The Undomestic Goddess
Page 91

The sky is an endless, evening blue and there’s the smell of honeysuckle in the air. Music is burbling away gently in the background and Nathaniel’s hand is resting casually on my thigh. I have never felt so content in my life.
“Presents!” says Trish suddenly. “We haven’t done presents!”
I’m pretty sure she’s drunk more champagne than anyone else. She lurches unsteadily over to the table, searches in her bag, and produces an envelope. “This is a little bonus, Samantha,” she says, handing it to me. “To spend on a treat for yourself.”
“Thank you!” I say, taken aback. “That’s … incredibly kind of you!”
“We’re not increasing your pay,” she adds, eyeing me with slight mistrust. “You do understand this isn’t a raise or anything. It’s just a one-off.”
“I understand,” I say, trying not to smile. “It’s very generous of you, Mrs. Geiger.”
“I’ve got something too.” Iris reaches into her basket and produces a parcel wrapped in brown paper. Inside I find four shiny new bread tins and a rose-sprigged, goffered apron. I can’t help laughing out loud.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll put these to good use.”
Trish is peering at the bread tins. “But … surely Samantha has loads of bread tins already?” she says, picking one up in her manicured hand. “And aprons?”
“I took a chance,” Iris says, her eyes twinkling at me.
“Here you are, Samantha.” Melissa hands me a Body Shop shampoo gift set, which I know for a fact has been sitting in Trish’s bathroom cupboard since I got here.
“Thanks,” I say politely. “You shouldn’t have.”
“And, Melissa,” chimes in Trish, abruptly abandoning interest in the bread tin, “stop making extra work for Samantha! She can’t spend all her time running after you! We can’t afford to lose her, you know.”
Melissa opens her mouth to retort.
“And this is from me,” says Nathaniel, stepping in quickly. He hands me a tiny present wrapped in white tissue paper, and everyone turns to see what it is.
I unwrap the little parcel, and a pretty silver charm bracelet falls into my hand. There’s only one charm on it: a tiny wooden spoon. I give another snuffle of laughter. A frilly apron, and now a wooden spoon.
Neither Nathaniel nor Iris knows the details of my real life—and yet in some ways I feel they know me better than anyone else in the world. They’ve seen me frazzled and incompetent, at my most vulnerable. I haven’t had to put on a front or act efficient or pretend I know everything.
“It reminded me of the first time we met,” says Nathaniel, his mouth curving into a smile.
“It’s … fantastic.” I put my arms round him and kiss him. “Thank you so much,” I murmur into his ear.
Trish is watching with avid eyes as we draw apart.
“Well, it’s obvious what drew you to Samantha,” she says to Nathaniel. “It was her cooking, wasn’t it?”
“It was her chickpeas,” agrees Nathaniel gravely.
Eamonn has been up on the terrace. Now he bounds down the steps and hands me a bottle of wine. “This is from me,” he says. “It’s not much, but—”
“Oh, that’s lovely!” I say, touched. “Thanks, Eamonn.”
“And I was going to ask, would you be interested in waitressing ever?”
“At the pub?” I say in surprise, but he shakes his head.
“Private functions. We have a little concern going in the village. It’s not really a business, more like passing on work to friends. Make a little extra money, that kind of thing.”
Passing on work to friends. I suddenly feel a little warm glow inside.
“I’d love to. Thanks for thinking of me.”
Eamonn grins. “And there’s a drink or two waiting for you behind the bar if you want to come along?”
“Well … er …” I glance at Trish. “Maybe later …”
“You go!” says Trish. “Enjoy yourselves! Don’t think about work! We’ll put the dirty glasses in the kitchen,” she adds, “and you can deal with them tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Geiger.” I force myself to remain straight-faced. “That’s very … good of you.”
“Oh, and Samantha.” She beckons me over with her glass. “I was thinking about what you said to me the other day. About finding myself a little project of my own. Not that my life isn’t extremely busy already …”