“Leave that.” Cook handed her a small woven basket. “Here’s something for your lunch. And you better hurry up if you want to go. It’s nearly eight.”
With a start, Pierre realised she too was late and needed to wash the dye out of her hair before her forest theme turned into an extra-terrestrial green horror.
“Aren’t you staying for breakfast?” Cook asked.
“Later,” Pierre threw over her shoulder as she grabbed her coffee and ran out.
“Make sure you bring that back,” Cook shouted after her. “Why does everyone take cups out of the kitchen and I have to go looking for them all over the house and gardens?”
______
The new ombre had worked – at least as far as she could tell with shower-wet hair. Carefully, she dipped her brush into the new colour.Young Springaccording to the box, but really it was just a neon golden green. Normally it would burn the retina to look at, but Pierre was only applying it to three or four thin locks. Putting the brush down, she wrapped the foil around the painted strands and glanced at the clock. This needed very careful timing to get just the right highlight, which meant she would have to miss breakfast.
Of all the meals served in Du Montfort Hall — and Pierre had been at some magnificent formal dinners with Lord M, his son George, and any number of visitors — the breakfasts Cook served in the kitchen every morning were to die for. One of the many things she loved about life here.
Cook’s words came back to her; it wasn’t the first time she’d said this. Nurse Ann had voiced the same concern. Why was everyone worried about her love life?
She was happy here. At last. Since university, she’d spent four years in jobs as promising as a slow walk down a dead-end road. As for housing, it had been places with strict landlords who didn’t allow her a single picture or a brightly coloured cushion in case it messed with the neutral cheap furnishings on neutral polyester carpet and walls. Either that or places so godawful that no amount of pictures, plants, or even a bulldozer could make a difference.
She looked around. Her room was called The Sand Room, but in fact it was a suite, a gorgeous elegantly furnished bedroom, a bathroom, and a small sitting room which she had converted into a study. It opened out onto a narrow balcony that ran the length of the side of the house. Pierre had already lined the railing with used Wellies which she had painted and planted with white and yellow daisies.
Pierre opened the large French windows to let in the mild air. It was still on the cold side, but she liked that. The balcony overlooked the grounds; beyond the yew hedges, the garden sloped down to the sea. The gardens of Du Montfort Hall were definitely an added fabulous attraction, plenty of undiscovered corners where spent many happy hours with a packed lunch and a good book.
She loved books; what was wrong with that?
A movement caught her eye. Someone was walking around the maze.
She looked again, but there was nothing. The maze with its high yew hedges and topiary was the place to go if you didn’t want anyone to see you. So, Pierre waited and a moment later, two figures appeared briefly in the gap between two hedges.
Two people, holding hands.
Nicole and a man.
Well, well, well. Laura was right; Nicole had a boyfriend.
They were too far to see her, but Pierre took a step back into the room and closed the glass doors so they wouldn’t think she was spying on them. Clearly, Nicole didn’t want anyone to know.
A voice whispered at the back of her head. Even Nicole was in love and planning a future with someone.
And what had she, Pierre, planned?
A new hair colour.
Five
“Don’t tell me,” Lord M exclaimed as soon as she entered his study.
Her boss was in his usual leather armchair, his wheelchair folded by the window, and he held his good arm out to take theObserverfrom her. She placed the rest of the Sunday papers on the table nearest to him so he could read whichever he wanted.
He took theObserver,but his icy blue eyes remained on Pierre. “Persephone?” he asked.
“What?”
“She’s the goddess of Spring growth.” He nodded at Pierre’s hair which she’d worn loose.
The colour had worked even better than she imagined, and the vibrant highlights, rich with golden tones, made the rest of the brown and green ombre come to life.
“I would say ‘the Green Man’ but he’s too old for a pretty young thing like you,” Lord M continued.
