She flinched, the words hitting her like arrows. ‘Don’t say that either. It can’t happen. We had a moment together, but it was wrong. And it’s over. You’re a Hollywood actor and I’m an ordinary married woman from Tufnell Park.’
‘You’re not ordinary.’
Martha pressed her lips together and crossed the kitchen. Out in the hall, she pulled open the front door.
‘I can’t do this anymore. You have your life to live and I have mine.’ She sounded as if her heart was breaking, but the look she gave him was resolute. ‘If you care about me, you’ll leave. Now.’
Chapter 20
A nasty riding accident seven years ago had left Dr Geraldine Castle with a broken left hip that had never successfully knitted back together. Now arthritis had set in as well, making the situation that much more difficult. It was, as she put it herself, a complete bugger. Walking was painful now, horse riding a thing of the past. High heels these days were only for looking at.
It didn’t stop her buying them, though.
Once a shoe queen, always a shoe queen.
The postman, unable to deliver the parcel next door earlier, had left it with Ellie instead. Now back from lunch with an ex-work colleague, Geraldine had arrived to pick it up.
‘OK, you have to see these,’ she exclaimed. ‘They are just to die for!’
Neither her limp nor her carved ebony walking stick detracted from her glamour. At sixty-one, innate style coupled with the posture of a model meant heads turned whenever Geraldine entered a room. Last year she had retired from a career in medicine, having spent many years in general practice.
In the office, she sat down and unwrapped the parcel.
‘Oh, now, there you are. Hello!’ Having removed the lid of the box, she greeted the shoes like long-lost children. ‘Look at you! Aren’t you beautiful?’ She lifted them out and lovingly stroked the butter-soft lilac leather.
‘If a patient told you he talked to his shoes,’ Ellie pointed out, ‘you’d refer him to a psychiatrist.’
‘You know what? I probably would. But these are different.’ Geraldine was busy admiring the silver leather flowers on the front. ‘They’re a work of art. They demand adulation!’
She truly loved them. Sometimes she would even wear them, but only whilst sitting down. Ellie watched her reverently place the shoes back in the box. ‘I prefer flip-flops.’
‘That’s because you’re a heathen,’ said Geraldine. ‘Where’s Zack today?’
‘Northampton. He’ll be back around six.’
‘You’ve been here for almost a month now.’ Geraldine’s eyes were bright as they searched her face. ‘Enjoying it?’
‘Definitely. No more getting squashed on the tube,’ Ellie said happily. ‘Bliss!’
An eyebrow was raised. ‘That’s all, is it?’
‘And getting to see Elmo every day.’
‘Well, that goes without saying.’ Geraldine looked amused. ‘I was thinking more of Zack. Isn’t it a bonus getting to see him too?’
Giving up work had left Geraldine with way too much time on her hands and a curiosity that knew no bounds. She was like a couples therapist in perpetual search of problems to solve. Probably because she was a doctor, there was no question she was too embarrassed to ask. It wasn’t the first time she had attempted to find out if Ellie was secretly harboring a crush on Zack.
‘He’s a good person to work for,’ Ellie said patiently.
‘And don’t forget handsome.’
‘Looks aren’t everything.’
‘But you don’t have a boyfriend.’ Geraldine had found out this much. ‘Surely you must find him attractive.’
‘OK, he’s nice to look at. But that’s all.’ Ellie shrugged. ‘Really.’
‘You mean it, don’t you? This is so disappointing.’ A fresh thought struck Geraldine. ‘Ooh,’ she said brightly. ‘Are you a lesbian?’
The question provoked a bittersweet flashback moment; whenever Jamie had been in the mood for sex and she hadn’t, his standard jokey riposte had been, ‘How can you not want me? What are you, a lesbian?’
But that had been then. This was now. Ellie smiled slightly and said, ‘No.’
‘Oh, shame. My friend’s daughter is a lesbian. I could have introduced you.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Zack’s so lovely, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘I’m sure Louisa thinks so too.’
‘Oh, her.’ Geraldine’s tone was dismissive; she couldn’t summon up much enthusiasm for someone who didn’t adore Elmo as much as she did. ‘He can do better than that. I was out in the garden last week and I heard her having a panic attack because there were dog hairs on her skirt. You’d have thought it was snake venom, the fuss she was making.’ After a moment she added, ‘You’re far nicer than Louisa. And prettier.’