“Batley. Mrs.”
“Mrs Batley,” I continued. “It isn’t something we’ve considered, but if you’d like to leave your contact details with June in the shop, I’ll speak to my Director of Operations about the possibility and come back to you.”
“Soon?” she pressed.
If weweregoing to get into the wedding business, and I was fairly certain we weren’t, Mrs Batley wouldn’t be my choice of customer.
“Within two weeks,” I promised her rashly. “It would be a new departure for us, so I’m not sure how likely it is we’ll be able to accommodate you.”
“Well, it’s good of you to consider it. Meg was devastatedwhen they lost Ashbourne House.”
All of a sudden, she looked like a mother trying to ease her daughter’s disappointment rather than the demanding harridan she’d first seemed.
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” I assured her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak to some more guests.”
Nearby, three elderly women were lurking conspicuously and scrutinising me. I was growing to recognise the different types of guests we attracted, and I was fairly certain they’d want to talk to me about planting schemes. I’d need to send them in Tim’s direction.
Mixing with the guests was my least-favourite part of having the gardens open. My favourite part was when all the cars had gone, we’d made the requisite sweeps of the grounds and the maze to ensure there were no stragglers, and the Court was ours again.
Once darkness fell, Ollie and I would fly over the Court. Mia and Tim sometimes joined us, and I loved having my family in the air together, but they always left the folly as a private place for me and Ollie. Perched up there, his copper scales would glintin the moonlight in a way my black ones never did, and I would croon happily as he wound his neck around mine.
Ollie had changed everything and given me a fresh start, a new life. A new way of being. But that wasn’t why I loved him. I loved him because he wasOllie.
OLLIE
Lunchtime was fast approaching. Guests were pouring through the gates until Chris and his helpers had to use the overflow car park, but I still hadn’t seen my parents. They’d obtained Archer’s permission to visit today, along with Jack.
I’d gone home a couple of times. The first time was to break the news to them I was moving to Winchester and to bring my belongings back here. My second visit was to meet my god-daughter, Sarah-Ollie. Her parents insisted her name was Sarah, but she and I knew better.
I supposed this was the informal mixing of families that the moot had wanted to see, but I was on edge. Seeing my parents here, in my new life… I didn’t want them to judge it, to judge me again. I was happy here.
But it was going to happen, and I was trying to suck it up and be prepared when Jack’s voice had me turning round in delight.
“Atlast.How bigisthis place? I’ve been tramping round everywhere looking for you. For the record,by the lakeisn’t a very helpful location.”
I couldn’t stop grinning at the sight of him. Unlike when I’d gone to Tunbridge Wells the last time, he wasn’t modelling a baby sling. Sarah-Ollie couldn’t safely mix with humans, not when she might shift at any moment. Yet he still looked different from the old Jack. People said that mothers glowed, butJack was practically beaming with happiness, if you overlooked the big dark bags under his eyes. Apparently, my clever god-daughter preferred to sleep during the day and kept them up at night. Like god-father, like god-daughter.
“You should get a better phone,” I told him. “GPS is a thing.”
“Sod you,” he said as he hugged me close. “How are you, Ollie? Mr Rochester still treating you right? You look good on it.”
“He’s great,” I said. “In fact, you can find out for yourself.”
Archer was approaching. He looked a little taken aback to find me hugging another dragon.
“You must be Jack,” he said, offering his hand.
“And you’re Mr Rochester,” Jack said.
I choked, and Archer’s eyebrows rose.
“I mean, Mr Talbot.Shit.” Jack was uncharacteristically flustered. I remembered that Archer was the head of a family and had the presence and authority that went with that—I’d stopped seeing it most of the time. When I looked at him, I saw Archer, with all the different layers that entailed.
“Mr Rochester as inJane Eyre?” he asked, deeply amused though I wasn’t sure Jack could see that. There certainly weren’t any dragon families called Rochester.
“As in Jack’s really bad with names,” I improvised, somewhat unconvincingly. “Have you closed the forge?”
“I left Richard there to keep an eye on it. I’ll go back later.”
