The Undomestic Goddess - Sophie Kinsella

waiting, like two giant microphones ready to pick up the slightest sound.

My face is prickling. What am I going to say? I’ll say… thirty-five. No. Don’t be ridiculous. She can’t be that self-deluded. Forty? No. I can’t say forty. It’s too near the truth.

“Are you about… thirty-seven?” I hazard at last. Trish turns round—and from her smug expression of pleasure I reckon I hit the note of flattery about right.

“I’m actually… thirty-nine!” she says, two spots of color appearing on her cheeks.

“No!” I exclaim, trying not to look at her crow’s-feet. “That’s… amazing!”

She is such a liar. She was forty-six last February. And if she doesn’t want people to know, she shouldn’t leave her passport out on her dressing table.

“Now!” she says, clearly cheered up. “We’ll be out all day at my sister’s party. Nathaniel will be coming over to work in the garden, but I expect you know that—

”

“Nathaniel?” I feel an electric jolt. “He’s coming here?”

“He called this morning. The sweet peas need… stringing or looping or something?” She gets out a lip pencil and begins outlining her already lined lips.

“Right. I didn’t realize.” I’m trying to stay collected, but tentacles of

excitement are creeping through me. “So… he’s working on a Sunday?”

“Oh, he often does. He’s very dedicated.” She stands back to look at her reflection, then starts shading in her lips with yet more lipstick. “I heard he took you to his little pub?”

His little pub. She is so patronizing.

“Er… yes. He did.”

“I was so glad about that, really.” She takes out a mascara wand. “We nearly had to look for another gardener, can you imagine. Although of course it was a great shame for him. After all his plans.”

I must have missed a beat or three. What’s she talking about?

“What was a shame?” I say.

“Nathaniel. His nursery. Plant thing.” She frowns at her reflection. “Organic something or other. He showed us the business proposition. In fact, we even considered backing him. We are very supportive employers, Samantha.” She fixes me with a blue gaze as though daring me to disagree.

“Of course!”

“All set?” Eddie comes out of the study wearing a Panama hat. “It’s going to be bloody sweltering, you know.”

“Eddie, don’t start,” snaps Trish, shoving her mascara wand back in the tube. “We are going to this party and that’s final. Have you got the present?”

“And what happened?” I ask, trying to haul the conversation back on track. “With Nathaniel’s plans?”

Trish makes a small, regretful moue at herself in the mirror. “Well, his father passed away very suddenly, and there was all that dreadful business with the pubs. And he changed his mind. Never bought the land.” She gives herself another dissatisfied look. “Should I wear my pink suit?”

“No,” Eddie and I say in unison. I glance at Eddie’s exasperated face and stifle a laugh.

“You look lovely, Mrs. Geiger,” I say. “Really.”

Somehow, between us, Eddie and I manage to chivvy her away from the

mirror, out the front door, and across the gravel to Eddie’s Porsche. Eddie’s right, it’s going to be a boiling day. The sky is already a translucent blue, the sun a dazzling ball.

“What time will you be back?” I ask as they get in.

“Not until late this evening,” says Trish. “Eddie, where’s the present? Ah, Nathaniel, here you are.”

I look over the top of the car. There he is, coming down the drive, in jeans and an old gray T-shirt, his rucksack over his shoulder. And here I am, in my dressing gown with my hair all over the place.

And still not sure how things have been left between us. Although certain bits of my body are already responding to the

sight of him. They don’t seem to be in any confusion at all.

“Hi,” I say as he gets near.

“Hi.” Nathaniel’s eyes crinkle in a friendly way, but he doesn’t make any attempt to kiss me or even smile. Instead, he just comes to a halt. There’s something about his intent, purposeful gaze that makes me feel a bit wobbly around the legs.

“So.” I wrench my eyes away. “You’re… working hard today.”

“I could do with some help,” he says casually. “If you’re at a loose end. Mum told me you weren’t cooking today.”

I feel a huge leap of delight, which I attempt to hide with a cough.

“Right.” I shrug slightly, almost frowning. “Well… maybe.”

“Great.” He nods to the Geigers and saunters off toward the garden.

Trish has been watching this exchange in increasing dissatisfaction.

“You’re not very affectionate with each other, are you?” she says. “You know, in my experience—”

“Leave them alone, for God’s sake!” retorts Eddie, starting the engine. “Let’s get this bloody thing over with.”

“Eddie Geiger!” Trish shrills. “This is my sister’s party you’re talking about! Do you realize—”

Eddie revs the engine, drowning out her voice, and with a spattering of gravel the

Porsche disappears out of the drive, leaving me alone in the silent, baking sunshine.

Right.

So… it’s just Nathaniel and me. Alone together. Until eight o’clock this evening. That’s the basic scenario.

A pulse is starting to thud somewhere deep inside me. Like a conductor setting the beat, like an introduction.

Deliberately nonchalant, I turn on the gravel and start to make my way back toward the house. As I pass a flower bed I even pause and study a random plant for a moment, holding the green leaves between my fingers.

I guess I could wander down and offer a helping hand. It would be polite.

I force myself not to rush. I take a shower and get dressed and have breakfast, consisting of half a cup of tea and an apple. Then I go upstairs and put on a little makeup.

I’ve dressed low-key. A T-shirt, a cotton skirt, and flip-flops. As I look in the mirror I feel almost shivery with anticipation. But other than that my mind is weirdly blank. I seem to have lost all my thought processes.

After the cool house, the garden feels scorching, the air still and almost shimmery. I keep to the shade, heading down the side path, not knowing where he’s working, where I’m heading. And