The Perfect Life Read online

  ‘This old thing?’ Amelia ran her fingers over the fabric before laughing. ‘I bought it last week. It’s pretty fab, isn’t it?’

  ‘Fab,’ Molly agreed. She and Amelia had met in university and they’d maintained an erratic friendship over the years. Amelia had married her older hotel manager boyfriend, Tristan, shortly after graduating and spent the next several years following him from one far-flung city to the other. Only a rare meeting when she was in the UK, the occasional long email and in recent years short WhatsApp messages had kept the friendship alive.

  ‘How are the renovations going?’ Molly asked. Six months ago, when Tristan had retired, they’d bought a two-storey apartment in Pembridge Square Gardens. Molly had had serious house envy when she’d seen it.

  ‘Almost finished,’ Amelia said with a toss of her expertly-highlighted blonde hair. ‘Everything should be done by the end of next month; we’ll have a party to celebrate.’

  ‘Great,’ Molly said. ‘I think I prefer going to them rather than giving them.’

  ‘You give good parties. Free-flowing alcohol always helps.’ Amelia looked at her from under her lashes. ‘I met Stuart Mercer recently at a party in the Hong Kong embassy. He’s an attractive man.’ She leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘He’s been giving you some strange looks. Is there something you’re not telling me?’

  ‘Don’t be silly! He struck me as being lonely, that’s all, and I was about to suggest setting him up with one of my single friends when that idiot Brenda made such a drama out of dropping a glass.’

  Amelia arched a plucked eyebrow. ‘It looked to me like he was more interested in you, he was certainly staring at your ass when you bent down.’

  ‘You always did have a vivid imagination,’ Molly said, shaking her head.

  ‘If you say so.’ A shrug of one shoulder said as clear as words that Amelia wasn’t convinced.

  Molly smiled at her. ‘I do say so. Jack is still enough for me.’

  ‘Not surprising, he’s still one of the sexiest men I’ve ever met.’

  For a microsecond, Molly thought she saw a look of lust cross her friend’s face and felt a pang of anxiety. It had been over twenty years since they were naïve university students who had bonded in a collective struggle to survive, but different life experiences had moulded them into women who had very little in common. Truth was, she wasn’t sure she even liked Amelia much anymore. Recently, Molly had been taken aback to discover that her friend’s idea of fidelity was to sleep with one man at a time.

  ‘Fidelity,’ Amelia had said after a couple of cocktails, ‘is vastly overrated.’

  Had Molly imagined the look of lust? After all, they were friends – she wouldn’t, would she? Would Jack? They’d looked very friendly when she’d seen them laughing together earlier… too friendly?

  She caught Amelia staring at her with a look of concern and managed to smile. ‘We’d better go back; they might be running out of drink.’

  ‘Before you go,’ Amelia said, holding a hand up to stop her. ‘Tristan and I are going away next Saturday for a few days. It’s a bank holiday weekend. Why don’t you and Jack join us? There’s a golf course but the hotel is also a health spa with a pool and a top-of-the-range gym. It would be a lovely break.’

  Nowadays, with no school schedule to adhere to, Molly hadn’t even realised a bank holiday weekend was imminent. They used to organise to go away as a family, Freya and Remi excited no matter where they were going, as happy to go to Devon as France or Italy. She’d fully intended to book a nice weekend somewhere for herself and Jack, but she’d forgotten about it.

  ‘Do come,’ Amelia pushed. ‘It would be so much fun.’

  Maybe a weekend away with Amelia and Tristan would be fun. Jack was a good golfer; he’d enjoy winning a game or two. ‘Do you think we’d get a room at this late stage?’

  Amelia smiled, pulled a mobile phone from a tiny clutch bag and seconds later was making an enquiry. ‘They have a room available,’ she said, holding her hand over the phone. ‘Say yes.’

  Why not? Molly made a snap decision and nodded. ‘Yes, why not.’

  ‘You’ll love it,’ Amelia said, putting her phone away after making the reservation. ‘It’s a beautiful and incredibly peaceful place a little outside Semington, in Wiltshire. ‘The hotel gardens sweep down to a canal that’s perfect for walking or running alongside. You still run, don’t you?’

  ‘I do,’ Molly said. The thought of running along a canal in the country rather than the footpaths of London was very appealing. ‘It sounds amazing, thank you.’

  All she had to do now was convince Jack it was a good idea. How hard could that be?

  4

  ‘A weekend with Amelia. Absolutely, no way!’ Jack said next morning, when Molly told him what she’d committed them to.

  Maybe, he’d have been more amenable if she’d waited until he’d recovered from his hangover. She rested a hand on his arm. ‘It would be a nice break. The hotel is on a canal, we could go for long walks, enjoy the peace and quiet.’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘The peace and quiet? With Amelia rabbiting on and Tristan expounding his views on share prices?’

  Jack had never quite come to terms with the fact that Tristan had made some clever and very lucrative choices, allowing him to retire in what they considered comfort, and most people including Jack considered extreme luxury. Molly lifted the cafetière and filled his mug. ‘I wouldn’t mind a break for a few days. It’s been a manic six months, between the kids, work and having to deal with everything at home since Rebecca left.’

  ‘I suppose that’s my fault,’ he said, his lips thinning in annoyance. ‘If you remember, you agreed we didn’t need her.’

  Yes, stupidly, she had. Not one of her better ideas. Nor was letting Terry go. She should just have given her a warning, after all she had been correct, Molly had never told her she couldn’t smoke in the house. The agency she’d contacted promised they’d try to find a replacement. They’d also promised to send someone around to help with the clean-up operation that day. She checked her watch; if they’d not arrived by now, she guessed she was on her own. ‘I really would like to go,’ she said. ‘I think it would do us good to get some fresh air. We can go for a run along the canal.’

  Jack ran fingers through his hair and groaned. ‘I drank way too much last night.’ He reached for the coffee and topped up his cup. ‘I don’t want to, Mol. Why not go alone? You and Amelia can sit and gossip while Tristan plays golf. And you can go for a run along the canal on your own, you know you prefer to, you complain that I slow you down.’

  Molly screwed up her nose. ‘I can’t go without you, Jack.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why not?’ She glared at him. ‘Because it would look odd. Amelia would wonder if we were having problems.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said bluntly. ‘You’ve gone on spa breaks without me before, why is this any different?’

  ‘Because Tristan is going, for one. Anyway’ – she reached out a hand to rest it on his shoulder – ‘it’s you I want to go away with. We don’t seem to have had much time together recently.’

  ‘I tell you what, go this time on your own, and we’ll go away for a weekend, just the two of us, in a few weeks.’

  Despite hints during the week, Jack didn’t change his mind. Resigned to going alone, the following Saturday Molly packed her bags and took them down to the hallway.

  Jack raised an eyebrow when he saw all she was carrying. ‘How long are you going for?’

  ‘Funny man,’ she said, putting the bags down. ‘I’ll be back on Monday. Why don’t you book a table for a late lunch in that new Lebanese restaurant, maybe for two o’clock? I’ll definitely be back by then.’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea, I’ll do that,’ Jack said, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

  Her hands slid around his neck and she breathed in deeply. He smelled of the citrus shower gel he used, fresh a
nd tangy. Some of her friends relished time away from their husbands, but she never had. When he had to go to Vegas for work, she felt like part of her was missing until he returned. Maybe next time she’d go with him. She wished he were going with her now. ‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ she said softly, nibbling his earlobe.

  He kissed her quickly and pushed away. ‘It is,’ he said, ‘even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I have plans made.’

  ‘Plans?’ Her eyebrows went up.

  He grinned. ‘Don’t worry, nothing more sinister than meeting Charlie and a couple of others for drinks and dinner tonight.’

  ‘Fine, enjoy yourself, but not too much.’ She ran her hand over his cheek. ‘Maybe I will come with you when you go to Vegas next month.’

  He grabbed her around the waist and looked into her eyes. ‘You mean it?’

  She kissed him gently. ‘Yes, I know, I said never but now that the kids are gone, I’d be here alone, and I’d much prefer to be with you.’

  ‘Great, I won’t let you change your mind.’ He picked up her bags. ‘You’ve remembered your running kit?’

  Nodding, she opened the front door.

  ‘It’s supposed to get quite warm,’ he said, as they walked towards the car. ‘Will you be able to get out early?’

  Molly always preferred to run first thing in the morning, especially in the summer when the heat in combination with exhaust fumes made running in London unpleasant. She didn’t think there’d be a problem with fumes along the canal, but she’d still prefer to be out early. ‘There should be no reason I can’t go whenever I want. You know me, I’m always awake by seven thirty.’

  ‘Okay, be careful,’ he said, as they reached their car a few yards down the road from the house. He threw her case and holdall into the boot. ‘Have a lovely time, Mol. I’ll see you on Monday.’ He turned, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply.

  Surprised at this unusual public display of affection, Molly gave an uncertain laugh. ‘Gosh, maybe I should go away more often.’ She got in the car, shut the door and opened the window. ‘Go,’ she said, ‘you know how long it takes me to input a postcode into the satnav.’

  He bent down, gave her another lingering kiss, tapped the car door with the flat of his hand and with a wave, headed back home.

  She watched him go with regret. But maybe it would be good to get away for a couple of days and put her worry about him into perspective. She watched in the rear-view mirror as he walked back to the house, admiring his long, ambling stride, his slim-hipped athletic frame that had barely changed since she’d met him. But then she noticed something odd, something that made her eyes narrow in concern. His arms weren’t swinging, relaxed; instead they were held tightly to his side, each fist tightly clenched.

  Her heart went out to him, but if he wouldn’t talk about whatever was worrying him, there wasn’t much she could do. She watched until he vanished before concentrating on putting the hotel postcode in her satnav. As usual, she fluffed it first time and had to start again. Finally, it was done. She checked the arrival time; if she were lucky, she’d be there in under two and a half hours. Indicating to pull into traffic, she stopped when her mobile buzzed to say she had a new message and reached for it with an expectant smile. Jack missing her already?

  But it wasn’t him. She didn’t recognise the number and was taken aback to see the message. Is there a chance we could meet up this weekend? Stuart.

  She looked at it, frowning. At the party she remembered feeling sorry for him. It had crossed her mind he might be lonely, and she’d thought about setting him up with one of her single girlfriends. What was it she’d said to him? Ah yes. You know what you need… Oh damn, she’d been about to elaborate when she was interrupted by something… that silly broken glass. She’d left him with a smile and a promise she’d find him again later. Had he seen those simple meaningless words and smile as something more than she meant? Surely, he didn’t take them as an invitation. Amelia said he’d been watching her. She thought her friend was being silly, maybe now she’d been proven right. How dare he? She’d a good mind to tell Jack. He’d swing for him.

  Molly looked at the message again. Stuart had gone to the trouble of getting her number. She vaguely wondered who from, then shrugged. It was on her business card; there were some on the hall table, he might have picked one up at the party. With a shiver, she deleted the message and blocked the number. She didn’t think he was in any way stupid; he’d get the message.

  ‘Honestly,’ she muttered, indicating and pulling into traffic. Did he really think she was interested in cheating on Jack with someone in his office?

  She wasn’t interested in cheating on her husband, full stop.

  And with that thought clear in her mind, she headed off to Wiltshire for the long weekend.

  5

  Thanks to horrendously heavy traffic on the M4, it was almost three hours later before Molly turned into the quiet village of Semington. Minutes later, hearing you have arrived at your destination on the right, she indicated and pulled over. She’d known from what Amelia had said that it would be lovely, but this was more than she’d expected.

  Set back from the road, the buttery-coloured stone façade of the elegant house glowed in the early afternoon sun. Three tall sash windows sat to either side of the open front door and above were two further floors, seven windows on each stretching the width of the house with pleasing symmetry. An elaborate wrought-iron gate was set into an old stone wall that surrounded the garden; it opened onto a gravel pathway that led to the entrance, neat flowerbeds on either side holding a profusion of creamy blooms swaying in the slight breeze.

  Lost in admiration, it was a few seconds before Molly saw the ornate arrow with car park in neat letters along its length. It directed her further along the road. She started the engine again, and drove slowly, turning between two stone pillars into the large car park.

  She sent Jack a text, it’s lovely, you should have come, before getting out, taking her bags and heading to the hotel. The gravel pathway to the front door crunched underfoot and the creamy blooms on either side danced as she passed. It was all rather perfect.

  Inside, a grand entrance lobby held the reception desk and a cantilevered stairway that curved upward, dividing right and left on the first floor and vanishing from sight. Double doors at the back of the entrance lobby lay open and gave a view to a huge glass and brick extension. It was a combination of old and modern that worked well.

  ‘Molly Chatwell,’ she said to the smiling receptionist. ‘I have a reservation.’ With the formalities completed and declining assistance with her bags, she took the key that was held out, looking at it with pleasure. A proper key, not a key card. ‘Have the Lovells arrived yet?’ she asked, before leaving the desk.

  ‘Yes, I checked them in myself an hour ago,’ the receptionist said and proceeded to give Molly directions to her room.

  Rather than taking the lift as indicated, she took the stairs, admiring the paintings that adorned the walls, a mix of old and contemporary art that shouldn’t have worked but did. It took her a few wrong turns before she finally found her way and stopped outside number twelve. She slipped the key into the lock, turned it and pushed the door open into a large airy room.

  It was a corner room, tall sash windows on two sides flooding the room with light. They were partially open, and a slight breeze caused long voile curtains to flutter gently. The décor – pastel shades, floral patterns and frills – was the right side of twee. Molly looked around the room and smiled. It was very nice indeed.

  She dropped her bags and wandered over to the window. The room was in a modern extension to the back of the hotel and her breath caught when she saw the beautiful gardens. Immediately below, steps led down from a patio to a pathway that meandered through wide borders to end in front of a fountain. A plume of water, easily seven or eight feet in height, sparkled in the sunshine and danced in the breeze. On each side, a lawn so velvety green she wondered i
f it were fake, with topiarised boxes at each corner. It was all, she decided, an absolute delight.

  At the end, barely visible through the thick shrubbery that surrounded the garden, she could see the glint of sun on water. The canal. She was looking forward to running along it in the morning.

  Molly quickly unpacked her clothes, hanging the dresses in a cavernous wardrobe whose door creaked ominously when she opened it, and placing the rest into the top drawer of a bureau. In a neat folder on a small table, she found information about the hotel and spa and a list of salon treatments available. Amelia had told her she should book some in advance, but she hadn’t bothered. If she couldn’t get an appointment, she was happy enough to relax in the steam room or sauna after a few laps of the pool.

  A glance at her watch told her it was three o’clock. She should have asked which room Amelia and Tristan were in, but if she knew her friend she wouldn’t be hanging about and was probably already lying on a massage table. And Tristan, no doubt would be on his way to the golf course.

  A quiver of annoyance and resentment shot through her that Jack had refused to come, followed by a shiver of hurt feelings that he hadn’t wanted to spend time with her. Wasn’t that what it came down to? She pressed trembling lips together, her good mood of only seconds before extinguished. Unable to find any enthusiasm for the spa, she picked up her handbag and went down to the lobby. She was almost there when she heard her name called and turned to see Amelia coming down the stairs behind her.

  ‘Molly! Perfect timing, I was thinking about having a G and T, now you can join me.’

  ‘I thought you’d be in the spa,’ Molly said, smiling at her friend as she came alongside.

  ‘I’ve a facial booked for five, darling, so plenty of time for a drink and a catch-up first. Where’s Jack?’

  ‘Unfortunately, he’s got too much on so couldn’t make it,’ Molly said, having decided on the journey down that this was the best lie to tell. She saw expressions of disappointment and annoyance vie for a place on Amelia’s face and wondered why. Maybe disappointed that Jack wasn’t going to be there for her to flirt with and annoyed with having to entertain Molly. Whatever the reason, she was suddenly sorry she’d agreed to come.