The Mini-Break
Page 27
‘I’m going to make a cake for the village fete,’ I said when she paused to draw breath and I could get a word in edgeways.
‘The village fete? Cake? You’ve got no chance. Betty at the Cat and Convict always wins. Come along on Thursday next week. I’ll tell the girls, they’ll be so pleased.’
‘Isobel, while I have you on the line, I wondered if you and Will would like to come over for a drink?’ I screwed my face up and crossed my fingers. Which meant I almost dropped the phone. ‘The weather’s been so glorious, it’s a shame to waste it.’
‘Hang on …’ There was a moment’s silence while Isobel presumably checked her diary. She was back a few seconds later. ‘What day is it today? Friday? Tonight?’
‘Wonderful.’
‘I’ll have to bring Ivy – is that okay? I know she’s been badgering Joe to go and see you. It’s curry night at the Cat so I usually have her. Would you mind?’
I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Absolutely not! I don’t mean don’t bring her. I mean do bring her. I really wouldn’t mind if you brought her.’
Isobel chuckled. ‘I get the picture. Look we’ll come over about five. Or is that too early? I was planning a picnic sort of tea in the garden anyway.’
‘Great! That would be great! I love picnics.’
She rang off and I went to sort out the picnic table and chairs I had bought the other day but hadn’t actually taken out of the cardboard.
Three broken nails and a squashed finger later I was ready.
Picnic.
I could do this. I really did love picnics. Something Benedict and I had always disagreed on unless it was out of the back of a friend’s Range Rover at Glyndebourne. That particular evening was an event that bore no relation to what I thought of as a picnic. Crystal flutes, Pol Roger champagne, smoked salmon blinis and some revoltingly sweet cupcakes. Not a sausage roll, Hula Hoop or gala pie in sight. That life was behind me now. This was where I started again, where I got things right.
I put out some sandwiches and crisps and hulled a punnet of strawberries. I had been thinking of turning them into jam but had lost my nerve at the last minute.
What should I wear this evening?
I didn’t seem to have any jeans that fitted without having to undo the button if I sat down. I hadn’t yet got round to buying any moleskin trousers; thinking about it I hadn’t actually seen any for sale and let’s be honest they did sound rather hot. Perhaps I’d imagined them? I had some smart navy chinos and a couple of new sweaters that were okay. I dried my hair, made a bit of an effort with my make-up and went downstairs.
I sat in the window seat, watching the lane. I thought about Joe hungrily and wondered when I would next see him. When I did, would he be polite, passionate, matter-of-fact? Would we talk for a few minutes over a glass of wine and then pounce on each other? After all there had been a fair amount of pouncing in the past. I thought about Joe’s broad chest, how I had smoothed my hands over him, and I shivered.
By the time I heard the car coming up the lane I was quite dithery.
I went into the kitchen so it didn’t look as though I was lurking and when I heard the doorbell ring I counted to three before going to answer it.
‘Lulu! These are for you!’
It was Ivy, standing on my doormat with a bunch of flowers wrapped in brown paper that she thrust towards me.
‘Well thank you,’ I said, recovering myself quite well.
‘Welcome to Barracane House. These are from our garden. Daddy said you’d like them. I told him you were back and he said we should give you a present.’
She followed me into the kitchen where I found an empty jug, filled it with water and stuck the flowers in, pretending to arrange them.
‘Where is Grandma?’ I asked as casually as I could.
‘She’s getting the picnic from the car with Grandad,’ Ivy said. ‘Daddy’s putting some deckchairs out in the garden. He says you’ve got chickens. Can we go and see them?’
Daddy?
Ivy took my hand and pulled me outside. I rather liked the feel of her hand in mine, tugging me towards the henhouse. She stood entranced looking at my motley crew who were huddled in a corner, gently crooning.
‘They’re beautiful,’ she sighed. ‘I love chickens. I’d like some of my own. I like watching them. Don’t you think they’re gorgeous?’
‘Gorgeous,’ I agreed and I didn’t mean the chickens. I’d just caught sight of Joe and my heart was doing little excited jumps.
Joe was on what passed for my lawn, spreading a tartan rug over the bouncy grass and unfolding two blue striped deckchairs. Next to him was an impressive-looking wicker hamper fastened with leather straps. He looked up and grinned as we walked towards him, still hand in hand.
Isobel and Will came round the side of the house carrying a large red cool box between them and bickering about whether it was shady enough for Ivy and had she remembered to put on insect repellent.
‘You said you liked a picnic,’ Joe said, ‘so I thought this was as good a chance as any.’
‘I thought … curry night?’ I said.
He grinned at me, unfastened the cool box and pulled out a bottle.
‘This is much more fun. Hope you like champagne?’
‘Yes, I do. A lot!’ I said.
‘That’s good. Your grass needs mowing, I could come over and do it if you like? I don’t want you falling in again.’
His eyes locked with mine for a moment and I felt a wonderful surge of happiness shoot through me. This then turned into an unexpected surge of desire. This was very inappropriate considering I was still holding his daughter’s hand and his mother was next to me unfolding her picnic table and worrying about wasps.
‘Sit down,’ Ivy said. ‘We have sandwiches and cake too. I helped Grandma. They’re not very tidy but they taste okay. Tomato, which are my favourite, and egg mayonnaise, which are my second favourite.’
‘Marvellous,’ I said. ‘I’ll make sure I remember that.’
‘And I like strawberry cheesecake. Can you make that?’
‘I never have but I could try,’ I said.
‘Can I help when you do?’ Ivy said taking a bite of her sandwich.
‘Of course.’ I seemed to have a massive and untameable grin on my face that nothing was going to wipe off any time soon.
Joe held out a hand to me and I took it. He pulled me to sit down next to him on my new chairs while Isobel and Will parked themselves in the deckchairs. He uncorked the champagne and the cork shot off into the long grass accompanied by a squeal of excitement from Ivy. He handed me a glass.
‘How long are you here for this time?’ he said.
‘I’m here forever,’ I replied.
He smiled at me. ‘Forever?’
‘Forever.’
‘Then welcome to Devon, Louisa, Ivy will be so pleased.’ He stopped and gave a funny little smile that made my heart turn over. Then he leaned towards me and kissed my cheek very gently. ‘And so am I. I hope you’ll be very happy here.’
We chinked glasses.
‘I will,’ I said, and it somehow seemed prophetic.
Acknowledgements
This is my fourth book and its production has been made possible with the help of many people who have my thanks and gratitude.
To all the incredibly enthusiastic team at Avon Books UK especially Katie Loughnane, and editors Louise Buckley and Helena Newton. Also Becky Glibbery for my lovely book cover.
To my Twitter friends the LL’s who are always there with reassurance and humour.
Jane Ayres
Christina Banach
Susanna Bavin
Catherine Boardman
Kaz Coles
Kirsten Hesketh
Chris Manby
Vanessa Thornton-Rigg
To my Facebook friends in the Savvy Authors Snug, a marvellous group started by Tracy Buchanan. Thank you for your ideas, support and enthusiasm.
Thank you to all the readers, re
viewers and bloggers who have been so generous with their time.
And finally to Arthur, Henry and Mabel. You’re the best and I love you.
About the Author
Maddie Please was born in Dorset, brought up in Worcestershire and went to university in Cardiff.
Following a career as a dentist, Maddie now writes full-time, and lives in Devon with her exceptionally handsome and supportive husband.
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