by Beth Corby
‘So, just invite my family and announce I’m inheriting?’ I ask, grimacing at this forgotten fly in the ointment. I let out a slow breath. My family. Right now, I think I’d rather face Mrs Jennings again.
‘Exactly so,’ agrees Mr Sanderson.
I glance at Alec. ‘Do I have to invite them all, or will a token selection do?’
‘All of them, I’m afraid,’ says Alec. ‘As close as you can get to the original party.’
I pull a face. ‘Could be tricky. I’m not their favourite person, but if I invite them for afternoon tea they might come, just out of curiosity. Do you think Mrs Crumpton would mind catering?’
‘We’ll ask her,’ says Alec.
Mr Sanderson nods briskly, and I can tell he’s trying to hurry us along. He hands me an envelope labelled ‘Upon Completion’. ‘The final letter for when you have successfully completed this last task. Good luck,’ he says, and we leave him carefully closing the file and putting it back in his filing cabinet.
Walking back, I glance shyly at Alec. ‘So, you’re Judith’s heir?’
Alec looks a little sheepish. ‘Yes, and you’re Donald’s.’
‘Why don’t you tell anyone?’
He shrugs. ‘People act oddly when they find out I’m rich – especially women.’
Lauren would have welded herself to him if she’d known Alec was rich as well as good-looking. ‘But isn’t it a bit hypocritical of Donald to want me to broadcast that I’m an heiress when he helped you keep your inheritance a secret?’ I can think of several reasons for keeping it to myself – Lauren being one of them.
‘Ah, but you see, my family knows,’ he points out. ‘I just keep it to myself when I meet new people.’
We walk along in silence for a while, until I slow to a stop. Alec looks at me curiously.
I look up at him, afraid to even start. I take a deep breath. ‘So, when you said in Mr Sanderson’s office that you “knew properly” after the ballet, what did you mean, exactly?’
Alec looks away and shifts his weight. ‘I knew that I had fallen for you,’ he says to the pavement. ‘Do you feel the same way about me?’ He looks at me searchingly.
I can’t stop myself smiling, and his expression moves to echo mine. ‘Yes,’ I say simply. ‘But why didn’t you say something?’ I ask, half-irritated. ‘Why did you kiss me in the river, and again in London, and not explain?’
He turns, suppresses a smile, and blows out a breath. ‘Fair questions,’ he says, taking my hand in his and we start walking again. ‘For one thing, Donald made me promise to help you through the tasks. He wanted me to look after you like a sister because, from what he saw of your family, he didn’t think they’d be very helpful.’ He’s not wrong. Alec stops and looks anxiously at me. ‘I was under strict orders to support you and not cause you stress or distress,’ he explains. ‘That worked out well! By the third task I couldn’t stop myself kissing you.’
I’ve thought about that kiss a lot, and the words ‘stress and distress’ do cover what happened afterwards. I take a deep breath. ‘And that’s why you dropped me and bolted for the car?’
Alec shrugs.
‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’
‘Because I was just as shocked as you were – I had no idea whether what I was feeling was genuine, or a manifestation of grief. I just knew I wasn’t thinking clearly. Then afterwards, what with Mrs Jennings and Lauren . . .’
I try not to react to the thought of him entwined with Lauren, but it’s tricky. ‘So, what did happen between you and Lauren?’
He sighs heavily. ‘When she first arrived, I was angry with myself for kissing you, angry at you for being angry at me, and I’m ashamed to say I was nice to her. Perhaps a little overly nice,’ he concedes, ‘but I was trying to see if you had any feelings for me. I’m not proud of it. But you didn’t react, and then Lauren became this rampant flirt, clamping onto my arm and laughing at everything I said. I found her quite alarming, to be honest.’
‘And then she kissed you,’ I can’t help prompting.
‘Yes. She kissed me,’ he stresses. ‘Believe me, there was nothing at all from my side. I explained that to her, and how it would make things difficult if you got the wrong impression, and she said she quite understood. She said she’d explain everything to you, and stupidly, I accepted what she said at face value.’ He sighs and shakes his head.
Passing the churchyard, I spot Donald’s grave. ‘You can see how it looked from my perspective—’
Alec stops and looks at me earnestly. ‘The only person I chose to kiss was you – and I wasn’t even supposed to.’
‘The lure of forbidden fruit,’ I comment drily as we start walking again.
‘No, just you.’
‘Then in London?’ I ask.
‘In London, everything went wrong, and then on my way back I realised something awful. What if you failed to complete the tasks because of me, or something I did? What if you walked away because I’d upset you? I could have ruined everything for you, for Donald, for me, even for Mrs Crumpton! And it wasn’t like I could tell you The Laurels was at stake without invalidating the will or letting Donald down – it was crucial you didn’t know until the tasks were completed.’
‘So you backed off?’
Alec nods. ‘But only because I was worried you might lose your inheritance. Plus, I could see how angry you were and I didn’t want to make it worse.’
‘So where does that leave us now?’ I ask, stopping under the laurel bushes on the drive.
Alec looks down into my eyes and even in the cool shade I feel my insides melting. ‘You know how I feel about you, so I guess it’s up to you.’
‘Is it?’ I ask, my heart beating faster and my voice barely above a whisper.
‘Yes,’ he says softly. ‘Though perhaps you should leave deciding until after we’ve completed this final task. That would be more in keeping with Donald’s instructions to me, at least.’
It makes sense, but I don’t want to leave everything hanging in the balance until then. ‘How about, once we’re through this final task, we go on a date? I mean, I know a lot of what we’ve done could be construed as dates, and we’ve been living in the same house, but I don’t think it’s the same when you are being told to go by an elderly relative from beyond the grave.’
‘No,’ he agrees, breaking into a grin. ‘It’s not the same, and a date is a great idea. But can I be given one allowance between now and then?’
‘What?’
‘Just let me kiss you. I have spent so long stopping myself, it would be a massive relief to be able to.’
Rather than answering, I stand on my tiptoes and lift my chin. He wraps his arms around me. Looking deeply into my eyes he slowly and deliberately lowers his lips onto mine as if savouring every last second and as soon as they touch I melt into the kiss just as I did at the river. The laurels swirl and every sense between us heightens as the world falls away. After a long while we break apart, a little breathless.
‘Damn it, let’s get your relatives here,’ he growls, holding me so close that our noses are almost touching. He delicately brushes away a stray strand of hair from my temple, then touches his lips to my cheek.
‘Agreed,’ I breathe, and grin as I imagine Lauren’s reaction if she knew this was one of our motivations for having them visit. Alec grins too, and letting me go with one last look of tenderness, he leads me inside to find Mrs Crumpton.
Chapter 27
Mrs Crumpton is oddly pleased about staying on at The Laurels given that Donald has left her enough money to retire. I even spot her scuffing away a tear as if it has no business being there. ‘I can’t stand the idea of havin’ nothing to do,’ she explains, then instantly regrets it when we ask her to cater for a tea party in three days’ time.
Still, she agrees, and I phone and invite everyone, with nerves fluttering in my stomach for each and every phone call. Mum and Dad accept immediately, and also agree on Lauren’s behalf – which I think i
s pretty brave of them. Grandma Betty complains that it’s a long way, but I can tell she’s curious about what I’ve been up to, and is just keeping me on my toes. The most difficult person to convince is Aunty Pam. I try buttering her up, which doesn’t work, but she finally agrees when I tell her there’ll be a special announcement – she’d hate to be the only person not to know something. Thankfully, she says she’ll make Nicholas come, too.
The next few days skip by in a flurry of activity, with me frequently having to pinch myself to believe this could soon be my home. I keep catching myself grinning at unexpected moments. Alec and I shop, tidy and generally do as we’re told by Mrs Crumpton to make the place ready. In between times, we go out for walks, and sometimes I write and Alec plays his guitar. I also read more Isadora Layton novels, which I’m not ashamed to say I find completely addictive. In the evenings, Alec is keen to hear what I think about them, and we debate endlessly over which parts are fiction and which are based on Donald’s actual experiences. It’s sometimes difficult to know if we are still discussing Donald, or obliquely referring to us, but it’s lovely – flirty and full of a promise that makes my stomach turn cartwheels whenever I think about it.
This morning, knowing my family are coming today, my stomach has shrunk to the size of a pea. I’m unable to capture any of the happiness I’ve been feeling over the last few days, and I wander into the kitchen to find Mrs Crumpton grimly stirring porridge, and Alec sat at the table moodily nursing a cup of instant coffee.
Mrs Crumpton gives me a curt nod. ‘Mornin’,’ she says, leaving off the ‘good’. ‘It’s today, then,’ she adds, giving the ceiling a hard look. ‘What time are they gettin’ ‘ere?’
‘Two.’
‘I’ve made cakes,’ she says, jerking her head at the sideboard where three cakes are cooling. ‘An’ I’ll be makin’ scones and biscuits. If you want porridge, help yourself.’
I take a clean bowl and ladle out some porridge as Mrs Crumpton gets on with removing the cake tins and peeling off the baking paper.
‘Nervous?’ asks Alec as I sit down opposite him.
‘A bit, but I keep reminding myself that I shouldn’t feel ashamed or guilty about Donald choosing me. So long as I remember that, I should be OK.’
‘And you never know, they might be happy for you,’ he says.
‘Hmm,’ I say doubtfully. ‘Acceptance would be a start.’
Alec’s head dips in acknowledgement. ‘I guess that’s more reasonable to expect. My family weren’t too happy about my grandmother choosing me, either, but since she and I always had a special bond, it wasn’t much of a shock.’ His face darkens. ‘There were a few snide comments about me now being able to squat in my own property, but apart from that they pretty much kept their thoughts to themselves. How do you think your family will react?’
‘Honestly? They’ll be shocked, but how that will manifest itself, we’ll just have to wait and see.’
‘Fair enough. So, what do you want to do this morning?’
I glance over at Mrs Crumpton. ‘Well, seeing as this is a team effort, what would be most helpful?’
Mrs Crumpton presses her lips together in thought. ‘Wash up, then give the place a good vacuuming. That would be a real help.’
I grin at Alec. ‘Do you want to wash or dry?’
The house is ready. Mrs Crumpton has an amazing array of baking waiting on wire racks in the kitchen and I’ve come upstairs to run a brush through my hair. I look in the mirror and decide I’m pretty much ready, so after rereading Donald’s instructions, I put the letter in my pocket for luck and head downstairs.
‘You look lovely,’ says Alec as I come into the drawing room.
‘Thanks, so do you.’ He’s made an effort – his blue shirt is crisp, and he’s used something in his hair. He looks down at himself and shrugs. I don’t think he has a clue how sexy he is.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asks, and all my worries flip up like cardboard gunmen at a shooting range.
‘Umm, OK?’ I say, but my voice is unnaturally high. In fact, I’m feeling a lot like I did before Mrs Jennings came that last time. Alec smiles and wraps his strong arms around me, resting his head against my hair. A little of my tension seeps away and is replaced by something quite different. He pulls back slightly and, almost as if he can’t help himself, kisses my lips, butterfly-light. My breath catches and I look up at him.
‘Let’s get this done, first,’ I say firmly, not wanting to greet everyone looking flushed, and he chuckles and lets go.
‘Just remember, it doesn’t matter how this goes, you just have to get through it.’
I nod, but I want to prove myself – perhaps even make myself proud. What was it Donald wrote? Stand tall, and something about being bullet-proof?
There’s a crunch of car tyres on the gravel outside, and I pat the letter for luck before going with Alec to the front door.
I glance at him before opening it. ‘Ready?’ I ask.
‘Donald asked me the exact same thing on the day I first met you.’
‘Like uncle, like niece,’ I laugh, and taking this as a good omen, I pull open the front door.
Grandma Betty and Grandpa Albert are already parked. Uncle Nigel is pulling in beside them and Nicholas’s Porsche has just come into the parking area – so I’m guessing he didn’t take Donald’s advice to ditch it.
Watching them all, I remember my first impressions of The Laurels and realise I’m now standing in Donald’s place. I try to imagine what he saw. Uncle Nigel is crouched, peering at his front bumper, probably checking for dings from the gravel. Aunty Pam is stood looking as if her lips have been pursed for so long they’ve fused. Nicholas looks as conceited as ever. Grandpa Albert is gazing at the garden, and Grandma Betty is waiting for him to open her car door. Aunty Pam eventually helps her out.
It’s quite a performance, and Alec’s watching them with wry amusement. His eyes meet mine, and we exchange smiles.
‘Hannah!’ calls Grandma Betty as if she’s summoning a dog. I turn, shocked to find my perception of her has completely changed. She’s no longer Blast-off Betty, my unassailable grandmother who’s always been able to make me feel small; she’s Donald’s go-kart-busting, treacherous little sister.
‘Yes?’ I say, standing a little taller, and using a commanding voice that I wouldn’t have dared try on her a few weeks ago.
An uneasy smile flickers onto her lips and she squints slightly. ‘You’ve changed your hair!’
‘Yes.’ My voice is calm.
‘Hmm. Can you now tell me why you have invited us here today?’ I might be imagining it, but I think her tone is slightly less militant.
Aunty Pam’s head pops up, looking at me like a meerkat.
‘All will become clear,’ I say cheerily. ‘Do come in.’ It’s odd saying that, knowing this will soon be my home.
I stand a little more erect as Aunty Pam accosts me. ‘Well, Hannah, we’ve come. It was against my better judgement after how you treated Nicholas, but we’ve decided to give you the benefit of the doubt.’
I feel like I’ve been given a little kick up the behind, but if she’s expecting me to look shamefaced she’s going to be disappointed. ‘Thank you. I know it can’t have been easy given that you are under the mistaken impression that I told Donald about Nicholas’s adoption.’ My eyes slide over to where he’s schmoozing Grandma Betty.
‘Ugh, well,’ says Aunty Pam, looking less certain now.
‘Never mind. How about you go in and make yourself comfortable.’ I hold out my hand to show the way, and Aunty Pam, Uncle Nigel, Nicholas and Grandma Betty all make their way in.
‘Nicely done,’ Alec whispers.
Grandpa Albert is the only one left outside, and he’s rummaging about in the boot of his car. I stroll over to see what he’s doing, and he brings out a pair of wellies.
‘Ah, Hannah!’ he says as if he’s surprised to see me here. ‘I thought I might take a look at the garden, if that’s all right?�
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‘Of course, but would it be OK if you came in to hear my announcement first?’
‘Oh? Absolutely,’ he agrees sadly, putting his wellies back in the boot.
‘No, keep them out. It’ll only take a few minutes, and after that – help yourself.’ I’m pleased to see the smile return to his face. ‘Bringing wellies was a good idea.’
‘They’re a compromise,’ he explains, examining them as if they’re an odd invention. ‘I’m allowed to “grub about in the garden”, so long as I don’t “ruin my trousers and shoes”.’
‘That’s good. How are things with the allotment?’
A look of rapture spreads across his face. ‘Wonderful! I go there most days and I’ve been sowing carrots, beetroot, runner beans, radishes, fennel . . . Well, I don’t want to bore you with it all, but I love it down there. The chap on the neighbouring plot is marvellous. He’s called John. We share flasks of tea.’
‘Sounds great. Does Grandma Betty go with you?’
The mischievous smirk takes years off Grandpa Albert. ‘She followed me down there once, but John said she was stunting the plants speaking like that. She’s not been down since. Mind if I leave these in the porch?’ he asks, holding up the wellies.
‘Not at all. And come in for tea and cake later if you like . . . or there’s a door around the side. I’m sure Mrs Crumpton will give you a mug of tea and some biscuits.’ I’m confident she won’t mind as I’m guessing her husband probably did the same.
‘Lovely,’ says Grandpa Albert and, hearing another car, heads off into the house, leaving me to welcome Lauren and my parents.
As Dad parks, Alec strolls over to join me. Mum looks worried, and Lauren is eyeing me from the back seat with an expression that would, a few centuries ago, have landed her on a ducking stool.
‘Hello,’ I say as they get out.
‘Hannah?’ Mum says, her eyes wide. ‘You look amazing.’