Justine Elyot - Master of the House

‘So,’ he said, at the same time as I said, ‘Well.’

I looked away.

‘You aren’t here to reminisce about old times, are you, Lucy?’ he said softly, drawing my attention straight back to him.

‘My memories aren’t exactly fond,’ I snapped.

‘No. So why are you here?’

‘It’s been nine years. Perhaps it’s time to let bygones be –’

‘You’re a journalist, aren’t you?’ It was so abrupt, I started.

‘Cut to the chase, why don’t you?’ I said.

‘I didn’t want all that bygones crap to drag on,’ he said, accepting his champagne cocktail from the waiter while I took my, yes, elderflower fizz. ‘I know why you’re here.’

‘Do you? Please enlighten me.’

‘You’ve scented a story and you want to use your old connection with me to get at the heart of it.’

Very nicely deduced. I had to hand it to him, along with his scalpel of truth.

‘You’re not denying it,’ he said after a pause.

‘Why bother?’ I said. ‘If that’s what you want to think.’

‘It isn’t, actually. What I want to think is completely different.’

‘What, that I’ve come running back into your arms, ready for you to stab me in the back again? What do you take me for?’

‘Are you ready to order?’ the waiter asked.

We pinched our lips and muttered our food orders with flaming cheeks.

‘So you heard about somebody leasing the Hall,’ said Joss once the waiter was out of earshot.

‘Everybody’s talking about it. Of course I did.’

‘And you want to know who?’

‘And why.’

‘Of course, why. Lots of rumours out there, I hear.’

‘Tons. Are you going to put a stop to them? By telling me the truth of it?’

I sipped at my elderflower fizz, waiting for Joss to pull one of his trademark petulant strops. I guessed we’d be going Dutch on the meal now a shag was out of the question.

Instead he surprised me. After stroking his beard-thing for a moment or two, he said, ‘I can do better than that.’

‘Really?’

‘I can get you in there. Exclusive access to the Hall – and its mysterious lessee. And he’s a big fish, Lucy, a very big fish. This’ll be the scoop of your life.’

‘Who is he?’

Joss shook his head, peering fearfully around as if scouting for eavesdroppers.

‘If I tell you that you’ll be straight on the phone to your editors. No, you have to come into the Hall and see it for yourself.’

‘That’s an invitation, then? As simple as that. Why would you let me?’

‘Let’s say I’m not entirely happy with the situation. A big press exposé might blow the whole thing apart and give me back my birthright.’

‘Birthright,’ I scoffed. ‘You’re such a little prince.’

‘Do you want this or not?’

‘I suppose so,’ I said, but I wasn’t sure. I wanted – needed – something that would get me off the Village Fete Desk, but this sounded risky and strange.

‘Right. Come into the estate office on Monday morning and we’ll discuss it further.’

‘Why not now?’

‘Are you wearing a wire?’

I burst out laughing.

‘Joss, this isn’t a spy drama! Wearing a wire! For God’s sake!’

He looked discomfited by my mirth, and knocked back his champagne cocktail until he fell into a coughing fit.

I took advantage of it to click off my mobile phone’s ‘Record’ setting in my handbag.

‘So, can you give me a clue?’ I asked.

He shook his head.

‘I’ll tell you on Monday.’ He paused, looking at me too intently for comfort. ‘You aren’t married or anything, are you?’

‘God forbid. You?’

He shook his head.

‘Came close, last year,’ he said. ‘Until she saw my bank statements and ran a mile.’

‘Oh, dear. Did she break your heart? What a shame.’

If there was more sarcasm than sympathy in my tone, I figured he’d understand.

He looked at me for a long time then, until the waiter came with our starters, forcing him to drop the eye contact. Just as well, because I was starting to feel giddy.

‘You still aren’t over it, are you?’ he said.

‘What?’

‘What happened between us. It still hurts you.’

‘No, it doesn’t. I don’t let it.’ I stabbed at a disc of mozzarella, sloshing it around in its basil jus.

‘If only life were that easy. Life and love. I half hoped you’d have met someone else, settled down, found happiness.’

‘Only half?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, and it was more a breath than a word, floating over the candle flame. ‘Only half.’

‘I did meet someone else. In Hungary. But it didn’t work out.’

He smiled then.

‘Tell me about Hungary. I’ve never been there.’

He had given me the floor and I took it, relieved to have control of a conversation that had almost lurched beyond the boundaries I had set myself. No talking about old times. No recriminations. Definitely no flirting.

He played the perfect gent for the rest of the evening and no more reference was made to our common past.

In the car park, he offered to walk me home, and I had to remind him that I didn’t live at the caravan site any more.

‘I’m in Tylney,’ I said. ‘I drove here tonight.’

‘Oh, is that why you didn’t drink?’

‘No. I didn’t drink because I wanted to keep my head.’

He looked slightly furtive at that, a little guilty.

‘Well, I’ll see you on Monday, at the office,’ he said. He leaned forwards, a little awkwardly, aiming for my cheek, but I dodged out of the way.

‘About nine?’

‘Perfect.’

He didn’t set off for the Hall immediately but watched me get into the car and drive away. I felt the burn of his eyes on me as I belted up and chose a CD to listen to.

Go away, I thought, but at the same time a treacherous second voice chanted, Come back to me .

‘I’ll tell you what, I didn’t realise how dirty posh boys are.’

Minna was full of her escapade at the Hall that next morning after we’d bumped into Joss at the Feathers.

‘Really?’ I said with a yawn, frowning at the wall my hairdrier was plugged into. The electricity kept cutting out and I had an idea that the way the socket was coming away from its moorings might not be helping.

‘God, yeah. Filthy, they are.’

I didn’t want to hear it. If she’d kissed Joss, or gone further with him, I didn’t want to know.

‘It’s all that repression, shut away at Eton. They go wild when they get a sniff of a woman, probably.’

‘Do you think so? Mmm, what a night. Three sexy boys and me in a four-poster bed.’ She was lying full-length on the sofa and she arched her back like a cat.

I had to know. I spat it out.

‘Was Joss one of them?’

‘No, Joss was boring. He went to bed, left us to it with a crate of beer and a multipack of condoms.’

‘And they say romance is dead.’ But my heart leaped up. Joss hadn’t touched Minna. Perhaps gangbanging just wasn’t his scene.

Or perhaps he was gay.

I shouldn’t care, either way.

‘Fuck this piece of shit,’ I fumed, throwing the hairdrier down and wrenching out the plug. ‘I’m going to see your aunt, get her to send the handyman over to fix this socket.’

It was going to be a hot day, the sun already high and so bright that I was a little dazzled as I climbed down the steps from the van.

It seemed like a holy vision, consequently, when Joss pitched up in front of me, illuminated from behind.

‘Am I hallucinating?’ I muttered, a little dismayed to be caught like this, barefoot in towelling shorts and a halter-neck top with my half-dried hair like wild rats’ tails down my back.