I shrug. ‘Nothing important. Can we take a quick detour?’
Tom complies willingly and we turn left and then right into Browning Street. When we get to number 17, I stop and hold my breath. Tom looks up at the house. Even in the dark its dilapidated state is apparent.
‘This is where you went that morning?’ he says.
I put my hand on the brick pillar and nod. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Tom, what do you think? Could we put in an offer?’
‘Hey, slow down. What’s wrong with where we are? I love Coleridge Street.’
‘I do too. But this house is better. It’s bigger and it’s just … well, I’d love it and it would be a fantastic investment. I’d do most of the work myself.’
He laughs out loud. ‘I don’t doubt you’d try, but, Vicky, you’re going back to work in September and by then Josh will be on his feet and running you ragged. It isn’t feasible.’
He starts to pull me away but I hang on.
‘Could you at least look at it?’ I wheedle. ‘If you can get there by six thirty on Monday, Sarah Wilson does do evening viewings.’
He steps back and stares up at the windows, and when he sighs I know I’ve won the first battle. I grin and tuck my arm through his and we hurry on to Amber and Robert’s.
‘Perhaps we should talk to Amber about it,’ he says as we turn into her street.
I’m about to say yes, but on reflection I shake my head. ‘I’ll talk to her before I make the appointment, but I don’t want to get into it tonight. Not with Robert.’
‘No, you’re right. That wouldn’t be tactful.’
I allow myself a secret smile. He’s already getting his head around the idea.
At Amber’s, music is coming from the flat downstairs and as we approach the door a couple of blokes turn up with bags of alcohol, clearly pissed.
Tom glances at me and mutters, ‘No wonder they’re so desperate to buy somewhere.’
Amber buzzes us in and holds the door open. She’s wearing a simple dark-grey woollen dress with a V-neck and a tiny Tiffany heart on a chain; Robert’s present to her on one of their anniversaries. Robert pulls the cork out of a bottle of white wine before kissing me and shaking Tom’s hand.
Ten years Amber’s senior, comfortably paunchy and balding, and obviously besotted with his wife, Robert Collins is kind, intelligent and well intentioned, but a hopeless businessman. He makes money, but it’s never enough, or if it is it isn’t put to good use. It’s an uncharitable thought to have but, despite liking him very much, I can’t shake the feeling that if he doesn’t pull his socks up and give her what she needs, he might lose her. Someone better might come along. I cringe inwardly, thinking about David. He wasn’t better than Tom; just different and new.
The flat is warm and tidy, scented candles burning in the alcoves and on the shelves, the curtains drawn. Tom’s right; it feels great to be out and about. I wonder if Amber’s said anything to Robert. I hope not.
Tom hugs her, hands her a bottle of wine and smiles goofily when she tells him he’s looking very handsome. Oddly enough, when they first met he didn’t like her at all. I had been talking about her for weeks and expected him to feel the same way I did. When she visited after I had Emily she gushed about the baby and said all the right things, so it confused me when Tom, after he had seen her out of the house, was less than enthusiastic.
‘I thought she’d never go,’ he said, settling down beside me and letting Emily wrap her tiny hand around his finger.
‘What did you think of her?’
‘Uh.’ He scratched his head. ‘Dunno. I felt like she expected me to admire her.’
I wrinkled my nose. I was facing him with my feet up on the sofa and he drew them on to his legs. His hands were warm.
‘Maybe it’s just that you expected her to expect you to admire her. I didn’t get that from her at all. She’s probably shy, meeting you for the first time.’ I poked my toe into his thigh. ‘You’re such a stud.’
I can’t pinpoint when that changed, but I do remember that their relationship relaxed into one of mickey-taking, and so it has continued.
Amber has switched the ceiling light off and our faces look young in the wavering candlelight. She’s wearing her hair scooped up carelessly so that strands escape and caress her cheeks.
‘You look lovely,’ I say, and I mean it. It’s easy to stop seeing someone you know really well, but occasionally the perfect light falls on her face at the perfect angle to highlight her bone structure, or I catch her unawares, smiling at some private joke or looking a million miles away, and I’m stunned all over again.
Tom, Robert and I lounge on the sofa and armchair, glasses of wine in our hands while Amber checks on the starters. She calls through. ‘Did I tell you? Sarah’s moving into Lettings. She’s offered me more work. She wants me to head that department.’
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘That’s brilliant, Amber. Are you going to take it?’ I get up to give her a hand transferring plates of carpaccio and rocket salad on to the table.
‘I’m not sure,’ she says with a nonchalant shrug. ‘It would mean organizing extra childcare and it’s not that well paid, so it’s a question of whether it’s worth it or not. Sit down, everyone. Tom, you sit opposite me and Robert opposite Vicky.’
‘I can help,’ I say, pulling out my chair. ‘At least until September. When would she want you to start?’
‘Not for a couple of months. She’s negotiating the lease on the shop next door and it needs a complete refit. June at the earliest. So really it’s a bit of a nightmare because it means starting at the end of term; and there’s sports day and prize-giving. And then there’s the ruddy holidays.’
I regard her over the candles. ‘Do you want to do it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then listen, Amber. Just do it. Take the job and we will muddle through. I’ll look after Sophie until things are sorted out. And I really don’t think Sarah is going to begrudge you a couple of school events. Once I go back to work I’ll have an au pair, so we might be able to come to an arrangement.’
She beams at me. ‘OK. Thanks.’
Tom leans back in his chair, watching us, a grin crinkling his eyes. He reaches behind him for their iPad and searches for something on the Internet.
‘What do you think? Not bad, eh?’ he says, handing it to Robert. ‘We’ve got it for a fortnight.’
Oh great, I think. Tom and his big mouth. Why does he have to show off? The villa he’s rented for two weeks in the Easter holidays is a swooning hacienda, set in landscaped gardens with a pool that gleams azure against the surrounding paving. It’s gorgeous, luxurious and expensive.
Amber wanders round and leans over Tom, her hand resting on his shoulder. ‘Is that where you’re staying? Very swanky. Bloody hell. You are doing well for yourself.’
‘They upgraded us,’ I say quickly. ‘We couldn’t have afforded it in normal circumstances, but they had to withdraw the house we originally booked. Something to do with the plumbing.’
‘Well, lucky you.’