he might change his mind about starting a family with me one day. When he said he'd consider it, we had fallen into bed together. My head throbbed from all the wine and I needed tea and painkillers. Climbing out of bed, I crept past him and put on my dressing gown. In the kitchen, I made two cups of tea, dipping the bag in his mug for longer as he liked it extra strong, and adding a dash of milk. I popped two ibuprofen out of the packet in the kitchen drawer and washed them down with water. Had I made a mistake sleeping with him?

I carried the mugs of tea up to the bedroom. Miles was sitting up in bed, two pillows propped behind him as he scrolled through his phone, his mouth set in a wide smile.

I placed the mug on a coaster on the bedside table. ‘Good morning,' I said.

‘Thanks, Claire,' he said, rather formally and without looking up. He hadn't lost the habit of choosing his phone over me. What was it with colleagues getting in touch on a Saturday morning, for goodness' sake?

I climbed into my side of the bed. ‘So, what are you up to today?' I said, taking a sip of tea far too soon, scalding my tongue.

He got up and took his jeans from the chair in the corner and my heart sank. Pulling them on, he zipped up the fly.

‘I have to go,' he said, reaching for his shirt.

‘Why?'

‘I'm meeting Toby for lunch,' he said.

He put on his shirt and did up the buttons.

Toby was his business partner.

‘On a Saturday?'

‘When you run your own business, it's twenty-four-seven, Claire, you know how it is.'

‘When will I see you again?' I said, realising as soon as the words left my mouth that I sounded needy.

‘I'll text you,' he said, sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

He studied his reflection in the mirror and I couldn't help thinking Miles was meeting a woman. Toby was married with three kids, and his wife, Madeleine, liked to organise every minute of his weekend life. He spent weekends ferrying the kids to football matches and swimming lessons, and they were part of a dinner party circuit on Saturday nights. We'd been included for a while, and I'd always dreaded going to them. Miles's ex-girlfriend, Natasha from university, would usually be there with some random date. She'd flirt with Miles all night, I'd find it upsetting and we'd argue about her on the way home.

Had Jim been right when asking if Miles had cheated? Did that explain all those nights working late? Then why was he here? To prove he could still have me whenever he wanted, I guessed. And to think he'd lied about the possibility of us having children together one day to get me into bed.

Picking up his watch from the bedside table and slipping it onto his wrist, he said, ‘I'd better be off then.'

I lifted the duvet off me. ‘Okay, I'll see you out.'

‘You stay there, go back to sleep. You always did like your lie-ins,' he said, as if it were a major flaw of mine. Yes, when we were together, weekends were about catching up on sleep. Working at Gatley Hall hadn't left me feeling as tired; perhaps I could do something more worthwhile with weekend mornings now.

‘All right then,' I said.

He kissed me lightly on the forehead. ‘Bye, Claire,' he said.

His presence and the conversations we'd had would leave me with material to pick through for days. Damn him for tarnishing my fresh start. He went downstairs, leaving the door ajar and his mug of tea untouched on the bedside table.

I reached for my phone, deflated. My mood had been upbeat the night before when I was having that drink with Jim, and now Miles had jostled with my emotions. A key turned in the lock of the front door. Jim, no doubt. Surely he was having more showers than a man needed?

‘Hello, there,' I heard him say.

‘Back so soon? You must be very clean,' Miles said.

‘Indeed, I consider personal hygiene to be most important,' Jim said.

‘Hopefully it won't be long before your shower is fixed.'

‘Why's that then?'

‘I don't like the idea of you wandering in here wearing nothing but a towel whenever you feel like it. It's not fair on Claire.'

‘She doesn't seem to mind, but thanks for your feedback, Miles.'

The door banged shut. Jim seemed to give as good as he got, and I smiled to myself.

His footsteps came up the stairs, and he appeared and leant on the door frame, tipping his head in my direction.

‘So, he stayed over then?'

‘He did. We…' I was about to lie and say we hadn't slept together.

Dismissing me with a wave of his hand, he said, ‘That's none of my business.'

‘You just asked.'

‘I asked if he'd stayed, not if you'd…'

A moment of silence fell between us, and he looked away. He scratched his head.

‘If I'd known Miles was still here, I wouldn't have let myself into your house,' he said.

‘Okay. But how many showers does a man need?' I said, and instantly regretted my words.

‘If you're worried about the hot water bill, I'll make a contribution,' he said, and before I could answer he went into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him. The lock clicked into place. What if Miles and I had been at it when Jim walked through the door? A horrifying thought.

Pulling on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a baggy white t-shirt, I made my way downstairs. While waiting for the kettle to boil, I got a bag of fresh coffee out of the fridge. The kitchen was a mess, as I'd left the washing up the night before, the dirty plates a reminder of how Miles had left me feeling. As the kettle clicked, Jim came downstairs.

‘Any coffee for me?' he said.

I looked at him. ‘Is your dressing gown not dry yet?'

‘Nope. Maybe tomorrow.'

‘If you want coffee, you'll have to get dressed first.'

Jim was once again on the receiving end of me being bolshy because of Miles.

‘Fair enough,' he said, turning and going out of the front door. I filled the cafetière and put it on the table with mugs and milk. Having company could only be a good thing, I guessed, as otherwise my mind would wander into analysis central territory.

Jim came back through the door a few minutes later. ‘Are you okay, Claire?' he said, joining me at the table.

I sighed and rested my head in my hands. ‘Not really,' I said.

‘Tell me about it, if you want to, that is,' he said.

How much should I divulge? ‘I'm just a bit down after last night. He rushed off too quickly this morning,' I said.

‘And presumably, he left with no mention of when you'll next see each other?'

‘He'll text me, no doubt.'

‘Is that what you want, to go back to seeing him?'

‘I don't think that's the best idea. I do miss the flat though. The lovely thick carpet and plush sofas and huge TV. The nice kitchen. This place is' – I looked around – ‘a bit of a dump, isn't it, really? When did they last give it a coat of paint?'

‘And that's why you get to live here for next to nothing. They can't rent it out to holidaymakers until it's refurbished. And then we'll be out on our ears.'

‘Oh, are they planning to do that soon?'

He shrugged and sipped his coffee. ‘They've been talking about it for years. You don't want your old life back though, do you?'

‘I'd like to go back in time to just before my father died, when all seemed okay with Miles, before he admitted he had no intention of marrying me and having children. After leading me on for years, dodging the question. Maybe it's something I did. Perhaps he just didn't want children with me.'

‘I doubt that very much. So, you put him on the spot?'

‘Yes, losing my dad made me think. I can't waste any more time with someone who doesn't want a future with me.'

‘I get that,' he said.

‘Last night I entertained myself with the fantasy that we might get back together, when he hinted that he might change his mind.'

‘It's not easy to break it off with someone you've been with for a while; someone you thought you'd always be with.' He stared straight ahead, his eyes glazing over, and I sensed he'd experienced this but his vagueness meant he didn't want to reveal more. Not yet, anyway.

‘All those years of building a relationship with Miles, thinking we'd always be together. Was it all for nothing?'

‘Of course it wasn't,' Jim said.

‘What do you mean?'

‘It was all part of your journey.'

‘What journey?'

‘Towards the person you should be with. You needed to be with Miles to know what doesn't work. You're only, how old?'

‘Thirty.'

‘Exactly. You're still figuring out what life you want. I was supposed to get married last year, here at Gatley Hall. My fiancée called it off the month before, saying she wasn't ready. She was from New Zealand, and wanted to go home, and I didn't want to go with her.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry,' I said.

‘As I said, it's all part of the journey. I'm glad we had that time together. I loved her, but it would never have worked out. We argued far too much, it was exhausting. She was the kind of person who liked to be busy all of the time – and, as you know, I enjoy a slower pace of life. Perhaps you should give this place a chance, really throw yourself into it and see if you can be happy here?'

‘You're probably right.'

‘What have you got to lose?'

‘Nothing, I guess. How did you end up at Gatley Hall?

‘I actually used to work in London, like you, but for an accountancy firm, and commuted every day from Dorking. But the hours were long and the work was intense so I took some time off one summer. I came here one afternoon and remembered my dad bringing me to Rose Cottage when I was small to see a woman who lived here called Hilda – an old family friend. We'd then go off and walk around the countryside, and they were some of my happiest childhood memories. I had some savings and volunteered here as a ranger initially and then got a paid job and the rest is history.'

‘So you've managed to change your lifestyle and are happier now?'

‘Yes, and I'm so glad I did. That summer when I took the time off, I wasn't sleeping very well as the job was becoming overwhelming. I'd been promoted and didn't like all the responsibility.'

We sat in silence, a comfortable silence this time, the only sound the birds tweeting outside the kitchen window. Jim got up and went to rinse his mug in the sink.

‘Right, I'm meeting Samantha for a walk shortly. I'm supposed to be making sandwiches to take with us.'

‘Doesn't she need to be with her kids on a Saturday?'

‘Her ex has them.'

‘Sounds like you have a proper romance going on,' I said.

He laughed. ‘Hardly. It was her idea, and so I said yes. Weekends can get a bit boring round here, if you're not working. I might stay at Samantha's tonight. After what you said, I think you'd rather I stay there?'

‘That's thoughtful of you. Have fun,' I said, not meaning it one bit.

‘Thanks, Claire.'

He put on his flip-flops and left, and I was alone once again.

I went upstairs to shower and get dressed. Jim was right: I needed to throw myself into Gatley. I'd give the cottage the thorough clean it needed, and order some nice things online to make the place feel more homely.