Chapter Fifty-Seven
Suddenly it was July.
The first week brought an update from my solicitor about Peter’s death-in-service funds. It was a relief to know everything was in order and being properly managed.
The weather grew hotter. A hosepipe ban followed.
The next scheduled event by the Starlight Society was an early evening outdoor concert.
It would feature an up-and-coming indie band complete with BBQ and pop-up bar – food and booze provided by Cilla’s pub.
The event would conclude with fireworks.
The latter didn’t go down well with Hugo Cartwright.
He grumbled that he’d have to move his cattle to a field that was meant to be resting.
Texts between Liam and me were now down to zero. To be fair, the guy had since messaged several times over, but I’d been monosyllabic in my answers. After his last text, I hadn’t even bothered to reply.
Why should I? I didn’t know how many women Liam had in his life, but I did know the name of one.
Victoria. And – thanks to Alice giving me the heads up – I also knew he’d spent a weekend with her.
It didn’t feel right exchanging banter and kisses – even if his two texted crosses meant nothing to him.
If I’d been Victoria, I wouldn’t have liked it.
I only just about felt comfortable over the Abba gig, and only because it was a one-off with no prior get-togethers.
There had, however, been another reason for me to stop texting.
A part of me had been, well, enjoying it too much.
I’d looked forward to receiving Liam’s messages – which was wrong, given that he was hooked up elsewhere.
I’d been behaving like an adolescent. The man wasn’t just out of my league; he was also out of bounds.
It was daft to get so excited when my phone pinged.
Stupid to have my heart flutter and palpitate.
Crazy to note my trembling fingers as I attempted to be flirty but not too flirty, coy but not too coy, and kittenish but not too kittenish…
You get the drift.
That said, Liam’s last message – a couple of days ago – had taken the wind right out of my previously billowing sails. By the time I’d finished reading it, my face had looked more sour than curdled cream.
Currently wrapping up some business in the Cotswolds – such a stunning place.
Despite having just spent a weekend with me, Victoria insisted on tagging along.
She then roped me into seeing a psychic at a village fête.
I was instantly reminded of your village – and, of course, Hetty.
The reading was surprisingly thought-provoking.
Definitely gave me something to mull over. Hope all’s well? xx
No, Liam, all is not well. I do not want to hear about Vampy Victoria. No doubt you’ve had lots of jollies together, what with the fete and, well, more jollies later. Under the jolly duvet. Jolly good. Jolly, jolly, JOLLY BLOODY GOOD.
Saturday arrived, the day of the impending concert. A warm breeze ruffled the trees and flowers, but the temperature – thankfully – wasn’t meant to be scorching. I spent the morning in the garden dead-heading geraniums, pruning roses and pulling up weeds.
At noon my stomach rumbled asking for lunch, but I ignored it.
Instead, I found some suncream and rubbed it into my arms. On a whim, I whipped off my jeans and top, then added some Factor 20 to my midriff and legs.
I then settled down on one of the patio’s easy chairs with an iced lemonade and my mobile.
Ah, this was the life. A soft drink in the sunshine, in my own garden, in my undies.
It was time to do some serious research on some of the best places to live in the UK.
What was the going-rate for a three-bed property?
Ideally it needed two bathrooms – I didn’t want the twins hogging the smallest room in the house.
James was a nightmare when enthroned with his phone.
TikTok had killed my son’s one-minute poo.
These days it was a full-blown bathroom sabbatical complete with charger and snack.
Ten minutes later, still immersed with the Rightmove website, I drained my lemonade and shooed away a wasp.
The sun was cranking up the heat. I set down the empty glass.
The wasp immediately returned and crawled inside to lick up the sticky dregs.
Standing up, I made to unwrap the patio’s sun parasol. Shade was required.
As I briefly wrestled with the contraption, a spider fell out from the underside.
I shrieked. Oh lordy, where had it gone?
Panicking – I was terrified of the blighters – I frantically swatted myself, not being mindful of where I was heading.
Taking a step backwards, the abandoned lemonade glass toppled over, disturbing the wasp within. It flew out and stung my leg.
‘Ouch!’ I shrieked, swiping the spot and earning a second sting. ‘You BASTARD!’ I yelled, just as the garden’s side gate opened.
‘Why – what have I done?’ said an amused voice.
Swearing under my breath, I swung round to see who the unexpected visitor was. And there, looking tanned and gorgeous, green eyes glinting with amusement, was Liam.