Chapter Six
“Okay, you’re going to need to replace four of the windows.” Dan, the builder that Tom had recommended, glanced down at the notes he had made. About the same age as Tom, he had a reassuring air of competence about him. He had spotted things that Vicky had missed, but hadn’t invented problems that weren’t there. “You could think about replacing them all while you’re at it.”
“Oh, yes.” Jayde nodded eagerly. “You might as well have them all matching.”
Vicky hesitated. “I have to think about the cost...”
“You’ll get that back when you sell the house.”
“Well . . . yes. What about the roof?”
“It’s basically sound, but I’d suggest replacing those chipped tiles at the back. The gutters will need to be replaced — cast iron, in keeping with the house. And I’m afraid you’ll need to go for a complete rewiring.”
“Right...” Vicky was tallying up the bill in her head. But after all, it was an investment.
“Then with the replastering and decorating, central heating and the new kitchen and bathroom...”
“Why not put an en suite in the main bedroom?” Jayde suggested. “Jer... er... I’ve heard you can get a good return for that.”
Vicky shot her a sharp look. “Jeremy told you that?”
“No... I mean, he may have mentioned it sometime. A couple of weeks ago. When we were talking about one of those television shows about renovating old houses. You know how he likes to rant on about them.”
Which was true enough — Vicky suspected that he fancied himself as one of the presenters. But there had seemed to be something oddly defensive in her sister’s manner — though she couldn’t imagine why.
The builder left, promising to email the quote over within a few days.
“How about a coffee?” Vicky suggested. “Then I want to make a start on bringing down some of that junk from the attic before lunch. Most of it can probably go to the skip.”
“Okay.” Jayde didn’t sound enthused by the idea. “Well, if you’re going to be all morning doing that, I think I’ll have a bath.”
* * *
“So he’s going to email the quote in the next couple of days.”
“Good.” Jeremy didn’t sound enthused either. “What about the others?”
“Others?”
“The quotes from the other builders. I told you to get at least three.”
“Oh... it wasn’t necessary.” Vicky shifted the phone to her other hand. “This guy was recommended to me.”
“By whom?” Jeremy’s voice was edged with impatience. “You haven’t been there long enough to know who you can trust to give you a good recommendation.”
“It was the farmer — the guy who owns the farm next door.”
“Huh! It’s probably his cousin or something. They saw you coming.”
Vicky bit back the sharp retort that rose to her lips. “He recommended the garage that fixed my car, and they were very good. Anyway, there aren’t that many builders in the area. This is South Devon, not London.”
Jeremy grunted in annoyance. “I suppose I’ll have to come down there and sort it out myself.”
“You don’t need to . . .” she protested quickly.
“It’s most inconvenient. It’s a busy time at the agency, and with you away Mother will probably have to draft in some help from one of the other offices.”
“There’s really no need for you to come down...”
“I don’t want to see you let yourself get ripped off by some cowboy. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
He ended the call abruptly. Vicky sat staring at her phone, a niggle of irritation thinning her mouth. Did he think she was five years old? It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to her like that. Mostly she just let it go — it was easier than arguing with him.
But somehow just hearing his voice, without his forceful presence to back it up, she felt less inclined to ignore how it made her feel. Maybe it was time to assert herself a bit more. If he was like that now, before they were even married...
Spreading her hands flat on the table, she stared down at the diamond on her finger. It was a solitaire diamond, square cut, two carats on a plain platinum band — big enough to take someone’s eye out. It must have cost a lot of money. She had always been a little nervous about wearing it in case she lost it.
To be honest, that wasn’t the real reason she didn’t like wearing it. Jeremy had chosen it, but she didn’t like it very much — she never had. There was something... cold about it. With a small twist she slipped it off her finger and spread her hand on the table again, studying how it looked without the ring.
It looked okay . . .
“Are we going down to the beach then?”
Vicky slipped the ring back on her finger as her sister strolled into the kitchen. “Yes, if you like. I just need to wash up the lunch things.”
“Oh — okay. Don’t be long — I want to get down there while the sun’s still shining.”
“Maybe you could dry up then?” Vicky suggested blandly.
“I need to go and change into my bikini.” But Jayde hesitated in the doorway. “Is everything all right — between you and Jeremy, I mean?”
“Of course.” Vicky didn’t miss the knowing glint in her sister’s eyes. She drew the ring off again. “I think I might leave my ring at home. I’m afraid of losing it in the sand.”
“Oh . . . of course.”
* * *
If Jayde had been hoping to see Tom at the beach again she had been disappointed. But when they arrived at the Smugglers Arms that evening, he was there. The place was packed — apparently Friday night was darts night, and he was at the oche.
“Triple eighteen, double twelve, double fourteen,” the umpire counted out. “Score one hundred and six.”
There was applause from the spectators. “Well done, Tom!”
Vicky followed Jayde as she squeezed her way through the crowd. “White wine?” she asked.
But her sister’s attention was focussed laser-like on Tom. She wriggled her way through the crush around the dartboard and placed herself right opposite where he was standing. He acknowledged her with a brief smile, then went back to his conversation with one of the other players.
A flicker of annoyance crossed Jayde’s face. But she wasn’t one to give up so easily. She was attracting a lot of attention from all the other guys — that red dress was tight enough to start a riot. And she was lapping it up, while covertly watching to see if it was having the intended effect on Tom.
With a small sigh Vicky eased over to the bar to order their drinks. She could only hope that her sister wouldn’t get too drunk — she could be a bit embarrassing when she’d had a few too many.
“There you go, my luvver.” An elderly man with twinkling blue eyes above an impressively bushy white beard stepped aside to let her through.
“Thank you.” She smiled up at him. “It’s busy in here tonight.”
“Oh, ah — it is that.”
He seemed more than willing to chat — it was a relief to find a friendly face at last. “I suppose with the summer coming it’ll be even more crowded, with all the holidaymakers?”
“It certainly will.” He beamed. “Season’s just getting started. Once it starts up proper, place’ll be packed. Still, makes up for the winter. Ain’t that right, Alice?” he added to the barmaid who had come to take Vicky’s order.
“It is. What can I get you?”
Vicky asked for two glasses of white wine, and glanced around at the crowd. She had noticed on their previous visit that among the locals there were few who appeared to be around her age — indeed, few who appeared to be under fifty.
“Is it very quiet here in the winter?” she asked.
Alice smiled crookedly. “You could say quiet — you could say dead. No jobs see, once the holiday crowd be gone. The hotel gets by on the golfing types, but the rest of us just keeps our fingers crossed and hopes for the best.”
She set Vicky’s drinks down on the bar.
“And even if there was enough jobs,” she added, “there’s nowhere for the young ’uns to live, not that they could afford. Some of ’em stops with their folks, but that don’t do for all of ’em. Most of ’em just has to move away.”
The old man nodded. “That’s right. Lot of the houses down here has gone to holiday homes, see — landlords can charge a lot more, make a lot more money even if they stay closed up all the winter. Same in a lot of places like this. You’re glad to have the tourists o’ course, but then they edge the locals out. What can you do?”
“That’s a shame.”
It was exactly what Tom had been so annoyed about. It didn’t excuse the way he had spoken to her, but she could understand how he felt.
It must be difficult for people who had grown up here, lived here all their lives, to see what must once have been a close community slowly dying, to be replaced by little more than a tourist attraction.
She nodded a polite goodbye and took her drinks, edging through the throng to hand one to Jayde — she didn’t get a thank you, but then she hadn’t expected one. She found herself a corner where she could comfortably people-watch, sipping her wine and listening to the conversations and laughter bubbling over the music playing on the old-fashioned jukebox.
If she could find a way to live here, some of these people would be her neighbours, maybe even her friends. She’d like that. She’d more or less lost contact with the friends she’d had before she’d started dating Jeremy — their social life tended to revolve solely around his circle, and she’d never really felt able to get close to any of the women. Not meet-up-for-a-casual-coffee close, not ‘let’s go shopping’ close.
The darts match ended in a home win, much back-slapping and a fresh round of drinks. Jayde seemed to have forgotten that Vicky was even there — she was in her element, flirting wildly with both darts teams and their supporters.
“Your sister seems to be very popular tonight.”
Vicky glanced round, startled by Tom’s voice close behind her. “Oh... Yes, she is.” She laughed a little unsteadily. “Nothing unusual in that.”
“I don’t suppose there is. She’s a very pretty girl.”
“Yes.” Somehow she managed to keep her smile in place. She was not jealous.
“Is she staying long?”
“I . . . don’t know. A few days.”
“Well, I hope she doesn’t stay too long.” There was a lilt of amusement in his voice. “Our lads are liable to lose their heads completely.” He leaned past her to put his empty beer-glass down on the bar, brushing so close to her that she was sure she could sense some kind of magnetic forcefield between them. “Goodnight then.”
“Uh . . . goodnight.”
She didn’t intend to watch him go, but her gaze followed him as he eased his way across the room, pausing now and then to chat with his neighbours, slapping shoulders, kissing cheeks, laughing at shared jokes.
Dammit, what was happening to her? One good-looking farmer and suddenly her heart was all a-flutter like some Regency virgin kidnapped by a dangerous duke. Her head was in a spin — the solid, steady, sensible life she had been living no longer seemed to fit.
Was she really thinking of leaving her job, leaving her home, leaving her fiancé and the wedding that was already being planned, to move two hundred miles away, to a place she barely knew, where the chances of employment were limited, all on a whim?
Yes she was. Though it was nothing to do with Tom Cullen. Of course not.
It was that letter from the solicitor about Aunt Molly’s will that had shaken her out of the lazy drift she had settled into, made her stop and think about what she really wanted in life.
After all, if Aunt Molly could dance at the Moulin Rouge in those exotic costumes, maybe it wasn’t so foolish to have dreams after all.
Jayde had been so caught up in the admiration she was getting that it was several moments before she looked around to find Tom. Frowning, she pushed her way back to where Vicky was standing.
“Where is he?” she demanded, as if Vicky was hiding him in her pocket.
“Tom?”
“Of course Tom.”
“I think he left.”
“Left?” Jayde’s mouth thinned with annoyance. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Vicky returned her a bland smile. “Sorry.”
Jayde shook her head. “Oh, well — I suppose we might as well go home then.” She threw back her wine — Vicky had counted at least three bought for her by her new admirers. “If we hurry we can be home in time for Billionaire Bachelors.”
Without waiting for Vicky she set off for the door, weaving a little. Vicky followed, relieved to get away while her sister was only slightly tipsy.
But Jayde hadn’t entirely forgotten about Tom. “Why would he just walk off like that?” she complained, pausing abruptly in the doorway as the fresh air hit the wine in her bloodstream. “We were getting on really well the other night.”
“I expect he was jealous that you were getting on so well with all those other guys,” Vicky suggested, tongue in cheek.
“I know.” Jayde giggled. “I told you he fancies me.”
And she teetered off up the hill at such a sharp pace, Vicky strongly suspected she was hoping to catch up with Tom. Small chance of that — Vicky had seen the way he could stride out.
* * *
“So this is it?” Jeremy cast a disparaging glance around the room. “Not much, is it?”
“This is just the kitchen,” Vicky protested defensively.
“I can see that. It’s going to need a lot of work to make it saleable.”
“Of course.” It was a struggle to keep her smile in place. “Would you like to see the rest of it before we have lunch?”
“I suppose so.”
She led the way down the passage. “This is the sitting room.”
“Hmm.” Jeremy wasn’t much impressed. “A bit on the small side.”
“It’s cosy.”
“Yes, well... it might look a bit better without the bulky furniture. You may be able to get something for that sideboard.”
“How much do you think it’s worth?” Jayde asked eagerly.
“I really couldn’t say. I’d suggest you ask a legitimate antique dealer to take a look at it — you don’t want to get ripped off by some fly-by-night con merchant.”
“I rather like it,” Vicky insisted. A rich, dark mahogany with roses carved on the door panels, it would polish up well.
“Don’t be silly. It couldn’t be more out of place in the flat.” He was even more dismissive of the bathroom. “You’re right to get something done about this — the whole thing needs to be ripped out and replaced. It’s a shame the toilet can’t be separated into another room — buyers aren’t keen on having them in the bathroom these days.”
She was going to argue for re-enamelling the bath but decided not to waste her breath.
The main bedroom he declared, “Not too bad — and it’s quite a decent view.” But then he spotted Molly’s painting on the wall. “What on earth... ? I’ve never seen anything so hideous.”
That fired Vicky up in defence. “I thought I might try to find out who painted it. See if it’s worth anything.”
“Of course it isn’t.” His voice was laced with scorn. “It’s a piece of junk — amateurish junk, at that. The best place for it is the skip.”
“I suppose so.” Though she was reluctant to throw away something that Aunt Molly had obviously valued.
“We did find some good stuff in the attic,” Jayde put in. “Come and see.”
Vicky couldn’t imagine that Jeremy would be interested in the contents of those old trunks, but her sister was already dragging him up the stairs.
“I’ll put the lunch on then . . .”
At least it would give her a few minutes alone to think. Although she wasn’t sure that she wanted to think. Thinking might lead her to a conclusion she wasn’t quite ready to face just yet.
Because when Jeremy had walked into the cottage she hadn’t felt a thing — or rather, instead of the electric tingle she felt around Tom Cullen she had felt a thud like a cold lead weight.
Which was a bit scary.
She had lain awake for hours last night, her mind churning with the dilemma that she had posed for herself in the pub. Her heart was nudging her to find a way to stay here, but her head was reminding her to be sensible. After all, it would be a huge decision to overturn her whole life in one go.
But if she felt so uninspired by the future mapped out in front of her now, when she was supposed to be looking forward eagerly to her wedding, how would she feel five years, ten years down the line?
To distract herself from that uncomfortable train of thought, she bustled around the kitchen, preparing lunch. She made a Mediterranean chickpea salad — she used canned chickpeas and bottled vinaigrette, but Jeremy wouldn’t know the difference if she tucked the evidence well out of sight in the bin.
She cut up a couple of bread rolls and left them to warm in the oven while she mixed the garlic butter. The other two seemed to be taking a long time upstairs — a glance at the clock on the wall told her they’d been gone for more than twenty minutes. Jeremy must have been more interested in the costumes than she had expected.
She was thinking about going to call them when she finally heard their footsteps coming down the stairs.
Jayde breezed into the room, her eyes bright. “Mmm — something smells good. I love garlic bread.”
It looked as if she’d been trying on some of the costumes — her hair was ruffled and her T-shirt was caught up in the back of her jeans.
“Come and sit down.” Vicky set the bowl of salad on the table and took the rolls from the oven. “Help yourselves.” She sat down and picked up her fork. “So what did you think of that stuff?”
“Very... interesting.” Jeremy reached across and took a roll.
“I wonder where she got them from?” Jayde mused, carefully sorting out the ingredients in her salad to choose which ones were okay with whatever diet she was on today.
Jeremy shrugged in casual dismissal. “She probably picked them up in a sale of old theatrical costumes.”
“You don’t think it’s possible that they were hers?” Vicky suggested tentatively. “That she was actually a dancer?”
“It’s possible,” he conceded loftily. “There were lots of those kinds of exotic cabarets in the forties and fifties.”
“Like the Moulin Rouge?”
“Oh, yes — there would no doubt have been copycats. Here in London as well as Paris. But don’t get carried away thinking your aunt danced at the Moulin Rouge — that’s most unlikely.”
“Yes — I suppose so...” Why did he always have to pour cold water on her dreams?
Lunch was enlivened by Jayde’s chatter about one of her favourite celebrities who had been in the news. To Vicky’s relief, Jeremy restrained his usual impatience with her, even responding with a show of interest.
When they had finished, Jayde rose from the table and began gathering up the plates. “I’ll do the washing-up.”
Vicky glanced up, startled at her sister’s unexpected offer. What about her precious nails?
Jayde’s smile was dazzlingly bright. “You need to get down to the party.”
Jeremy shot a questioning glance from one to the other. “Party? What party?”
“Oh...” Jayde bit her lip, her impression of feeling guilty almost convincing. “I assumed you’d told him. Sorry.”
“What party?” Jeremy repeated sharply.
Vicky sighed. “I promised to help out my friend Debbie. She and her mum run a café down by the seafront. She’s got a kids’ birthday party this afternoon, but her mum’s been poorly and is under doctor’s orders to stay in bed. Debbie couldn’t get anyone else in to help, and she can’t manage on her own.”
“But why does that fall on you?”
“I promised . . .”
“But I’m here now.”
“I know.” She tried an apologetic smile. “But I promised before I knew you were coming.”
He exploded. “Oh, this is ridiculous! Ring her and tell her you can’t come.”
“I can’t do that.” She confronted his angry glare. “I can’t let her down. Anyway, it’s only for a couple of hours. Why don’t you both come down too?”
“To a kids’ party?”
“It’s only taking up part of the café — the rest will be open.” She was struggling to suppress the irritation that was building inside her. She had told him not to come down. “And Debbie makes fabulous cakes.”
“I don’t eat cake.”
“We’ll come down later,” Jayde suggested. “I haven’t tried any of the cakes yet — they look delicious. And she has lots of other things if you prefer. Men always like savouries better than sweet stuff.” Thus spoke the oracle on men’s tastes.
“Ah. Yes, okay.” Jeremy’s cheeks looked a little flushed, his eyes darting around as if to avoid looking directly at anything.
“And I can show Jerry round the house properly,” Jayde added, inspired. “So he can check all the things that need to be done.”
“Okay.” Vicky smiled thinly.
Jerry?He hated being called Jerry. And when had her sister become so familiar with him?
An unpleasant suspicion was niggling in the back of her mind. But Jayde and Jeremy? No — her sister was absolutely not his type. And he wasn’t hers. They had nothing in common — they didn’t even like each other very much. She was just being stupid.