She too drank her tea, while he took a bite of the cake. Followed by another. It was delicious. And he was starving into the bargain. He settled back into the armchair and stretched out his legs in front of him.
‘What are your plans?’ she asked, as though warning him not to get too comfortable.
‘For the rest of my life?’
A smile twitched at the corners of her lips. ‘I was thinking more of the immediate future. Have you booked somewhere to stay tonight?’
‘You afford me more common sense than I possess. Forward planning is not one of my strong suits.Half-baked schemes, that’s more my line.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind. In the absence of a plan, you must stay here.’
‘I couldn’t possibly put you out. Well, no more than I have already.’
‘Come, come now,’ she said archly, ‘don’t be disingenuous. You know jolly well that I could no more turn you out into the cold, than I could accept your apology without giving you one of my own.’
‘What do you have to be sorry for?’ he asked, surprised.
‘Something which has been on my mind since we last saw each other. I was inexcusably rude to you and overreached myself when we were talking. And if we’re speaking of failings, that is one of mine. I’ve always been too meddlesome for my own good.’
‘You did nothing wrong,’ he said. ‘I overreacted to a question which ... which scratched at a raw spot. As you doubtless suspected it would. Which is why you asked the question in the first place; you were trying to shake me out of my evasiveness.’
‘I had no right to do that. You were perfectly entitled to be as evasive as you wanted. More cake?’
‘Thank you.’ He leaned forward and held out his plate with his injured hand.
‘How’s your thumb? Has it stopped bleeding?’
He gave it a cursory look. ‘I believe it has. But I’m afraid your napkin may never be the same again.’
‘A good soak overnight and it’ll be as right as rain.’
‘If only all life’s problems could be so simply resolved,’ he said with a smile.
‘And what problems do you have that you wish you could be rid of?’
He fixed his gaze directly on hers. ‘I have one very tricky problem and I’m darned if I know how to go about resolving it.’
‘Can I help in any way?’ she asked, relaxing into the cushions behind her on the sofa.
‘I’d like to think you could. Perhaps we could discuss it over dinner? May I take you somewhere this evening?’
Her unwavering gaze still locked on his, she said, ‘I have a better idea; I shall cook for us. Nothing fancy though.’
At the powerfully penetrating look she was giving him, he felt practically cooked himself!
ChapterSixty-Three
Island House, Melstead St Mary
December 1962
Romily
At Red’s suggestion, or rather his insistence that she didn’t go to any trouble on his account, they ate in the kitchen. Romily often did, preferring it to the dining room, which was a beautiful room, but it felt much too grand to eat in when alone. When she’d told Red she would cook, what she’d actually meant was that she would put the ham and chicken pie Mrs Collings had made into the oven and boil the potatoes and carrots which had also been prepared. The meal eaten, Red further insisted that he would earn his keep by doing the dishes.
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ she remonstrated.
‘I think you’ll find I will.’
