Summer of Love (16 page)

She looked at him in wonder. ‘You are remarkably perceptive.’

He chuckled. ‘We’re nearly there now.’

Fiona booked a taxi for ten o’clock, having decided that if she was desperate to go home by nine she could cancel it and book another. Then she went into James’s bathroom to make running repairs.

Thank goodness for the mini make-up kit she kept in her handbag. Adopting her usual policy of not actually looking properly at her reflection until she’d done quite a lot of smudge-removing, hair-fluffing and lip-plumping, she applied the kit. Afterwards she hunted for the tiny phial of scent right in the bottom and added a squirt. It wasn’t that she fancied James or anything, he was just a friend, but she had her standards. If he was going to feed her, it was only right that she should take a bit of trouble with her appearance. And she had looked a bit wild after her horrible afternoon.

James’s kitchen was a galley half hidden behind a partition at the end of his sitting room, which was large, included a big fireplace and walls lined with bookshelves. The bookshop was in an old building and this room above the shop had wide wooden boards covered with rugs, beams and evidence of age in every inch. The furniture was old too: a battered leather sofa, a couple of deep but not matching chairs, an antique desk and enough little tables to house quite a lot of newspapers and periodicals.

‘I do apologise for the mess,’ James said, handing her a large glass of chilled white wine. ‘My cleaning lady comes once a week, on Monday, so the dust has built up a bit.’

‘I never notice dust.’ She took the glass and smiled. ‘I think this is a lovely room! Perfect, even. I’ve always fancied living above a shop – or rather, I’m always nosy about what the flats above shops are like. I like this very much.’

‘I’m glad. Now will you be able to amuse yourself while I see what, if anything, I can offer you to eat?’

‘Of course! I’ll look at the books. Nothing nicer.’ She shivered a little and he noticed.

‘I’ll just set a match to the fire. It won’t take a second and it is a bit chilly in here.’

‘It’s not really, I’m just feeling a bit, you know … It may be partly shock. But the wine and a fire will cure me.’

Having lit the fire he said, ‘Let me know when you want more wine. I’m going to rummage now.’

Fiona spent a lot of time reading every book title. She’d heard that you can tell a lot about people from their books but she suspected James’s books were more to do with what had or hadn’t sold in his shop. There weren’t any paperbacks and all the titles were classics or very old.

‘So where do you keep your pulp fiction?’ she called through.

‘In my bedroom,’ he called back.

‘Ah.’ She extracted an old book of wild flowers and settled by the fire.

James reappeared with the bottle. ‘I’m so glad I had this in the fridge, but it wasn’t full, I’ll need to open something else. Red? Or less than chilly white?’

‘What are we eating?’

‘Something with rice. I can’t be more specific just at the moment. I may have to pop out.’

‘Oh please don’t! What would you have eaten if I hadn’t been here?’

‘I’d have popped out. I find having a twenty-four-hour supermarket quite wonderful. And it would supply a bottle of chilled wine if we wanted it.’

‘I’d really hate to put you to the trouble.’

‘No trouble. What about some lamb chops? They don’t take too long.’

‘I could peel potatoes—’

‘If I had any. I’ll buy ready-made mash. Honestly, one hardly needs to cook at all—’

‘Which is a shame.’

‘Yes. One day I’ll invite you properly, but now—’

‘My presence is a complete bore! I’m so sorry. Couldn’t we just have toast?’

‘Certainly not! I’m delighted to have you. Here.’ He opened a cupboard Fiona hadn’t noticed before and revealed a television. ‘You find something soothing to watch while I shop.’

Having filled her glass he left her watching a property programme and, almost as soon as he’d gone, she closed her eyes. It had been a long day.

Chapter Eleven

Sian wasn’t much looking forward to the gymkhana. She didn’t want to spend a day watching Melissa flirting with Gus, and much more worrying was the fact that this was the moment she’d been dreading ever since Gus’s arrival in the village: Rory and Gus would finally have to meet. How would they react to each other? Even though neither of them knew, it was important. How would it be for her, seeing them together? And she was sure her clothes would be wrong. She’d lived in the country long enough to know how mocked townies could be if they wore the wrong clothes.

However, it was a lovely day and she had a pretty dress to wear, so that was one problem out of the way. It was just her footwear she had to worry about, unless she was expected to wear tweeds and a deerstalker.

Rory was easy to dress in shorts, T-shirt, floppy hat and lots of sunscreen. He could wear sandals because his had thick, sensible soles. Sian just had several pairs of flip-flops, none of which had much in the way of sole.

Still, Fiona would put her right. She was taking them in her car.

‘I’ve got a car seat from my grandchildren, for when they come over from Canada,’ Fiona had said. Somehow the word seemed loaded to Sian, who felt a pang of guilt. Gus wasn’t the only one who didn’t know he was related to Rory. She’d been so busy worrying about how she could tell him and if she even wanted to she’d scarcely even given Fiona a thought. She knew how her own mother would feel if a grandchild had been kept from her. She was also feeling guilty about Richard. He was away on another trip and had hinted that he wanted to whisk her off for a romantic dinner for two as soon as he was back: they hadn’t been able to spend much time together recently. What with everything else she’d given little thought to him. All this guilt and now a whole day of more worrying. She wondered how she was going to get through it.

Rory skipped along beside her as they went up to the Big House, looking forward to his day, convinced that he would get to ride on a pony. Although Sian did try to warn him this might not happen, he wouldn’t listen.

Fiona kissed them both when they arrived. ‘How lovely you look!’ she said to Sian when Rory had gone to check the trains were still there. ‘Angus has gone off somewhere. He’s meeting us there later. He’s being all mysterious. I could always tell when he was up to something when he was little.’

A strange mixture of relief, disappointment and anxiety about what he might be up to made Sian sigh and to cover it she said, ‘I’m worried about my shoes. It’s either these or heels. Neither of them are right for mud, and it might be a bit wet.’

‘I’ve the very thing! I bought some of those flowery wellies and found I couldn’t get my leg down them. You could have those. Put those in the bag in case it gets hot.’ Fiona dashed off, obviously thrilled to be able to provide what was needed and get rid of an unwise purchase at the same time. Fortunately they had more or less the same size feet.

‘OK then, got everything we’re likely to need?’ said Fiona, jangling her keys, scanning the hall for things that might be forgotten.

‘I’ve got my bag,’ said Rory. ‘It’s got a drink, some Babybels, sandwiches and an apple.’

‘Very sensible. Although Melissa’s parents are providing a picnic, they might not produce it soon enough for a young tummy. You know what men are like if they get hungry. They get grumpy. Now, come on, we’ve got a gymkhana to go to.’

Rory cheered and ran towards Fiona’s car, his rucksack bumping on his back. Sian wished she felt half as happy to be going as her son obviously did.

‘Well, we only got lost about three times,’ said Fiona cheerfully, parking in the field, directed there by a straw-haired boy who sounded as if he went to Eton. ‘I rate that as a successful journey.’

‘So do I,’ said Sian, who had enjoyed her tour of the local countryside, up and down several very narrow lanes she never would have gone down in the normal course of events. She realised how unadventurous she’d been since moving down. She’d hardly been out of the village. ‘It was such a pretty drive.’

‘Now all we have to do is find Melissa and her parents. It’s such a luxury not having to lug a picnic for miles and miles. Except for Rory, of course.’

‘I’ve got a rucksack,’ said Rory. ‘I’m fine.’

‘It would be dreadful if we end up fighting Rory for his snacks because there’s nothing else,’ said Sian as they walked through the field to the gate. ‘I wish I’d put more in now.’

‘Oh don’t worry, the Lewis-Joneses will do us proud. She’s one of those competitive entertainers. Absolutely nothing will be forgotten and there’ll be enough for the five thousand and their friends.’

‘Well, you could be accused of that,’ said Sian with a smile.

‘I know, but with Veronica, you always feel guilty for not being able to eat more.’

‘You do seem to feel guilty about a lot of things,’ said Sian.

‘Oh yes, it’s part of my DNA.’

Although she spoke lightly, Sian thought she spotted Fiona blushing. Fiona wasn’t the only one who felt guilty at the drop of a hat. If she only knew.

Mrs Lewis-Jones had indeed arranged a splendid picnic. Every special basket, flask, seat and glass-holder was provided. Everything was smart and clean, no musty thermoses with stained cups or melamine plates or plastic glasses. The waterproof rugs were big enough to pitch a tent on and the plates were Royal Worcester.

‘This is wonderful!’ said Fiona, seating herself in a chair that had an inbuilt glass-holder. ‘Veronica, you have gone to a lot of trouble.’

‘I do like to put on a good spread. If people have had a decent lunch they’ll spend more money later and we mustn’t forget this is a fund-raiser for the church hall.’

‘And I’ve got a surprise for you all! Angus – Gus – and I hatched the plan.’ Melissa was looking particularly adorable, her hair as shiny as a shampoo advertisement and her dress from Boden looking better than the catalogue. Looking at the two of them now Sian could see where Melissa got her looks from. Veronica was a very trim and pretty older version of her daughter. In the flurry of the dinner party she hadn’t taken everyone in properly.

She sipped champagne from the silver collapsible cup she had been given ‘because it’s such fun to use these old things’. I must stop being jealous of Melissa, she ordered herself. She and Gus go way back. Of course they’ll have plots and schemes no one else knows about.

‘Rory, darling,’ said Fiona, ‘do you think you’ll need your own packed lunch? There are lovely things here.’

‘Those are little eggs,’ said Rory, pointing at some miniature eggs on a rather fine bone-china plate.

‘Quails’ eggs, darling. Just like ordinary, but smaller,’ said Fiona.

‘Here, have a sausage roll,’ said Mrs Lewis-Jones, offering Rory a large thermos. ‘They’re hot. Well, warm, anyway.’

‘Let’s get some more bottles open,’ said Harold Lewis-Jones. ‘I happen to know about a mystery guest Melissa has lined up and we’ll need plenty of fizz.’

He refilled all the glasses and then placed the bottles in special wine holders that stuck into the ground. Rory was given one filled with elderflower pressé. Sian was impressed. They really had thought of everything.

‘It’s so kind of you to cater for Rory,’ she said.

‘I’ll move on to the soft stuff soon myself,’ said Mrs Lewis-Jones, ‘or I’ll fall asleep after lunch.’

‘I’m afraid I often fall asleep after lunch,’ said Fiona, ‘with or without champagne.’

‘Melly, when did you say your mystery guest was coming? I’ve got the game pie all ready to serve and I’d quite like to crack on with it.’

Melissa got to her feet and shaded her eyes as she looked across the fields towards the woods. ‘I think I can see them coming now!’

Everyone looked in the direction she was pointing. ‘Oh, it’s Angus’s Land-Rover,’ said Fiona. ‘Who’s he got with him?’

‘I think it must be a woman,’ said Sian, ‘unless anyone knows a man who’d wear a hat like that.’

‘You’ll know soon enough,’ said Melissa smugly. ‘Just be patient.’

Although Sian could see the hat, she couldn’t make out who was under it. But surely Melissa wouldn’t import more competition and make such a production out of it?

‘My goodness!’ said Fiona as the Land-Rover approached. ‘Melissa! What have you done? And why the secrecy?’ She obviously recognised her son’s passenger and was rather put out that she hadn’t been in on it.

‘Isn’t it fun!’ Melissa chirruped, apparently unaware of or immune to Fiona’s irritation.

‘Who is it, darling?’ asked her mother. ‘Oh! Good Lord! What a scream. It’s Luella!’

‘It’s your landlady,’ said Fiona to Sian. ‘In case you’d forgotten.’

Sian appeared to be the only person not greeting the new guest with wild hoots of joy. Although she would be fascinated to meet her, she couldn’t help suspecting that Melissa was up to something. Was she about to make Luella an offer in front of everyone so she’d force her hand and Sian and Rory would lose their home? For that was how she thought of the cottage, damp and all.

‘Who is it, Mummy?’ asked Rory.

‘It’s the woman who owns our house,’ said Sian, trying to sound enthusiastic.