The Undomestic Goddess - Sophie Kinsella

“You saw her! She did it in her head!” They both swing round to goggle at me again.

“Is she autistic?” Trish seems beside herself.

Oh, for God’s sake. Rain Man has a lot to answer for, if you ask me.

“I’m not autistic!” I say. “I’m just… I’m just quite good with numbers. It’s no big deal…”

To my huge relief the doorbell rings, and I rush to answer it. Nathaniel is standing on the doorstep, looking a little smarter than usual in tan jeans and a green shirt.

“Hi,” I say hurriedly. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Eddie blocks my way. “Young lady, you may be a lot brighter than you realize.”

Oh, no.

“What’s going on?” asks Nathaniel.

“She’s a mathematical genius!” says Trish wildly. “And we discovered it! It’s just extraordinary!”

I shoot Nathaniel an agonized she’s- talking-nonsense look.

“What formal education have you had, Samantha?” Eddie demands. “Other than cooking.”

Oh, God. What did I say in my interview? I honestly can’t remember.

“I… um… here and there.” I spread my hands vaguely. “You know…”

“It’s the schools today,” Trish declares. “Tony Blair should be shot.”

“Samantha,” Eddie says self-righteously. “I will take on your education. And if you’re prepared to work hard— hard, mind—I’m sure we can get you some qualifications.”

This is getting worse.

“I don’t really want any qualifications, sir,” I mumble. “I’m happy as I am. Thanks anyway—”

“I won’t take no for an answer!” insists Eddie.

“Aim higher, Samantha!” says Trish with sudden passion, gripping my arm. “Give yourself a chance in life! Reach for the stars!”

As I look from face to face I can’t help feeling touched. They only want the best for me.

“Urn… well… maybe.” I surreptitiously divest myself of all the jeweled creatures and slip them back into the jewelry box. Then I turn to Nathaniel, who has been waiting patiently on the doorstep. “Shall we go?”

“So, what was all that about?” asks Nathaniel as we start walking along the village road. The air is soft and warm and my new hair is bouncing lightly, and with every step I can see my toes, painted in Trish’s pink nail polish. “You’re a mathematical genius?”

“No.” I can’t help laughing. “Of course not! I can just… do sums in my head. It’s no big deal.”

“Must be useful.”

“It can be. But I’d rather be able to cook like your mum. She’s wonderful.” I think back to the serene, homey atmosphere of the cottage, sitting at Iris’s table, feeling sated and sleepy and secure. “You must have had a really happy childhood.”

“We were pretty happy,” Nathaniel assents. “Of course, Dad was alive then.”

“It sounds like they had a fantastic marriage.”

“It wasn’t all hearts and flowers.” Nathaniel grins. “Mum can speak her mind, and so could Dad. But it was…

grounded. They knew they belonged together and that was more important than anything else in life.” He smiles, reminiscently. “When they got really mad with each other, Dad would go and chop wood in the barn, and Mum would chop vegetables in the kitchen. The two of them would be at it furiously. Jake and I would be creeping around, not daring to make a sound.”

“Then what happened?”

“One of them would crack,” he says, laughing. “Usually Dad.” He turns his head. “How about your parents?”

I tense up with apprehension. I’m not sure if I’m ready to start talking about myself yet.

“They split up when I was little,” I say at last. “And my mum works hard… It wasn’t really the same.”

“People do what they have to do,” says Nathaniel after a pause. “It’s tough for a single woman bringing up a family on her own, having to make ends meet.”

“Urn… yes.”

Somehow I sense he might have formed a slightly different idea of Mum from the reality.

We walk on, passing an old stone wall covered with a profusion of climbing roses, and as I breathe in the delicious scent, I feel a sudden buoyancy. The street is dappled with soft evening light and the last rays of sun are warm on my shoulders.

“Nice hair, by the way,” says Nathaniel.

“Oh, thanks,” I say nonchalantly. “It’s nothing, really.” Flick. “So… where are we heading?”

“The pub. If that’s OK?”

“Perfect!”

We walk over the bridge and pause to look at the river. Moorhens are diving for weed and the sunlight is like amber puddles on the water. Some tourists are taking pictures of each other, and I feel a glow of pride. I’m not just visiting this beautiful place, I want to tell them. I live here.

“And what about you?” says Nathaniel. “Before you came here? What’s your background?”

“Oh… you don’t want to know.” I give him a brush-off smile. “Very boring.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute.” His tone is light but persistent. “Did you have a career?”

I walk for a few paces without responding, trying to think what to say. I can feel Nathaniel’s eyes on me, but I twist my head away from his scrutiny.

“You don’t want to talk about it,” he says at last.

“It’s… it’s hard.”

Nathaniel exhales sharply. “You’ve had a bad time of it?”

Oh, God, he still thinks I’m an abused wife.

“No! It’s not that. It’s just… a long story.”

Nathaniel doesn’t look put off. “We’ve got all evening.”

As I meet his steady gaze I feel a sudden pull, like a hook inside my chest. Although it’ll be painful, I want to tell him. I want to unburden everything. Who I am, what happened, how hard it’s been. Of all people, I could trust him. He wouldn’t tell anyone. He’d understand. He’d keep it secret.

“So.” He stops still in the street, his thumbs in his pockets. “Are you going to tell me who you are?”

“Maybe.” We’re only a few yards away from The Bell, and there’s a small crowd outside. A couple of people greet