Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
G illian knocked hard on the door of Kingsford Manor. Stepping back, she wondered if it would ever get easier with time, if the pain of her loss would ever subside. Each visit brought back a flood of memories and, with it, an ache in her chest that felt as fresh as the day she left.
She took a deep breath and steadied herself. Spending so much time in the manor the day before, organising the flower show and welcoming the guests had all felt so natural. After clearing up she’d almost taken herself upstairs for a shower until Bridget reminded her she no longer lived there.
Viola opened the door with a smirk. “Gillian! Fashionably late, I see.”
“Indeed. I hope I’m dressed appropriately. I wasn’t sure what one wears for a helicopter ride crossed with a posh lunch.”
Gillian smoothed her hands over the soft fabric of her navy midi dress, the delicate spray of white blossoms creating an elegant contrast against the deep blue. The v-neckline dipped just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage as the hem swayed gently in the light breeze around her knees.
“Unlike a horse, it doesn’t come with a uniform. You look perfect.”
“Thank you. You look… lovely too,” Gillian said, admiring a little too intensely Viola’s white shirt tucked neatly into a pair of blue chinos.
“Thanks. I’d rather be in a summer dress like you, but it’s not very practical for flying a helicopter, and the matching footwear wouldn’t work.”
Gillian watched Viola reach for a grey linen blazer hanging on a hook and slip it on. Her bust was testing the very edges of her shirt as she stretched her arms through the sleeves and pulled her hair out from the collar. It did nothing to help Gillian’s composure, especially in the warm sunshine. Fanning herself with her hand, she tried to think of anything to distract herself.
“Err, you were back late yesterday. I thought you were just dropping off Caroline.”
“I was. I thought it would be best to give you some space. The last thing you needed was me breathing down your neck. I wanted you to be comfortable to do your thing.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Gillian lied. She was disappointed that Viola hadn’t made an appearance during the show, even though she would have felt like a spare part and only served to distract Gillian. “And thank you again for coming to my rescue.”
“You’re welcome. Did it all go okay?”
“About the same as it always does with Elouise and Louisa picking up most of the prizes, much to the annoyance of the rest of the villagers. If only everyone would put in the same time and effort as those two do at Kingsford House, then they, too, may hold a rosette.”
“Sounds controversial.”
“It always is, but I brook no questioning,” Gillian said firmly. “My decision is final.”
A smile danced on Viola’s lips and her eyes shone as she stepped outside. “Oh, I bet you don’t.”
Gillian’s face flushed at her impish tone.
“Let’s walk around to the back. I’ve already locked up everywhere else,” Viola directed as she closed the front door and locked it.
“Everyone was very grateful to be back here, especially when we were besieged by rain,” Gillian said, following Viola through the garden. “You’ve made yourself even more popular amongst the villagers. You know, if you wanted to stump up for the renovations on the village hall, I’m sure we could arrange a name change to Berkley Hall. We could go a step further and change the village name to Berkley.”
Gillian felt a nudge in her side, sending a pleasant tingle through her.
“Ha ha! I suppose you can turn your attention to arrangements for the ball now?”
“Yes,” she confirmed with a smile. “Although everything is already booked.”
“Efficient as always.”
“Fail to prepare — ”
“And prepare to fail,” Viola finished. “Trust you to quote that.”
Gillian grinned at how well Viola knew her already. Her grin disappeared as the helicopter came into sight on the lawn. She gulped at the thought of being in it and thousands of feet in the air at any minute, with nothing else between them and the ground.
She pushed the unhelpful thoughts aside; they only added to the anxiety of having lunch with Viola. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already had lunch with her, and yet something was making her heart race and her stomach a little queasy. She made a quick job of convincing herself it was simply the helicopter.
“Right, shall we?” Viola said, opening the door for Gillian and offering her a hand.
“Thanks.” Gillian took her hand and stepped into the cockpit. She navigated her way around a stick— the steering gear, she presumed— and sat down.
“Buckle up while I do the walk-around.”
Gillian did as instructed as Viola shut the door and disappeared. Taking in her surroundings of levers, buttons, and screens, Gillian wondered what they all did. When Viola reappeared, she climbed in beside her, lifting a clipboard and iPad from her own seat. Gillian watched as she wrote on the clipboard and tapped at her iPad, interacting with the screen and touching buttons on the instrument panel and above her head. Her hands and feet moved to the pedals and controls, pushing and moving them as if testing them out.
Viola put on a headset and passed one to Gillian. “Put this on so we can hear each other. I need to check you are secure.” She pulled at the straps on Gillian’s harness and inspected the buckle. “I need to check the door too.” She leaned around Gillian, her body brushing against her as she stretched to look at the lock.
Gillian instinctively pulled herself back, holding her breath as Viola leaned closer.
“Okay, we’re all good to go. Ready?” Viola asked, popping on her sunglasses.
Gillian nodded as she exhaled, feeling her heart rate pick up as Viola’s musky scent lingered in the air and she realised how much she was taking in. It did nothing to help her nervous disposition.
The helicopter’s rotors began to spin, sending a gentle vibration through the cabin. As they lifted off the ground, a sense of weightlessness washed over her. The noise of the rotors was a constant, throbbing hum, filling her ears through the headset as she focused on the view outside.
Viola looked impressive as she manoeuvred the helicopter, her hands steady on the stick. Her focus was steadfast, scanning the instrument panel, fingers making minute adjustments to the controls as the rotor blades whirred rhythmically, slicing through the air with precision.
Gillian peered down out of the window as the helicopter ascended smoothly, the buildings below became smaller and smaller. She placed a hand on her stomach, feeling a little queasy. When she took a deep breath, it didn’t go unnoticed.
“Everything is fine,” Viola said through her headset. “I’m a good pilot. Trust me.”
Gillian nodded. She did. Even though she’d never fully trusted anyone besides herself, she had complete faith in Viola’s abilities.
They remained silent during the flight, with Viola occasionally talking to someone Gillian could only assume was air traffic control. She took the opportunity to admire the breathtaking view of the South Downs, with its undulating surface covered in a patchwork of woodlands, hills, and fields. She felt an incredible sense of freedom as if she were detached from the world below, soaring effortlessly through the air.
They couldn’t have been in the air more than ten minutes before they began descending. The weightlessness gave way to a slight pressure as the landscape below loomed larger.
Gillian stole a glance at Viola; her concentration never wavered as she skilfully navigated their descent onto a large expanse of grass in front of a Victorian mansion.
As Viola commenced what appeared to be shutdown checks, Gillian took the opportunity to collect herself. She automatically moved the sun visor, hoping to find a mirror, then felt foolish as she remembered she was in a helicopter. When Viola was finished, she shot around to Gillian’s side and opened the door for her, holding out a hand to assist her.
“Enjoyable? Or are you ordering a taxi to take you home?” Viola asked, as they joined the path from the lawn to the restaurant.
Gillian thought before answering. “It was tolerable, I suppose.” She hadn’t exactly enjoyed it, but it hadn’t been as bad as she was expecting. Like a plane, the takeoff and landing had been the most terrifying, but they were over swiftly.
Viola’s forehead furrowed as her eyebrows lifted playfully. “Only tolerable? Maybe I should call you that taxi.”
“I’m sure I can find it tolerable and still request a ride home.” Gillian grinned.
“Let’s see how you behave in the restaurant first,” Viola teased, nudging her shoulder into Gillian’s. “It’s Michelin-starred, so none of your rudeness or I’ll call you a taxi myself.”
There was a time when she would have objected to such a statement, yet now, she found herself smiling at Viola’s gentle teasing.
A doorman greeted them at the entrance to the restaurant and led through several oak-panelled corridors with high, ornate, moulded ceilings and crystal chandeliers. A waiter seated them at a table overlooking the lawn and the helicopter.
They exchanged awkward smiles as they took their seats at the beautifully laid table for two. Not wishing to add to the giddiness she was still feeling from the helicopter ride, Gillian ordered an orange juice from the waiter when he returned a few minutes later.
“Would you prefer something stronger?” Viola questioned. “Please don’t feel like you can’t partake because I’m not.”
“I’m feeling a little light-headed from the flight,” Gillian replied, hoping it was simply that and had nothing to do with the beautiful woman across the table, who was currently removing her blazer. A hot sweat washed over her, and she picked up the menu to fan herself. She needed to get a grip. Feelings like the ones Viola just caused were a thing of the past and needed to stay there. “So,” Gillian continued, desperately trying to think of something to distract herself, “flying… is it even called flying if it isn’t in a plane?”
Viola raised an eyebrow at her.
Gillian could have slipped under the table and never come out. Why did she say that? Why was her brain all mushy?
“I suppose we could call it ‘helicoptering’ if you think that works better. Traditionally it’s called flying.”
The heat searing through her intensified from embarrassment. “Oh yes. Of course.”
“Are you okay, Gillian?” Viola said as she tracked the ever-faster-moving menu. “You look a bit red.”
Gillian put the menu down and stood up. “Yes, fine, thank you. I’ll just nip to the…” She trailed off, spotting a directional sign for the lavatories.
Grabbing her handbag, she headed towards it. Her head was heavy and her mind fuzzy. Reaching the toilets, she stood in front of a mirror and took deep breaths. She desperately wanted some cold water on her face. Knowing it would ruin her make-up, she settled for washing her hands instead.
A woman appeared from one of the cubicles and their eyes met in the mirror. The woman, who bore a vague familiarity Gillian couldn’t place, flashed her a smile. Gillian returned it and focused on washing the soap off her hands as the woman washed hers. Catching a brief look at her in the mirror, Gillian noticed she was still smiling to herself. She looked genuinely happy and at ease.
Gillian tried to recall if she had ever felt like that in the previous years — or decades even. What did one have to do in life to have such a smile on one’s face? She recalled the brief moment when she had thought the manor was all hers; she had felt genuine happiness then, until it was ripped from her clutches.
Throwing her damp towel in the laundry bin, she turned to leave, giving a final glance towards the still-smiling woman. Navigating her way back to the table she racked her brain, trying to place her.
“The dry cleaners,” Gillian muttered as she retook her seat opposite Viola. Their drinks had arrived, so she took a refreshing sip of orange juice.
“Dry cleaners?” Viola asked, a questioning eyebrow raised.
“I saw a woman in the lavatories. I couldn’t place her at first, but now I realise she’s the woman you helped with her dry cleaning.”
“Oh, Sydney Mackenzie?”
Gillian shrugged, unable to recall her name.
“I wonder if she is here with her wife,” Viola said, her eyes darting around the restaurant.
“Ah, yes, the famous actress,” Gillian said dryly, recalling that Viola had mentioned her before. “Is this considered a celebrity hangout then?”
She watched Viola, who was now straining her neck to get a look at everyone. It was an interesting notion that even people who were celebrities could fluster at the sight of a “bigger” celebrity.
“It’s a Michelin-starred restaurant. If it’s not celebrities, it’s wealthy people who see themselves as celebrities. Ah, look, over there.” Viola nodded behind Gillian.
Gillian turned to look, only for Viola to hiss.
“Try and be subtle about it! Celebrities always know when someone is staring no matter how much you try to hide it.” Viola threw her napkin to the side of Gillian’s chair. “Oops, careless me. Could you get that for me?”
Burying the urge to suggest Viola herself was being less than subtle, Gillian pushed her chair back with a grin and picked up the napkin. Lingering for a moment, she looked behind her. She spotted Sydney and arched a little more to get a look at her supposedly stunningly beautiful companion, if she recalled Viola’s words correctly. Maybe that was the reason for Sydney’s immovable smile.
Did Gillian need to find a new love for herself? No one was likely to want her, penniless and on the wrong side of fifty; any beauty she retained was bound to fade in the coming years. Without the manor she wasn’t likely to be moving in the right circles to pick up an eligible bachelor; she wasn’t likely be moving in any circles anymore, and there was no man in Kingsford she would touch. Frankly, there wasn’t a man anywhere she would want to touch.
Leaning a little further, she could feel her balance tipping unfavourably. Before she could grab the table to steady herself, she fell onto the floor. Grappling quickly to get up as her face flushed with heat, she looked towards Beatrice Russell to see if she’d noticed, only to find piercing blue eyes glaring back at her. The woman held a certain presence about her, although she looked a bit up herself for Gillian’s liking. She soon turned her attention back to Sydney.
Realising the entire restaurant was silent and staring at her tempted Gillian into running from the room. Instead, she sat back down only to find Viola was visibly shaking with laughter behind the drinks menu. Two brown eyes appeared over the top of it.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Gillian growled whilst holding a false smile on her face, which she directed at the other clientele to reassure them all was well.
“Sorry, I’m going to need… a minute,” Viola said, holding a finger up, unable to keep her mirth restrained.
Gillian cast her eyes heavenward. “When you are quite finished.”
Viola took some deep breaths, blowing each one out slowly. “Did you get a look at her during your pirouette? She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?”
“She is, but she has nothing on yo—” Gillian bit her bottom lip and then quickly added, “You, for example, or even her wife. You are both plain and simple.”
Raising an eyebrow, Viola questioned, “Plain and simple?”
Gillian waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, you know what I mean.”
“Oh no, you’ll need to explain that one.” Viola smirked.
“I mean that there is more beauty in the subtle, the understated, and the quietly profound; a quiet allure that whispers to you gradually and invites rather than demands your attention. It possesses a kind of grace that lingers in one’s mind.”
The soft curve of Viola’s smile and the gentle sparkle in her eyes were an exact example of the details that captivated Gillian, a beauty that grew deeper with every glance.
“Good save, and thank you, I guess.”
Taking a gulp of her drink, Gillian immediately regretted not having asked for something stronger. The waiter returned to take their lunch order; Gillian was grateful for the interruption and the opportunity to change the subject once he left.
“Tell me, what made you want to learn to fly?”
“I spent a lot of time being flown around in a plane,” Viola explained. “I’m not one for chartering a private jet for myself, so I would always fly commercial. I got fed up with the cancelled flights, sitting around in airport lounges. I thought there must be a better way of getting around. I can have a helicopter to me within half an hour at Kingsford and be in Paris in an hour and a half. I can’t completely avoid planes for long hauls, but helicopters work well for getting around once I’m there.”
“Why not hire a pilot?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Gillian shrugged; she couldn’t argue with that.
“I considered buying a helicopter, then realised it’s too much hassle to keep and maintain. Now I have one at the touch of a button. The company I use is happy for me to fly anything I’m licensed for. When I toured Australia, Mum came with me, and I hired a helicopter to get us both around. She loved it.”
“Can I ask how she died?” Gillian asked cautiously.
“An aneurysm. She was all alone in my penthouse at the time.” Viola gazed into the distance and repeated softly. “All alone.”
Gillian found her hand reaching forward and resting on Viola’s. She was about to withdraw it, then forced herself not to. She could offer some sympathy without it meaning anything.
“They said she didn’t stand a chance, even if I had been there. Nothing could have saved her; it was a ticking time bomb.”
Viola’s gaze drifted to the window as Gillian’s thumb unconsciously stroked her hand.
“Can I ask something else?” Gillian said, breaking the silence.
“Full of questions today, aren’t we?” Viola replied, returning her attention with a tone laced with teasing amusement.
Gillian narrowed her eyes slightly, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips as she tilted her head. “Just curious.”
“Go on,” Viola encouraged.
“I was going to ask how your parents took you being a…”
“A lesbian?” Viola finished for her, an eyebrow raised.
“Yes.” Gillian hadn’t quite been able to get the word out herself.
“Initially it was quite a shock as they read about it in the newspaper.”
Gillian’s face dropped in horror. “Oh.”
“I guess you missed that.”
“I’m not one for newspapers. Jonathon always read them. I made good use of them in the cat’s litter tray.”
“That’s definitely where they belong.” Viola laughed. “My dad was too drunk to care about anything, and my mum was shocked, more so that I hadn’t confided in her.”
“How did your coming out make it to the newspaper?”
“I didn’t come out. I was forced out.”
Realising her hand was still on Viola’s, Gillian patted it and withdrew it. “I’m sorry.”
“My girlfriend at the time…” Viola stopped as if trying to find the right word. “Let’s just say I don’t think we were a good match, and as with these things, you don’t find out until it’s too late. She wanted more from our relationship and thought she was owed some status from being my girlfriend, without a thought of how it would affect me. This was a long time ago; the world was a different place, yet… I still don’t think we have progressed that much.”
Gillian hummed her agreement as Viola continued.
“I refused to come out. I didn’t want my sexuality to become the focus of my career. I’m a singer who happens to be a lesbian, not a lesbian singer. She decided I needed a bit of a push and leaked it to the media. She arranged for photographers to be outside a restaurant she took me to on our first anniversary, then kissed me in full sight of them.”
Gillian grimaced.
“She denied all knowledge of setting it up,” Viola continued. “I later found out through another friend that it was her, and I ended it.”
“Couldn’t you deny it, claim it was a platonic kiss?”
“I wasn’t going to lie; I wasn’t ashamed of who I was. I just didn’t trust others to be able to see past it. I was right, and my career took a knock for a few years. I worked hard, put all my energy into it, and it became less of an issue eventually. Old news, you might say.”
“I can see why you’ve avoided relationships. It must be hard to trust again after that.”
“It is hard to get past that kind of betrayal. That’s when I began a relationship with alcohol instead. It was easier than with people; at least you knew where you were with it. Looking back, it would’ve been easier to avoid both, but with alcohol, you knew what it cost you; you knew how you would feel the morning after. Everything was quantifiable.”
Gillian nodded. It made perfect sense.
“Whilst we’re asking questions,” Viola said, leaning back as the waiter placed their plates down, “what got you into horse riding?”
“My mother’s insistence. I was quite resistant to begin with.”
“Why?”
Gillian took a deep breath as she put her napkin on her lap. It felt silly to admit it now. With Viola’s eyes fixed and demanding, she answered truthfully. “I was scared of them.”
“Really?” Viola said with a hint of surprise.
“Yes, really,” Gillian echoed back.
“Sorry, it just seems odd when you are such a natural with Dudley. What made you overcome your fear?”
“Hen. I saw her passion for them. She trusted them, and I trusted her.”
Viola smiled. “Why was your mum keen for you to learn to ride?”
Gillian hesitated as she stabbed a new potato with her fork. Was she about to reveal her whole past, to Viola? She knew she was in safe hands. The most she was likely to receive from her was some light teasing, which she secretly found enjoyable. “You must have heard the term ‘Fake it until you make it’.”
“Of course. I was guilty of a bit of that in my early career.”
“My mother lived by that… with good reason. Not that I appreciated it at the time. My current position has forced me to become humble in some respects, and I can see she was trying to do her best.”
“What were you faking exactly?”
A reassuring smile from across the table encouraged Gillian on.
“Our position in society. My father was a successful man, and we were comfortable by the day’s standard. He was an accountant— until he went through a breakdown. I would say he recovered, but he was never the same again. He couldn’t work as an accountant anymore; he struggled with any work, to be honest. He managed to get a job working for the council as a bin man; it worked for him. I remember him telling me he found peace in the simplicity of a physical task. The fact it would knock him out at the end of a shift no doubt helped.”
Viola’s eyebrows lifted as she took a sip from her glass. “Oh.”
“I didn’t even care that I got teased at school for it. I was happy that he’d found some peace. My mother, on the other hand, wasn’t someone to disappoint, and being married to a bin man wasn’t what she had planned. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough for my mother, one day he up and left. She was mortified — not that he left, more so about what the neighbours would think.”
Viola nodded. “Being a single mum in those days wasn’t the done thing.”
“Exactly. For a while, she claimed he’d got a job working away. When he never returned to visit, it became harder to keep up with the lies. People notice things, and they gossip. We moved to an area where people didn’t know us, and she claimed she was a widow. There was a whole new set of people for her to impress.”
“Did that help?”
“Moving didn’t stop us being poor. That’s something that follows you everywhere. Even into your bed when you’re freezing because you can’t afford heating. I was entitled to free school dinners at school, but my mother was too embarrassed to allow it. She didn’t want the other children telling their parents we were poor. I got a lunchbox with barely enough to feed a pigeon. She would rather her child went hungry than lose face.”
“God. I’m sorry, Gillian.”
“It didn’t help that she would buy things we didn’t need, with money we didn’t have, to impress people she didn’t even like.”
“Is this how you met Hen?”
Gillian nodded, swallowing her mouthful before answering. “Riding lessons were her attempt to mix me with what she called ‘the right sort of person’. Hen’s parents owned the riding school.”
“Ah, yes, you mentioned that before. You didn’t meet her at school then?”
“No. Hen was a day student at a nearby private school. No matter how much my mother wanted to pretend, she couldn’t afford private school fees. She would tell people she wanted me to have a more natural upbringing and to learn to socialise with people from all walks of life. She supported our friendship, urging me to spend time with Hen’s family and join them for weekend events when I was invited. She hoped Hen would ‘rub off’ on me.”
Viola smirked and then covered her mouth. “Oh, sorry, Gillian.”
A smile edged onto Gillian’s lips as she realised what she’d said. “You know how that ended and how mortified she was when she found out about us. She believed she had caused it by pushing me towards Hen in the first place.”
“I don’t think it works like that. It’s not the common cold.”
“Precisely. We were two people who got along, a little too comfortably for my mother’s liking. I was her ticket out of poverty, if only I would marry someone respectable. Hen, she…” Gillian sniffed and swallowed, trying to regain control of herself.
“Hen, was never part of that plan?” Viola finished for her.
“No.” Gillian dabbed the corner of her eye with her serviette as she pretended to wipe her mouth. “I may have lost Hen, but that’s one thing she left with me: a love for horses. After university, for which I was awarded a scholarship, I got a good job in PR. The salary was good, and I saved every penny to buy a horse.”
“And that led you to stable the horse at Kingsford?” Viola questioned.
“Yes, where I met Jonathon. I rather fell on my feet as my mother said — repeatedly. At the age of thirty he was in danger of becoming a professional bachelor. As soon as he showed an interest in me, I encouraged him. I didn’t stop to think about things like love. He made me laugh — to begin with, anyway. We got married before the end of the year. I believe he loved me to begin with, but over time I felt more like a prize he’d won and wanted to show off. I was fond of him, of course, but to me, he was an escape from poverty. I didn’t need love then. I needed to not be poor. I’m not the first and I won’t be the last to marry for those reasons.”
Viola nodded her agreement. “Everyone has a different motive to get married.”
Gillian smiled as she tucked into her sea bass, grateful for Viola’s understanding rather than judgement of her actions.
“We worked well together for a time; then bitterness and resentment kicked in as we got older, and we grew apart. The money flowed less, and my looks… well, I wasn’t twenty anymore.”
“Gillian, you’re still beautiful. I couldn’t help noticing the photographs of a younger you on your windowsill. All you’ve done is blossom more.”
Goosebumps tingled down every extremity of Gillian’s body at her words. “That’s kind of you to say—”
“It’s the truth,” Viola pressed. “I’m sorry for what I said to you, about being wealthy and entitled. Well… the wealthy bit. If I’d known about your backgrou—”
“It’s fine. You didn’t know. I haven’t exactly been living in poverty since then, so yes, I have become a bit entitled. None of this is to go any further,” Gillian said, reaching out and tapping the table.
Viola placed a hand on top of Gillian’s. “Everything you say to me stays between us. I would hope the same goes the other way around too.”
“Yes, of course.”
Viola gestured between the two of them. “This is a safe space; you can tell me anything.”
“You’ve heard it all now,” Gillian said, retrieving her hand as she realised she was enjoying Viola’s soft hand and caressing fingers a little too much.
“You seem embarrassed to have come from a poor background.”
“I built a life at Kingsford, crafted it over decades. It would wipe away my last shred of dignity if people were to find out now. I would be a liar, an imposter.”
“Is it not time for the real Gillian to step into the limelight and reveal who she really is?”
“No, I’m not sure it is. I’ve already lost so much; I can’t risk losing the last remnants of my life.”
“Do you even like this Gillian, the one you’ve crafted?” Viola asked, placing her knife and fork down on her empty plate.
“I don’t dislike her. I’ve grown used to her over the years,” Gillian replied, with a hint of defeat. “I had to.”
“Like an old, worn-out pair of slippers that don’t quite fit right?”
Gillian glared at Viola. “They may be worn, but they still fit comfortably.”
“Yet they no longer support you properly.”
“They still aren’t ready to be discarded into the waste,” Gillian bit back, hoping to stop the conversation in its tracks.
Viola had said Gillian could tell her anything, and she had, leaving nothing out. When had she become the person Gillian confided everything in? There was nothing left to share; Viola knew it all, from her unhappy childhood and marriage to her first love.
After they both declined dessert, Viola insisted on paying the bill. Gillian couldn’t exactly argue with her. Having seen the prices on the menu when they had sat down, she’d calculated the maths in her head. She wasn’t normally one for accepting handouts, but on this occasion she was happy to relent. It helped that Viola was extremely insistent that it was her treat.
As they were getting ready to leave, two women sat at a table behind them. One proceeded to speak to the other in a concerned voice about a Labrador with an upset stomach.
“He’s probably eaten something he shouldn’t have,” the other woman replied nonchalantly. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I’ll call Freddie and check on him in a bit,” came the reply.
“That’s all you want to hear about whilst you’re dining,” Gillian said with a roll of her eyes, grateful they were leaving.
Viola frowned. “I know that voice.” She turned and looked at the woman. “Arte Tremaine, is that you?”
The woman twisted around in her seat and then stood. “Viola?”
Gillian watched as the two women embraced, feeling slightly jealous at their ease and close contact.
“What are you doing here?” Viola asked. “Last time I saw you was in Italy.”
“I live in the area now. My gran died, and I took over her hotel.”
“How sad. You aren’t teaching anymore then?”
“I am,” Arte confirmed. Turning to her companion and smiling, she added, “My wife, Charlotte, runs the hotel side of things for us.”
Gillian and Viola nodded at her, receiving a smile and nod in return.
“Congrats.”
“Thanks,” Arte replied. “I have an art studio onsite in one of the old barns. If your mum needs a bit of respite, send her my way.”
Viola looked down. “Mum passed away a few months back.”
“Oh, I am so sorry,” Arte said, rubbing Viola’s upper arm.
“Thanks.”
“You must be bereft without her.”
Viola nodded. “I’m finding my way, day by day. Oh, this is my friend, Gillian Carmichael. I moved to the area recently, too, into Gillian’s house, actually.”
Gillian smiled at Arte, glad to finally be acknowledged.
“Oh, are you two an item then?” Arte asked.
“No,” Gillian replied, her tone perhaps a bit too sharp and immediate.
“No,” Viola reiterated with a gentle laugh. “Gillian unwittingly sold it to me. She lives in the lodge now, so technically she’s my neighbour too. It would be great to catch up sometime.”
“Here, take my card.” Arte reached into her phone case and extracted a business card.
“Thanks. I’ll text you my number. I hope your dog is okay.”
Arte rolled her eyes. “Rodin’s a walking dustbin. He never learns.”
Viola chuckled. “It was lovely to bump into you.”
“And you,” Arte said, taking her seat.
“How do you know her?” Gillian asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Mum and I spent about six months living in Italy whilst I was touring there. She broke her ankle on some cobbles the day after we arrived, so I rented a place in Rome for her to recuperate and act as a base for us. Arte lived in an apartment next door. She helped enormously, checking in on Mum when I wasn’t around. They got on like a house on fire, and she taught Mum a bit of art to keep herself occupied. Mum turned out to be a natural at painting.”
Viola’s phone vibrated. “It’s Caroline. I’d better take this, sorry.”
“I’ll meet you outside,” Gillian said, nodding at the lavatories.
As she made her way towards them, she looked back at the two women to see them embracing Sydney and Beatrice like old friends. What a small world.
On her return, she found Viola outside.
“Everything okay?” Gillian asked as Viola hung up her phone.
“Caroline has booked Country Life Magazine to come and do a photoshoot of me at Kingsford later this week.”
“That’s a bit short notice, isn’t it?”
“There was a cancellation. I was on the list, and Caroline agreed. She thought it would help keep me in the public eye while I’ve been taking a break from work.”
Gillian frowned, and noticing the scared puppy look on Viola’s face, a flicker of fury burned inside her. “I thought the idea was for rest and recuperation. Does Caroline not understand you aren’t ready?”
“She believes there is only so much rest one needs. She doesn’t want me to be out of the limelight for too long, and I get that. It’s sweet that you worry for me, but this and the Proms will ease me back into work. Can I ask a favour?”
“Of course.”
“Would you be there?” Viola asked softly.
“Me? Why?”
“For one, to support me… as my friend.”
Gillian smiled at the word.
“Two, for authenticity,” Viola continued.
“Authenticity?”
“I’m not you, Gillian. I don’t have wardrobes full of country outfits, and I don’t understand the demands of the countryside as you do. I worry I won’t look the part without someone who knows how to look the part being there. Sorry if it’s too much to ask. Don’t answer now. Let’s get home, and you can answer when you are ready. I assume you are coming with me and not taking a taxi?”
Gillian narrowed her eyes. “I’ll risk it.”
Viola grinned, looped her arm through Gillian’s, and led them to the helicopter.
Was it too much to ask? For a friend to support another friend? Is that what they were, friends? The question sat in her mind as they flew back to Kingsford, Gillian now feeling more at ease in the cockpit and more comfortable with a person than she’d been in a long time. She already knew her answer, yet it would do no harm to make Viola wait — at least until they landed.