She’s right, of course. It’s not for me, but for the charity. Hopefully, £200 is a good enough excuse to mend my fences with Philomena Hill.
“These are amazing.” Millie shoves a hand into the berries and brings out a handful. “It’s not just hawthorn and guilder rose; these black ones are sloe.”
“Sloe as in gin?”
“Sloe?” A man from the next stall, the one selling honey, turns. “Is that from Catcher Hill?”
He climbs over the stack of boxes separating the two stalls and comes over. Millie introduces him. “This is Hal, he’s your neighbour.”
I offer him my hand. “You must be the honey shop owner who lent us your electric floor sander.”
“Only the bit about the sander. The honey shop belongs to my girlfriend.” He indicates a woman with fair hair at the next stall. As if feeling his eyes on her, she looks this way and gives him a sweet smile.
“You didn’t cut down the bushes, did you?” Hal’s tone is serious but quiet. “Elodie will never forgive you. Her bees feed on them.”
“Not yet. We just picked the berries. But as soon as the weather improves, we will have to tackle the bushes themselves.” I use the ‘we’ even though it’s just Brandon who will be doing the actual tackling.
Hal looks alarmed. “Please don’t do that, at least not until you talk to Elodie. She has a map of all the bushes. Some of them are protected because they’re rare varieties.”
“I’ll mention it to Brandon.” I say quickly, the last thing I need is cause trouble for Brandon with his neighbours.
“You can talk to him tonight.” Millie tells Hal. “All four of you will be there.”
When she sees my blank expression, she elaborates. “Didn’t your husband tell you? I invited him not ten minutes ago.”
I shake my head, swallowing my reaction to the word husband which still makes me feel guilty.
“Typical.” She laughs. “Men can only process one instruction at a time. I told him about some friends of his brother who wanted to meet him, then I mentioned we’re having a New Year’s Eve party and to bring you. He must have forgotten.”
If she mentioned Liam, then that would have distracted Brandon. Whatever else she said after that would have gone right past him. I’m convinced he still has unresolved feelings about his brother. They say twins have a connection, and Brandon does sometimes look as if he’s missing a limb.
“Come to the Swan.” She points to a pub at the end of the square. “We’ll be in the upstairs room. Just a few of us. You’ll know Laura, and Adam, of course.”
“It should be fun.” Hal agrees. “You haven’t met Gabriel and his fiancée. You’ll like them.” He glances toward a stall selling photographs and prints. “Anyway, I’d better help Elodie. Looks like a rush.” He climbs back over the boxes. “Catch up with you tonight.”
Tonight?
The party with the happy couples? New Year’s Eve? A countdown and kissing?
That is so not happening. As soon as I’ve found Philomena Hill and spoken to her, then I’m done.
Although that’s just me; Brandon might want to go. He’s bound to meet more people who knew his brother. Without me there, he won’t have to act the good husband.
I give Millie a bright smile. “Yes, of course. But I’ll need to go home and change first.”
Once home, I will use thepomegranateexcuse and pretend to be sick. Brandon can go without me.
Hal was right, there is a rush-on. A ferry load of visitors from nearby islands must have just arrived, and the square throngs with people. Families with children cluster around the food stalls, and Millie is suddenly rushed off her feet serving cupcakes and hot chocolate. I would help but don’t know what’s what and the stall barely has room for Millie and her assistant, so I step out of the way. Then I spy Philomena Hill heading for the honey stand where she joins the end of the long queue.
It’s as good a chance as any to talk to her and make a better impression. Squaring my shoulders and plastering a friendly smile on my face, I walk over and stand behind her. She’s talking to another woman and doesn’t see me, so I clear my throat ready to say hello.
She turns and so does the other woman. “Are we in your way?” Philomena’s friend asks, her expression inimical.
Oh, no!It’s rosette-hat-woman from the bakery queue a few weeks ago. She’s the one who got all huffy when I complained about the long wait for the baker. “Of course, we are,” she now says sarcastically. “She doesn’t like waiting behind us country bumpkin types. Mrs la-di-da from London.”
I ignore her. “Excuse me, Mrs. Hill.” I give Philomena my warmest smile and my best business voice. “This is from the sale of the berries.” I hand her the cash. “Actually, I wanted to catch you for a couple of minutes, anytime that suits you.”
The queue moves forward a little. Philomena studies me for a moment then shrugs. “Now’s as good a time as any.”
