Chapter 46
‘So you’re leaving?’ Finula asked, crestfallen. Megan’s face creased with concern.
‘Oh, but I’ll still be a regular here at The Templar.’ It hurt to see Finula’s disappointed expression. ‘I’ll still help out, when I can,’ she tried to appease.
‘I doubt you’ll have time. Sounds like you’ll have your hands full working with Tobias.’ Finula gave a sly grin and Megan chuckled.
‘He does work at full pelt. He intends to have Treweham Hall opened in two weeks’ time. Then there’s the old stable block conversion well underway. The guy never stops.’
‘Goes like a train, eh?’ She gave Megan a nudge, making her blush.
Just on cue, Tobias walked through the pub door carrying a parcel. The two of them quickly smothered their giggles.
‘Hi, Fin.’ He put the parcel down on the bar and kissed Megan. ‘I’ve a present for you, Miss Taylor.’
Megan’s face lit up with surprise. ‘For me? What is it?’
‘Open it and find out.’ Finula pushed the parcel nearer to her, eager to see its contents. Megan ripped open the brown paper to uncover a box. Taking the lid of it, she saw two stacks of postcards, her painting of Treweham Hall printed on them.
‘Tobias! It’s my painting, look.’ She took a postcard out and passed it Finula.
‘Cool! Look, they’ve even got your signature in the corner,’ Finula cried.
‘Oh, Tobias, they’re wonderful.’ Megan put her arms round his neck and kissed his cheek. Laughing he put his arm round her waist.
‘So you like them, then?’
‘I love them!’
‘We’ll be selling them in the gift shop. They’ll make great souvenirs.’
Finula watched them. Her two good friends made a perfect couple. She was so pleased, for each of them; but when would it be her turn? Feeling a little awkward, she made an excuse to leave them alone.
‘Megan, I’m going away for a few days.’ Tobias suddenly looked quite serious. Her eyes searched his face.
‘Why? Where are you going?’
‘I’d rather not say at the moment, but I’ll explain everything when I get back.’
The feeling of foreboding came creeping back like an old enemy. She withdrew from his hold.
‘Megan, please.’ He tried to take her hand, but she snatched it away.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked quietly.
‘Nothing to worry about, honestly,’ he insisted. ‘It’s just for a few days, then I’ll be back.’ She looked at him, wounded and confused. It killed him to see her like this. ‘Please, trust me.’ He pulled her back into his arms and hugged her tightly.
*
Tracy had had a busy morning. Reading that magazine article had fired her imagination and she was on a mission to restore some purpose in her life. She had researched the nearest care homes in the area and volunteered her services, explaining that she had previously worked in a home and had all the necessary checks and paperwork in order. She had also contacted the manager from her former job and had arranged for a reference to be emailed. It felt strange talking to him, almost like another world, and in many ways it was.
‘Hi, Tracy, nice to hear from you. How’s things?’
How did she answer that? Well, winning millions, living in a Grade II listed house in the Cotswolds and having nothing to do but lunch and shop with other rich women hardly seemed appropriate.
‘Fine, thanks, Alan. I’m applying for volunteer work in local care homes and would really appreciate a reference from you.’
‘No problem. Good for you. I’m sure you’ll be a great asset.’ She was truly touched. A lump formed in her throat. In that instant she could easily have run back home, to normality, to where she belonged.
