A mistress in town.
I always held such men in contempt, yet now I have joined their ranks and have no intention of leaving.
Helena Last and I met when Jocelyn, Charlie and I barrelled down to the opening of the Popular Café on 10 October. The date is important; it was the day my life changed forever. She was our waitress and from the moment she approached our table, my heart and mind knew trouble lay ahead. From her blonde curls, to her laughing green eyes and easy smile, she could not have been more different from my dear Veronica. When she responded to my tentative flirting, I felt she was doing it out of sympathy – poor old chap, she probably thought, I’ll be kind – but she assures me this was not the case.
‘You had gentle eyes,’ she has since told me, ‘and I could tell you were a gentleman.’
The chaps returned home the following day, but, due to the problems at home, I remained in London, which was a good excuse. The thought of her was like a siren song. Each day, the call of the Popular Café intensified. It was the music – especially when Helena sang – I told myself, the food, the convivial company… But it was her. When she agreed to meet me on her night off, I was the happiest man alive and as we walked along the banks of the Thames, I quite forgot I was ten years her senior and a married man.
A telegram has arrived, I must stop reminiscing about my meeting with my darling girl to record this important news: Charlie’scousin, Selwyn of the British Museum, has requested I visit with utmost haste as he has exciting news about my manuscript.
17
CERENSTHORPE ABBEY – OCTOBER, PRESENT DAY
‘Tay, it’s wonderful to see you.’
Tabitha drew her older sister towards her and hugged her tightly.
‘You too, Tabby-Cat,’ she said. ‘You’re looking better.’
‘Thanks, it’s all the staring at a computer all day, it’s far healthier than the fresh air Mum and Dad used to insist upon.’
The sisters grinned at the old family joke dating from when they were young enough to be dragged out for long, energising walks by their parents. One damp Sunday afternoon as they trudged behind their parents muttering about being forced away from the television, Suzannah, the eldest, slipped on a loose stone and skidded towards the edge of the cliff path.
‘I told you all this exercise was bad for us,’ she had howled in shock after their father had caught her and dragged her back to safety. ‘If you’d let me watch the rest ofCharmed, I wouldn’t have nearly died. Watching TV is far safer.’
Even Suzannah had eventually laughed, but the comment had remained a family favourite.
‘Let me help you with your bags,’ said Tabitha as they released each other.
‘There’s only one and it’s small,’ said Tamar. ‘I didn’t need anything else for the conference apart from what I’m wearing as it wasn’t an overnighter and I figured I could steal all your toiletries, so I packed light.’
‘Of course, you know me, I love sharing all my own-brand products,’ said Tabitha.
‘Own-brand?’ responded Tamar. ‘When have you ever bought any cosmetic or potion that wasn’t the price of a small family car?’
‘Fool, I worked in PR for years, I didn’t buy any of them, they were all samples. Sadly, my stocks of expensive goodies are running low.’
‘But not exhausted?’ said Tamar hopefully.
‘Not quite, go and check your bedroom, you’ll find the very expensive body lotion that matches your perfume waiting for you to take home.’
‘And this is why you’re my favourite sister,’ said Tamar, picking up her small suitcase and hurrying up the stairs in excitement.
‘Don’t be long, I’m opening a bottle of Prosecco,’ called Tabitha.
She smiled to herself as she lined up two champagne flutes and ripped the black foil from the top of the bottle, easing out the cork. Upstairs, she could hear Tamar’s exaggerated delight at finding other goodies too.
On the first floor, there was one large bedroom which took up the entire front half of the cottage, a brand-new bathroom and a second bedroom which was big enough for a double bed, two bedside tables and a chest of drawers. Tabitha thought Tadpole Cottage was small but perfect.
As the cork flew out with a satisfying pop and Tabitha poured the drinks, Tamar reappeared, rubbing her arms.
‘This stuff smells divine,’ she said, breathing the heady scent of the Givenchy Organza Body Silk from her skin. ‘The other things, though, the lipstick, the hair treatments?—’
‘All for you,’ said Tabitha, cutting across her.
‘Are you sure?’
