The Flower Girls (6 page)

A hot shower revived her. She’d been here just short of a week, Jasmine hadn’t been in touch, and it was time to go.

I have to be strong,
she counseled herself,
and not get sucked in. I could so easily get sucked in here, staying until Jasmine decides to come back, but what good would that do?

It was painful to admit that she was very attracted to Seth Sanderson but that she had to walk away. It didn’t matter what he said, he was her sister’s husband. They had to sort out their problems. She wasn’t going to push between them and make matters worse. Besides, she knew Seth couldn’t be serious about her. Who would be while married to Jasmine? Jasmine might not be playing fair but she was Jasmine. He had to come to terms with that. He’d never be able to tie that particular bird down and he had to have known that anyway. He wasn’t an idiot, he’d travelled the world, and he had to be good at sizing up people.

Trying to find where Seth was proved difficult. Mrs. Carrington wasn’t communicating, stating she didn’t know. Poppy tried the library; he wasn’t there. Other rooms too were empty. There was his bedroom but she didn’t know where that was and anyway wouldn’t dare that particular den.

Outside it was fresher than it had been since she arrived. The sun was warm on her back as she crossed the forecourt. Going to the back of the house, she looked in the stables. No horses were kept now. The buildings were used for garaging cars. Seth’s Range Rover was there but she knew he also had a smaller car that Mrs. Carrington often used. That wasn’t there. Obviously he’d gone out, but somewhere local.

It was too pleasant to go back inside so she strode along the lane. This time she turned left. The road was steep after a while and then it dipped down into a deep valley. There was a large house in the valley. Smoke curled from the chimneys. Surmising this was the Donnington home, Poppy turned on her heels and marched back towards Heaton Grange. She was only about a quarter of an hour’s walk from the house when she heard a car. A steady thrumming, not the roar of Edward’s car, thank goodness. Pressing herself into the wall, she waited for the car to pass. The car eased by, and as she saw the rear of the vehicle she realized it had to be Seth. It was a dark green popular make for sure, but it had to be him on this lonely road. Yet he hadn’t stopped to offer her a ride. She’d jumped well into the side of the road, pressing herself into the wall; perhaps he’d not even noticed her.

Setting off at a brisk pace, she heard the hum of an engine. Remarkably the car was backing up.

He did see me!

She waited to be sure, standing well into the side of the road; once the car pulled alongside her she saw it was indeed Seth Sanderson.

“Sorry, I was miles away. I saw someone and thought they were working on the wall… I only realized it was you when I checked my rear view mirror. Want to hop in?”

Not really,
she was about to say,
I want to walk
.

But she weakly acquiesced and slid in beside him. He was wearing a check shirt, the sleeves rolled up, dark green cords, and lightweight boots.

“It’s a lovely day,” he said. He smelled good, part fresh air with just a little lemony smell from his shaving lotion. Her toes curled automatically.

“Yes it is.” Now she was regretting her jeans and sweater, her hair scrunched up into a ponytail, her face make-up free. “I really need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” he said pleasantly. “We can have coffee in the drawing room.”

“That big house in the valley, is that the Donnington’s place?”

He gave her a sharp-eyed glance. “No.”

“Oh.”

“They live on the edge of the village. In a converted school house.”

“Oh really.” She folded her lips together. Damn it, he would think she wanted to know where Edward Donnington lived!

“They retired here. My Aunt Caroline’s husband was something important in the diplomatic service.”

“Oh, I just assumed…” She shrugged.

“I’m surprised Edward didn’t tell you. He enjoys boasting about the people his father associated with.”

“He didn’t say anything about his parents.”

“Curious.” But his tone was light as he said that word. “We’re not close. My aunt didn’t want to come back here but her husband did. He’s not from around here but he does like it and actually he fits in. People like him; he’s a bit of a doer, if you know what I mean.”

“No.”

“Parish council, caring for the community, that kind of thing. You’d think that would be Caroline’s thing but it isn’t.” The car turned into the stables. After it was parked they walked leisurely towards the house; he slowed his long-legged to stride to accommodate her.

“You go into the drawing room; I’ll ask Mrs. Carrington for coffee.”

That’ll make me popular,
she thought,
we’re having coffee alone instead of in the kitchen.

That was where she knew he usually took his coffee. There was no real formality in this house, that much she’d gathered.

However, it wasn’t Mrs. Carrington who brought the tray, but Seth. “She had it all ready!” he announced. “That’s what I call efficient.”

“Mm, yes.” She thought it better to say something, Mrs. Carrington, efficient or not, was not one of her favorite people. It was, Poppy knew, because the woman was hostile. And hostile without cause. After all she wasn’t Jasmine and Poppy thought the woman should have given her a chance to prove that. But she’d assumed they were the same, which was what was so unfair.

“Now,” Seth announced, when he’d poured the coffee and spread himself in the easy chair. He had that easygoing confidence she liked. He was a man comfortable in his own skin and he wasn’t going to change for anyone. What a pity Jasmine hadn’t recognized that about him.

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“About my leaving.”

“About that.” He smiled a warm all-encompassing smile. “Funnily enough I was going to talk to you about that as well.”

“Oh.” She flushed. He wanted rid of her. “That’s a coincidence.”

“Yes.” He leaned forward. “Look, Poppy, you gave up a lot to come here, mostly your job. I imagine you have to work?”

“Yes,” she confirmed but quietly, almost with a question.

“I need someone to help me with my latest book.”

She swallowed. “About that. What kind of books do you write?”

“Well, not porn if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She managed to let a little giggle escape. “I wasn’t!”

“Political thrillers. What else? It’s what I know best. The thing is this latest one I wrote by hand. I mostly write straight on the computer but I don’t like working on those tiny keyboards and I was travelling when I started. You know it was almost like being reborn; I really enjoyed doing it that way. Trouble is the idea of typing it up leaves me cold. My agent’s baying at my door. He wants it. Could you type it up for me? I’d pay you the going rate. It would give you an excuse to stay on for a bit. I’m sure Jasmine can’t be away much longer, she’s gone over the time she’s usually away.”

For a long moment she stared at him. It was a gift from heaven. She could stay, earn some money, do something for him, and be with him.

Foolish chit,
she admonished herself,
this is sheer lunacy. You need to put as much distance between Seth Sanderson and you as you can possibly manage.

Here he was right in front of her, tall, sort of good-looking if you liked your men dark and brooding—and she did—happy in his body. Not bothered what people thought. But—and it was a massive but—he was married to her sister. It didn’t matter that the marriage was to all intents and purposes failing. It might even have broken down irretrievably, but a sister didn’t step in and gather up the pieces for herself.

He was waiting for an answer. Her heart started to hammer. Should she stay, wait until Jasmine’s return and then have it out with her? But suppose Jasmine’s story was different. What if this man wasn’t what he seemed? Suppose this was an act and he was lousy in every possible way towards her sister. How did she know what had gone on to make Jasmine act so irresponsibly? Yet that was in Jasmine’s character, but Poppy had never known Jasmine in love. Perhaps Jasmine wanted to change because she loved Seth and he’d broken her heart and stamped on her dreams. There was only one way to find out the truth.

“Why don’t you think about it, there’s no rush…well…” he shrugged, “there sort of is but I can wait a day or so.”

“No you shouldn’t have to, Seth. It’s a generous offer and of course I accept.”

There. It was out before she could stop it. Her mind was made up, she would wait for Jasmine to come back and find out the truth. That was, even in her eyes, pretty feeble. Yes, she wanted to know why the marriage had broken down but it wasn’t the entire reason for her wanting to stay. That all had to do with this loose-limbed man in front of her.

Poppy wanted to get down to work right away. She was getting weary of not doing anything. All this she told him in a rush and he didn’t disagree. He led her into the library. There was a huge fire in the grate; it was warm and cozy. The desk was large, the chair comfortable, the computer a make she was used to. Seth’s writing was perfect. There were crossings out of course but the whole manuscript was easy to read and not at all the messy work she’d anticipated. It would be merely a copying job and she could do that while standing on her head. She told him so, laughing up at him, telling him he was paying her too much.

“It’s the going rate, I checked an agency.”

“Yes but they would charge top prices. Any good typist would be sure to charge you less, especially when it’s so perfectly presented.”

“It doesn’t matter, you get what we agreed. I have to go out again; do you want anything before I go?”

“No, I’m fine; I’ll get a sandwich for my lunch when I’m hungry.”

“I’ll let Mrs. Carrington know.”

“It’s not a problem I can make my own.”

“Goodness,
you
work in Mrs. C’s kitchen? She would quite literally have your guts for garters.”

Poppy laughed. “I guess she would.”

“And to use another cliché, her bark is worse than her bite. She means well—I think she’s just a tad protective of me, as if I need it.”

“You don’t,” Poppy agreed. “I can see that. You’re very self-sufficient.”

“You think?” But he smiled; it was a warm smile that glowed from him.

Gosh, but he made her heart do somersaults when he did that.

“See you later.” Then he was gone. She shivered as if he’d taken all the warmth with him. She flexed her fingers and, after a moment or two she arranged the papers, clicked on the new sheet icon and when the clean white page appeared, began to type.

When Mrs. Carrington brought a sandwich and a pot of tea, it was one o’clock and Poppy hadn’t stopped. The story skimmed her mind but, concentrating on copying words, she didn’t take it all in After the surly housekeeper left, she picked up a couple of pages and, sitting in the easy chair, read. He was a good writer. He had her hooked right away. She grabbed ten more pages and read these while munching her sandwich. It was difficult to stir herself to start typing again.

* * * *

He called himself Kent Barrow. She vaguely had an idea she’d seen his books at airport bookshops. A swift click on Google and a whole lot of information came up about Kent Barrow. However, there were no pictures and the information was mainly about his books. A brief biography told her little and he hid the fact that in his other life he’d been a foreign correspondent. There were six books in all and all of them had sold extremely well. Had Jasmine known she was marrying Kent Barrow as well as Seth Sanderson? Jasmine, Poppy knew, would have been impressed had she realized that. It could be that she’d married him imagining his life would be very different from the reality. Jasmine, she realized miserably, could so easily have talked herself into believing she was in love with Seth Sanderson when really it was the envisaged life-style she really loved. And had Seth been totally honest with her sister? It was mystery, that was for sure.

Shrugging, she cast all these thoughts aside. She had a job to do. But it was harder now to concentrate on just typing rather than making sense of this fascinating story.

Chapter 7

Seth had gone away for two days He hadn’t told her but left a note on the computer.
“Have to go to London—good work, see you when I get back. Seth.”

Not that he had any obligation to tell her anything, yet she felt disappointed. She’d not seen him since she’d started on his book, and had wondered if he were avoiding her.

He certainly was a man of mystery.

As if mourning his departure, the weather turned sour. An easterly wind blew, sending driving patches of rain. There was barely any letup for two long days. The leaden sky necessitated having a light on in the library. There was a gloom about the house that was unpleasant. Had Seth taken the warmth with him? The fires roared in the grates, there was wood aplenty to keep the blaze going and the heating worked efficiently, but something was missing.

Mrs. Carrington was her usual grumpy self and the only light came when her son brought in a basket of logs. Lonely, Poppy engaged him in conversation. It seemed that young Jason Carrington held no animosity towards her and was happy to talk. His enthusiasm was a chink of light in the gloom. Next year he was going to go to Agriculture College. Mr. Sanderson had arranged it all after ascertaining the young man wanted to go into farming. It was a great thing to happen, Jason enthused, he’d not been certain his parents would be able to let him go, either financially or because he was needed to help them. However, they were thrilled at the prospect. Jason would be the very first Carrington to go onto further education.

“And you’re typing one of Mr. Sanderson’s novels. He’s great isn’t he?” Jason’s eyes were sparkling with sincerity. “He does such a lot. I used to imagine he was really snooty but when you get to know him he’s not at all. His father was a bit old school but Mr. Sanderson, he’s not like that at all. I suppose it’s with him travelling the world, like.”