“Sorry, I just can’t resist a place like this. That fireplace is amazing. Do you ever light it?”
“Occasionally. In winter.” The day after Sebastian’s shithole comment, Helen had cleared away the wilting flowers, but the vases were still in need of a good polish, and the logs were still covered in the dust that often blew down the chimney. “We should—”
“So I’m guessing there’s at least two rooms upstairs. How old is this place?”
“It was built in 1851.”
“Driving up, I passed a For Sale sign. Omar looked on his phone and Pendlebury Manor came up.” Grice whistled. “Worth a bomb! The estate includes this cottage, too, doesn’t it?”
“No, the cottage is mine.” But if Grice had already looked up the estate and all that it included, he’d know the cottage wasn’t technically hers …yet. “That’s to say … I’m in the process of buying it.”
“Well, that’s just marvelous, sweetheart.” Grice’s gaze lingered on hers for a moment. “Hope it all goes smoothly for you.”
“Thanks.” Helen looked away.Confidence is the key to faking anything.But she wasn’t at all confident that she’d have the funds in time to buy the cottage. She nodded toward the kitchen. “Let’s get back outside.”
The next morning, Sebastian left for London to attend the Football Association dinner with George Hampton and Helen cycled up to Tom and Emma’s house. Tom was at work and Emma was having a bad day with the children, who were both niggly with colds and whatever else had made them cranky.
Their wailing reached Helen out on the street. She made her way around the back and walked into the kitchen just as Harry upset the dog’s water bowl. Lucy, flailing her little arms and legs, was in the midst of a crying fit, and Emma, extremely frazzled, looked like she’d be joining her any second.
“Thank god, you’re here!” she said.
Helen grabbed a towel and wiped up the spilled water then played with Harry and Ned, the dog, in the garden to give Emma time alone to calm the baby. When peace had been restored, Helen made them all lunch then sat on the small sofa in the kitchen to watch a kids’ TV program with Harry until he dozed off on her lap.
“You look beaten,” Helen whispered to Emma who was sitting at the kitchen table nursing Lucy. “Beaten by these sweet children of yours.”
“They’re devils. If I have to tell Harry to get out of the dog’sflippingbowl one more time!”
Suspecting that wasn’t quite the f-word Emma really wanted to use, Helen laid Harry on the sofa and pushed a chair in front of him in case he rolled off. “He looks such an angel when he’s sleeping. They both do.”
“Yeah,whenthey’re sleeping, the little …” But Emma’s face softened as she gazed at Harry then at the baby in her arms. “You don’t mind if I just sit here now they’re both quiet, do you?”
“Not at all. I’ll make some tea.” Helen moved quietly around the kitchen, enjoying the peace, and seriously not knowing how Emma did what she did with the kids day in, day out while Tom was at work. Emma’s parents lived three hours away in Cornwall so they weren’t on hand to help out. “You’re a tough bird, Emma Hobbs.”
Emma let out a small, weary laugh. “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”
“Huh. That’s what Dad used to say to us.”
“Tom says it too.”
Really?Her brother had a love-hate relationship with his memories of their dad. On one hand, Tom resented their unorthodox upbringing, on the other, he knew their father was a good man—when he wasn’t running away from the police.
Helen dropped teabags into cups. “I often wonder how Dad coped with us as babies all by himself. I don’t know how anyone copes, to be honest.”
“You will one day, when you have kids of your own.”
“Maybe.” Helen liked children, but she’d never considered having any. Probably because six months had been the longest relationship she’d ever had—and that had been twelve years ago, when she was eighteen. She’d worked with Kayden on the orchards, and still occasionally bumped into him in the village. He was happily married now with school-aged children.
After Kayden, there’d been a string of casual boyfriends, few and far between, that Helen met in the village pub or in Bristolwhenbefore kidsEmma invited her along on nights out with the girls from the salon. Then, when Ada needed care, only Jaxon had occupied Helen’s thoughts in that department.
Until Sebastian.
“So what have you been up to lately?” Emma asked.
Helen placed a mug of tea on the table in front of her. “Well, the exciting life of a celebrity girlfriend continues. Yesterday, we were interviewed by that journalist who shot the boxing clip.” Helen had already told Tom and Emma about Gary Grice’s articles. “The first one goes out in theBristol Evening Postnext week.”
“You’ll be famous!”
“For all of five minutes.” Helen snorted. “Get Living is hardly a Hollywood blockbuster, and Sebastian isn’t Brad Pitt.”
