The Best of Friends Alex Day (best short novels .TXT) 📖

‘Thank you,’ I reply simply. I don’t know what else to say. It’s so unexpected but so delightful that I’m nonplussed. A multi-millionaire who’s not too self-important to mend a tap. That is someone truly special.

The match is a tough one. Dan has muscle and height, but as well as being more fleet of foot, I have precision on my side. And I’ve built strength and fitness over the past few months so I’m feeling better than I have since my youth. You could say that, as tennis opponents, Dan and I are perfectly paired.

The first set goes to him, and I have to muster all the resilience I have to up my game in set two. I win it, six-four. Set three goes to a tie-break, which I take by a hair’s breadth.

Dan is surprisingly magnanimous in defeat; perhaps Charlotte has painted an exaggeratedly bad picture of him to me. As he shakes my hand, his eyes meet mine.

‘Nicely done, Ms Carr,’ he congratulates me. ‘There was a fluidity and determination in your game – or should I say in yourself – today that I had no chance against.’

I incline my head graciously and accept the compliment. I even do it without blushing.

‘Quick coffee?’ Dan asks. ‘Charlotte doesn’t like anyone around and interfering when she’s cooking.’

She’s invited me and the boys to lunch – it’s not one of Justin’s weekends – and I’m looking forward to a feast. I’m also keen to see more of the inside of that beautiful manor house. I’ve only really been in the kitchen to date. We head for the cafe and I wonder how Naomi will behave when she sees Dan – will it be her normal embarrassingly over the top reaction? – but she’s busy in the kitchen and it’s one of the local schoolgirls doing her weekend shift who makes and brings our drinks.

‘You’re playing better and better,’ Dan says, leaning forward as if to show how serious he is. His right knee brushes against mine as he shifts position.

‘Thanks,’ I say. I should add something witty and clever but as always, I can’t think of anything right now. It’ll come to me hours too late, when I’m in the shower or cleaning the loo as is usually the way.

‘We should enter the league,’ he muses, furrowing his brow in concentration. ‘I think the playoffs start really soon, with the final at the end of September.’

He sips his steaming coffee. ‘Not a patch on the flat white you make,’ he comments, smiling. But then his expression changes, eyes narrowed in concern.

‘Have you noticed anything odd about Charlotte lately?’ he asks. There is an insistent, intent tone to his voice, as if he is determined to get to the bottom of it, whatever ‘it’ is. ‘Anything about her behaviour or her mood?’

I squirm and sit back in my chair to hide it. I hate talking about people when they’re not there. It always makes me feel as if I’m being disloyal – even if it’s good things that are being said. And discussing Charlotte, the person who’s held out the hand of friendship so generously since I’ve been here, makes me particularly awkward. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, clumsily crossing and uncrossing my legs. My knee inadvertently ends up in a position wedged against Dan’s. It feels a bit awkward and overly intimate, but I leave it there, feeling that to snatch it away will only draw more attention.

‘She does seem worried about something,’ I venture cautiously, considering how she’s been acting strangely for weeks now, all jumpy and nervous, her face pale and drawn despite all the ‘work’ she’s had. I don’t think it’s disloyal of me to let Dan know I have concerns, but on the other hand, if Charlotte wanted him to know about something that’s bothering her, I’m sure she’d tell him. Sharing and confiding is what husbands and wives do, one of the many reasons why partnership is so valuable and sought-after.

The only reason not to let on would be if one had something to hide – and I can’t believe that of her. Although on the other hand, one never knows … And then of course there’s the state of their relationship to consider. It just doesn’t seem, to the casual observer, to be very healthy, if truth be told. Charlotte says she loves Dan, but there’s no evidence of this in the way she acts with him or how she speaks to him. In fact, there’s plenty to the contrary.

Dan is looking at me intently, his eyes narrowed in concentration. ‘Worried in what way? About what?’ he questions. And then, without waiting for my answer, he blurts out, ‘I knew it. I absolutely knew it. She won’t come anywhere near me, won’t let me touch her, doesn’t want to—’ He breaks off mid-flow, as if aware he’s about to say something revealing. ‘Well, let’s just say she’s very distant,’ he resumes, returning to his usual measured tones, ‘and I can’t seem to put a foot right.’

I bite my lip, something I always do when I’m unsettled. ‘Perhaps it’s that she’s missing the twins now they’ve gone back to school,’ I venture, ‘and even the younger two aren’t around much, are they? It makes her feel old, to see her babies growing up. That’s what it’s like for women. It’s natural. She’ll get over it.’

A tentative smile breaks across his face, and the rather charming, anxious furrows on his forehead gradually smooth out. ‘Yes, of course, you’re right. That’s what it is, all it is.’

He seems to be thinking hard about something, then his next words come out in a rush. ‘I’ll find something to treat her with. Perhaps a piece of jewellery from that place she likes in Marylebone …’

I listen to Dan going on about whether Charlotte would prefer rubies or diamonds, gold or silver, a necklace or earrings or both.

‘Right now,’ I