‘I had an interior designer take care of everything and it works for me. I’m seldom there.’
‘So who took care of furnishing the house?’ Susie asked curiously.
Sergio flushed. ‘Someone else.’
‘And you...supervised the whole thing?’
‘I had some input, yes.’
Startled, she said, ‘I can’t picture you going to a fabric shop and choosing what colour you wanted the curtains to be...or having a browse in a sofa shop for the right sofa... It used to take a lot of effort just getting you down to the local supermarket...’
‘But you have to admit,’ Sergio drawled, ‘that once I was there I was excellent when it came to getting what was needed.’
‘You were terrible. You never got anything that was actually necessary. You were always intrigued by weird ingredients and bright packaging. Like a kid.’
Had they reached that level of domesticity? How had that happened? When? How was it that he hadn’t noticed?
She hastily changed the subject. ‘I shall have to have a look around at the local shops. See what’s there and how I can get to them on public transport.’
‘Which brings me to the matter of you hopping on and off the tube or trying to hunt down a bus in winter. It doesn’t work.’
‘You mean I won’t be accessible by public transport?’ Susie asked, dismayed.
‘I mean I’m going to get you a car—and before you launch into a long speech about not needing one, you do, and the subject is non-negotiable. This is about doing what’s right for the woman who happens to be carrying my baby. To be blunt, the hassle of the Underground, the walk in winter to get there or to get to the nearest bus stop, and then the jostling, the crowds...unacceptable. You just need to decide what kind of car you want.’
‘A top-of-the-range Lamborghini...’ Susie said through gritted teeth.
Sergio burst out laughing. ‘Colour?’
‘I was joking.’
‘I wouldn’t have got you one. Impractical. If I’m in it with you, where would the baby go? On the roof?’
‘I actually hadn’t anticipated you being a passenger in my car,’ she said tersely, eyes narrowed at the grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Why would I be giving you a ride somewhere?’
‘Who knows?’ He gave one of those elegant gestures that were so typically foreign, so typically him. ‘What if you suddenly decide that you want company at a supermarket?’
‘That won’t be happening!’ And stop playing with me!
She pictured them browsing the aisles while he flung in exotic stuff that she instantly removed and returned to the shelves. Her heart twisted. Somewhere deep inside her she wondered whether she had been lulled into imagining that he felt more than just lust for her because she had had those little glimpses of pure happiness...
For him, it had stemmed from nothing more significant than the fact that he wanted her in his bed, and if the occasional supermarket shop came as part of the deal then he would oblige.
While for her those little things had been the building blocks cementing a relationship that had taken over her life.
‘I suppose a car would be useful,’ she conceded—partly because it was true, but mostly because she knew that he would end up getting his own way on this score anyway. ‘But something small and second-hand.’
‘I don’t do second-hand.’
This elicited a snort from Stanley in the front, and Sergio immediately slid the glass partition shut—though only after he had told his driver to concentrate on what he was being paid to do instead of eavesdropping. ‘But I can do small.’ He looked at his watch. ‘And there’s no time like the present.’
‘You’re going to buy me a car today?’
‘What’s the point in putting it off? The house is ready. You can move in tomorrow if you choose. You’ll need a car as soon as you’re installed.’
* * *
By six that evening she was the owner of a brand-new shiny black five-door hatchback. A top-of-the-range, all-dancing, all-singing hatchback, fully loaded with everything from satnav to air conditioning.
‘A house and a car,’ she admitted to her mother as she lay curled up on the saggy sofa in the depressing little room which she and Sergio had jointly agreed she would vacate the following day.