The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,43
place.’ Sam leaned back against the breakfast bar, crossing his legs at his ankles, not looking the least bit abashed by my comments.
‘That wasn’t my intention. I just meant that I’m not the sort of girl who’s reliant on someone else. I have plenty going on in my life at the weekends. I don’t need to sit around waiting for you.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve been out with anyone.’
‘That surprises me.’
I gave him a direct look. ‘I think that’s a compliment.’
‘Of course it’s a compliment. You’re… Well, I just assumed you’d probably have a boyfriend.’
I shrugged. I wasn’t about to lay the whole family history on him.
‘And I’m on call every fourth Saturday; I don’t go out then. It’s easier to stay home where I can hear my phone ring and I can make calls in private.’
‘I didn’t mean it was impossible to see each other on a weekend. You can always come up to the club and watch or meet me in the bar afterwards.’
‘I’d like that. Although I might need a few lessons on cricket speak. I mean, how can you have a game that goes on for five days and no one wins?’
‘It’s a long story.’ He winked. ‘And I don’t want to put you off just yet.’
He pulled out two bottles of beer, levered off the caps and handed me one before extending his bottle towards mine. We exchanged a quick smile.
‘Come on.’
‘Wow, someone’s got green fingers,’ I said, surveying the riot of colours in the beds surrounding a lush, wide lawn that stretched out to a little group of shrubs and trees at the end.
‘Dad. Mum loves her flowers. That’s why they bought the house, for the garden. She’s got grand plans of her own and likes to direct Dad, but she also liked the fact that it was established.’
The patio was like something out of Homes and Gardens with oak sun-loungers, topped by Orla Kiely-style print cushions, a square wicker table-and-chair set and an enormous parasol.
‘This is lovely,’ I said, as Sam flopped down on one of the loungers. I took the one next to him. ‘And very grown-up. That’s some barbecue.’ I nodded towards the black and wooden monster with its own gas cylinder. ‘Do you have a licence to drive it?’
‘Dad’s pride and joy.’ Sam rolled his eyes. ‘It has hickory chips and everything.’
‘Hickory chips, you say,’ I murmured. ‘Now I am impressed.’
He swatted my arm. ‘They do something to the flavour, apparently.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. I take Aunty Lynn’s lead on that one. Barbecuing is the man’s department.’
We talked for an hour, lapping up the sunshine and sipping at our beers before Sam lit the barbecue.
‘Do you need a hand?’ I asked as he went off into the kitchen.
‘You can keep me company and open that bag of salad. I think Mum’s got some fancy dressing somewhere.’
‘Can you tell me where I’ll find a salad bowl?’ I asked, reluctant to go rooting through his mother’s kitchen cupboards; it seemed a little familiar when I hadn’t even met the woman.
‘Through there,’ he pointed to a door, ‘there’s a sideboard in the dining room. There’ll be one in one of the cupboards. Not sure which.’
The door opened to a dining room with a big table just off a much bigger open-plan lounge with more patio windows leading into the garden. Two vast sofas filled the room opposite each other. Crossing to the contemporary oak sideboard, I opened the cupboard and crouched down to take a small salad bowl from the top shelf, my eyeline level with the photos on top of the sideboard.
Sam throughout the ages had been captured, his blue eyes full of fun in nearly every picture, whether a young boy in cricket whites, holding his bat aloft, a toddler on a bright red trike or with his arm slung around a much younger and softer version of Victoria. There were a couple more of her, one at what looked like a family party, one of her and Sam in formal eveningwear, and another of her and a woman who was clearly Sam’s mum laughing together holding up champagne flutes. I felt a twinge in my stomach. Victoria had been part of this family.
Casting my eyes back over the photos, I focused on the largest picture in a big silver frame taking pride of place on its own at the end of the sideboard: Sam and Victoria flanked by a woman in her mid-fifties with