Eight
Molly gave her dad a thumbs up, but having done so, she felt a bit odd, considering the circumstances. Even so, he smiled at her and mirrored her gesture from a couple of doors away. He was standing outside Acorn Cottage, home of Vera and Rita Boot, while Molly was outside Oak View Cottage, waiting for Jemma to answer the doorbell.
Loud laughter emanated from within and Molly wondered if the TV was on, because one of the roars of laughter she had heard was definitely a man’s. Unless Jemma had a man with her? But Jemma hadn’t mentioned she would be seeing a friend.
The door swung open and Jemma beamed at her. ‘Good morning, Molly. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.’
‘Good morning, Jemma. No. Not at all. I hope I’m not disturbing you but we did say ten o’clock, didn’t we?’
‘Yes. And no, you’re not. It’s lovely to finally meet you.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you too.’
‘Oh. What am I thinking? Come on in.’
Jemma stood aside to let Molly pass and that was when Molly spotted the tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired man standing in the hall. He had a gorgeous smile and was very easy on the eye. And there was something familiar about him.
‘Hello, Molly,’ he said, walking towards her, his hand outstretched. ‘I don’t suppose you remember me. I’m the next-door neighbour, Greg. Greg Bishop. It’s good to see you again. I was sorry about your gran.’
Molly was so taken aback that it took her a moment to respond to his friendly greeting.
‘Hi Greg. Of course I remember you. It’s good to see you too.’ She shot a glance back at Jemma asking a silent question. ‘How do you two know each other?’
Jemma must have read Molly’s mind, although she wasn’t looking at Molly when she spoke. She was looking directly at Greg.
‘Greg and I met this morning. I bumped right into him at just gone five a.m. as I was on my way to the beach for a walk.’
‘I bumped into you, to be precise,’ Greg said, grinning warmly at Jemma as if Molly didn’t exist. ‘I almost knocked you over. What a welcome to the village.’
‘It was a lovely welcome. And I’ve really enjoyed this morning. Thank you so much, Greg.’
‘I’ve enjoyed it too. It was far more pleasurable than my run would’ve been. Bumping into you was the best thing that’s happened to me for some time.’
‘If I’m interrupting, I can come back later,’ Molly said, slightly miffed. These two were acting like besotted teenagers, not total strangers who had only met a few short hours ago.
‘What?’ Jemma looked apologetic. ‘No. I’m sorry, Molly. We’re being rude. Greg was just leaving.’
‘Yes, I was.’ He sort of snorted a friendly laugh. ‘But I can’t seem to drag myself away. Right. I’ll get out of your hair. Which I still say is gorgeous no matter how often you say it isn’t. Oh. I’m glad I got to say hello, Molly. And thank you for renting out this cottage to such a lovely person.’
Molly responded with what she knew was an irritated frown, so she quickly forced a smile. ‘Yes. She is, isn’t she? I had no idea.’
Her sarcasm appeared to go over his head because he smiled at her as he edged his way past, and then he beamed and winked at Jemma whose cheeks were the colour of beetroot.
‘I’ll see you later, Greg,’ Jemma purred.
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Greg purred back.
Molly coughed loudly. She wanted to be sick.
The truth was, she was a little jealous. She had only seen Greg a few times over the years but, deep down, she had harboured a bit of a crush on him. She might not have remembered his name yesterday when she met the Boot sisters, but she did remember he was handsome.
After she inherited Oak View Cottage, she had hoped she would bump into him. She had even considered knocking on his door to let him know she was now the owner. But something had stopped her. Instead, she hoped they might meet naturally one day very soon. And maybe – just maybe – things would progress from there.
If anything, the man had only improved since the last time she had seen him. That must’ve been a year or more ago. He had smiled at her and they’d exchanged the usual greeting of ‘Hello’. She had tried to think of something more to say to him, but he had appeared to be in a hurry and she had let him dash away.
That smile had not been anywhere near as exuberant as the one he had just bestowed on Jemma.
So Jemma had beat her to it. Jemma the famous author. Jemma with her astonishingly gorgeous red hair. Jemma who was staying in Molly’s bloody cottage! Now Jemma was going to get Molly’s man.
The click of the front door brought Molly to her senses. What on earth was wrong with her? Greg was not her man. And if Jemma got him, Molly only had herself to blame. There had been plenty of opportunities to get to know him over the years. Had she taken any one of them? Of course she hadn’t.
‘I’m so sorry about that, Molly,’ Jemma said. ‘I’m … I’m not sure what to say. I only met Greg this morning, but he already feels like a friend. It’s as if we’ve known one another for years. And we have so much in common. We both love books. I write them; he sells them. We stood outside chatting for ages this morning, and then he came with me to the beach and we walked along the sand.’ Jemma let out a sigh. ‘We came back here for coffee and the hours simply flew. We’re going out for lunch later. Just to The Royal Oak. And it’s not a date or anything. But, oh, I wish it were.’
‘Yes. Well that’s fascinating. I hope it all works out for you. But I’ve got to meet my dad, so if it’s all the same to you, could we have this girlie talk another time?’
‘Oh!’ Jemma’s face fell and if Molly had pierced her through the heart with a knife, Jemma could not have looked more surprised. Or more crestfallen. ‘I’m so sorry. Of course. Erm. I love the cottage and everything is wonderful. It’s exactly what I’d hoped for. Better than I’d hoped. Erm. Is there anything you want to tell me?’
Molly would have liked to tell her to get lost.
‘No. Not that I can think of. You don’t have any questions or concerns?’
‘None,’ said Jemma emphatically, smiling somewhat sheepishly.
‘Great. Then I’ll go and see if Dad is ready to leave. He’s with more of the neighbours. The Boot sisters. They live the other side of Greg, in Acorn Cottage. Oh, and as you seem to enjoy making friends. The woman who lives in the cottage at the other end of this row, is around our age. Her name is Hanna Shaw. And she’s a famous artist. She and Greg have been friends for some time. Well. Goodbye for now. I’ll let myself out.’ She breezed past Jemma and tugged open the front door.
‘Molly?’
Molly stopped and sucked in her breath, slowly turning back to face her competition. ‘Yes?’
‘Have I … have I done something to upset you? I’d hoped we could be friends, because I enjoyed our conversations. And as for me making friends easily, well, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I … I don’t have many friends at all. I’ve always found it hard. But chatting with you was lovely. And meeting Greg today was … lovely too. I … I was starting to feel as if I’ve found where I belong. Not literally. Just, sort of, in my heart, if that makes sense. Sorry. I’m waffling now and you have somewhere to be. But if I have done something, I’d rather you tell me, so that I can try to put things right.’
Molly let out an exasperated sigh. How could she be angry when Jemma was so nice? And over a man neither of them really knew. Jemma wasn’t the only one who had enjoyed their chats. And Molly didn’t have that many friends to speak of either. She’d also hoped she and Jemma might hit it off.
Without thinking, she dashed forward and gave Jemma a great big hug.
‘You haven’t done anything wrong,’ she said, easing herself away and meeting Jemma’s astonished expression. ‘It’s me. I’m … anxious about something and I’ve taken it out on you. Which is completely and utterly wrong of me, and possibly, unforgiveable. But I hope you will forgive me, nonetheless.’
‘Oh, of course. Is it … is it something you’d like to talk about?’
Molly raised one brow, and then grinned. ‘Maybe another time. I do have to meet my dad. But let’s have coffee one day this week? Or maybe a glass of wine? I can come to Betancourt Bay. Or you can come to Folkestone and I’ll show you around.’
‘That sounds great. I’d love to see Folkestone, if you’re sure you wouldn’t mind.’
‘No problem at all. Are you free on Wednesday? Other than a Sunday, Wednesday is my day off. Did I mention I’m a hairdresser? And that I work in my mum’s salon.’
‘No, you didn’t. Ooh! Maybe you can do something with my hair? It’s always had a mind of its own and after yesterday’s wet weather it’s gone a little wild, even though I had an umbrella. Oh, and Wednesday would be perfect.’
‘Then I’ll see you on Wednesday, but we’ll chat before then.’ She smiled and turned towards the door again, swinging back around as she pulled it open and stepped outside. ‘And as for your hair, I must agree with Greg. Your hair is gorgeous! But of course I’d be happy to give it a trim, or whatever. We’ll talk in the week. Enjoy your lunch.’
‘Thank you!’ Jemma called after her as Molly closed the front door.
Molly shook her head and walked towards her dad’s car which was parked outside of Acorn Cottage. She might not have Greg, but it seemed she potentially had a new friend. And there was something good to be said about that.
Clearly, her dad had not been so successful in his endeavour. He was sitting in his car and had patently nodded off, if the loud snores she could hear as she approached were anything to go by. He must’ve been there for some time, and as she had only been with Jemma for about ten minutes, the signs did not bode well. Unless the Boots had disclosed the ‘condition’ right away and her dad had not needed to ask further questions.
There was only one way to find out.
She hurried to the passenger side and he awoke with a start as she climbed in.
‘Sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to startle you awake. You’re back quick though. Does that mean good or bad news?’
‘You didn’t startle me, sweetheart. I wasn’t asleep. I had just closed my eyes for a moment or two. Sadly, it means no news at all. The Boot sisters aren’t at home.’
‘Not at home? Oh. It’s Sunday. Perhaps they’re at church. Shall we wait for them?’
He shook his head, adjusted his position in his seat, started the car, and headed towards home.
‘No point. I thought that’s where they might be and I was going to nip across to St Gabriel’s to check, but Hanna Shaw from next door came along just a few seconds after you went inside Mum’s … sorry sweetheart, I meant to say, your cottage.’
‘That’s fine, Dad. I still think of it as grandmother’s sometimes.’
‘Yes. It’ll take a while for us all to get used to the fact she’s no longer here.’
‘You were saying something about Hanna.’
‘Yes. Hanna saw me outside the Boot’s cottage and asked if I needed any help. Obviously, I told her I was waiting for Vera and Rita, and she informed me that they’re at their nephew’s in Folkestone, today, but that they wouldn’t be back for two weeks, because they’re off to Southampton from there. He’s taking them on a cruise, apparently. Or they’re taking him. I’m not sure which, and neither was Hanna. We had a laugh about it. Those two old biddies aren’t what they seem, you know. I remember Mum often saying they would both go to Hell and that their so-called afternoon teas, were nothing but an excuse for drunkenness and debauchery. I always thought it was Mum being Mum. You know what she could be like. But your mum knows someone who’s in St Gabriel’s church choir, and she’s told Nikki some tales about Vera and Rita over the years that would make your hair curl. Those two won’t get disabled badges. Theirs will say dissipated.’ He chuckled.
Molly sighed. ‘So we won’t get any answers until they return? I suppose it’s back to those boxes, bags, and cases, then?’
He gave her a sideways glance. ‘I’ve been thinking, sweetheart. And your mum and I had a long chat about it when we went to bed last night. Maybe it’s best to leave things be. I was going to say that this morning, but I thought if we could resolve it quickly, by asking the Boots, that would be fine. Trawling through a lot of old papers searching for goodness knows what, doesn’t seem like such a good idea now.’
‘But, Dad!’
‘Yes, yes. I know what you’re thinking. That there’s some dreadful family secret. Or some awful disease lurking in the family’s past. But, as your mum pointed out to me last night, if that were the case, we would’ve heard something about it long before now. I know we didn’t go to Mum’s that often, but Nikki and I knew most of the residents in the village and they knew us, long before you were born. And don’t forget, I grew up in that cottage, and lived there until I was twenty-five. Someone would’ve let something slip if this ‘condition’ the Boots mentioned was really something serious. Let’s go out somewhere nice for lunch today, and forget about Mum and her miserable attitude, and her mum’s so-called ‘condition’, and enjoy what we have.’
‘That’s easy for you and Mum, but I’m the one who seems to be a clone of grandmother. She made me feel like I had to be avoided at all costs, when she was alive. Perhaps it wasn’t just because she was a miserably unhappy person. Perhaps it was because she thought I’d inherited whatever her own mum had.’
‘You’re forgetting, sweetheart. Mum treated everyone like that. Even me. And you should’ve seen the way she behaved towards Nikki when they met. Mum couldn’t have made her feelings about Nikki any clearer, if she had held up a bunch of garlic, and stuck a stake through Nikki’s heart. “That woman’s a vampire,” Mum said. “She’ll bleed you dry and then run off and leave you.” She was talking about my money, of course, not literally my blood. And until the day you were born, she wouldn’t have Nikki in the cottage. She only did so after that because Nikki refused to let you go there without her. And not because of anything sinister. Just because your mum didn’t like my mum either. Mum didn’t even come to our wedding. I’d say, compared to that, Mum made you feel fairly welcome.’
‘You’ve never told me that stuff about her and Mum before.’ Molly was genuinely shocked. It was evident grandmother didn’t like Nikki, but Molly hadn’t realised it had been that bad.
‘We felt it best not to tell you when Mum was alive. For all her awful ways, she did love you, you know. She loved me too. That was why I could never abandon her. I don’t think life had treated her well. I do know that she was at your great-grandmother’s beck and call until the day the woman died. Several people have told me that over the years. Not Mum, of course. She never talked about it. I often thought Mum was trapped in the past and she couldn’t break free. And that’s another reason why I think we should leave things be. At least until the Boots return. Because I know you’ll ask them, no matter what your mum and I say. But this is what your mum thinks, and having thought about it more this morning, and just now while sitting outside the Boots, I completely agree. The past is past, and that’s where it should stay. The present and the future are what’re important.’