Chapter Eight
Alice/Lessa
It’s as if the island knows how much I hate it and is trying its best to change my mind.
After the chill and rain of last night, I wake up to a bright sun in a cornflower blue sky. Tall grasses and bushes sway in the warm breeze. My spirits lift and – against my better judgment – make me dig out a pretty, cream dress with a full knee-length skirt that my sister packed for me. Honestly, her taste in clothes is very girly. Nothing in my life ever suited such a dress. Still, I can hardly walk down a country lane in a Ralph Lauren suit.
I grab a large bag, one with plenty of room for paperwork in case I need to sign a contract for rent later. Then, ready for whatever the day might throw at me, I go downstairs.
Brandon is ready and waiting for me. He’s even made tea, but I shake my head because I can’t even face the idea of breakfast. “Let’s go.”
Outside, the grass is still damp with dew drops and the air smells fresh and carries the scent of wood. Brandon cuts his long strides to my shorter ones, but he’s silent, preoccupied with something, and my own worries leave no room for small talk.
“Do you think we could stop at a pharmacy?” I ask him when we reach the village a little later.
“Of course. Is there something…” He half-turns. “I have a first aid box at the house, and aspirin if you need something now.”
I avoid his eyes. “No, it’s nothing like that. Just a dispensing chemist if there is such a thing in the village.”
“I’m sure. It’s probably in the high street.”
High street?Where?
It can’t be the thing we walk to, five minutes later. It’s little better than a cobblestone alley with tiny shops on one side and stream on the other. “Aren’t they afraid to get sued under the Trade Descriptions Act.”
His lips twitch with laughter, but he tries to shush me with a finger to his lips as a middle-aged woman walks past.
“Morning, Mr Hazelwood.” She stops to unlock the doors to the post office.
“Morning Mrs Parker.” Brandon introduces me. “This is Lessa.”
I do my best to put on a good face while Mrs. Parker dawdles for a chat.
I can do this.Smile and pretend to be interested in why the post office is closing early today. Remember how often I had to smile and be friendly to Sir Alan and his sycophantic assistants.
Clive’s father-in-law, and the managing director of his political career, always made my skin prickle. That was much worse than this chatty woman. Yet, I can’t help fidgeting impatiently.
“We’d better let you open up.” Brandon finally ends the conversation.
“See you both at the fair later.” The woman waves.
“Sorry, it’s not always easy to avoid a conversation.” He murmurs walking with me up the alley-that-calls-itself-a-high-street towards the chemist.
Brandon is the soul of tact and discretion and lets me go into the pharmacy alone. It would have been more awkward than square eggs to have him hovering and watching.
The pharmacist is all smiles when I approach the counter to pay a few minutes later. “I see you met Young Parker.” She indicates the post office further down where Mrs. Parker has just placed a wooden A-board outside the entrance.
“Do you mean her?” The so-called ‘Young Parker’ looks to be at least fifty.
“Oh. Everyone just calls her Young Parker.” She presses buttons on her cash till. “Good thing you caught us this morning. We’re closing early.”
I hand my cash over without commenting. There’s no need to stand around chit-chatting, not when my insides churn with anxiety.
“Will there be anything else?” The woman’s curious eyes flick from me to the two slim boxes before she puts them into a paper bag.
“No, thanks.” I quickly slip the package into my large handbag and out of sight.
“See you at the fair later, then. You’re new here, aren’t you? You’ll love it, it’s our autumn festival.”
