ILLUMINATION BOOK CHAPTERS (UPDATED LIST OF CHAPTERS HERE): ROMANTIC COMEDY — QUIRKY ROMP — CO-STARS MOOCHER THE DOG

‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ — Chapter Two

Neighbour Lydia can read minds, especially guilty ones. Especially Hugh’s.

Even though Hugh got himself out of Liz’s house as fast as he decently could, he still noticed that the young girl on the doorstep looked more like the sort of lodger Liz should take in, rather than the motley types she usually ended up with. But he kept his mouth firmly shut. It wasn’t his business, and she would tell him that quickly enough if he gave his opinion, and so would Charity.

Charity…

“Damn. Damn. Damn.” If only he wasn’t such a coward. He’d gone round to Liz’s with the express purpose of telling her about Charity and in the event he’d been unable. How he wished he could work out why. It didn’t make any sense to him, but then, he was no good with the whole woman and relationship thing. Successful at business, quite a hit socially, and at merely dating, but serious relationships and he was adrift. Perhaps he should take an evening class.

He was wrenched from his musings by Lydia-next-door. “Hugh! Oh, how lovely to see you! Were you about to call in? Of course, you were. Dear boy, do come in with me. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Hugh opened his mouth to put her off. Firmly. He hadn’t come here to see Lydia. He didn’t have time to see her now. He had to get back to Charity who waited to hear the outcome of his visit to Liz. “That would be very pleasant, Lydia,” he said. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than have a cup of tea with you.”

Her beaming smile rewarded him while he berated himself for his weakness. It was pathetic. He was ruled by women who confused him. Still, Lydia always had brandy snaps, so there was some consolation to be had. He followed her up the path.

Seated in Lydia’s breakfast room while she moved around her hand-crafted oak kitchen, Hugh sank lower into glooming about his inability to deal with women who mattered. Even his mother knew he couldn’t refuse her anything although it might make life very difficult for him. The difference with his mother was that, knowing this, she wouldn’t ask him for anything that made life difficult for him. That was because she truly loved him. Apparently, no one else did, not really.

Viciously, he ripped off a hangnail and it pulled right down the side of his nail and along the bottom and now would be sore as hell for days, and then it’d probably get infected and then his finger would swell up and then his hand and arm, and then everything would fall off. “Bastard thing,” he hissed under his breath, trying to bite if off before it went further — and made even more of a mess.

He’d always had neatly manicured hands. Until recently. He was a disgrace. Hastily he put his hand in his pocket as Lydia approached with a laden tray. Of course, he should have carried it for her. He was forgetting his manners, now, as well.

Lydia put out a couple of Chinese rice pattern cups and saucers and lifted the matching teapot, pouring from it at the same time as milk from a little jug.

“I’m assuming you take your tea the same way you always have, Hugh,” she said.

He stared at the cup of fragrant brew and his mouth almost watered, but guilt kept him from answering immediately and Lydia caught it. ‘Oh, you don’t! Never mind. I’ll get a fresh cup.’ And she was off with the full one and back with a clean one before Hugh was able to object. She started again and poured him a milk-free cup of tea.

“On a health kick, Hugh?” Lydia enquired, seating herself with her own cup of tea so white she must only have shown it the teapot. She ladled in three sugars, stirred briskly and laid the spoon gently on the saucer. She picked up a gold-rimmed plate covered in rose buds and stacked with brandy snaps. “See, I always keep your favourites in case you drop by.” She held it out to him and, miserably, he shook his head. Somehow if he had one Charity would know. She just would.

“Good heavens, Hugh. It’s not as if you need to lose weight.”

“They’ll clog my arteries,” he mumbled without looking at her. He knew she’d have a disbelieving look on her face and he didn’t want to see it.

Quiet shrouded the room. Hugh could hear birds outside, the tick of a clock further into the house, wind chimes in the garden. He tried very hard to drink his tea without making a noise that would reverberate around the place like water going down a plughole.

“Hugh, my friend. Have you met another woman?”

He brought his head up so sharply his whole body jerked and tea slopped into the saucer. He gazed mutely at Lydia. He didn’t want to tell her when he hadn’t told Liz. It wouldn’t be right.

“You haven’t told Liz, yet, have you?” she asked gently.

How could she read his mind? Charity could do it, too.

“Don’t worry,” Lydia added when Hugh didn’t reply. “I won’t tell her if you don’t want me to.”

“No, thanks Lydia. I want to tell her myself. That’s why I called round today but someone came to the door before I could tell her.”

In the face of Lydia’s slightly amused expression he relented. “You’re right. I chickened out of telling her. I don’t know why. How did you know anyway?”

Why she should look at him so pityingly he had no idea. She merely said, “I think you should relax a bit, have a nice cup of tea with milk in it, and a few brandy snaps. No one will know and you’ll feel better for it. Tell me about your woman.”

“Fiancée,” he corrected. “She’s my fiancée. But I’m not quite sure how it happened.” The familiar feeling of puzzlement swept over him. Glancing at Lydia he added hastily, “I do love her though.” Gratefully he accepted the fresh tea and crunched happily into a brandy snap.

“Well, it was time to move on, Hugh,” Lydia said gently. “You and Liz have been apart for a few years now.”

“Two and a fifth,” he said absently. Two years, seventy three days, to be exact. Not that he was counting, of course. He just had a thing about numbers, that was all. “Life is much more peaceful. And my new fiancé is much easier to deal with and completely different to Liz. And look how I failed with Liz — I mean, a more serene relationship is better all round, don’t you think?”

“More serene? Do you mean less passionate? Or less exciting?”

“No, I mean less rows and aggro and discomfort.”

“Is it love?”

“How can one tell? I thought it was love with Liz, but look how that turned out. Maybe what I have now is the way it should be. Quiet contentment.”

“With no brandy snaps in your life.”

He flushed.

“I’m sorry, Hugh. I wish you all the best. I truly do.”

“I tried to suffocate Liz, tried to stifle her and she rebelled. Now I’m with someone with all the opposite personality traits — and she’s tidy — I should be more successful.” A wave of sadness threatened to overcome him, but he knew he’d been bad for Liz and he also knew it was time to move on. Talking of which…

“I must go now, Lydia. Thanks for the tea — and the brandy snaps.”

“Anytime, Hugh. You know you’re always welcome.”

“And if you could keep my news to yourself I’d appreciate it.”

“You can rely on me.”

Hugh pecked her on the cheek and hurried off to Charity’s. On the way he stopped at a newsagent to get some mints in case she could smell brandy snaps on his breath.

Chapter One of ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ here.

Chapter Three of ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ here.

All ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ chapters to read are here.

I own the copyright and have asserted my right to be identified as the author of this book in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.

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