Last week’s wild storms had passed and the Hestacombe valley was once more looking as a Cotswold valley should look in the depths of autumn. The trees were a riot of color, and the sun had turned the fallen leaves to crisps. Crunching her way along the narrow leaf-strewn lane, Lottie had to dodge chestnuts as they dropped, gleaming and waxy, from their prickly casings. A fox darted in front of her, its russet tail brushing the ground as it searched for the scent of easy prey among the undergrowth. In the distance a rook cawed, its plaintive cry echoing across the glassy surface of the lake. Lottie, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her red jacket, realized she was holding her breath as she rounded the bend in the lane that would reveal Fox Cottage ahead. The best thing would be if Kate Moss had gotten tired of waiting for him and gone. The very best thing would be if she’d gotten tired of waiting and had gone back to America.
But no. The very best things had a habit of not happening when you wanted them to. The car, a nondescript gray Audi, was still there. The girl, about as far from nondescript as it was physically possible to be, was sitting in the driver’s seat.
She pressed a button to lower the window as Lottie approached the car. Smiled.
“OK, I know what you’re probably thinking, but you don’t have to worry, I promise. I’m not a mad stalker.”
This was just what Lottie was afraid of. Mad stalkers were easily dispatched; they could be carted off by the police and charged with mad stalking. You couldn’t ask them to arrest a completely normal girl because she was too beautiful.
“My name’s Liana.” A slender hand was held out for Lottie to shake, the fingers delicate and Barbie-like. “I’m a good friend of Tyler’s.”
That was the other thing Lottie had been afraid of. She wasn’t proud of it, but she couldn’t help herself. Next to Liana even Halle Berry might feel a bit dumpy and plain.
Lottie said, “Is he expecting you?”
“No, I wanted it to be a surprise. Although he has invited me over lots of times,” Liana hastened to explain, “so hopefully it’ll be a nice one!”
The brochure lay on the passenger seat next to her, open to the page showing a map of the grounds. This was how she had located Fox Cottage, Lottie realized. Under the circumstances she could hardly order the girl off the property, tempting though it—
“Hey, that could be him now.” Liana’s eyes lit up at the sound of an approaching car. “Oh wow, I’m so excited! Is it him? Is it? Oh my God, it is!”
Lottie found herself almost splattered cartoon-style against the side of the car as Liana flung open the driver’s door and leaped out. Metaphorically picking herself up, Lottie watched as Liana raced over to Tyler. His response was all-important here; if he looked appalled and tried to lock himself back in his car, that would indicate that she wasn’t, in fact, as welcome as she imagined. Whereas if he—
“You’re here! Hey, I don’t believe it! This is incredible.” Tyler, his arms outstretched, enveloped Liana in a hug and swung her around. “It’s so good to see you again. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? My God, let me look at you. More beautiful than ever.”
“Shhh, you’re making me blush.” Liana laughingly pressed a perfect Barbie-type finger to his lips. “And we’re not alone. You mustn’t embarrass other people.”
“Trust me, nothing embarrasses Lottie.”
Feeling foolish because Tyler had never even so much as mentioned Liana when he clearly should have done, Lottie said, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Um…Ginny Thompsett’s invited you to a party tonight at Harper’s Barn.”
Tyler said, “I don’t think so. Not now that Lee’s here.” He gazed down at Liana. “How long are you staying?”
“As long as you like. I’m easy.” Liana gave his hand a squeeze. “My cases are in the trunk of the car.”
Lottie knew when she was beaten. Whoever Liana was, she was here now. Maybe it was just as well she hadn’t gotten herself involved with Tyler, if girlfriends of this caliber were likely to pop up out of the woodwork. Turning to leave, she said, “I’ll tell Ginny you can’t make it.”
“Thanks.” Clearly distracted, Tyler said, “Have you been invited?”
“Me? Yes.” Lottie watched as Liana opened the trunk of her car to reveal four enormous powder-blue suitcases.
“Have fun then,” Tyler said easily.
“Oh, I will.”
“You have a great time at the party,” Liana chimed in, cheerily waving Lottie good-bye. “It’s been real nice to meet you. See you around!”
* * *
“I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?” As always the sound of Tom’s voice on the telephone caused Cressida’s heart to miss a beat. She smiled, convinced that he was teasing her. It was Friday morning and she was in the kitchen making a shepherd’s pie for when Tom and Donny arrived tonight.
“My mother’s had a fall and broken her hip,” said Tom.
This time Cressida’s heart skipped a couple beats, and not in a happy way. “Is this a joke?”
“I wish it was. She’s been taken to the hospital and they’re going to operate tomorrow. But she’s gotten herself into a state,” Tom went on wearily. “She wants me there with her. How can I refuse?”
“She’s your mother. Of course you have to be there.” Tears of disappointment and frustration slid down Cressida’s cheeks. Appalled by her utter selfishness, she dashed them away. “Poor thing, she must be so upset. Don’t worry about us; you go to your mum. I’ll make her a special Get Well Soon card.”
“I’m sorry,” said Tom.
Poor man, he sounded wretched. “So am I. But it doesn’t matter a bit.” Consolingly Cressida said, “By the time we’re in our nineties we’re bound to meet up.”
When she got off the phone, she vented her rage on the bag of Maris Pipers on the table, hurling potato after potato at the kitchen wall.
“Why me?” Cressida bellowed, ducking as a potato ricocheted off the ceiling and missed her face by inches. “Why meee?” The next potato hit her favorite coffee mug and sent it flying into the sink. That did it. Now her favorite mug was broken. Grabbing every potato in the bag, she began flinging them in every direction like a demented cricket player. “Aaarrrgh, why meee? Why meee? Why—bloody—bollocking—fucking—meeeeee?”
Oh Jesus, how long had the doorbell been ringing?
Panting like a cornered animal, Cressida froze. The doorbell shrilled again. Whoever it was must have heard her. She couldn’t pretend not to be in. She hastily wiped her face, combed her fingers through her agitated hair, and forced herself to take deep breaths.
Right, just act normally. Maybe she hadn’t been as loud as she thought and they hadn’t heard anything at all.
Ted from the village shop was standing on her doorstep.
“Are you having a nervous breakdown?” Ted approached the subject with his habitual tact and finesse.
“No, Ted, I’m fine.”
“Didn’t sound fine to me, wailing like a banshee.”
Cressida did her best to look haughty. “Sorry, I was just a bit…upset about something. I’m OK now. How can I help you?”
Ted mopped his forehead with a big hanky. “You were in earlier asking for a walnut cake and I told you the delivery van hadn’t arrived yet. Well, now it has. So if you want a cake, you can come over and get one.”
Why was he looking behind her like that? Turning, Cressida saw that there were potatoes scattered along the hall carpet.
“That’s really kind of you, Ted. But I was expecting guests and now they’re not coming, so I won’t be needing a walnut cake after all.”
What must he think of her? Cressida didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“Fine.”
“Sorry you’ve had a wasted journey.” If you could call ambling up the High Street a journey.
“I wouldn’t call it wasted. I’m very glad I came.” Ted paused, shook his head, and said heavily, “You’re not a bad-looking woman, you know. I’ve had my eye on you for some time.”
Eek! “Oh…er…”
“You’re on your own, I’m on my own,” he went on. “To be honest, I thought we might make a go of things, you and me. I was going to ask you if you’d like to come out for a drink with me one night.” Ted waited again, breathing noisily through his nose. “But now I’ve heard the kind of language you use, I’m afraid you’ve blown your chances. I won’t be inviting you out after all.”
“OK.” Looking suitably chastened, Cressida closed the front door. She headed back into the kitchen, collected up a few loose potatoes, and said, “Thank fuck for that.”