Free I Should Be So Lucky by Judy Astley

kicking and screaming through his A levels by the skin of his expensively straightened teeth. He’s an estate agent now.’ He laughed . She wasn’t sure how to respond, not knowing him well enough to guess whether he’d appreciate sympathy or (her preferred choice) a sardonic response such as ‘Aha, so there is a God!’
    ‘So … um …’ She stumbled along. ‘If it’s still all right, I was wondering about coming to see the nursery soon? Would that be OK?’
    ‘Yes – please do. Today? Now? Lunch?’ He seemed very enthusiastic – perhaps he was hoping she’d buy a whole border’s worth of herbaceous perennials.
    It was just after 9 a.m. and there were no classes that day, although she intended to call in at Med and Gib briefly before lunch to find out the timings for her exam supervision duties. Her students had opted for study leave, which, in most of their cases, was an oxymoron if ever there was one. But this morning she’d arranged to call in on the rental agent and collect the keys to Bell Cottage, then go and have a quick look over the place while Rachel was at school.
    Marco had sweetly offered to go with her and she’d accepted, not because the visit risked renewing old unhappiness – she could (at least, she’d thought she could, till the dream wrecked her sleep) deal with that – but because being a designer he had a fine eye for colour. He could be relied on to help with any new paint choices and steer her away from impulsive inclinations towards purple ceilings or an excess of gloomy taupe. Marco had a late-morning meeting in Fulham and couldn’t spare a lot of time, so perhaps she could do both – after all, they wouldn’t have to do more at the house than just check to see how clean it was and what needed fixing, replacing or painting. How long could that take, even allowing for a drop-in at the college?
    ‘Yes, OK – at about midday? Would that be all right? I just need to …’
    ‘… put some clothes on?’ He finished the sentence she’d had no intention of saying out loud.
    ‘
What
? How did you …?’
    ‘Oh God, I’m sorry!’ He sounded amused but flustered. ‘Sorry, I was just being flippant. I didn’t mean … Are you
really
not wearing anything? Aaagh! Sorry!’
    ‘It’s fine.’ She couldn’t help giggling. ‘No worries, I’ll see you later.’
    He coughed and put on a mock-serious voice. ‘Absolutely. I’ll tidy the place up a bit and get the best roses stacked at the front to tempt you in and to grovel for your forgiveness for my untoward remarks. You know how to find us?’
    ‘I do – I Googled you, just quickly for the address.’
    ‘Great, see you in a while then. Just come into the office and ask for me if I’m not around, but I will be. Oh and, er … drive carefully.’
    She could almost see his teasing smile. She was grinning broadly herself, she realized, as she clicked the phone off and caught sight of her flushed, beaming face in the bedroom mirror. Lucky nobody really
was
watching her make that call – naked, giggling: a touch of the Slightly Mad, possibly.
    It felt strange to Viola to have the keys to Bell Cottage back on her keyring and, added to her others, feeling pleasingly heavy in her hand. It had been so long now since she had had the removal team in, swiftly packed up all but the most basic furniture and banished almost all of her and Rachel’s possessions to the Big Yellow storage lock-up. She’d walked away from the house without once looking back, not wanting her last impression of it to be the damaged magnolia tree with its clumsily taped-on photos of Rhys and the badly spelled messages of devotion pinned to the gate alongside rotting flowers sealed inside rain-spattered cellophane. It would all be all right, she told herself now as she turned the car into the avenue and drove past the church; whatever Kate and Miles thought about how and where she should live, it was definitely time to come back. It would all work out. And if