Even Bunty had been a touch surprised at how swiftly Jasmine Boyd had negotiated and dealt with the purchase of the cottage. Mrs Boyd was clearly a lady who knew her own mind; a woman after her own heart, thought Bunty with contentment.
Opening the front door, she gave Robin one of her most winning smiles.
‘Robin, do come in.’ She swept the door wide open.
He stepped inside and turned to her, taking in the large, hooped earrings and bright red lipstick. Unusually, her grey hair was loose, running wild.
‘Bunty, you know perfectly well why I’m here,’ Robin started, getting straight to the point.
‘I do.’
Robin waited for her to elaborate, but nothing was forthcoming.
‘Why, Bunty?’ His expression showed genuine confusion. It simply didn’t make sense to him, why Bunty wouldn’t let him buy both her cottages in the first place.
‘Robin, it’s just bricks and mortar we’re talking about!’ she exclaimed in exasperation. Truth be told, she hated seeing him look this way, however convinced she was that her actions were for his own good.
‘I don’t get it,’ he frowned, further adding to her discomfort.
‘Oh Robin, let’s talk, darling.’ Bunty’s voice was soft and assuring. She tipped her head towards the drawing room door. ‘Come on, let’s have a drink.’
She led them into the spacious room, blazing with sunshine through the large, south-facing bow window. She made her way to the mirrored drinks cabinet and rustled up huge glasses of gin and tonic; her favourite tipple, so refreshing, no matter what time of day it was. Bunty prided herself on always having fresh cucumber, neatly sliced to accompany them, stored in the mini fridge with lots of ice in the small freezer compartment.
‘There you go, darling.’ She passed Robin his drink and sat down in the armchair opposite him. ‘Now don’t be cross with me for selling one of the cottages,’ she began, leaning forward in her earnestness. ‘In time, I’m sure, you’ll thank me.’
‘Will I?’ Robin replied in a deadpan voice.
‘Yes, there’s method to my madness, you see,’ Bunty tried to explain. ‘The lady who’s bought the cottage is a Mrs Jasmine Boyd.’ She looked expectantly at him.
‘And…?’
‘Doesn’t that name ring a bell?’ Bunty pushed.
‘Should it?’ he replied, frowning.
‘Her poor husband was killed in a hit-and-run car accident, it was all over the papers,’ she told him. For now she knew for certain it was indeed the Mrs Boyd she’d suspected, the estate agents had confirmed it.
‘Right…’ said Robin, a touch confused where this was going.
‘Well, I wanted to help the girl, she was very taken with the cottage and…’ Bunty paused.
‘What?’ Robin asked, taking a large gulp of his gin and tonic.
‘I think you’d make a good couple,’ she finished assertively, making Robin splutter on his drink.
‘What?!’ His eyes widened in disbelief.
‘It makes perfect sense to me,’ Bunty told him calmly. ‘You buy the other cottage, become neighbours and see what happens.’ Her hands spread out, like it was all so simple.
Robin blinked. Bunty’s matter-of-fact tone made it all the more incredulous. She could have been telling him the weather forecast, not matchmaking him with a woman he’d never set eyes on. Unbelievable.
‘So,’ he sat forward, ‘let me get this straight. You deliberately sold one of the cottages to a vulnerable, young widow, with the intention of lining her up for me?’
‘In a nutshell, yes. Obviously, you won’t want to rush things—’
‘Hell no, that would just be madness, wouldn’t it?’ Robin cut in sarcastically.
‘Yes, it would,’ agreed Bunty, ignoring the jibe. ‘This will need sensitive handling.’
