Tina bent down beside him and read the inscription. ‘1912 to 1968. That was young.’ She looked across at Ian. ‘Only fifty-six.’
He nodded. ‘Read on.’
‘Here lies the body of Miss Thomasina Stanmore. Beloved daughter of the late Percy Stanmore and his wife Cecily, both formerly of this parish. May God keep you safe under his mighty wing.’ Tina couldn’t stop the flow of tears that trickled down her face. ‘Her Tom.’
‘Yes. Her Tom.’ Ian stood and watched as Tina placed the bunch of beautiful yellow roses on the grave.
‘It’s a shame they didn’t get longer together.’ She sniffed.
‘There’s a lot that’s a shame about it.’ He sighed. ‘Shame we never met her, shame Cordelia never felt able to speak about her.’
‘I hope they were happy.’ She smiled up at him.
‘Me too.’ He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the main road, where they decided to take a cab to Lexham Gardens.
*
‘It still feels strange being here without her,’ Tina said as she filled the kettle.
‘Oh, she’s here! She’s everywhere you look!’ He ran his fingers over the dresser in the kitchen, crammed with his grandmother’s china.
‘I wonder what will happen to the flat,’ Tina said.
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you?’ he asked, nonchalantly.
‘No.’ She shook her head as she reached into the ornate caddy with the slightly rusted lid and pulled out three tea bags.
‘It’s mine.’
Tina turned to face him. ‘It’s yours? Really? Well, that’s wonderful! Will you live in it?’ She felt her heart swell at the possibility.
‘No. It’s too big for me and too far from where I want to be.’
‘Oh.’ She swallowed her disappointment. ‘It’s only a little flat, really; not too big at all.’ She silently chastised herself for trying to encourage him to move there, to be closer to her. As if.
‘No, no, that’s the thing. It’s not just the flat. Apparently, she never sold the building when it was converted into flats, just had it divided up and then moved herself into the basement.’ He looked straight at her, waiting for her reaction.
Tina stared back. ‘She owns the whole building?’
‘Well, no. She did. I do now.’
She tried to digest the significance of this news. A big, posh house in Kensington... ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Sell it, give some of the proceeds to Minty, to get her settled... And I was thinking of moving to the coast, somewhere I can open my curtains of a morning and see the sea every day. And if I want to see it at any other time of day, then all I’ll have to do is pop my head out and there it’ll be!’
‘Are you taking the piss?’ She felt shy and awkward. The kettle hissed as it came to the boil.
‘No. I would never do that. I want to move to the coast and open a wine shop, with a bar and tapas and a florist’s, a flower shop, where people can come for wine and eat great food and leave with a bouquet of beautiful yellow roses.’
Tina realised she was crying, again. ‘You must think I’m a right wally. All I’ve done is cry today!’
Ian lifted her up and sat her on the work surface, so he could look at her eye to eye. ‘I don’t think you’re a wally. I think you’re amazing! I think you’re the most amazing woman I have ever met. And I know that you’re probably inundated with admirers…’
‘Oh yeah, I have to carry a big stick to beat them all off with.’ She smiled.
‘...but I want you to pick me. I want you to come with me, live with me, work with me, and let me love you. Because you are my happy!’ He was animated, bursting with all the possibilities.
Tina placed her arms around his neck. ‘I missed you, Ian.’
‘And that, Tina, is the greatest compliment you can ever pay someone. To miss them. That’s real love.’
They both turned to Greta Garbo, who meowed in the corner.
17
Two years later
‘I’m a bit nervous.’ Tina paced the floor of the grand hallway and ran her palms over her bottle-green pinny with the Vine and Bloom logo embroidered on it in white thread.
‘Don’t be. This is going to be the best night ever!’ Ian grabbed her by the waist and swung her round. ‘And if we change our minds or fancy some different scenery after a few years, we can simply shut up shop and go have an adventure.’
‘Hark at you, Mr Live-For-The-Moment! I don’t know what’s got into you.’
‘I am perfectly happy knowing that the future is in safe hands, with Marl off at uni and all set to make a fine doctor, and Minty happy, engaged to that chinless wonder.’
‘Don’t call him that! It’s mean!’ She giggled. ‘And we don’t do mean.’
‘No, you’re right. But flippin’ ’eck, he’s hopeless!’
Tina laughed at how he had adopted her favourite phrase.
‘I just want people to love what we’ve done to the place.’ She looked around her, admiring for the millionth time the timber framed walls, the wing-backed leather chairs in front of the humidor, and the vintage oak barrels that doubled as tables, just waiting for the first customers to stand around them and chat.
She walked over to the long, chrome bar and double-checked that the slate platters of cheese and cold meats were still looking fridge-fresh. Then she buried her nose in one of the flower arrangements that filled the vast concrete urns dotted about the room. She’d decided on large blue hydrangeas and huge bowers of foliage. It had taken a lot of research to find hydrangeas with a scent, but these ones really did look and smell wonderful. And this was only stage one! Later in the month she’d be opening her very own florist’s in the orangery at the back of the vintner’s.
‘Mum!’
Tina whipped round and there he was – her boy. The same but different, as was always the case, however recently they’d last seen each other. It was a pleasure to observe him growing into the confident man she knew he would become.
‘There you are!’ She reached up and hugged him. ‘God, I love you and I miss you!’
‘You only saw me two weeks ago.’
‘I know, but if I had my way, I’d see you every day.’ An image of the two of them lolling on the sofa together in front of The Jeremy Kyle Show, back in their Hammersmith days, flashed through her head.
Marley rolled his eyes at Ian, who reached out, shook the boy’s hand and then pulled him in for a hug. ‘How are we doing?’
‘Struggling a bit with pharmacology and excitable tissues.’ He pulled a face.
‘Ah, don’t worry, we can go over that this weekend.’
‘What we goin’ over this weekend?’ Digsy yelled as he waltzed in with his large suitcase.
‘Pharmacology and excitable tissues,’ Ian recited.
‘I’m in!’ Digsy shouted as he crushed Tina to him in a hug.
‘How’s your mum?’
‘She’s good, Teen. You won’t believe who she’s dating!’
Marley and his mum shook their heads, wondering who the latest in her long line of beaus might be.
‘Who?’ Marley barked.
‘Fat Barry from the chippy! It’s wicked, I’m getting all the free food I can eat, and so is the whole family! My mum, her sister!’
Marley caught his mum’s eye and they both laughed until they cried silent tears.
‘What you laughin’ at?’ Digsy looked puzzled.
*
After everyone had enjoyed a glass of wine and the boys had been settled into their rooms in the spacious chalets at the back of the new premises, Tina and Ian stood on the large terrace at the back of the building, drinking in the stunning view of the sea and welcoming their opening-night guests. It had taken them months to find the right place, rejecting some for not feeling quite right, others for lacking the magic they sought, but the moment they had set foot on this plot, with the galleried Dutch Barn, wooden floors and the apron of land teetering only feet from the
cliff edge, they had looked at each other and smiled. This was what they had been waiting for.
They greeted their new neighbours and schmoozed the various dignitaries and members of the local press, explaining the concept of the new business and handing out cards, wine, dainty canapés and sweet posies for the ladies. The two of them kept catching each other’s eye and beaming. They were both happier than they had ever thought possible.
The sound of Helen’s voice carried on the wind and sent a shiver down Ian’s back. She was accompanied by Julio, Minty and Mr Chinless.
‘Welcome to our new venture!’ He smiled, spreading his arms wide in greeting.
‘Good God, Ian, it’s miles from bloody anywhere!’ This was Helen’s opener, as she kissed him on both cheeks. The expression on her face could surely have curdled milk, he thought with a wry smile to himself and a nod to the memory of his late mother.
‘Hello, Julio, thank you so much for coming!’ Ian shook the man’s hand and couldn’t help but notice that he had lost most of his tan and a lot of his sparkle, the poor sod.
Minty and her man made straight for the wine and grub. Helen, meanwhile, was staring with lips pursed at the venerable old house on the cliff top. ‘Aren’t you worried about soil erosion?’
Ian noticed for the first time how her voice had a particularly annoying nasal twang. ‘Well, as I’ve said to Tina, if we change our minds or it tumbles into the sea, we shall simply sail off and have a grand old adventure.’
‘Honestly, Ian, you sound like a hippy. What next, tofu and tattoos?’ She looked at her Spaniard and laughed.
‘Here she is!’ Ian beamed.
They all turned to watch the smiling Tina as she walked down the steps towards the terrace, bearing a fresh bottle of rather pricey Valpolicella in her hands. Her dark hair hung around her pretty face and her slight frame looked beautiful wrapped inside her Vine and Bloom apron. Ian noted Julio’s eyes widening.
‘Hello, Helen. You made it then!’
‘Only just – this place is in the middle of nowhere.’
‘That’s why we chose it.’ Tina laughed. ‘And as Ian said, if we get fed up, we can just sail off into the sunset.’ She laughed again.
‘You have a boat?’ This had clearly piqued Julio’s interest.
‘Yes.’ Ian took him by the elbow and steered him to the edge of the cliff. ‘There she is.’ He pointed to the dock below them, where a luxurious sixty-five-foot pilot cutter was moored.
‘She is beautiful.’ Julio looked at the yacht enviously.
‘Yes, she is. And I love her. She represents a whole new chapter in my life.’ Ian beamed down at the boat as she bobbed on the water. The early evening sun glinted like diamonds on the water and her name, written in pale gold paint, sparkled: The Cordelia Potterton.
Ian was sure she would have liked that.
He looked down and noticed that Julio had exceptionally small feet – tiny, in fact. He placed his arm around Julio’s shoulders and walked him back to the terrace, smiling. He might not be practising medicine any more, but he still knew the truth about men with very small feet…
We hope you enjoyed this book!
Amanda’s next book, My Husband’s Wife, is coming in July 2016
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About Amanda Prowse
AMANDA PROWSE has always loved crafting short stories and scribbling notes for potential books. Her first novel, Poppy Day, was self-published in October 2011 and achieved a number one spot in the eBook charts. She was then signed up by publishers Head of Zeus. Perfect Daughter became a number one bestseller in 2015.
Amanda lives in Bristol with her husband and two sons. She has now published several novels and seven short stories.
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Amanda Prowse’s No Greater Love sequence is a series of contemporary stories with love at their core. They feature characters whose histories interweave through the generations: ordinary men and women who do extraordinary things for love. They are stories to keep you from switching off the bedside lamp at night, stories to remember long after the final page is turned…
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Amanda Prowse’s No Greater Courage sequence stars women who have to find the strength to overcome adversity. The thread that runs through these novels is that they all feature extraordinary women who have to dig deep and find resilience they didn’t know they had, just to survive. They are not wealthy, stunning or massively successful, they are instead ordinary women who, when it comes to it, will do all they can to fight for what’s best for their family. Women like you and me…
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First published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Amanda Prowse, 2016
The moral right of Amanda Prowse to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781784976255
Head of Zeus Ltd
Clerkenwell House
45-47 Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
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