New Beginnings for Bryony Bennett

Chapter Twelve

Had she lost her marbles? Had she really agreed to hand out fliers, make more cakes, and try her hand at gluten free pizzas? Work an extra hour or two in the shop, and meet and greet at the hopefully dried out and redecorated hall? Turn up to help hang curtains, set out tables and then do the same in her barn? And, did she really hear other people saying they’d be down to give her a hand to set up, sell tickets and buy some for themselves? Was she in an alternative universe? Did she really see people smiling at her? Saying they were glad she was able to help and welcoming her to the village? Why the about face?

Not that Bryony was about to complain, she was, however, wary. Very wary. She’d accept their attitude at face value and wait for the worms to turn. Maddie filled her in and disabused her of about-face villagers.

‘Somehow, the idea of housing has been very firmly and officially scotched and shown to be wishful thinking. Dario has said publicly that he wasn’t gazumped by you, or anyone else, and it was all above board. He, bless him, said he’d not put a formal offer in before yours was accepted.’

‘But that’s not true,’ Bryony protested. The old bloke whatshisname just ignored it.’

‘He forgot. He’s ill. Why cause trouble for him? If Dario says he didn’t offer, then he didn’t offer. End of.’

It sounded wrong to Bryony, but she could understand why Dario acted as he had. ‘Dario is too good for his own good,’ she said, somewhat complicatedly. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘Yeah, but that’s him. Mrs C mentioned how hard working you are, and what a breath of fresh air it is to have a fresh face in the village, and...’ Maddie paused and took a deep breath. ‘And believe it or not, one of the three witches admitted, begrudgingly, you know your stuff in the shop. High praise from Penny Disley, I tell you. Grockle you may be, but you’re our grockle now.’

Two days after the satisfactory committee meeting, which had ensured the festival went ahead, Bryony went across to the barn. Dario had been as good as his word and treated her to one of the best meals she had ever eaten at Ode, in Shaldon. She was certain that not only would she be back to stuff herself on Tim’s excellent cooking, but she’d take Maisie as well. After the festival or fete or whatever you chose to call it. She thought the sobriquet, ‘bun fight’ could well turn out to be apt.

The early afternoon sunshine was once more at its best. Butterflies danced in the air and several bees made their busy way from one bush to another. If only it would be like this at the weekend, it would help make the festival go so much better.

A note pinned on her door with, ‘In the barn, pity I couldn’t get to Mop, he’s a noisy companion, even at a distance,’ made her laugh. She nipped inside the cottage, released a howling Mop from the bedroom, and went across to the barn.

‘You are a fraud,’ She told the dog, who of course ignored her. He was now where he wanted to be. With her. ‘You forget I know all your tricks.’

Mop farted. That seemed to be his answer to everything. Bryony was glad they were out in the fresh air. She pushed open the barn door and spoke to Dario’s back.

‘Devious blighter.’

He glanced at her and smiled. ‘Me or Mop?’

‘Both of you. He’s a con artist, not sure what else to call you.’

‘Should I not have done it?’ Dario, dressed as ever in jeans and a t-shirt, this one with “Sunday is not a day of rest for clergy” on it, opened another box of books and sneezed, as a grimy fine powder and the scent of old books wafted around them. It reminded her that the only time she’d seen him wearing anything else was in church.

He bowed, oh so elegantly. ‘You gonna say I’m a cad, slap me with your glove, and call me out? Demand satisfaction and want to know who my seconds are?’

What the hell was he talking about? ‘You what?’

He straightened up, grimaced as he put his hand to his back and then grinned. ‘Sorry, I’ve spent the last few evenings reading Austen to Maddie’s Lisa. She’s in love with Darcy, even at her young and impressionable age. Lisa, not Maddie. Maddie said, and I quote, ‘give me a real life flesh and blood bloke, not one inside a book, who even if he was alive would be dead’.’

That sounded like Maddie.

‘Poor Lisa. He is dead.’

‘Yeah, so I reminded her. It didn’t faze her. She’s a romantic at heart, not like her mum. As Mads says, the only romantic thing she ever did was eloping and look where that got her.’

There was no answer to that, so Bryony didn’t attempt one.

Dust mites floated about like snowflakes as they reflected in the rays of late afternoon sunshine that came in though the high barn windows. Dario rolled his eyes and went back to the boxes. He rummaged in the one that had made him sneeze. ‘Blooming heck, how long have these been boxed up? We need new, nearly new, well loved, and out of the ark sections I think.’

‘Plus, an elusive Mandi with an ‘i’ table?’

Dario glanced at her and sighed. ‘I guess so. Have you read any?’

Trust him to ask that. Honesty—and guilt—made her tell the truth. ‘Nope, I keep meaning to but…’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t like nasties. Hers are very much in that category if her reviews are to be believed. I can’t do nasties at all.’

‘Not even erotic ones?’

‘Dunno, the nasty bit puts me off. Hot is good, horrid is bad. How about you? Have you read them?’

He straightened up and colour tinged his cheeks as he blew strands of hair off them. ‘Oh yes, all of them. Evidently well-crafted and written in a way to keep you hot and bothered, worried, haunted, chilled and guessing. I can’t see it all myself, but I’m just one person. Ah well, onwards. Mr Cherry is bringing some more trestles soon, and young Ron will drop off the chairs, and some bookshelves before tea. He’ll make his apologies to you then too, if he hasn’t done already.’

‘He has. At silly o’clock this morning when I was just out of my jammies, with bed hair and bad breath. Poor bloke, I bet he now vows never to come near the mad woman at Cliff Cottage. Maybe I should have shown him that side of me earlier and saved us both a lot of grief.’

Dario laughed. ‘He’ll do in the end. He’s not bad, just bored. Mrs C has got him doing deliveries and clearing out her shed. As it is full of old stock, and goodness knows what, he’ll be too busy to even think about mischief.’

‘And the elusive Ms Rook?’ The damned woman was taking up much too much of her mind and Bryony was sick of the thought of the author, let alone the several boxes marked ‘M Rook, Paperbacks’.

‘Is always too busy to get into much mischief.’

‘You said as much,’ Bryony pounced. ‘So?’

‘Yeah. Well, she’ll be here if you let me stop for supper? I’ll cook.’

She almost fell over in surprise. ‘She will? Seriously?’

‘Yep.’

Bryony ran her finger over the cover of a book she’d got stacked away somewhere. ‘The Duggan’s of Montana by Molly Ann Wishlade. Ah, I love this. I must hunt my copy out and reread it. I wish she’d write some more. She’s dropped off the radar, damn it.’

Dario glanced over, and she held the book out to him. He stared at the cover. ‘Maybe not for me. I prefer biographies, psychological twists and turns, and thrillers and chillers. Ann Troup, or Lisa Hall maybe? Don’t you have an eReader?’

‘Two, and a tablet, but sometimes I like a paperback. Usually in the bath. You can dry a paper book out when you drop it in the water cos you dozed off, much easier than an eReader.’

‘True. That’s why I have a hairdryer.’

Bryony blinked. ‘You what?’

‘To dry out paperbacks. A trick Maddie showed me.’ He flicked the end of his hair. ‘I tell people it’s for this though. A guy needs some secrets.’

She laughed. ‘I learned the hairdryer trick through necessity. Even those waterproof covers for eReaders aren’t properly waterproof. Either that, or I don’t put them on properly.’

‘Does it happen a lot?’

She winked. ‘Let’s just say I might have one those eReaders now but I’ve had seven altogether.’

He chuckled, and she remembered his comment about Mandi. ‘So,’ she said, in what she hoped was a casual, not-really-interested-but-I-suppose-I-should-know, voice. ‘Miss Rook is soon to be elusive no more? Really? I’m still half convinced she’s three robots in a garage in Budleigh Salterton.’

He stopped unpacking the box again and twisted around to look at her in amazement. ‘Say that again.’

‘Elusive Mandi with an ‘i’. I think she doesn’t exist. Not as a human anyway. So, three robots in a garage in Budleigh Salterton it is.’ She ran her finger over the cover of another book she’d got packed away somewhere and picked up Molly’s instead. ‘Or maybe Shaldon. I haven’t decided.’ Bryony decided she might just buy the copy of Molly’s book anyway. It wasn’t as well read as her copy. ‘Ah, I so love this. I must buy it as a back up. And hunt my one out and reread it.’

‘Why not? I’ve got my eye on a couple where my copy is on its last legs. As for the robot thingy? It would cause a riot, if nothing else. I can assure you Mandi Rook is human. Allegedly.’

‘Okay, so I’ll find out later.’ She had better. Her nosiness level was off the scale.

He patted her shoulder. ‘If you’re a good girl and eat all your greens.’

‘Damn. Not cabbage?’ She detested that as much as she hated Matt the rat, and that was saying something.

‘No cabbage, I promise. How does seafood paella sound?’

‘Perfect.’ He’d picked one of her favourite meals, except for one thing. ‘What’s the green bit though?’ She couldn’t think of greens in a paella.

‘Herbs.’

‘Herbs?’

‘And a bit of this and that.’ Dario winked. ‘No magic mushrooms, I promise.’

He’d got her there. ‘Okay then.’

‘Herbs or whatever, that was gorgeous.’ Bryony sat back from the table and groaned. Her plate looked as if a hoard of scavenging seagulls had attacked it, with only a few shells left as evidence. ‘I ate too much, but boy… you can cook for me any time.’ She almost said, ‘will you marry me’ before she remembered it wasn’t Maisie she was with. That was their catch phrase when one of them cooked something brilliant for the other. She went hot and cold at the thought of what that phrase might have done. ‘So, where’s the elusive Mandi with an ‘i’ now?’

He glanced at her and grimaced.

She sighed. ‘Oh God, does that come under the umbrella of TMI?’

‘Sort of. Once I’ve washed up I’ll go and get her.’

For a second or two, Bryony wondered if he was putting off the evil moment. Perhaps the elusive Mandi was so up herself Dario was doing his best to delay the inevitable? Not that Bryony had any idea what that inevitable was, but it all seemed a bit off. Very cloak and daggery. It reminded her of her original thoughts with regards to the green van and she sniggered.

Dario peered at her. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing, honestly.’ There was no way she was about to share her thoughts about that scenario. How she had thought it would either be the local poacher or a guy selling eggs, and her thoughts would put her on the black list for free range eggs or the odd trout, tickled out by the old tried and tested method of purloining illegally. ‘I’ll wash up, you cooked. I’ll put the coffee pot on. Maybe she’d like one.’

Dario grunted, and a fleeting smile lit up his face. ‘More than likely. Or a gin and tonic. Okay, I’ll be half an hour, give or take.’ He kissed her on the nose. ‘Later.’

On my nose? She wrinkled it. In a weird way it had been rather nice. Instead of asking where he was going, she simply nodded. The way Mandi with an ‘i’ Rook’s identity was a big open secret to some people but not to her, no doubt so would her location be.

Baby steps.

Bryony hummed under her breath as she tidied up the remains of their meal and set the kitchen to rights, before putting the coffee maker on the Aga top ready to slide it onto the heat when Dario arrived back. In her mind there was nothing worse than stewed coffee. No doubt Dario, with his Italian roots, had his own ideas on coffee, but he’d have to like the way she brewed it or lump it. It might put him off but her newly discovered self said honesty or nothing.

She made herself a gin and tonic, added her preferred slice of lime not lemon, and wandered into the garden, where the last rays of the setting sun made one corner sunny and warm. Glass in hand, she sat down in one of the old fashioned deckchairs she’d lugged out earlier. Would the elusive Mandi with an ‘i’ be happy to sit there or would she be someone who wanted indoor living, and everything just so? If she did, then she would be in for a surprise. Bryony had never ever subscribed to the ‘everything in its proper place’ rule. After all, who was it to say what that was? She’d go by her own creed. ‘I like it, it’s legal, so suck it up, buttercup’.

Luckily, everyone was different, or the world would be a boring place. And why was she so uptight anyway? Elusive Mandi with a ‘i’, was known to a few, if not all of the locals, and if she was that bad then they wouldn’t have invited her to the pop-up book shop, however popular she was. An unpleasant personality had a way of singling people out and side lining them. QED, Bryony would be able to cope with her.

The sound of a car jerked her out of her reverie. From this walled-in garden area she couldn’t see the front of the house, but imagined it had to be Dario and Mandi with an ‘i’. It dawned on her, that maybe she better stir herself and go and be a one woman welcoming committee at the door. With her half-finished drink in her hand, she went indoors to the front door and opened it.

She opened it to see Dario. Just Dario.

Bryony glanced about. No one in the car. No one hiding behind the straggly rose bush

Just him.

Bryony stared at him and wondered about the strange expression on his face. Scared? Apprehensive? She couldn’t decide on the degree of uncertainty he displayed. He held a large box in his arms and shifted from one foot to the other. She double checked again there were no other humans in the area.

Not a soul.

‘Billy no mates? She chose not to show?’

‘Ah, no.’ He put the box on the floor and stuck his hand out. ‘Got to do this properly. Hello, you must be Bryony Bennett?’

She took his hand and shook it automatically. What the hell was he going on about? ‘You know I…’ She stopped abruptly mid-sentence, when he raised his spare hand, and waited. She had the weirdest sensation about what he was going to say. Play along. ‘Yes, hello, and you are…?’

‘I’m Mandi Rook. Mandi with an ‘i’.’

The half empty glass fell from between numb fingers and rolled over the doorstep and onto the gravel. How on earth it didn’t break she had no idea.

Dario, damn him, just stood and waited for her response.

Do not go off on one. Deep breaths, count to ten. Smile. Be nice and find an appropriate curse later. Let him—her—have his, her, their say. Hell, that’s a mess to describe. Then go off on one.

‘Sex change?’

‘It’d be a bit quick. I might be fast at some things, but not that. Look, can I bring this,’ he gestured to the box, ‘in and explain?’

She took a step back. ‘Be my guest. I’d just love to hear your interpretation of it all.’

Oh-oh, sarcasm central here I come.

‘Yes well, you might not like it, but in my defence, I did have reasons. Quite a few of them.’

‘Vicaring ones?’

‘In a way.’ Dario picked up her glass, still in one piece but empty of the contents and handed it over to her, before he lifted the box as if it was a feather—she was damned sure it wasn’t—and made his way to the kitchen. ‘Are you okay to go back in the garden or is it too cold?’

‘To be honest, I don’t care where we go, as long as I find out about Mandi with an ‘i’.’

He nodded and walked into the garden. Bryony watched him for a moment and tapped the worktop thoughtfully. Mandi with an ‘i’ was a man. Well, well, not at all what she had expected. ‘Gin or beer?’ she shouted. ‘It’s gluten free. The beer,’ she elaborated. ‘Gin always is.’

He looked back towards her. ‘I’ll go with a gin, please.’

She nodded she’d heard but couldn’t resist a comment. ‘The beer isn’t at all bad, you know.’

‘I’m sure it’s not, but this sort of evening is a g-n-t in the sun time.’

‘We’ve got about half an hour then.’

‘Plenty of time.’ He began to take tape from the edges of the box while Bryony made the drinks.

‘So, Mandi with an ‘i, what’s the story?’ She leaned back in her chair and peered over the top of her glass at Dario. ‘How come a retired vicar’s stand in writes erotic romance?’ She had a thought. ‘Did you get into trouble because of it?’

‘Not really.’ He stirred his drink slowly and then touched the stirrer to the edge of the glass. ‘And a lay reader is a bit more than that, but it’ll do for now. I fell into writing by accident really. When I was working at uni, I was friends with a science lecturer, whose girlfriend worked for a magazine and was looking for short stories for a competition. Dan and I bet each other we wouldn’t write one. Ten thousand words and the hardest ten K I’ve ever written. No one was more surprised than me when, on the strength of that, even though I didn’t win, I was asked for a longer story, and then eventually when I thought they had lost it in in the slush pile, I got an offer of a three book contract.’

‘Blimey.’ She was impressed. ‘Not just like that though, I bet.’

‘You can say that again. More than once I wondered if I was crackers. I still do at times. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears. Anyway, the upshot was I decided I wanted to see where it led. I’d been ready for a change and the lay reading is a side line.’ He paused. ‘No, that’s not right, it’s more than that, but it isn’t the be all and end all of life. I don’t need it to affirm my faith, I guess. I wanted to see how my three books worked, so resigned from my job and rented a caravan until the cold drove me out. Chilblains on chilblains sort of stuff. I’d stored my things at Maddie and Dex’s, over the old stable now the garage, stopped there in a makeshift bedsit and used it for the odd weekend and so on, so they insisted I moved in. They offered me a bedroom, but I decided that was too much. We all like our space. I just shuffled everything around, did my best not to let my beloved sister know, and then we decided I’d go to the farmhouse. I made sure Lottie didn’t know that bit either, until it was a fait accomplis and here we are. Of course, after all that when Maddie and Dex got the chance to se…oh blast. You did know?’

‘Yep, she told me.’

‘So, I thought to buy Cliff Cottage would be the perfect answer.’

‘And I foiled you.’ Bryony sighed. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault, but yes. The local, affordable, housing is one of those urban, sorry rural, myths that spread around like Chinese whispers. Wishful thinking. Never going to happen on here. Green belt, agricultural land and so on.’ He spread his hands. ‘So, there you are. That’s it in a nutshell.’

But it wasn’t.

‘Except everyone knows Mandi with an ‘i’ is you. Do you know how that makes me feel? Lord, I grew up as a loner; the last one to be picked for anything. The one who was always said to be kind and a good sport, but not, as my mate Maisie so helpfully put it, a man magnet.’ Just thinking about it made her shiver—not in a pleasant way. Gangling, big boobed and ungainly, she had hated a lot of school with a vengeance. Reading had been her salvation. As had becoming a knowledgeable spectator for all sports she encountered. Bryony tamped down those old emotions of envy, and disillusionment. She was better equipped to deal with jealousy now—she hoped. ‘I must say before you think Maisie was being bitchy, she saw it as a good thing. We, she said, were more discerning. But, you know… I had hoped that scabby nastiness would disappear when I was a big girl and I’d be considered safe and approachable. Now I’ve discovered that I was wrong. Yet again, I’m only one not in on a big secret. First the vicar, oh okay, lay preacher stuff and now this.’

‘You’re wrong.’ His voice was level, and only a flash of something wild in his eyes made her accept he wasn’t cool and was in a temper. ‘Only Maddie and Dex and Mrs Cherry know I’m Mandi, apart from you, plus Andy and Mo, and Dunc and Lou. Mads and Dex because I felt I had to let them know why I was living above their stables and not working at the uni. In case they thought I’d flipped. Mrs C because, bless her, I used her as a sounding block. Andy and Mo because they were in at the beginning, and Dunc and Lou because they’re more family to me than my family.’

‘Mrs C?’ The comfortable, homely woman who looked as if she’d never even heard of the word erotic, let alone know what it was. ‘She reads erotic stuff?’

‘Yep, an avid erotic and thriller reader. She was, I quote, “all of a flutter” to think I could write both of them together. So, as they say, never judge a book by its cover. Or a reader by her looks.’

‘Fair enough. What about Lottie?’

‘Ah my dear sister. No, she doesn’t know. It will be interesting to see how she reacts. Not in a positive manner, I suspect.’

‘Why not? Why wouldn’t you be proud of such an achievement by your brother? If I had a sibling who had accomplished something brilliant I would shout it from the rooftops.’

Dario lifted one shoulder. ‘You’ve met my sister, and thankfully, you are not her.’

So was Bryony. ‘Yes, okay I get you. She’ll go bat crazy.’

‘And the rest. She liked the idea of being able to say, my brother the lecturer, the lay reader. To her for some weird reason that’s commendable, praiseworthy and laudable. My brother in the city would, of course, be even better. My brother, the erotic thriller writer, wouldn’t be acceptable. Probably give her a heart attack. Maybe I ought to warn Donald. Dear Lottie would tell me I need to see a shrink to sort my head out or some such thing. Lord above, when even something remotely hot is talked about, she’s disgusted—with what ninety nine out of one hundred women would call tame. I’m not saying she’s not entitled to her own opinions and reading habits, she is, but I wish she’d stop trying to force those ideas on to other people. It’s not going to work, and it just puts their backs up. She even tried to put a stop to me—okay she doesn’t know it is me—me as Mandi giving the talk on Saturday again. Asked me—the me, me, not Mandi—grief this is getting complicated, to ask the Vicar to intervene. I told her no, that what went on here had nothing to do with me, or her. We both live outside the parish for a start. Then, when I was asked to cover for a couple of weeks, she went on at me again. That was what you saw in the village. With a bit of luck, she’s not going to speak to me until well after Saturday. Then maybe never again.’ He didn’t sound perturbed. ‘I pity her poor husband, I really do. Thank goodness she hasn’t any kids. Although if she did have, it might take some of her attention away from me. Selfish or what?’

‘Sensible, I’d say,’ Bryony observed. ‘But the rest, doesn’t it worry you?’

‘Oh, I’d prefer we got on, but until her husband stands up to her and says what he wants and means as well, and they sort their own or…’ he broke off. ‘None of which is relevant to us, or Mandi on Saturday. It’s time to admit Mandi is me, and if it’s the beginning of Mandi’s demise so be it. I’ll write as Dario Monk instead.’

Bryony hesitated, but she had to ask. ‘So, are you not a believer now or what?’

‘Eh? Oh.’ He smiled. ‘I believe, but I don’t want to preach. Complicated or what? And before you ask, no, I won’t shove my religion down your throat. I’m a great believer in each to their own as long as it’s legal and not evil.’

‘That’s good, cos I’m a bit of everything.’ That was one thing off her mind. She’d spent a long time wondering how to say that, and in the end, it had been surprisingly easy. ‘You know throw salt over my shoulder, bow to the moon, say my prayers and follow the Wiccan creed, as in and harm none. As in I believe in something, just don’t ask me to explain what.’

‘No worries, I won’t. I’ve got enough else to sort out. Your beliefs are yours, as long as there’s room for me as a man in there.’

‘You want me to believe in you?’ Hells bells, that was moving faster than she thought possible. But did it faze her? On reflection, no it didn’t. She wanted that with all her heart.

He bit his lip. ‘Yes, I think I do.’

‘I think I do as well.’ It was a weight off her mind to admit that, even if she was rather reticent. Now she needed to follow through. ‘And as Mandi with an ‘i’, not just Dario with a … ‘o’?’

‘So,’ he gestured to the box, ‘this is the story of Mandi.’ He grinned. ‘With an ‘i’.’

‘Why did you choose that name?’ She was fascinated as he delved into the box and took out a pile of notebooks, cards with writing and hieroglyphic on, and a few books; one of which was simply entitled ‘Erotica and how to be part of it’ . He piled them on the garden table and straightened up.

‘Mandi Rook?’ Dario glanced at her as he sat down and turned one of the notebooks over and over between his fingers. It has a picture of a cartoon cat on it, and a childish scrawl sending love and kisses. The s’s were written backwards. Dario stroked it and smiled. ‘From Maddie’s Lisa to write as she said ‘foughts’ and nice things in. I’m her bestest ‘godfarver’ and do the nicest ‘fings’. Evidently even better than her favourite pop group. I think it has something to do with excessive amounts of cookies and theme parks. Anyhow, I did my best here and this has book ideas. Enough to keep me going for years if I use them all.’

‘You’re close to them, aren’t you? Maddie and her family.’

‘Oh yes. Dex is one in a million and accepts what Mads and I had, was a short-lived case of lust, brought on by the heady sense of no parental interruptions, and it’s long gone. He just rolls his eyes and says she’s saved the best ‘til last. I wish she’d marry Dex and be Lady Lorrimore, but she says no, she doesn’t need that bit of paper, and who would take her seriously as a Lady. Silly thing, she’d make a great Lady. As for Mandi Rook. Think about the letters. Not epistles, but her name.’

Bryony arranged them in her mind. She loved cryptic crosswords and word grams. M…a…n…d…i…r…o…o…k… ‘Ah ha. It’s an anagram of Dario Monk’.

‘That was quick.’ Dario struck a high five with her. ‘No one else has got it. I had to explain it to Mads and Dex, and Mrs C. Bless her she thought I should have been Misty Allure or something. Mandi wasn’t, she said, sexy enough. But, Dan and I both chose to do anagrams, so I became Mandi, and Dan Bailey became Andi Le Bay.’

‘Andi and Mandi, good grief. What became of Andi?’

Dario chuckled with genuine humour, which reflected in his eyes. ‘Alas Andi is no more. She had a short-lived career. Dan had decided to do all his story in rhyme. As he was quite happy rhyming donkey with wonky and bats with hats, his story was a bit limited on the erotic side. When Mo pointed out to him that he needed some sex and not to rhyme it with hex, and even though she found him reciting the periodic tables arousing, most wouldn’t, he realised he was better at Chemistry than poetry. He still works at the Uni, although he’s head of department now, and married to Maureen, who was that girlfriend, and who is now my agent. I’m godfather to Bill and Belle their kids.’

Bill and…ah, not Ben thank goodness . Weren’t they some cartoon of her mum’s childhood? Made from flowerpots or some such thing? Now she had a vision of two kids with flowerpot heads and… stop it now. Bryony lifted a rolled-up newspaper from inside the box, where she assumed it had been used for a wedge and held it to her mouth like a microphone. ‘A…n...d… now for the chance to receive another glass of gin, with ice and lime this time, the next question, Dario, is… … drum roll… why the secrecy?’ She thrust the newspaper towards him.

He took the furled paper and raised one eyebrow. ‘Would you believe a bloke like me, a lecturer in English and Theology, a lay reader, wrote erotic thrillers?’

Bryony could quite easily. It might have been the come to bed eyes with their devastating and wicked twinkle, it might have been his interest in everyone and everything or, she admitted it might be wishful thinking when she took a long lingering glance at him. From top to toe and all places in between. ‘Why not?’

He dropped the newspaper on top of the box and looked at her quizzically. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, but I was told when I sort of had a discussion about writing in one of my classes and what genres the students thought were a good mix, it was erotic or thrillers but not both together. Seems daft now, but as it started out as a bit of a lark I was happy to go with what I was writing and see what transpired. And I was still lecturing and helping the chaplaincy at the Uni, so decided it best to keep both parts secret. Then, I decided I wanted to give the writing a proper go, so resigned from my job, and well here we are. Sitting in your garden, surrounded by Mandi with an ‘i’ who is going public in a few day’s time and whose alter ego is scared stiff.’

‘That’s crap,’ Bryony said, blunt as ever. ‘Why be scared? What’s the worst thing that can happen? A few non friends ignore you. Lottie leaves you in peace, and you don’t have to watch every word you say or everything you do. Win, win I reckon.’

‘I’ll drink to that, especially the Lottie bit.’

‘Exactly. And after that, the press hound you for interviews and your books start to sell quadruple what they do now. Win, win.’

‘Ah, that’d be good eh? Then I could give Maddie and Dex the farmhouse and buy somewhere in the interim. Just until…’ He stopped speaking, picked up his glass, and drank half the contents in one go.

‘What interim?’

‘The for now one. Until…’

What was he getting at? The way he observed her, let his glance linger over her body, set that damned but very welcome tingle up again. Did it mean…?

‘Until?’

All of a sudden, Dario became straight faced and serious. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Definitely the tingles.

Bryony turned her head and made sure they locked lips. Just in case the tingle was teasing her.

Thank goodness it wasn’t. That kiss—tongues meshing and harsh breathing—was very satisfying. When eventually Dario gentled it and moved back, his eyes were as glazed as she was sure hers must be.

Oh my.

‘Ah,’ He tucked his hair behind his ears. Before she’d run her hands through it, it had been tidy-ish. ‘I think a lot of what happens next is up to you. And how it goes on Saturday.’

‘Me?’ Had she missed something?

He smiled. ‘Well, even though the Mr Grumpy side of me is astounded, the Mandi side of me is thinking hot thoughts, and the me side of me is saying go on be brave and tell her how you feel, as in Bryony Bennett, you matter, and I can’t imagine life without you. Oh, and I’m sorry for being Mr Grumpy.’

Oh, glory be. Would it be daft to punch the air and shout yes, yes, and yes? One thing loomed large in her mind.

‘But we’ve not even…’ she blushed. How pathetic. It’s only a few words. Not had sex. ‘You know…’ Gah, why couldn’t she utter it? Silly, stupid and moronic.

‘I do?’ If his words were a question, his expression was a dare. ‘What do I know?’

Bryony poked him in the stomach. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘Ah that the three letters that mean a lot? The s… e… x…ones? That’s soon remedied. Come on.’

He took her arm and dragged her out of her chair.

‘What are you doing?’ Duh, I know what he’s about to do and woo hoo. I’m all for it . Had she taken her pill? Yes. Did she have condoms? For once, yes. A packet, okay three, of various thickness and flavours had been in the house warming pack Maisie had left her, along with breath freshener, and stockings and suspenders. Well, she wasn’t going to ask for five minutes to put those on. He might change his mind.

‘At the moment, I’m dragging you into the house. Then I’m doing s e x with you, but I’d prefer to call it making love. After all the first time would be better in a bed, not in a barn full of musty books, or a garden where the world and his wife might pop in for a chat.’

Not very likely but she would go with the bed thing. ‘You don’t need to drag. I’m coming willingly.’

‘Yeah, but I might as well show you my cave man side.’ Dario lifted her into his arms and mock groaned. ‘Oh blimey, you’ve been eating Maddie’s cooking.’

‘How did you guess?’ She giggled like a moronic teenager. Giggling? Oh, good grief, shoot me now. ‘Put me down then.’

‘Not a chance, I want you in my arms. Preferably forever.’

She liked the sound of that.

‘Then let’s go and see what really does happen next.’

What did happen was mind blowing, sweet, sexy, hot, loving, and not at all what she had dreamed about. How could she know what a demanding and innovative lover he was? How he thought of her, loved her, and made sure everything was perfect. How, when she cried her release in his arms, he held her, caressed her until she was sated, before he climaxed himself.

How everything was perfect.

How they snuggled down together, still in each other’s arms and slept. Woke and made love again…and again…

And watched the sun come up…together.

Until Mop jumped on the bed, hitting Dario in a very sensitive area and the air was blue with cusses. Mop hid under the bed and whined. Bryony offered to sponge the area with cold water, and Dario—once he got his breath back and could wheeze without wincing threatened Mop with castration said he’d check himself.

‘He’s been done.’

‘Well, banishment to a new high security locked kennel then.’

Mop whined and licked Dario’s foot.

‘There, he’s sorry.’

‘Not half as sorry as I am.’

‘Well, was it all worth it?’ Dario opened the last box and glared at Mop who promptly jumped in it and sneezed. ‘You, dog, need a kennel. I do not appreciate being woken up by you at silly o’clock.’ He paused. ‘Or flattened where you landed. Though we did use the time wisely.’

‘What? Opening all these boxes?’

‘Not really. To test I was still in working order.’

Bryony giggled. ‘Ah, you mean s...e...x… aka making love with Mr Grumpy. Oh yes. That was time well spent.’

‘Even though we went from dislike to love so fast? That I proposed to you naked in bed before we made love, and after? That you still haven’t said yes yet? That we’ve got to go and shovel, wash, clean, and probably repaint the village hall for the rest of the day? That someone needs to hang bunting and no doubt it will be me? And the stepladders up at the hall are decidedly dodgy and I’ll need you to hold them steady? That Lottie will no doubt swan in just to say something negative, and there will be a lot of winks and nudges? That we’ll get filthy and have to shower? Oh, and there’s a water shortage so it will mean sharing. All those sorts of things.’

‘Of course.’ She shrugged and tried to look un-aroused. Judging by his knowing look, she didn’t succeed. ‘Especially the shower bit. Seriously though, it matters that we do our bit. I might be a grockle, as Maddie says, but you know, now I feel part of the village.’ She sniggered. ‘The village’s grockle.’

‘Bless you. You’re my grockle. Well, you will be when you say yes.’

‘That made it even better. I could conquer the world with you by my side,’ Bryony said sincerely. ‘Live in a hovel or a tent. And it is a yes, you know that. Ask me again. Tent, hovel or a shack in a beach. Anywhere with you.’

‘Good, because if this next book flops you might need to.’

This was it. She took a deep breath. ‘Actually no, we won’t.’

Dario looked puzzled. ‘Won’t we?’ How come?’

‘Well, I’m sort of well off.’ There, she’d said it.

‘So am I. Reasonably so. Not well off enough to provide for a wife and family without an income, but I could easily turn to estate agenting again.’

She stroked his cheek and then kissed it. He did his best to twist her, so her lips met his and with a determination she didn’t know she had, she resisted. There was plenty of time for that. God, how she loved the man. ‘Dario, love, what I’m trying, and evidently not succeeding to say is, we we, are rich. My godmother left me a couple of million.’

He rocked on his heels. ‘Er… you what?’

‘Godmum. Milly. The charity thing is set up in her name, so before you ask, no it is not my money, yes, it is above board, and yes, the village is entitled to it. Now, where was I? Ah, Milly and her money. She played the stocks, not the slots as I thought. Two and a bit million. Actually, I tell a lie. That’s wrong.’

‘Phew that’s a lot of money to get my head round.’

‘Well, get it round, because evidently it’s gone up. Though I warn you, as they, the money looker-after-ers warned me, I’m not cash rich.’ She sniggered. ‘The last letter said perhaps only around a million is easy to get my hands on. Only. I mean, sheesh, the times I’ve only ever had a thought of that sort of money is when I’ve been playing Monopoly. Even so, we don’t even have to live here if we decide somewhere else is better. We can afford to move to a lot of places. Not mega grand but very nice. So, if this is not it, now’s your chance to say so.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Oh, and I’ve got a few thou that I kept back to play with. I seem to have a knack at the moment on the stock market. I must hopefully take after Milly. I didn’t see why, with that sort of money, the money blokes should have all the fun. So, where to live? The world is our oyster.’

He frowned. ‘Do you think it is? Right for us here, I mean?’

‘Yes,’ Bryony emphasised the word. ‘I want to stay here.’

He high fived and punched the air like a kid. ‘That’s great then we can…hold on what did you say?’

What did he mean? ‘I want to stay here?’ she said, puzzled at his sudden question. ‘Have Cliff Cottage as our home.’

‘No, the rest of it. About your godmother.’

Now she got it. ‘My godmother left me a fortune. Enough to keep us going until your next best seller at least. But it’s not general knowledge.’

‘Thank God - I mean that literally. They’d all call me a gold digger.’

‘Let them. I know you’re not. Easy. You’re a very successful erotic thriller writer. You have talent.’

‘So do you, if you can play the stock market and win. I can’t even back the winner in the National.’

‘Totally different. You, my love, are my hero. No gold involved.’

‘Damn. Please, my beautiful soon to be wife I hope, can I have a gold plated jag?’

She chuckled. ‘Nope.’

‘Ah bummer, how about an executive jet to get to work?’

‘In the barn? Not a hope.’

Dario rolled his eyes and sighed very theatrically and over the top. ‘Okay, how about I give you gold instead? In your ring. Just have you whenever and wherever and write that best seller.’

‘Better. Much better.’

‘And how about we do this bloody thing tomorrow together and then slay ‘em with our news?’

‘What news?’ She prayed her hopes and dreams were about to come to fruition.

Dario got down on one knee. ‘The will you give me the honour of being my wife and you say yes news.’