An Autumn Affair Read online

  The rice pudding completely decimated, the table cleared by his overenthusiastic daughter, and the dishwasher whirring away doing its stuff, the kids wandered off, leaving Paul and Julia alone in the kitchen.

  ‘Coffee?’ Julia asked, wiping down the kitchen bench.

  Coffee? They never had coffee after dinner. Something was seriously amiss here. And why was she wiping down that kitchen bench again? Paul had watched her do it three times already.

  ‘Er, no thanks,’ he muttered, running a finger under the rim of his collar. His palms were sweating so much he couldn’t have held a cup of coffee, even if he’d wanted to. He had to bite the bullet. And he had to do it now. If he didn’t, he suspected his courage might go AWOL, never to return. His eyes scanned the room for the frying pan. It was on the draining board, Faye having vigorously scrubbed it. He wondered if Julia would notice if he slipped out and locked it in the boot of his car, but quickly dismissed the idea as being ludicrous. There’s no way his own wife would bash him over the head with it. Would she? Well, there was only one way to find out.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ he suggested, his throat suddenly feeling like someone had shovelled two tons of sand into it. ‘There’s, um, something I’d like to talk to you about.’

  Turning to face him, Julia leaned against the bench, fiddling with the Bart Simpson tea towel. ‘Well, er, that’s good because there’s something I’d like to talk to you about, too.’

  Paul’s heart sank. He really just wanted to get this over and done with. Make it as painless as possible. But whatever Julia intended saying couldn’t be half as serious as the news he was about to break, so he’d have to let her go first.

  ‘Well, come and sit down and tell me what it is,’ he said.

  Looking the most awkward Paul had ever seen her in her entire life, Julia slid into the chair opposite his.

  ‘I, er, don’t really know where to start,’ she mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘How about at the beginning,’ suggested Paul, it suddenly occurring to him that this might be more serious than he thought.

  Julia nodded, still fiddling with the tea towel.

  ‘Right. Well … you know before we met that I had a relationship with a guy called Max …’

  She glanced up at him for confirmation. Increasingly intrigued, he nodded.

  ‘… well, I bumped into him recently. In the supermarket. In the cereal aisle.’

  Paul furrowed his forehead. What the hell did the cereal aisle have to do with anything?

  ‘I’ve seen him a few times since,’ she ploughed on, directing her speech to the tea towel in her hands. ‘And it’s made me realise that I’m just not happy, Paul. That life has passed me by in one big child-caring blur. I’ve lost sight of the real me.’ She raised her eyes and met his increasingly bemused gaze. ‘You said yourself you only see me as a wife and a mother. Well, I feel like now is the time for me to branch out and do something for myself. I’m still young enough. And I’ve never felt more ready for anything in my entire life.’

  Evidently finished, she began smoothing the tea towel out on the table top. Bart Simpson stared up at Paul as if waiting for his reaction. Paul, too, was waiting for his reaction. He didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t, if he was perfectly honest, quite understand what was going on here.

  ‘So … what exactly are you saying? That you’re leaving me? For this Max?’

  Julia shook her head. ‘No. Max has nothing to do with it. He’s just brought me to my senses. I don’t want to just trundle along like we have been doing. I want more from life. And I need to do it by myself. To discover who I am, rather than being an appendage to someone else.’

  Paul couldn’t speak. He felt exactly as he had all those years ago when Julia had announced she was pregnant. The situation was surreal. There he was, all ready to confess about him and Natalia, and tell Julia he wanted to break up, and here she was doing it for him.

  ‘So you … you want us to separate?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m just not happy. And neither are you.’

  Paul opened and closed his mouth. ‘I, er, …’

  ‘What was it you wanted to talk to me about? Was it Natalia?’

  He nodded.

  ‘You’re having an affair with her?’

  He nodded again.

  ‘Well, I’ve done you a favour then, haven’t I? Ready for that coffee now?’

  Paul looked down at a beaming Bart Simpson.

  And nodded again.

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  Julia set down her suitcase and flopped back on the bed. She was exhausted. This had been her third trip to Madrid in the last month. Not that she was complaining. She’d loved every minute of it. Courtesy of her fab new website, she’d been inundated with requests from all sorts of companies, dealing with everything from fireplaces to underwear catalogues. She’d never been busier. And she had Paul to thank for a lot of it. He’d been brilliant helping her set up her freelance translating business, even recommending her to a new company he was dealing with in Madrid.

  Ironically, since the separation, she and Paul were getting on better than they had for years. She still loved him – but, as corny as it sounded, she wasn’t ‘in love’ with him. She knew he was still seeing Natalia and she was happy for him. Why wouldn’t she be, when she’d never been happier in her entire life?

  It had taken that chance meeting with Max in the supermarket to make Julia realise that she’d been a passive participant in her life. That she’d sleepwalked through the last twenty years. Things had happened to her, but she hadn’t actually done anything herself. And not only that, she’d never stood on her own two feet as an adult. Never been independent. Okay, so it might be twenty years late, but at least she now had the opportunity to prove something to herself. To take charge of her life and direct it in the way she wanted it to go. And separating from Paul had given her the strength and the motivation to do just that.

  The twins had been brilliant about the separation. Although slightly bewildered at first, they’d soon adjusted. Faye really seemed to be getting her act together, even talking about going to university. Julia was proud of her. And had told her so. In fact, since the Spanish incident, she’d begun to realise just how difficult it must be for Faye living in Leo’s capable shadow. So Julia was now making every effort to build up her daughter’s confidence. And her efforts were paying dividends. The two of them had even started going to salsa classes together.

  Leo was also doing well. Eating again and exercising sensibly. Following his fainting fit, the revered Betsy had taken him under her wing. The two of them were ‘training’ together. Quite what that involved, Julia didn’t like to ask. But Leo seemed happy and that was all that mattered.

  And then, of course, there was Max. He was making her dinner later. At his apartment. Her stomach began fizzing, just as it did every time they were due to meet. Or every time he called her. Or every time she even thought about him. Just as it had when she’d been a teenager. Pathetic really. But amazing, all the same. She’d decided, at exactly the same time she’d been making her other momentous decision, that they should stop seeing each other. But this time Max hadn’t given up. We’ll just have a break, he’d suggested. Phone me in a few weeks – if you want to. And Julia had. She’d missed him in the ensuing four weeks. During which time she’d concluded that she didn’t want to lose him again. That what they had was far too special.

  She hadn’t mentioned him to the twins yet. For all they were coping remarkably well with their change in circumstances, it was still a lot for them to deal with. As indeed it was for Julia’s head. So she and Max had agreed to take it slowly. Very slowly. They’d see each other once a week, but spoke daily on the phone. This particular trip, though, Julia had found herself missing him more than ever.

  Jumping off the bed, she strode over to the wardrobe and began rooting around until she pulled out the carrier bag containing the sexy silk lingerie she’d bought
what now seemed like decades ago.

  Perhaps tonight would be the perfect time to give it its first airing. Because, courtesy of her new-found independence and her burgeoning confidence, she felt, for the first time in her life, that she might just be good enough for Max Burrell after all.

  *****

  On the bus to college, Faye pulled a copy of Hello! magazine from her bag and then, making sure no one was looking, tugged out her book and slid it between the magazine pages. She still had her street cred to consider, after all. And it really wasn’t cool to be seen reading Shakespeare. But, over the last few months, Faye had become addicted.

  She hadn’t seen much of Josie since the Spanish saga. Josie’s wrist had been badly broken during the fall down the steps, and it would be ages before she could play tennis again. Every time Faye saw her, she felt so guilty that she’d decided to keep out of the way for a while. So, in the absence of any better alternatives, Faye had turned to her college work. And discovered, much to her own amazement, that she couldn’t get enough of Shakespeare.

  Hamlet was by far her favourite. It was completely awesome. So awesome that she’d even booked a ticket to see a live version of it at the theatre next month. And, having read that play three times, she’d proceeded to devour A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Much Ado About Nothing and, her current reading matter, The Merchant of Venice.

  And, not only that, but she was considering applying to uni to study English literature. At Leeds or Sheffield. In other words, not too far away from home. Amongst many other things, her Spanish adventure had shown her that she wasn’t as prepared for the world as she’d once thought. And she didn’t want to be too far away from her mum – or, although she’d never admit it to another living soul, Leo – who had also applied to Sheffield.

  Since their parents’ separation, the two of them had become incredibly close. He’d even offered to go with her to see Hamlet, as, in that spooky ‘twin thing’ way, he’d guessed she’d be nervous going to the theatre on her own, and wouldn’t want to risk her street cred by asking anyone else. Indeed, since the separation, he’d seemed to be looking out for her more than ever.

  Not that the separation had fazed Faye in any way. Although taken aback by the news at first, she’d soon come to think of it as being pretty cool. They even saw more of their dad now than they had when he’d been living at home. And both parents seemed so much happier. Her mum, in fact, much to Faye’s amazement, had morphed into this sophisticated businesswoman, jetting off all over the place, running her own business and speaking Spanish like a native. And … she’d become best of friends with Miranda Cutler. Not that that fact particularly interested Faye. Because she’d now decided that there was only one cool mum in Buttersley. And that was her own.

  Faye even suspected she might have a boyfriend. But that was her mum’s business and she didn’t want to pry. No doubt Julia would tell them when she was ready.

  *****

  Paul rolled off Natalia and flopped down onto the sweat-soaked sheets. God! And he’d thought squash was a good workout. Life with Natalia, he’d now discovered, was two hundred times more exhausting. The girl was insatiable. She’d even dragged him into a shop changing room yesterday. Attempting to have silent sex in such a confined space, while some old dear outside chattered to the sales assistant about gussets, had proved challenging.

  Paul had never been more knackered in his entire life.

  Or happier.

  He hadn’t introduced Natalia to the twins yet. They’d had more than enough to cope with lately. And besides, it was early days. He had no idea where this thing with Natalia was going. He only knew that, for now, he was having the time of his life. Even out of bed they got on well. She was a bright girl and they were continually discovering things they had in common. But she was also very young and very ambitious. And Paul didn’t want to cramp her style. So he was, as they say, simply going with the flow.

  The split between him and Julia had been amazingly amicable. Not a frying pan in sight. He’d even helped her set up her own business as a freelance translator, recommending her to their new supply company in Spain, who were subsequently delighted with her. He honestly couldn’t have said whether he and Julia would have lasted the distance had it not been for the twins coming along. He still loved her – she was, after all, the mother of his children, and he had spent almost twenty years of his life with her. But, as happens with so many couples who link up at such a young age, they had just grown apart. He was only glad they’d both realised in time. While they were still young enough to enjoy their lives. Because there must be nothing worse than looking back on a lifetime of regrets.

  Paul glanced at the clock. Shit! He really should get up. There was another Board meeting this morning. Where his promotion would be announced. The day he’d been working towards his entire career.

  He was on the verge of slipping out of bed when Natalia rolled over and, with a long scarlet fingernail, began trailing a circle around his nipple.

  ‘How big is the Eiffel Tower?’ she purred into his ear.

  ‘It is,’ replied Paul, feeling the now all-too-familiar stirring in his groin, ‘getting bigger as we speak.’

  Well, another fifteen minutes in bed wouldn’t hurt. Would it? And it wasn’t like he had a shirt to iron. He’d done that the night before.

  *****

  Miranda gazed at the sampler. A very definite plus sign gazed back at her. She bounded down the stairs and into Doug’s study.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘We’re pregnant,’ she said, launching herself onto his lap.

  ‘Wow. That hasn’t taken long.’

  ‘It hasn’t. But we have been practising quite a lot. Are you pleased?’

  ‘Pleased?’ he echoed. ‘I’m over the bloody moon.’

  Miranda planted a kiss on his cheek, before turning serious. ‘I don’t know how Annie’s going to take the news. The party planning business has only been going a few months. I feel like I’ll be letting her down.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ countered Doug. ‘She’ll be thrilled for you. And anyway, in case you hadn’t noticed, your husband is now based in Leeds and home every night. Which means he’ll be around to help. That’s if we can prise the baby away from Josie. She’s going to be ecstatic.’

  Miranda giggled. ‘She is, isn’t she? But even with us all here, it’s still going to be a bit mad. But, given that the party planning business was your idea, you can’t complain when I’m out until goodness knows when and you’ve got to do bath time and bedtime and …’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ chuckled Doug. ‘It’s going to be complete chaos but we’ll love every minute of it.’

  Just then the phone on Doug’s desk rang. Miranda swiped it up.

  ‘Hello, dear,’ said her mother. ‘Look, I know you’re probably busy and everything, and I know it’s taken me a ridiculous amount of time to think over your invitation to come and live with you, but, as I told you when you were here last week, I really haven’t enjoyed the winter on my own and I was wondering … if the offer’s still open …’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to be a nuisance.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be. You can have your own wing. You’d be totally self-sufficient.’

  ‘Right.’

  A brief hiatus followed.

  ‘So, is that a yes, then?’ Miranda ventured.

  ‘Well, the only thing is, dear, I’m not too keen on all those marble floors.’

  Miranda burst out laughing. ‘You know what, Mum? Neither am I. And they’ll be no good for the baby when it’s crawling, so we might just have the whole place carpeted out.’

  ‘Oo,’ gushed her mum. ‘Carpets and a baby? Well, in that case, I’m definitely coming.’

  If you loved An Autumn Affair then turn the page for an exclusive extract from A Summer of Secrets, the irresistible second story in the Countryside Dreams series by Alice Ross!

  Chapter One

  ‘And that
, I’m afraid, is it.’

  Across the wide, mahogany desk, Portia Pinkington-Smythe stared at Dillon Harwood, the balding, kindly faced man who, for the last five decades, had had the dubious pleasure of serving as the Pinkington-Smythes’ family solicitor. Yet, despite this well-forged connection, and an impressive IQ of one hundred and thirty, Portia still failed to compute the information he had just imparted.

  ‘You mean … my father died leaving a pitiful sum in the bank and a whole heap of debt?’ she eventually asked.

  Dillon nodded. ‘I’m so sorry, Portia. I had no idea things were this bad. I wish your father had told me. If I’d known sooner, perhaps I could have helped somehow.’

  Portia gave a weak smile of gratitude. Her father’s recent death had been traumatic enough, but to now discover the shabby state of the family finances had proved another devastating blow.

  ‘But at least you have Buttersley Manor,’ Dillon continued, squeezing a large dollop of optimism into his tone. ‘And there are endless possibilities there.’

  Portia grimaced. ‘There are. But I doubt any of them would be viable in the building’s current state. It was bad enough before Dad went into the nursing home eighteen months ago and I haven’t seen it since.’

  ‘Perhaps you could take out a loan for the work.’

  She shook her head. ‘I doubt I’d be a good risk. It’ll take thousands to put the house right, and I’d need a guaranteed income to pay it back. And now that I don’t have a job …’