Roses For Katie

by Dilys Xavier

  The hairdresser made them both look like models, and when they returned home, Sam appeared at Priory Farm after her luncheon date in town. ‘I can barely contain myself, waiting like this,’ she whispered to Elspeth. ‘You look all on edge, too.’

  Katie walked into the room with a tray of coffee and biscuits, and looked up in surprise as the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel drive.

  ‘Who could that be?’ she said. The driver of the local florist climbed out of the van, and approached with a bouquet so huge that it hid his face from view. Katie opened the door.

  ‘For Mrs. Turner,’ he said.

  Katie reached out for the bouquet. ‘That’s me. Oh, how beautiful,’ she exclaimed, burying her face in the large red, fragrant blooms. Then she twisted the little card around so that she could read it. The message was brief.

  ‘What’s it say? Elspeth asked.

  ‘It just says, ‘Roses for Katie.’’

  Only moments after they went inside, Katie heard another vehicle on the gravel drive. ‘Now who is it this time?’ she laughed, and set the bouquet on the side table. Pat’s familiar Volvo pulled to a stop and he climbed out.

  ‘Pat? Oh… it’s Pat,’ she cried pulling open the door. ‘Pat… you’re supposed to be in Ireland.’

  He hurried across to Katie, hesitating for a moment while his eyes searched her face. ‘They got here then,’ he said, looking pointedly at the roses he could see just inside the doorway.

  ‘Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you again, Pat,’ she said, clutching at his arms. How I’ve missed you… you’ll never know how much I’ve missed you.’ She pulled back, looking up at him with tears glistening on her lashes. ‘Life at Priory Farm just isn’t the same without you.’

  ‘Missed you too,’ he murmured. Then he leaned back, and held her hands at arms’ length. ‘Let’s look at you.’ He sighed deeply. ‘Katie, you’re as lovely as ever.’

  ‘Oh, come along now, that’s enough of your blarney, Pat O’Reilley. Let’s go inside and you can give me all your news.’ Then she swung around to him. ‘You should have phoned to say you were coming. I’d have made a tasty meal for you, had I known.’

  ‘But surely you…?’ He stopped when he caught sight of Elspeth and Sam, standing near the sitting room doorway, both with a finger to their lips. ‘Ah,’ he said, looking at their impish expressions, ‘I think we’ve been set up, Katie. Just look at their faces.’

  ‘What have you two been up to?’ Katie said, still clinging tightly to Pat’s hand as though she never wanted to let it go again.

  ‘Making sure you take the right road,’ Sam said.

  ‘Yes, and taking a leaf out of your book,’ Elspeth added. Then she nudged Sam. ‘Come on,’ she whispered, ‘let’s get out of the way.’

  As soon as they were on their own, Pat gazed into Katie’s eyes with a look of adoration, his face flushed with excitement. He glanced over at the bouquet of roses. ‘Every rose I saw reminded me of you, my colleen,’ he said. ‘You were never out of my mind, so I had those roses delivered as a token of how much you mean to me.’

  Katie studied his face, not quite able to believe he was really here. Oh, Pat,’ she murmured, still clutching his hand, ‘I don’t think I can bear parting with you again, Pat. I want you to stay this time, and never leave me again.’

  Then he spoke in his usual softly lilting tone. ‘Katie, I’ve not felt this comfortable with a woman ever before. I thought I would never find someone I could relate to so well, so easily, but you are different from all the others I met.’ He took her by the hand and led her to the sofa in the corner of the room. ‘You had so many admirers, Katie, and two in particular who were obviously making a strong attempt to court you. They were men with highly successful careers; men who had something substantial to offer.’ He sighed then, and slowly shook his head. ‘And what did I have to offer? Nothing.’

  Pat went on. ‘I knew that one of these days you might settle down with one of those that buzzed around you. When that happened, it was hardly likely that I would have been able to stay on in the annex, so it would have been most unwise for me to think of this place as my permanent home, as you once so kindly suggested. I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve missed you, Katie… every minute of every day I’ve thought of you. I never imagined what it would be like without you.’ He closed his arms around her, and brushed his lips against her hair. ‘Once I became involved in the farm I inherited, I tried to put you out of my mind. But I failed, Katie. I failed, miserably.

  The passion Katie felt seemed to flood her whole being. All she wanted now was Pat, Pat, and more Pat, and she wanted him with every beat of her thumping heart.

  ‘This is the real me, Katie. This is the me that wants to hold you in his arms forever, day and night and never let you go.’

  ‘But you went away. You got what you wanted,’ she murmured, into his chest. ‘You left me.’

  ‘So did I now? I got a home, a farm, and a lot of money—yes,’ he said, holding her at arms’ length. ‘The money is nice, but it wasn’t the most important thing in life to me, and I soon found that out. I never got what I wanted most of all. ‘Twas you I wanted, Katie, above all else. You. And at the time, I had no right to tell you. I never thought that you could return my feelings.’

  Pat took a deep breath. ‘You were the unattainable for the likes of me, Katie. You were the wealthy lady who lived in the big house, and quite unapproachable, for someone in my position. With two eligible, wealthy bachelors competing for you, what chance did I stand? I had nothing to offer you, so how could I dare say how I felt? I had no right to.’

  He released his hold on her and grasped both her hands, twining his fingers through hers. ‘I had no idea how you felt about me, and I never even dared hope. And as far as I knew, you might have teamed up with one of your admirers while I was away.’ He stood at arms’ length and gazed into her eyes. ‘But now…?’ he said, with his impish smile. ‘Now, dearest Katie, everything is different.’

  Katie breathed with a sigh of relief as she snuggled into his embrace once more. All that mattered now was that Pat was back.

  He gave a chuckle before continuing. ‘I thought I could bury myself in dear old Ireland and forget you ever happened. But it didn’t work. You were never out of my thoughts.’ He smiled down at her, and brushed the swirl of hair away from her eyes. ‘My circumstances have changed, and I don’t have to stay in Ireland, lovely though it is. I can sell the farm or rent it out if I wish, like you’ve done with Avondale. I don’t mind where I live as long as I’m with you.’ He kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘Do I stand a chance, Katie Turner?’

  Katie’s lips sought his, and they clung tightly to each other for several silent minutes. Then she leaned back and looked up at him. ‘Pat, you have every chance in the world. Rich or poor, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’

  ‘Then marry me, my sweet colleen,’ he whispered.

  Katie nodded as she looked up into his twinkling eyes, then gently drew his lips down to hers again.

  If you enjoyed Roses for Katie by Dilys Xavier, you might be interested in Family Secrets by Jenny Lane, also published by Endeavour Press.

  Extract from Family Secrets by Jenny Lane

  Chapter One

  Rhianna stared transfixed at the phone.

  “I’m sorry, who did you say you were?” she asked the woman on the other end of the line, convinced that she must have misheard.

  “Your grandmother, dear – Letitia Delroy.”

  “My grandmother,” she repeated incredulously, “then I’m afraid you must be mistaken. I don’t have a grandmother.”

  “Oh, but you do and I am she,” the elderly voice quavered insistently. “As I’ve already said my name is Letitia Delroy – ring any bells?”

  “No, I’m afraid not, although we certainly share the same surname. You see my grandparents died many years ago - before I was born.”

  “So that’s what your parents told you. And of cou
rse, you can’t ask them, can you because they’ve both passed away now, haven’t they?”

  A tiny shiver ran down Rhianna’s spine. “How do you know that?” she asked.

  “Because I’m your grandmother,” the elderly woman repeated patiently, as if she were speaking to a rather slow child.

  Rhianna didn’t like to put the phone down because it was obvious the woman needed to talk to someone.

  “Why were you trying to get hold of me – I mean your grand-daughter. Are you in some kind of trouble?” she asked gently.

  There was a pause. “I might be – there are certainly things going on here that I’m not happy about. Look, is there any chance of us meeting up? I’d really like to talk to you.”

  “I – um – where are you?”

  “I live in Kent. Look, I’ll have to go now, but I’ll be in touch again soon.”

  Rhianna felt as if she had been having a particularly strange dream from which she was going to wake up at any moment.

  *

  “Your grandmother! If she’d said your sister or cousin it would have been more feasible!” Fiona Field exclaimed, leaving the picture she was hanging dangling precariously in mid-air. “I bet it’s a hoax – Marcus playing tricks.”

  Rhianna shook her head vehemently. “No, it’s not Marcus’ style.” She told her friend and co-owner of the gallery where they both worked. “Whatever else my ex-boyfriend might be, I’m sure he’s not capable of that sort of behaviour.”

  She thought briefly of Marcus and the pain he had caused her when firstly he’d told her he’d found someone else and secondly pulled out of the gallery they’d worked in together. He’d told her their relationship had been going nowhere and, on reflection, she’d known he’d been right. They’d been drifting apart for months.

  Fiona scrambled off the stool. “Forget him,” she advised for the umpteenth time, catching sight of her friend’s expression. “Now, what d’you think of this?”

  “It’s looking good,” Rhianna said, surveying the effect, head on one side.

  The gallery with its white-washed walls was a perfect foil for the vibrant landscape paintings of the local artist.

  “Of course there is just one problem…”

  Fiona glared at her. “Go on,” she challenged, a glint in her hazel eyes.

  “It would be even better if we had any customers.”

  Fiona tossed back her mane of red hair. “Oh, that problem. Well, it’s always a bit sluggish this time of year but our online shop is doing well.”

  “Huh, the art and craft materials might be flying off the shelves, but we’ve sold exactly two paintings in the past month.”

  “Well, business is always rather slow after Christmas and we’re still in a recession. Perhaps we should consider running a few more workshops – now, I could murder a cup of tea. How about you?”

  Rhianna nodded. She looked around the small gallery with a sense of pride. Her father had helped her and Fiona to set it up when they’d left Art College. It had been the fulfilment of their dreams.

  Since her father had died, almost a year ago, they’d made a few changes, but there had always been Marcus in the background, ready to step in should there be any problems. She blinked back the tears.

  “Didn’t you ever want to know about your family tree?” Fiona asked, as they sat drinking tea and munching digestive biscuits.

  “Nope. We were a happy family unit - just the three of us and we had plenty of friends, but now…Well, I suppose it would be nice to discover I’d got one or two relatives. I’d always understood I was the last of the Delroy line.”

  “Yes, I can’t imagine what it must be like to be an only child.”

  Rhianna suddenly snapped her fingers. “I’ve just remembered something. There was that beautiful floral tribute at Dad’s funeral with the message, Always in my thoughts, M. I never did discover who’d sent it…”

  Fiona stared at her. “And now you’re thinking M could stand for Mother!”

  Rhianna bit her lip. “Well, it certainly wasn’t Marcus. His wreath was very distinctive. Oh, I don’t know. It seems a bit far-fetched, doesn’t it? I think I’ll stick with your theory about someone trying to wind me up.”

  They sat in companionable silence, staring out at the bleak February afternoon and the deserted street.

  Suddenly Fiona sprang to her feet. “Great we’ve got a customer!”

  *

  Rhianna had virtually dismissed the incident when the letter arrived. The woman claiming to be her grandmother had withheld her phone number and Rhianna was the only Delroy listed in the directory.

  Letitia Delroy’s handwriting bore an uncanny resemblance to Rhianna’s father, Joe’s.

  Rhianna read and re-read the letter. It was concise and to the point. Mrs Delroy was very keen to set up a meeting.

  “I could arrange for Mrs Blackett, at the post office, to put you up for a day or two. I enclose her phone number. I’ve told her to expect a call from a young woman called Rhianna Soames, who was the daughter of a friend of mine. I think it would make sense to keep the real reason for your visit between ourselves for the time being, don’t you?”

  Perhaps you could bring some identity with you. Your birth certificate would be good and a photograph of your parents. Also, if you happen to have come across a painting entitled, The Woman in Blue, amongst your father’s possessions, I would dearly like a photograph of that.”

  *

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” Fiona said, studying at the letter. “Of course, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it – this painting. Have you the remotest idea what she’s talking about?”

  Rhianna frowned. “Well, yes actually. There is a picture fitting that description in the attic, but I’m sure it isn’t worth anything – Dad would have said, wouldn’t he? The frame might be worth a few pounds though.”

  Fiona handed back the letter. “Well, there’s nothing to stop you going down to that place - wherever it is - is there? I mean the gallery’s so quiet at the moment it could practically run itself and we’ve already discussed closing for a month or two and just running the business online. Why don’t you suss it out - otherwise, you’ll always be wondering what it’s all about.”

  Rhianna got cold feet for a moment. “Will you come with me, Fi?” she asked.

  Fiona shook her head. “No, Rhia this is your thing, not mine and, besides, one of us needs to keep an eye on things here. Anyway, where exactly does this woman live? What’s her address?”

  “She hasn’t given me one. Just the one for the post office. It’s in a village called Brookhurst in Kent.”

  “Sounds like a set-up to me. You have to admit it’s weird. Would you like me to look this place up on the internet?”

  “Yes, please, Fi, that would be brilliant. Somehow, I just can’t bring myself to do it.”

  Rhianna slipped out to the post office. When she came back, it was to discover there was a customer in the gallery. She registered two things about him; first that he was extremely good-looking, probably mid-thirties, with a mop of rich chestnut hair and a finely chiselled profile and, second, that he was looking intently at their computer.

  “Hallo, can I help you?” she asked coolly.

  Startled, he looked up and she found herself gazing into a pair of eyes that were like chips of jade. She swallowed, finding his intense stare un-nerving.

  “Sorry. I’m afraid I’m something of a computer bod. It’s my line of business along with dabbling in painting, as I was explaining to your colleague just now.”

  “I see – well please feel free to take a look around. Is there something in particular we can help you with?”

  “Oh, actually, I was just passing and thought I’d take a look – never could resist a gallery. I love the colours of those paintings. They’re very vibrant.”

  “Yes, that’s a collection from a local artist, Matt Collins. He’s extremely talented. We try to support as many as we can. Are you a collector?”


  He shook his head. “Regretfully, no. I’m afraid I don’t have the space, but I sometimes buy for other people. You don’t have any portraits?”

  “Not at the moment, no, but we try to change our exhibitions on a regular basis so it’s worth dropping by, although we’ve only just finished assembling this one.”

  To Rhianna’s relief, Fiona reappeared at that moment, clutching a couple of catalogues and some postcards which she handed to the man.

  “So what do you two do? Is any of your work exhibited here?”

  Fiona pointed to her sculptures. “Those are mine. Rhianna is very versatile - as you can see from the postcards. At present, she just has those photographs of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee at the far end.”

  Rhianna pushed back a strand of honey-blonde hair, uncomfortably aware that the man’s attention was focussed on her.

  “I’m inclined to work from photographs - land and seascapes - mainly watercolours and oils. Sometimes, I do pastel drawings - mostly of animals or children.”

  His green eyes were full of interest. “Very impressive.” He crossed to the display of photographs. “Wow! These are amazing.”

  “And what about you?” she asked curiously.

  He was still studying her photographs. “Oh, as I’ve said, I try my hand at painting, but it’s mainly a hobby.”

  Shortly afterwards, the visitor departed.

  “Fi, you really ought to be more careful. He was looking at our computer.”

  Fiona raised her eyebrows. “So where’s the harm in that? It’s his line of business – computers. He told me so. Drop dead gorgeous, wasn’t he?”

  Rhianna pursed her lips. “If you say so. Can’t say I noticed.”

  Fiona laughed. “You’re a hopeless case, don’t you know that? How could you have helped noticing that physique? He must have been at least six foot tall and in really good shape. Bet he works out.”