Follow My Lead Episode 08
Follow My Lead
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Lydia had sat down on the bed and yawned widely.
“It’s been a long day.” She sighed. “I’d better bring my luggage in before I fall asleep right here.”
“How about a cup of tea first?” Danielle suggested.
Soon they were sitting in the living-room, with Lydia on the sofa and Danielle in the armchair, her feet on the embroidered leather pouffe Lydia had given her years ago – a souvenir from Morocco.
Lydia raised her steaming mug in salute.
“Cheers, Danielle. You’re a lifesaver. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come to my rescue.”
“Well, Mum did mention something about sofa surfing,” Danielle teased. “But you’re welcome.”
Lydia’s head drooped to rest on the sofa’s back, and her eyes roamed the room, cosy in the lamplight as the evening darkened outside.
“I don’t remember this room being so pretty.
“Wasn’t there awful floral wallpaper when you first moved in?
“It looks so fresh now that I’d swear I can still smell the paint!”
“Yes. It’s this weird new air freshener.” Danielle forced a laugh and took a gulp of her tea.
She didn’t want to tell Lydia about the past week of frantic redecoration in case it made her feel like she’d imposed.
Danielle stood up.
“Shall we have dinner before we fetch your bags?
“It’s been in the slow cooker all day and it’ll only take a minute to put it out.”
“Lovely. I might just close my eyes for a moment.”
Danielle glanced back at her from the doorway and felt a surge of sympathy.
Her godmother looked shattered.
She took her time in the kitchen, tiptoeing back and forth to set the tiny dropleaf table in the corner of the living-room.
Only when she had carried the food through did she gently nudge Lydia awake.
She came to the table with an appreciative smile.
“This looks delicious.”
“It’s just chicken casserole,” Danielle replied modestly, pouring two glasses of wine.
“So, has your week been horrendous?” she asked as they ate.
Lydia grimaced.
“Awful. The end of my career, basically. That was bad enough, but then I had to give up the flat, too.
“Packing so much of my life into storage was hard, and goodness knows when I’ll see it again.” She shook her head. “It’s the strangest experience.
“For the first time ever I’m not sure where I go from here. But tomorrow is another day.
“I’m sure everything will look much better after a good night’s sleep.
“Which reminds me.” Lydia put her napkin on the table. “If you give me the keys, I’ll get my case.”
“Let me. You finish your wine. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Outside, dark had fallen, the air soft and scented from the garden.
Danielle turned the handle on the van’s back door and it wouldn’t budge.
“I don’t believe it,” she muttered.
Lydia had come to the door and stood silhouetted against the hall light.
“Do you need a hand?” she called.
Danielle turned.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but the lock’s just broken, and your luggage is still inside.”
What had wakened her? Lydia opened her eyes.
There it was again. A car horn.
She picked up her phone from the bedside table and saw that it was eight-twenty a.m. Late for her.
She heaved a sigh and stretched. What a wonderful night’s sleep she’d had. When had she last felt so relaxed?
Of course, it had begun last night.
Poor Danielle. She’d been so upset about her luggage, but goodness, how they’d laughed!
It had been a better tonic than any medicine.
Stretching again, she lay for a moment. It was blissfully quiet now.
Was Danielle up yet? She’d said she would be working today.
Thinking about her goddaughter made her smile. She’d forgotten what a creature of habit she was.
They’d had a lovely cosy dinner last night, full of fond recollections of visits and childhood outings, but she’d had to hide a smile when Danielle had served the chicken casserole.
As she’d said, it was what she always had on Fridays.
Having someone to stay like this was going to be challenging for a girl who thrived on routine.
“Lydia, my dear,” she muttered to herself, “you must do your best not to get under her feet.”
In fact, she’d shower now while the house was quiet.
Of course, she remembered, she’d have to put on yesterday’s clothes.
However, as she threw back the duvet and leapt out of bed, she noticed a little pile of clothes on the chair inside the door: T-shirt, grey sweatshirt and daisy-patterned lounge pants, all neatly folded and smelling of fabric softener.
Lydia smiled. It was so thoughtful of Danielle.