Sarah Randall - Forever His Darling

He turned back to his family, shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes, but he was met with a disapproving look on Mrs Henderson’s face including hands on her hips which always meant trouble.

He dumped her bag on the floor and let out an exaggerated sigh before stomping back to collect her, muttering all the way about her having no coat and her ridiculous shoes.

She started to sit back into her seat at his approach but he quickly grabbed her around the waist and was secretly pleased at her surprised squeal before she finally grabbed hold of him as he kicked the door closed and carried her back over to her waiting fans and unceremoniously dumped her beside her bag.

“Thanks,” she muttered, sheepishly. “I only have these shoes.”

He was forced to make the introductions. “This is my sister, Pip, and our housekeeper, Mrs Henderson.”

***

“It’s lovely to meet you both.” Anastacia nodded and smiled, clutching Matt’s coat tighter around her body.

Pip ran forward and grabbed hold of her hand. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here. I’m such a fan.”

She was much younger than Matt, a petite girl with long, dark, glossy locks and sporting a thick rimmed pair of glasses that were fashionable at the moment. She reminded her of a pixie, gorgeous, perfectly proportioned, and full of energy.

“Okay Pip, leave the lass alone. That’s enough,” said the older woman, Mrs Henderson. She was a large woman with silver hair tied back in a neat bun, in her sixties if Ana was to guess. She offered a warm welcoming smile and rubbed her hands on her apron before embracing her in a bear hug, filling her nostrils with the smell of lavender, and she could tell instantly that she would get along well with both women. Unlike the frustrating farmer.

Mrs Henderson took charge and ushered them all into a large entrance hall before calling over her shoulder to Matt, who stood statuesque outside.

“Matt dear, I’ve put Miss Harper in the guest room next to yours. Take her bag up there would you?”

“Call me Anasta—er, Ana, please, Mrs Henderson.” She thought she could hear Matt grumbling as he picked up her bag and stormed into the hall and up the impressive central staircase.

Pip continued to bounce around, a little bit like George, and clapped her hands as Mrs Henderson escorted her into the large, homely, yet surprisingly well equipped modern kitchen with a large wooden table in the middle.

“Mulled wine all round I think, to warm the cockles. Come along.” Mrs Henderson busied herself around the kitchen and insisted that Ana sit down and make herself at home. She almost scoffed at the woman’s words. Home . If only she knew that her starkly boring flat was anything but comforting!

“Now dear, you’re not one of those fussy eaters are you? You know, one of those vegetarians ?” Mrs Henderson said the word scornfully, like it was a swear word!

Something about the kindly woman, warmly welcoming into her home with wide arms, stopped her from explaining that she very rarely ate a complete meal. “Nope, fully fledged meat eater here,” she said, assuring, and was treated to a full on wide smile. She was glad she hadn’t disappointed.

A few moments later, Matt re-entered the kitchen.

“I’ll be in the stud office,” he announced as he popped a kiss on the older woman’s cheek, the warmth of which shocked Ana but was quickly forgotten as he sailed past her and called back over his shoulder. “No need to tip me this time Miss Harper.” He left through the back door before she could come back with anything. Ana felt like she’d been dismissed.

***

Mrs Henderson and Pip came to check on her once she’d settled into her spacious yet cosy guest room.

“Yes thank you, but I do have one little problem,” she admitted. “I didn’t expect to travel straight here from Rome so I’ve very little in the way of clothes. A black bikini and a little summer dress aren’t going to be very practical here.” It was obvious that she wasn’t going to be able to squeeze into Pip’s clothes—assuming she could even get her jeans on over her hips, they would look like Peddle Pushers on her longer legs!

Mrs Henderson waved a hand at her. “Oh, right. Well we can sort that out, can’t we Pip. Let’s have a look in Matt’s room. You can roll up a pair of his jeans and there will be some T-shirts for you I’m sure. Come along.”

Matt’s bedroom was next to hers and was not what she imagined a single man’s bedroom looked like. Wait, was he even single? Why had she assumed that?

A super king size bed with white cotton sheets dominated the room. A mahogany dresser was topped with lots of family pictures, both colour and black and white, which seemed to be of his parents and Pip together when they were children. There was also a graduation picture of him and another extremely attractive man. Was it a brother, she wondered? No, on closer inspected he had a Middle Eastern look about him. She spotted a bottle of the cologne that she had smelt earlier on his coat. Yep, bergamot, nutmeg and cedarwood. It was one of her favourites and she had bought it for Alix on his last birthday.

Several modern paintings and prints were dotted around the room including a beautiful pencil drawing of a horse and her foal lying down. She went to step forward to examine the sketch but was interrupted by Mrs Henderson.

“The dressing room’s through here Ana.”

Dressing room… what the hell did a farmer need with a dressing room? Ah, unless he was married, but so far, no sight nor sound of a wife. She followed Mrs Henderson into a room next to the ensuite. It was as big as hers back in Chelsea! A row of stunning suits and dinner jackets hung on the right hand side. She trailed her hand along the suits. Gucci, Dior, Tom Ford, the man was a clothes horse!

God she needed to stop with the horse references.

To the left were shelves with neatly folded t-shirts, shirts, jeans, and jumpers. Underneath were smaller shelves for shoes and boots. It was like two entirely different people used the room: comfy and casual on one side and suited and booted on the other. Since when did Farmer Giles, or should that be Dr Jekel and Mr Hyde, need all these top end clothes? Had she been as guilty as him of making ill-informed assumptions?

Mrs Henderson hummed a tune as she busied herself in the wardrobe before handing her a bundle of clothes including a pair of jeans, t-shirts and a soft cashmere v-neck jumper and several pairs of socks.

“That should keep you going until your friend arrives. Matt has some spare wellington boots in the utility down stairs, a few pairs of socks on you and they should be alright. Oh, and there are lots of coats too. Just leave your delicates in the bathroom each day and I’ll launder those for you.”

“Thank you. Are you sure he won’t mind?” she checked, not entirely comfortable with the idea of wearing this man’s clothes without his permission—but in reality, what else could she do?

“Mind? Dearie he won’t even notice,” she said, chuckling to herself. “He barely wears any of these things nowadays anyway,” she said, waving at the posh side. “Jeans, t-shirts and boots are his uniform.”

“So what’s with the all the suits then?” Ana pushed, being unapologetically nosey.

She watched as the older woman fiddled nervously with her apron before running a hand over her bun. “Oh, well, you’d better ask him about that. Shall we, dearie?”

***

“That was delicious, thank you Mrs Henderson.” Anastacia reclined in the soft leather sofa in front of the roaring fire next to Pip, feet curled up underneath, while her new favourite person pottered around plumping cushions. The large fireplace was dressed with a festive swag of red berries, ivy, mistletoe, cinnamon sticks and pine cones, with four small, homemade, brightly coloured stockings hanging from it featuring their initials sewn with little glass beads. There was even one for George. She swallowed the lump which had formed in her throat at the vivid image of this family gathered around the fire on Christmas morning, hugging each other as they opened their gifts. The room was scented with fresh pine from the large Christmas tree in the corner of the room. It was another depressing reminder that that she’d never had a real Christmas tree, just the plastic variety. Now she knew what she had been missing all these years. It smelled wonderful, a scent which no artificial room fragrance could accurately re-create : she’d tried them all. Her stomach being nicely full from the stew and dumplings was an alien feeling and she was drowsy from the couple of bottles of wine that they had all enjoyed with dinner and the brandy she now nursed in her hand. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine and heat of the crackling fire. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten so much yet felt so relaxed and content, especially as she was in someone else’s home. Not that she’d ever felt so relaxed or content in her own home. To her, home was just a space where she kept her belongings.