The Little Book Café. Georgia Hill

her by the waist and kissed her until her lips were numb.

      Emma warned her she was rushing into something, but her mother seemed delighted she was happy, and Pete was ecstatic as she was on fire at work and exceeded all her monthly targets. Tash ignored them all and found, to her surprise, that she enjoyed coming home to the same man every night. The sex continued to be amazing even if, occasionally, Adrian coaxed her into doing it when she really didn’t feel like it.

      And then, when the honeymoon glow had faded, another side of the genial, indulgent Adrian emerged. Earlier in the summer he began buying clothes that he wanted her to wear. Tash didn’t mind so much the racy underwear and peephole bras; she found them hugely funny. She was less of a fan of the wide-legged trousers he insisted on, the expensive but figure-concealing cashmere sweaters. He pouted and sulked when she tugged on the slim skirts and jackets she preferred for work. ‘Wouldn’t you rather be warm and comfortable?’ he wheedled, as he held out the tunic he’d just brought home.

      Tash surveyed the navy blue top with dismay, looking at its high V-neck and discreet pattern. Her lip curled. ‘It’s lovely, Ade,’ she said without thinking. ‘But it’s something my mother would wear. Thank you but it’s just not my thing.’ She’d registered his suddenly shuttered look and wondered what she’d said. That night, after he cajoled her into a marathon bout of sex, they had their first row. She’d hurt his feelings, Adrian said. Rejected his generosity. Tash felt guilty. The top was obviously expensive. She agreed to wear it at the weekend.

      He developed other weird habits too. Flying into a jealous rage if she talked about Pete too much, picking her up after a night out with her girlfriends saying it was so she could have a drink but always too early, when the evening had only just got going.

      Tash had toyed with the idea of leaving but something always tugged her back to her original feelings for him. After a tantrum, Adrian lavished attention on her. He talked about taking a long holiday in south Africa, of buying an apartment in Paris. The house was convenient for work and she liked the kudos of his money. She put his moods down to work stress; when things were tough, he suffered stomach problems. Besides, how would it look if the relationship folded? Everyone told her she had the perfect life. How could she admit it was anything but? So, she shrugged his contrariness off. She knew loads of friends who had problems in their relationships. She was a strong, confident woman. She could handle a man like Adrian.

       Chapter 5

      He came up behind her as she sipped her wine. Reaching up, he kissed her neck and exclaimed, ‘Good, you’re back! Just in time.’ He smelled of shower gel.

      Tash felt a rush of affection for him and was relieved. Maybe things weren’t so bad, after all? She turned and smiled. ‘You’ve gone to so much trouble.’

      ‘I know you love my casserole. Creamy mash to go with it, loads of butter. You sit down and I’ll serve. Pour me some fizz, will you? I held off until you were back.’

      ‘I’ll get fat,’ Tash complained, filling his glass and topping up her own.

      ‘Nonsense,’ he called through from the kitchen. He reappeared, wearing his butcher’s striped apron and carrying a casserole pot. ‘Besides—’ he winked ‘—I like some meat on my women.’ He placed the dish on the trivet and disappeared to get the potatoes.

      Once they’d eaten, Tash sat back replete. ‘That was one of your best, Ade. Delicious. I’m going to have to unbutton my skirt though. I’ve eaten far too much.’ She reached around to the back of her work skirt and sighed as the waistband eased.

      Adrian gave her an odd look. He stared at her stomach intently and then took a breath. ‘You’re not … you don’t think we’re pregnant?’ He paused, and stared owlishly at her.

      ‘God, no. At least I bloody well hope not.’ Tash shuddered.

      ‘Don’t swear Natasha, you know I don’t like it.’ He picked up his flute of prosecco and sipped thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t mind, actually. Having a baby, I mean.’

      ‘Well, I would,’ Tash answered, robustly. ‘It’s not the right time for me. I want to make area manager before I’m thirty and try to set up on my own eventually. A baby wouldn’t fit into that.’

      ‘You could always give up work.’ Adrian clocked her horrified expression and back-tracked. ‘Or go part-time?’

      ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No babies. Not now.’ Not ever, she added silently. And not with you, came the echo.

      ‘Well, that told me,’ Adrian said but cheerfully enough. ‘A discussion for another time. Shall we take the coffee into the sitting room? I’ll clear up later, there isn’t much to do.’

      Ensconced on the sofa leaning against Adrian, with some Puccini on in the background, Tash felt more mellow. She looked around at the cream and white décor and couldn’t help feeling slightly smug. She’d had a great day at work, a man who had cooked her a superb meal and this wonderfully luxurious house to come back to. At this very moment, her life seemed as perfect as the image she tried so hard to put out to the world. To those who had bullied her at school and made her feel as if her life would never amount to much.

      ‘Perhaps we should do Glyndebourne next year?’ Adrian said.

      Tash shifted against him. ‘That’s come out of the blue.’

      ‘Not really. I used to go every year before I met you.’

      ‘It’s funny. You’ve never really talked about then. Before me, I mean. Have you had many girlfriends?’ She twisted her head round to look up at him and caught his quizzical smile.

      ‘Never a very ladylike thing to ask, Natasha.’ He laughed softly. ‘I had my fair share, I suppose. What about you?’

      ‘Not the most gentlemanly thing to ask,’ she countered. ‘I was always too busy concentrating on work. Only had one boyfriend before you.’

      ‘Really?’ Adrian sounded pleased.

      ‘And at school I was always the fat one with glasses. Had my eyes lasered as soon as I could. None of the boys wanted to know until I was twenty-four and I’d lost three stone and the bottom of bottle specs.’ Tash giggled but there was an underlying note of hurt. ‘Then I had the satisfaction of telling them where to go.’

      ‘I bet you did. I really can’t imagine you fat.’ He pinched her thigh quite hard. ‘Who was this one boyfriend, then?’

      ‘Lee Styles. He got engaged to Amy Chilcombe last year but dumped her at the altar.’

      ‘How awful,’ Adrian murmured. ‘Who’s Amy Chilcombe?’

      ‘She’s running Millie’s new bookshop. The one where the book club was held last night.’ Tash could have sawed out her tongue with a blunt knife. The book club was a touchy subject. The Puccini ended and the room fell ominously silent. She tensed for Adrian’s inevitable quicksilver change of mood.

      ‘You still haven’t told me who was there.’ Adrian still sounded relaxed but Tash detected an edge to his voice.

      ‘Oh, you know, the usual.’ She felt the muscles in his arm stiffen.

      ‘I don’t know, actually. Tell me.’

      ‘Millie, Amy, Emma of course. Oh, and Biddy, and some snob called Marti and a few of her acolytes. She lives on the estate.’

      ‘Natasha please. Executive housing development. It’s hardly an estate.’ Adrian chuckled and then his mood changed. ‘Any men?’ This time there was definite steel in his voice.

      ‘Erm, a couple. A writer called Patrick Carroll or something and some bloke called Kit, I think.’ Tash said, deliberately vague.

      ‘Ah. And was that one of them walking back along