One Day in May - Catherine Alliott [56]
‘Um, darling it’s Mr de Granville. He’s a bit early because—’
‘Because a fiendishly difficult client in Henley wants me to pop in later and adjust her curtains before I go to Italy, would you believe?’ He swept back his floppy dark hair and adopted an almost balletic pose, centre stage. ‘So I popped in here first. Says she doesn’t trust herself to touch them, I’ve arranged them so beautifully, but as I said to my assistant, it would take more than a curtain twitch to ruin that room. It’s symbiosis is pinkie perfect, if I say so myself. “Twitch away, madam, twitch away!” I told her on the phone. But she’s the sort of woman who doesn’t trust herself to pick her own nose, if you know what I mean.’ He made an arch face. Then beamed. ‘How d’you do? Ralphie de Granville. How d’you do, hello, hello…’ and around the table he went, shaking every single astonished hand, including Charlie’s, who had to transfer his boiled egg spoon to receive him.
Laura was on her feet now, pink-faced, following him and doing the introductions as he worked his way round.
‘My daughter Daisy, my son, Charlie, my mother—’
‘Mr de Granville, what an absolute pleasure,’ beamed Mum, recovering first. She almost bowed: almost kissed his hand. ‘I’m such a fan.’
The decorator squirmed delightedly.
‘I’m always in your shop at Chelsea Harbour, aren’t I, darling?’
‘You certainly are,’ agreed Dad, getting to his feet. ‘See my credit card on this one.’
As he took Dad’s hand, Ralph’s heels snapped together and he lowered his head with a deferential, ‘Sir.’ My father’s mouth twitched.
‘And, um, my sister Hattie,’ Laura finished, flustered. ‘And her partner, Maggie du Bose.’
‘Du Bose?’ He reared back a bit, hands spread on his chest, fingers splayed. He glanced from Maggie to me, eyes wide. ‘The French Partnership?’ His smile didn’t waver: only froze a little.
‘That’s it.’ Maggie smiled thinly.
‘But I saw your spread in the Standard only last week! Marvellous what you did with that poky little house in Tooting. All those dado rails and ghastly cornices. Quite a challenge.’
‘Thank you.’ Maggie inclined her head politely, not easily flattered.
‘Were you given carte blanche?’ He shot out immaculate green cuffs and folded his arms, head cocked interestedly.
‘Not entirely, but we had a very sympathetic client. We worked well with her actually. She had some good ideas.’
‘Really?’ Ralph blanched: sucked in astonished cheeks. ‘Personally I only take commissions these days if I’m given total control, but then I explained that in my email, didn’t I?’ He reached out and touched Laura’s arm lightly with his fingertips. ‘I can’t be doing with putting up an expensive studded suede headboard only to find some hideous floral bedspread has been flopped beside it.’ He shuddered. ‘Not that you’d do that, of course.’ He touched Laura’s arm again, whilst Hugh, looking aghast at studded suede headboards, sat down heavily.
‘Well, quite. Although I’m afraid you won’t have total carte blanche here,’ said Laura rather bravely, swallowing. ‘Hattie and Maggie are here to, um, have a look at the more informal, family rooms. The playroom, the kitchen – that kind of thing.’
‘Oh?’ His eyes widened in surprise; darkened too, as he realized he had competition. I was grateful to Laura for spelling it out early.
‘But obviously you’ll have control within your own space,’ she soldiered on.
‘Obviously,’ he purred.
‘Given that we accept your quote,’ said Hugh, firmly. He crossed his legs and folded his arms.
‘Naturellement!’
My father, I could tell, was enjoying this hugely. He sat back with a small smile and a Mr Bennet air about him. Ralph de Granville strutted across the room to the Aga, executed a little pirouette, and turned to face us again, one hand on the rail.
‘Well, you’ll have a field day in here, won’t you?’ he drawled, eyes roving around the kitchen. ‘Marvellous proportions… lovely tall windows, too.’ He strolled across to them, the better to peer out. Then he turned and cocked an eyebrow at Maggie. ‘It could take some really