Sophie Kinsella - The Undomestic Goddess

And then we’re all going back to London on the train.

“So,” says Eddie as I spoon coffee into the pot. “All packed up?”

“Pretty much. And Mrs. Geiger… here.” I hand Trish the blue uniform, which I’ve been carrying, folded, under my arm. “It’s clean and pressed. Ready for your next housekeeper.”

As Trish takes the uniform she looks suddenly stricken. “Of course,” she says, her voice jumpy. “Thank you, Samantha.” She clasps a napkin to her eyes.

“There, there,” says Eddie, patting her on the back. He looks rather moist around the eyes himself. Oh, God, now I feel like crying myself.

“I’m really grateful for everything,” I gulp. “And I’m sorry for leaving you in the lurch.”

“We know you’ve made the right decision. It’s not that.” Trish dabs her eyes.

“We’re very proud of you,” chips in Eddie gruffly as the doorbell rings.

I head into the hall, and open the door. The entire PR team from Carter Spink is standing on the doorstep, all in identical trouser suits.

“Samantha.” Hilary Grant, head of PR, runs her eyes over me. “Ready?”

By twelve o’clock I’m wearing a black suit, black tights, black high heels, and the crispest white shirt I’ve ever seen. I’ve been professionally made up and my hair has been scraped back into a bun.

Hilary brought the clothes and the hairdresser and makeup artist. Now we’re in the drawing room while she preps me on what to say to the press. For the thousand millionth time.

“What’s the most important thing to remember?” she’s demanding. “Above anything?”

“Not to mention loos,” I say wearily. “I promise, I won’t.”

“And if they ask about recipes?” She wheels round from where she’s been striding up and down.

“I answer, ‘I’m a lawyer. My only recipe is the recipe for success.’” Somehow I manage to utter the words straight-faced.

I’d forgotten how seriously the PR department takes all of this. But I suppose it’s their job. And I suppose this whole business has been a bit of a nightmare for them. Hilary has been outwardly pleasant ever since she got here―but I get the feeling there’s a little wax doll of me on her desk, impaled by drawing pins.

“We just want to make sure you don’t say anything else… unfortunate.” She gives me a slightly savage smile.

“I won’t! I’ll stick to the script.”

“And then the News Today team will follow you back to London.” She consults her BlackBerry. “We’ve given them access for the rest of the day. You’re OK about that?”

“Well… yes. I suppose.”

I cannot believe how big this whole thing has become. A news discussion program actually wants to do a fly-on-the-wall TV documentary section about my return to Carter Spink. Is there nothing else happening in the world?

“Don’t look at the camera.” Hilary is still briskly issuing instructions. “You should be good-humored and positive.You can talk about the career opportunities Carter Spink has given you and how much you’re looking forward to getting back. Don’t mention your salary―”

“Any chance of a coffee round here?” Guy’s voice interrupts us and he comes in, wearing a pair of expensive shades. He takes them off and grins at me. “Maybe you could rustle up some scones?”

“Ha ha,” I say politely.

“Hilary, there’s some trouble outside.” Guy turns to her. “Some TV guy kicking up a fuss.”

“Damn.” Hilary looks at me. “Can I leave you for a moment, Samantha?”

“Absolutely!” I try not to sound too eager. “I’ll be fine!”

As she leaves I breathe a sigh of relief.

“So.” Guy raises his eyebrows. “How are you? Excited?”

“Of course!” I smile.

Actually I feel a little surreal, wearing a black suit again, surrounded by Carter Spink PR people. I haven’t seen Trish or Eddie for hours. Hilary Grant has totally commandeered the house.

“You made the right decision, you know,” says Guy.

“I know.” I brush a fleck of lint off my skirt.

“You look sensational. You’re going to blow them away.” He perches on a sofa arm opposite me and sighs. “Jesus, I missed you, Samantha. It hasn’t been the same.”

Does he have any sense of irony? Or did they fix that at Harvard too?

“So now you’re my best friend again.” I can’t help a slight edge. “Funny, that.”

Guy blinks at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Guy.” I almost want to laugh. “You didn’t want to know me when I was in trouble. Now suddenly we’re chums again?”

“That’s unfair,” retorts Guy hotly. “I did everything I could for you, Samantha. I fought for you in that meeting. It was Arnold who refused to have you back. At the time we had no idea why―”

“You wouldn’t let me in your house, though, would you? Friendship wouldn’t quite extend that far.”

Guy looks genuinely thrown. He pushes his hair back with both hands.

“I felt terrible about that,” he says. “It wasn’t me. It was Charlotte. I was furious with her―”

“Of course you were.”

“I was!”

“Yeah, right,” I say sarcastically. “So I suppose you had a huge row about it and broke up.”

“Yes,” says Guy.

The wind is totally taken out of my sails.

“Yes?”

“We’ve split up.” He shrugs. “Didn’t you know?”

“No! I had no idea! I’m… sorry. I really didn’t―” I break off in confusion. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t really over me?”

Guy doesn’t answer. His brown eyes are becoming more intense.

“Samantha,” he says, not moving his gaze from mine. “I’ve always felt…” He thrusts his hands in his pockets. “I’ve always felt we somehow… missed our chance.”

No. This can’t be happening.

We missed our chance?

Now he says this?

“I’ve always really admired you. I always felt there was a spark between us.” He hesitates. “I wondered whether you felt… the same.”

This is unreal. How many millions of times have I imagined Guy saying these words to me? But now that he’s actually doing it… it’s too late. It’s all wrong.

“Samantha?”

Suddenly I realize I’m staring at him like a zombie.

“Oh. Right.” I try to pull myself together. “Well… yes. Maybe I used to feel like that too.” I fiddle with my skirt. “But the thing is… I’ve met someone. Since I’ve been here.”

“The gardener,” says Guy without missing a beat.

“Yes!” I look up in surprise. “How did you―”

“Some of the journalists were talking about it outside.”

“Oh. Well, it’s true. His name’s Nathaniel.” I feel myself blush.

Guy frowns. “But that’s just a holiday romance.”

“It’s not a holiday romance!” I say, taken aback. “It’s a relationship.We’re serious about each other.”

“Is he moving to London?”

“Well… no. He hates London.”

Guy looks incredulous for a moment, then throws back his head and roars with laughter.

“Samantha, you really are living in fantasyland.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, incensed. “We’ll make it work somehow. If we both want it enough―”

“I’m not sure you’ve quite got the situation yet.” Guy shakes his head. “Samantha, you’re leaving this place. You’re coming back to London, back to reality, back to work. Believe me, you’re never going to keep up some holiday fling.”

“It was not a holiday fling!” I yell furiously, as the door opens. Hilary looks from Guy to me with alert, suspicious eyes.

“Everything all right?”

“Fine,” I say, turning away from Guy. “I’m fine.”

“Good!” She taps her watch. “Because it’s nearly time!”