Four
Hanna couldn’t quite believe it, especially as the day had started off so well and had, if anything, only got better. Or so she thought. She’d even been able to dismiss the slight anxiety she had experienced after her irritating conversation with Barbra Brimble earlier. Her painting of Betancourt and its grounds was as beautiful as she had hoped, even allowing for the fact that she’d had to paint out that butterfly’s long tail and she’d been looking forward to a small celebratory lunch at The Royal Oak.
She’d only nipped home to Catkin Cottage to put her easel and paints away and to wash her brushes thoroughly before leaving them to dry in a pretty, ceramic pot she kept in her studio specifically for that purpose.
If she’d known she might bump into Vera and Rita Boot, the elderly twin sisters who lived next door, she might have waited to return home. They were lovely, but they did have a tendency to talk, and talk, and talk, and she was feeling hungry. Her tummy had been rumbling like a worn out washing machine for the last half an hour. But they had spotted her the moment she had rounded the corner and it was obvious that, having seen her, they were now standing outside their front door, waiting for her. The eager waves and beckoning gestures had given that away.
Yet even after her earlier ‘chat’ with Barbra Brimble, and her misgivings about that, she was totally unprepared for what the sisters said. And she definitely hadn’t expected them to feel sorry for her. Along with half of Betancourt Bay, apparently.
She could kick herself for being so foolish. And right now, she wouldn’t mind giving Barbra Brimble a little kick too. Right off the top of Lookout Point. Or perhaps at the top of Lookout Steps. She could stand and watch Barbra Brimble’s bottom bounce down all three hundred steps, one by one.
That made her smile for a second. Until the reality of what the Boot sisters were saying really dawned on her.
She only had herself to blame though. She was the one who had let out that long sigh in front of Barbra. She had said those stupid words aloud. And Barbra’s radar dish like ears had honed in on them. The problem was, Barbra had entirely misunderstood what Hanna had said.
Well, maybe not entirely.
Now Hanna was facing a dilemma. Was it better to reveal her real secret and set the wagging tongues straight? Even though that might lead to more heartache. Or should she wait it out? But that might lead to more confusion and some very awkward questions.
And what about her friends, Griff and Grace? Had they heard this gossip yet?
Although would they care? Would they even believe it?
More importantly, would Russell?
The Boot sisters clearly had.
‘How long have you been in love with Grifforde Betancourt, dear?’ Rita had asked while Hanna was still a good few feet away.
The words had stopped Hanna in her tracks. It was a good thing that very few cars ever travelled along Oak Street, or she might have been knocked down. She couldn’t move her feet for several seconds.
‘Wh-what?’ Hanna had thought she must have misheard Rita.
‘In love with gorgeous Griff,’ Vera had stated, letting out a rather loud and wistful sigh of her own. ‘If only I were a few years younger. You’d have competition, dear.’
‘Competition!’ Rita shot her twin sister a withering look and snorted a laugh. ‘Aren’t you forgetting, young Grace? She’s your competition for Griff’s heart. And I’d also be in that line, let me tell you. That man is a hunk and there’s no denying it.’ She threw Hanna a sympathetic smile. ‘We understand completely why you’re in love with the man. I mean, who isn’t? But what we don’t understand, dear, is why you chose to tell Barbra. And why you waited until now. Surely it would’ve been better to declare how you felt before the man proposed to Grace, wouldn’t it? Or better yet, before The Mistletoe Dance. Perhaps, if you’d got in first, he might not have told Grace how much he loved her.’
‘They’re not married yet though,’ said Vera. ‘And as we both know, there’s many a hitch betwixt a proposal and the wedding vows.’
‘We agreed we would never talk about that again!’ Rita glowered at her sister, before hastily composing herself. ‘We’re trying to comfort Hanna, not dwell on the past. And really, Vera. Who uses the word ‘betwixt’ these days?’
Vera flushed slightly. ‘Yes. Of course.’ And then she smiled compassionately at Hanna. ‘I suspect, like the rest of us, you had no idea how Grifforde felt about Grace until he declared himself on Christmas Eve. You probably thought, as we all did, that he was one of life’s playboys, and that, one day, you might be the woman to tame him.’
‘If only,’ said Rita, rolling her eyes. ‘But once he’d said he loved Grace, and had done so for most of his life, it didn’t really matter when or how you admitted you loved him, did it? You must realise though, deep down, that it’s too late.’
Vera tutted at her sister. ‘What we mean is, was it wise to do so now? And do come out of the road, dear. Getting yourself run over won’t help anyone.’
‘Grace might disagree with that,’ Rita said.
It was as if Hanna was in a trance until Rita’s sarcasm snapped her out of it. She hurried to the pavement feeling more than a little foolish and annoyed.
‘Are you … are you honestly saying that Barbra has told you that I said I’m in love with Griff?’
‘Oh no, dear,’ said Vera, and Hanna breathed a sigh of relief. But it was short lived. ‘Daisy Copeland called and told us.’
‘Yes,’ said Rita. ‘We usually go to Daisy’s Wednesday coffee mornings at the vicarage, but between you and us, ever since we invited Daisy and the vicar to our eightieth birthday party the man has been a little … high and mighty towards us. He’s often banging on about Genesis, and Sodom and Gomorrah, so we only go now when we know he won’t be popping in.’
‘He treats us as if we’re little devils or something,’ Vera said, giggling.
‘Sorry.’ Hanna was confused and her head was thumping. ‘Are you telling me that the vicar’s wife called you and said that I’m in love with Griff?’
‘Yes, dear,’ said Vera. ‘About an hour ago now. Barbra Brimble was at the coffee morning, and she told Daisy, and everyone else present.’
Hanna briefly closed her eyes as the ground seemed to be shifting beneath her feet.
‘Erm. How many people attend Daisy’s coffee mornings?’ Hanna dreaded the answer.
‘Well it really depends,’ said Rita, seemingly counting with her fingers as she spoke. ‘At least half of the female residents of Betancourt Bay, I’d say.’
‘Oh, great,’ Hanna groaned.
‘Oh no, dear,’ said Vera, wagging a finger at her sister. ‘Far more than that. I’d say most of the female residents of the village. At least, those above a certain age. And, of course, there are the members of St Gabriel’s choir. Some of those live in Folkestone.’
‘It just gets better,’ Hanna mumbled as she shook her head.
‘And the three female campanologists!’ Rita seemed to suddenly remember, judging by her tone. ‘Although why all the people who live in Folkestone come all the way here to our little church when there are some perfectly good churches in Folkestone, is a mystery to me.’
‘St Gabriel’s is pretty,’ said Vera. ‘And ancient.’
‘We’re pretty, and ancient,’ Rita joked, ‘but do people travel from Folkestone to come to us?’
‘Well, yes dear.’ Vera furrowed her brows. ‘Our nephew does.’
‘Other than Bruce, I meant,’ snapped Rita.
‘Okay. Thanks.’ Hanna was close to snapping now. ‘I think I get the picture.’ She couldn’t listen to much more of this. She had her answer.
Basically, a lot of people, both in Betancourt Bay, and beyond, believed she was in love with Grifforde Betancourt. The feeling in her tummy was no longer one of hunger, it was more like nausea now.
Vera tapped her on her arm. ‘We were just on our way to meet Daisy for lunch in Betancourt Bay Café. And we’d better hurry as we’re already late. We’re here if you want to chat. Oh, and you’re welcome to join us, dear.’
‘Thanks. But no,’ Hanna said, and watched as the sisters hurried away, their walking sticks tapping on the pavement in perfect rhythm.
Perhaps she should give lunch at The Royal Oak a miss and eat at home instead. Assuming she could actually eat anything at all after that conversation.
Barbra Brimble, and the vicar’s wife, and at least half of Betancourt Bay, along with several people in Folkestone, thought she was in love with Griff. And no doubt every single one of those people had told at least one other person this astonishing news by now.
Daisy would definitely have told the vicar, who had doubtless said he would pray for Hanna, because that was his answer to everything.
And Hanna didn’t doubt for a second that Charlie Tollard, the daughter of Freddie, the owner of The Royal Oak had heard this gossip, and that meant everyone in the pub would’ve heard it too. Charlie wasn’t one for keeping secrets.
Hanna needed time to think. And time to decide what she should do next.
It was only as she opened the front door of Catkin Cottage and stepped inside that she realised something.
‘Oh bloody hell!’ She slammed the door shut behind her. ‘I didn’t say it wasn’t true! I didn’t even try to deny it.’
Well that was that. She was never venturing outside again.