‘Watch out for the salt bowls as well. They’re meant to promote calm and relaxation and restore harmony, but they don’t always achieve that when they’re left in places where you can trip over them, such as doorways.’
‘She’s an interesting woman, your mother.’
‘I always think “interesting” is such a loaded word. As a child, you don’t always want your parents to be interesting, do you?’
‘Maybe not too interesting,’ he said with a smile. ‘Talking of interesting…’
He paused.
‘You may not be interested in this at all so don’t feel you have to say yes. I won’t be offended.’
He shifted on his chair, his right hand clenched into a fist resting on his jeans.
‘An acquaintance of mine is opening a gallery over towards the middle of the island and she’s having a launch party, and I wondered if you’d like to come?’
The question hung in the air as she tried to find an answer. Something had changed and she couldn’t work out what. His composure, that’s what it was. His attitude towards her before had been relaxed and now it was tense.
‘When is it?’
She was playing for time and he knew it.
‘Tomorrow. Very short notice, I know. You’ve probably got something else arranged or after last night just want a couple of quiet evenings.’
Jules felt as if she was on the edge of something unknown. She turned away, moved over to the sink, ran the tap, took a glass from a nearby cupboard and filled it.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t.’
‘That’s a shame, but it’s fine. I mean, it is short notice, and I didn’t really expect…’
Except it obviously wasn’t fine. He stood up abruptly.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
‘Me too,’ he said, ‘but I do understand. Too soon.’
‘Yes.’
And he marched out, kicking over the salt pot her mother had left on the threshold as he went.
TWENTY
Tasha appeared in the garden clutching a posy of feathers tied together with lemon ribbon.
‘Some people say that finding a feather means an angel has passed by,’ she said to Jules.
‘Or a chicken,’ Jules replied. ‘That looks like one of Scattihen’s feathers.’
‘It is. But this one isn’t.’
She touched a small downy white feather curling around the bow.
‘This one just floated down as I was walking up the lane. It landed on my hand. It felt like a sign.’
Jules sighed.
‘You’d get on well with my mother.’
