Lovestruck Read Free

Neasden. But they were outgrowing it and then, virtually overnight, they’d had the money to buy – not
any
house they wanted – they still couldn’t have afforded a maisonette in somewhere like Knightsbridge – but their dream house, their forever house, in a lovely area, with a huge garden and rooms going spare.
    She still couldn’t believe how simple the process had been. Rosie had said she wanted the house and Jake agreed (though it helped that his mother had also proclaimed it an excellent investment). They’d offered the asking price and been immediately accepted. All those years of scrimping, trying not to turn on the heating until November, buying nappies from Lidl, no holidays and suddenly this. Overnight, almost. Extraordinary.
    ‘Our Ikea furniture’s going to look so ridiculous in this room,’ Rosie grinned, looking around the cavernous space.
    ‘Looks better without all the crystal ornaments on the mantelpiece, though.’ Jake hugged her. ‘But you’re right. We’ll need to buy some new stuff. Get rid of those horrible curtains, put in shutters.’
    Rosie pulled back the curtains and looked down at the garden. A garden with planning permission for a swimming pool. As a child she’d always wanted a pool, considering it the acme of luxury. Though they’d have to wait a few years to install it – good Lord, could you imagine George around it? But when the boys were older, it would be a different matter.
    They could have a dog. They
could
have another baby, but Rosie wasn’t interested. She was so grateful and thrilled that she’d been able to jack in her job and spend more time with the boys, but at the same time the reality of being at home with small children wasn’t quite living up to her fantasy. It was messier than she’d imagined, noisier, more boring and sometimes more
lonely – though of course there were brilliant bits too. Still, the first item on her to-do list was finding a good nursery. Then she’d have mornings off, time to … she didn’t know. Well, do up the house obviously. She’d drive to antiques markets that started at dawn and scour eBay for finds just like people did in
Living Etc
, people whose children were called things like Indigo, Thorn and Bushfire.
    But then? Take up pottery? Start training for entry to
The Great British Bake Off
? Study for a PhD in Spanish literature? Who knew? At least she wouldn’t be strap-hanging on the Bakerloo line, beating herself up because Toby had a rash and she’d said nothing about it to the nursery staff or having to deal with dreary Cillian at the next-door desk complaining about his adenoids.
    Only eighteen months ago that had been her life. She’d been working in that little office in Paddington for Tapper-Green IT Consultants, earning OK-ish money, but money that all seemed to be going on nursery fees Jake was a struggling actor, often doing gigs for free, just to get his face seen. Rosie was exhausted from rushing from home to nursery to work to nursery to home again, too grumpy and tired to really enjoy the boys. But just as she was teetering on the verge of a nervous breakdown, about to beg Jake to jack in the acting dream and find a proper job, he got the part in
Archbishop Grace
.
    It was an overnight sensation. From being a nobody, people had started pointing and nudging at her
husband as he walked down the street. They asked for autographs when he was standing in the queue at Tesco’s. A man had approached him the other day in Oxford Street and picked him up and licked his face. People filmed him peeing in public toilets. Everywhere he went, people yelled out his catchphrase: ‘Not under
my
patio.’ Everyone thought this was hilarious. Rosie had trained herself to smile when they did it, even though the joke had long lost its lustre.
    He was interviewed constantly for every publication imaginable. He had four hundred and fifty-three thousand-odd followers on Twitter and had closed down his Facebook page because so