The Trophy Wife by Evie Baxter
Fifteen
Iknew what Tori was up to. Using her daughter as both a barrier between us, and a deterrent. She miscalculated though, because I found the little sprite fascinating. Before I had left their village, Isla had a full blown conversation with me about which picnic foods she preferred, and which ones should never be included under any circumstances. That child knew her own mind.
Egg sandwiches were a huge no thank you. Sausage rolls, on the other hand, were a must have. She said she liked cucumber, carrots and red peppers. Cookies and cakes were always to be included. But her favourite picnic treat was watermelon. Then, she whispered to me, I was not to bring fizzy drinks because her mummy didn’t allow her to have any. Even if she did like them, she confided. Going on to say that her friend Imogen’s mummy gave them some at Imogen’s birthday party.
All the while Isla informed me of what the perfect picnic should consist of Tori’s mother stood to the side watching our exchange with amusement, obviously used to Isla’s chattiness. Also assessing how I interacted with her granddaughter closely. She introduced herself as Collette but said little else, letting Isla do all the talking.
The route out the village was much less hazardous to my car than the one I had taken to it, thanks to Tori’s directions. Soon I found myself back on the motorway, southward bound, with lots on my mind.
Any doubts I had harboured about Robert Alder had been dispelled by Tori’s reaction to me raising my voice. It had been instinctive, her logic not able to read the situation correctly when I had stood abruptly. The image of Tori cowering would forever be etched in my memory.
The thoughts of what kind of abuse she had undergone to make her still react like that five years on didn’t bear thinking about. I would have to find out though. Because I wanted more with Tori and there was no way I could succeed in wooing her if I didn’t know the demons that chased her.
One step at a time. First a picnic, during which I had to impress Isla as well as her mother. During the week, I ordered a classic picnic hamper online. Woven willow, suitcase style, with leather buckle closures, and secure fittings for the four place settings inside, as well as a matching cool bag. The kind of picnic basket you seldom saw outside of the movies but seemed so appropriate for the following weekend.
I spoke to the proprietors of my favourite deli and we formulated a menu between us. Then I dropped the picnic basket off with them and they promised to have it packed and ready for me to pick up on Sunday morning. Thank goodness they ran a café too so were open all weekend.
I bought a plaid wool picnic blanket that came in its own leather harness for carrying. Then I went shopping for a few more items. I was rather enjoying the challenge of making the perfect date out of what I knew Tori believed to be insurmountable odds. I’d show her.
Sunday rolled around and I loaded up the car after fetching the now full hamper. The day had dawned bright and sunny, as if the world was on my side to make this date the best it could be. Tori had sent me the location of a country park a few miles from where she lived and asked me to meet her there. She was trying to keep me away from her safe haven and that was fine. For now.
I pulled into the car park an hour and a half or so after leaving home, looking around for the spot that Tori had said we should meet. Sure enough, there was a kiosk selling food for the ducks across a stretch of grass and standing by it were Tori and Isla.
As soon as Isla saw me, she was tugging at her mother’s hand, trying to drag her towards my car. I stifled a chuckle as Tori tried and failed to control her daughter, and reluctantly made her way over to where I stood unloading items from the boot of my car.
“Goodness me, how much have you brought with you?” she exclaimed as she drew near. I looked down at my feet where the picnic basket rested with the rolled up blanket balanced on top. I was lifting a large blue canvas bag out and placed that down beside the basket. The last item was in a light blue carry case but was hard to disguise as there was a bright picture on the outside showing the contents.
“You brought me a kite?” Isla squealed excitedly.
“Isla,” Tori reprimanded. “You don’t know if the kite is for you.”
“But it has a rainbow butterfly on it, Mummy. I know it’s not for Bastian. I told him I looooooved butterflies. I did!”
I crouched down by the little girl. She was clad in denim dungaree shorts, over a pretty yellow t-shirt. “Did you tell me you loved butterflies? I must have forgotten. Because I love butterflies too,” I teased.
“Bastian!” Isla was having none of it. “Please tell me you bought me a kite. I have wanted one forever and ever!”
I couldn’t hold out on her, not with her beseeching, and I handed over the kite which was very obviously for her. “It’s for your almost five years old birthday. When you are almost five years old it should be properly celebrated. Then when you actually turn five, then you really celebrate properly. Flying a kite is a small celebration,” I whispered to her.
“Thank you,” Isla cried happily and then she threw her little arms around my neck, almost knocking me off my feet. Her warm body pressed against mine, all squirmy with happiness, and something inside me melted. I didn’t know much about children at all, but I knew I liked this one.
“We can fly it after lunch,” I told her.
“That’s a long time away,” Isla informed me.
“It is. But maybe I have something else to keep all of us entertained before lunch.”
“In that big, blue bag?” She looked at my other purchase with wide eyes that were so like her mother’s.
“Indeed. Lead the way to where you want to have our picnic and I will show you what’s inside.”
“Come on, Bastian.” She grabbed my hand, then turned to her mother who was standing by looking far too serious for such a lovely day. “Mummy, can we eat under my favourite big tree?”
“Yes, darling.” Tori bent and lifted the picnic basket and blanket in her hands and left the bulkier blue bag to me. She led the way across a broad grassy area that was populated by various groups enjoying the day the same as we were, and stopped under the broad branches of an oak tree on the far side of the field. All the while Isla chatted to me, making her mother’s continued silence all the more apparent.
“Are we going to feed the ducks while we are here? I do like feeding them, but not the swans. Because one tried to bite me once and while they are very pretty, they are also very, very mean, Bastian.”
Isla still held my hand as she dragged me along, pointing at some ducks that were resting on the grass, out of the water, and wagging her fingers at the swans that floated lazily around in the lake. Her little legs went as fast as her mouth did, easily setting a pace that suited me.
I smiled down at her head, the two plaits Tori must have put in that morning already mussed, with little wisps of hair sticking out everywhere in a delightful manner.
“Here we are. This is the best place to have our picnic, because if we are in the sunshine Mummy will make me wear my hat and I hate that hat.” Isla stopped under the tree and threw her arms wide to indicate that this was our chosen spot.
“What’s wrong with your hat?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
“It makes my head sweaty. That’s what’s wrong with it,” she informed me. She let out a big, dramatic sigh, then went on. “But I know I have to wear it in the sunshine, and sun cream too, because otherwise I will burn to a crisp!”
“Isla,” Tori interjected, “Let Mr. Locke get a word in edgewise.”
“His name is Bastian, Mummy. He told me I could call him that. You heard him!”
I smirked as I watched Tori do an eyeroll, thinking that the only time I saw the person she really was, was in her interactions with her daughter.
“Fine, Bastian. But just give other people a chance to talk, sweetheart.”
The little girl did a fine imitation of her mother, rolling her eyes as well, but managed a respectful, “Yes, Mummy.”
The plaid blanket was spread, and the picnic basket placed at the base of the tree while Isla knelt beside the big blue canvas bag with bated breath, desperate to see what other surprise I had brought with me.
I pulled the zip open to reveal a tidy stack of wooden blocks that measured approximately 12” by 4” by 4”. Isla looked at the contents in awe. Then she asked, “What is it?”
“It’s a giant Jenga game.” She still looked perplexed.
“You know the game, Isla,” Tori told her. “We have the small sized one we play at home on the table. Where we stack all the blocks, and we take turns pulling a block out from the stack and then placing it on top. The person who causes the stack to tumble loses.”
Isla leapt up and down in excitement. “I know the game. I’m good at that game. But this one is ginormous.” She stopped and frowned at it. “How will I reach the top if it’s so big?”