Two
The Eversley Events meeting concluded a mere few seconds before the timer pinged to announce the beef was done. It was removed from the oven, loosely covered with tin foil, and left on the kitchen worktop to rest. The roast potatoes were turned, pots of water put on to boil for the other veg, and the Yorkshire puddings placed in one of the ovens in the Aga while an apple and blackberry crumble was placed in another.
‘Anyone for sherry?’ Pat offered.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Granny Joy piped up. She had an almost super-human talent to always wake up just as alcohol was mentioned, or a meal was ready.
‘I’ll open the wine,’ said Hope, and then glanced over to Grace. ‘Are you joining us today or rushing back to Griff’s arms?’
Grace pulled a face. ‘Griff is having lunch with his dad, step mum, and Russell, so I’m staying here out of the way.’
Griff had been saying for a while now that he had a plan regarding Bianca. Grace was clearly hoping that was what they would all be discussing today.
It wasn’t that Grace was unhappy about being under the same roof as Bianca – Betancourt was big enough to avoid each other if they tried – but Bianca was continually reminding Grace, and everyone else within earshot, that Grace had believed herself to be in love with Russell for so many years.
Hope had wanted to slap Bianca when the woman asked the question in front of Hope and the rest of the Eversley family one day.
‘How can you be so sure you now love Grifforde?’ Bianca asked, using Griff’s full name. ‘And how can he be sure you won’t change your mind again and fall back in love with Russell?’
‘Because what I felt for Russell was a lingering, childish infatuation, and as I hardly ever saw him, it couldn’t possibly be love. What I feel for Griff is completely and utterly different. And it’s forever. I’m certain of that.’
Griff wrapped Grace in his arms and told Bianca that as he wasn’t at all concerned about Grace’s true feelings, there was really no reason for Bianca to worry. Bianca had flounced off. But Grace had confided to Hope and their mum that this was a regular occurrence, although usually when Griff wasn’t around to provide such love and support.
‘Perhaps they’ll pack Bianca off to that place she went to before Christmas,’ Hope said now.
‘No. That retreat was for her drink problem. As far as we know, she’s remained sober since then. I think – and I hope – Griff has something more long term in mind. As soon as Naomi received her Lottery winnings, she kindly offered to pay for Bianca to take an exceedingly long holiday on a remote island in the Pacific, but I couldn’t accept such an offer. Although I did mention it to Griff that night and he said it wasn’t such a bad idea, but that his family would pay, not Naomi. I thought he was joking, but maybe not, so fingers crossed.’
Hope grinned as she handed her sister a large glass of red wine. ‘You might want to uncross those fingers for your wine.’
Grace laughed and took the glass. ‘I’ll cross my toes instead.’
‘When I was your age,’ said Granny Joy, ‘I could cross my legs behind my head. I wonder if I still can.’
‘Please don’t try!’ Pat pleaded, as Granny Joy shifted in her chair.
‘Don’t try what?’ Granny Joy asked, already forgetting what she’d said.
‘Here’s your sherry.’ Simon handed her a glass.
Granny Joy peered at it and then at him. ‘Are we on rations?’
She held the glass towards him and he filled it to the brim with an audible sigh.
‘What’s for lunch?’ she asked after taking two large sips.
‘Roast beef and all the trimmings,’ said Grace.
‘I don’t want the trimmings! That’s tripe you know. And that’s the cow’s stomach.’
‘Grace didn’t mean that sort of trimmings,’ said Pat. ‘She meant all the veg.’
‘Well why didn’t she say veg? Is there any sherry left in that bottle?’ She emptied her glass in one gulp.
‘Maybe we should send Granny Joy to that place Bianca went,’ said Hope.
‘Want rid of me, eh?’ Granny Joy glared at Hope.
‘Never, Granny. It was a joke.’
‘Hmm. When’s lunch ready? I’m starving. Is that dog dead?’ She pointed at Lady E with one hand while knocking back the glass of sherry in her other.
Lady E was lolling in her comfy basket, but as she was emitting her usual snuffly-sounding snores, she was obviously perfectly fine.
‘Perhaps I should see if she’ll wake up,’ said Hope, ‘and take her for a quick walk before lunch.
Granny Joy tapped the basket with her foot and Lady E’s eyes shot open and her bat-like ears popped up, although she looked half asleep as her dark eyes drifted from person to person.
‘Time for walkies,’ said Granny Joy, and Lady E leapt out of the basket, her claws skittering on the tiled floor as she raced towards the door.
‘I think that’s a yes then darling,’ Simon said, smiling sympathetically at Hope.
‘Don’t be long, darling,’ said Pat. ‘Everything will be ready to serve in twenty minutes.’
‘Don’t let Granny Joy touch my wine,’ said Hope taking a quick sip before placing her glass on the kitchen table and following Lady E along the wooden floor of the hall to the front door.
The lead was hanging on the hook beside the door as always and Hope grabbed her coat and scarf from the coat rack. Shrugging them on she then took her gloves from the large, black, ceramic top hat on the hall table where all the gloves were kept, and her keys from the white, ceramic bowl shaped like a bow tie.
She attached the lead to Lady E’s collar and opened the front door. After the warmth in the kitchen the air outside hit her like a snowball in the face. Although it was relatively warm and sunny for a February day, compared to inside, it was freezing.
Hope shot a glance towards Betancourt but then remembered that Russell was having lunch with the family so the chances of him appearing were thankfully, remote.
She considered heading to Lookout Point and breathing in the air whilst taking in the stunning view. It was one she knew well, of course, but each day it was a little different from the day before. The sea might be a slightly lighter or darker shade of blue, green, or grey, depending on the weather, and similarly, the sky. When there were clouds, she loved studying the different shapes they made and she often saw dragons, birds, various animals, and such, drifting across the wide expanse of sky. Storm clouds were her favourite to watch though as they could look so dramatic. But even on a cloudless day, the sky was beautiful.
Lookout Point was three hundred and ten feet at its highest spot and was made up of white chalk cliffs that towered above the sand and shingle beach of Betancourt Bay. You could see Locke Isle from the top of Lookout Point – and from several other places in Betancourt Bay but if you sat on the bench at the Point on a very clear day, you could even see the coast of France.
The Lookout Steps led down to the beach but there were three hundred of them, so most people accessed the beach farther along, where the cliff paths weren’t so steep and there were fewer steps.
Lady E loved running across the sand, but they didn’t have time to go down to the beach right now. And besides, to get to the beach meant walking directly in sight of Seaview Cottage, and Laurence might be sitting in his study at the front of his house, working on his new book. Hope wasn’t in the mood for being murdered, and certainly not on an empty stomach.
It would also mean walking past Rosehip Cottage, home of Jean and Victor Mills, the parents of Hope’s ex-boyfriend, Rob, but that didn’t bother her much at all. Yes, Rob had broken her heart many years ago and it was several months before she could go anywhere near that cottage in the early days, but she could count on the fingers of one hand, the number of times since their break up that Rob had come back to visit his parents, so she had forced herself to get used to it, knowing that there was little risk of bumping into her ex.
Even on the rare occasions when he had come home, Hope had never seen him, and he had never told her when he was around. His visits had been so fleeting in fact that his own siblings joked that if they blinked, they missed him.
All Hope knew about him was that he was still working his way around the world, no doubt having the time of his life.
Why she had suddenly thought of Rob she had no idea.
Perhaps because Grace had mentioned him the other day.
Or was it by any chance, because she had realised today that, now that Naomi had met the love of her life, Hope was the only one of the four of them who was unattached?
Grace had Griff. Fiona had Greg. And now Naomi had her handsome stranger, Lucas Dove.
Hope had no one. Unless she counted Russell Betancourt, the handsome man she didn’t love but who loved her. Or Laurence Lake, the successful and equally good-looking author trying to bump her off for his new book.
And memories of Rob Mills, the one who walked away.
Oddly enough, now that she thought about it, all three men were blond.
Perhaps she attracted a certain type.
Yet the attraction wasn’t reciprocated. With the exception of Rob. Although if she saw him now she might not be attracted to him either.
She could only hope. It was inevitable that one day she would bump into him again. It was the Law of Averages.
Not that there had been anything average about Rob Mills.
‘Stop thinking about Rob!’ she yelled at herself, making Lady E jump and turn and give her a particularly odd look. ‘Sorry sweetheart. I was yelling at myself, not you.’
She glanced around and was surprised to see the trees of East Wood stretching out before her. She had walked without paying any attention at all to the direction she was going. At least it was the opposite direction from Laurence Lake.
She let out a small sigh. The evergreens looked beautiful in the wintry sunshine and even the bare branches of the deciduous trees were stunning as they appeared to form majestic sculpture-like shapes before her eyes.
Rob liked sculpture.
‘Arghh!’ she hissed through clenched teeth.
She hardly ever thought of Rob these days yet suddenly she couldn’t get him out of her head.
What she should be thinking about was a magical setting for a surprise marriage proposal. And she needed to get a move on because she only had two weeks.
‘I think it’s time we went home, Lady E. I need wine. Lots and lots of it. And possibly a lobotomy.’