Faith - Lesley Pearse [194]
‘What brings you over here?’ she asked.
‘You, Belle, what else?’ he replied. ‘You said if I ever needed a bed for the night!’
‘Of course.’ Her smile was so bright she could have been plugged into the mains. ‘But you’ve been very naughty, you said you’d phone and take me out to dinner.’
Stuart had said no such thing, but he smiled anyway. ‘Pressure of work,’ he said. ‘Where’s the old man?’
‘Golf. Where else?’ she replied. ‘Come in and I’ll get you a drink.’
Stuart put his bag down in the hall and followed Belle into the kitchen. A half-empty bottle of vodka and an empty glass stood on the table; he wondered at what time today she’d started drinking. Yet her appearance was immaculate – full makeup, a pale pink swirly skirt and a white sleeveless top. She’d put her blonde hair up and she was even wearing high-heeled shoes.
‘You look gorgeous,’ Stuart said, and it was true, she did. ‘Were you just about to go out?’
‘No.’ She laughed as she said it and poured some vodka into her glass before getting a second one out of the cupboard. ‘This is just little old everyday me. If I’d known you were coming I’d have made much more of an effort.’
‘Could I have a beer, please?’ Stuart asked. ‘I can’t handle spirits this early in the day. How many guests have you got today?’
‘None, well, apart from you,’ she said, opening the fridge and getting out a beer. ‘I had a full house all week, so I’ve turned everyone away today. I need a rest.’
Stuart suggested sitting in the garden as it was such a lovely afternoon.
‘Will you go and get the chairs out then?’ she said. ‘They’re in the summer house. I’ve got to nip upstairs.’
Stuart did as she asked, pulling out two padded sun loungers and a small table for their drinks.
She came back a few minutes later, her glass topped up, carrying an ashtray and her cigarettes. ‘This is nice,’ she said as she sat down, hitching up her skirt to let the sun get to her legs. ‘I used to sit out here a lot, but it’s a bit boring sunbathing on your own. Why don’t you take your shirt off?’
That sounded an innocent enough suggestion, but Stuart was afraid if he did she’d peel her clothes off too. She did have very good legs, and she kept pulling her skirt up higher and higher.
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Now, how are things?’
‘About the same really,’ she said, lighting up a cigarette. ‘Wishing we could get Jackie’s estate sorted and make a decision about what to do with the farm. I’m worn out with running it. Charles is no help, he’s never here.’
‘What would you like to do if everything was squared away?’
‘Well, I’ve got so fed up with people here questioning me all the time that I think now I’d like to move back to London.’
‘What do they question you about?’
‘What I’m going to do with Brodie Farm, what I’ll do if that bitch Laura gets granted an appeal. You know, all those poking-their-noses-in sort of questions.’
∗
It ought to have been a difficult situation, being compelled to make light-hearted conversation with Belle while waiting for Charles to come home. But in fact it was surprisingly easy as she was on good form. For the best part of two hours they chatted, and she didn’t once bring up anything to do with Jackie or Laura. Stuart found himself liking her in the way he did when they first met.
Back then she’d seemed so sophisticated compared to girls in Scotland. She was at drama school at the time, and he got the idea she was destined to be a real star. She had a finger on the very pulse of London, she could talk with authority about the top groups, the best clubs, and the few times he went out with her, she seemed to make things happen around her. She was fun to be with, warm and vivacious, which had been just what he needed at that miserable time in his life.
He realized later that she was very shallow, that she would never be a good actress for she wasn’t committed to it. Drama school was just part of the image she wanted to create, just as she had to have the right clothes and be seen in all the trendy night spots with people she perceived as going places. She had no originality;