‘Sorry.’ Hanna was confused and her head was thumping. ‘Are you telling me that the vicar’s wife called you and said that I’m in love with Griff?’
‘Yes, dear,’ said Vera. ‘About an hour ago now. Barbra Brimble was at the coffee morning, and she told Daisy, and everyone else present.’
Hanna briefly closed her eyes as the ground seemed to be shifting beneath her feet.
‘Erm. How many people attend Daisy’s coffee mornings?’ Hanna dreaded the answer.
‘Well it really depends,’ said Rita, seemingly counting with her fingers as she spoke. ‘At least half of the female residents of Betancourt Bay, I’d say.’
‘Oh, great,’ Hanna groaned.
‘Oh no, dear,’ said Vera, wagging a finger at her sister. ‘Far more than that. I’d say most of the female residents of the village. At least, those above a certain age. And, of course, there are the members of St Gabriel’s choir. Some of those live in Folkestone.’
‘It just gets better,’ Hanna mumbled as she shook her head.
‘And the three female campanologists!’ Rita seemed to suddenly remember, judging by her tone. ‘Although why all the people who live in Folkestone come all the way here to our little church when there are some perfectly good churches in Folkestone, is a mystery to me.’
‘St Gabriel’s is pretty,’ said Vera. ‘And ancient.’
‘We’re pretty, and ancient,’ Rita joked, ‘but do people travel from Folkestone to come to us?’
‘Well, yes dear.’ Vera furrowed her brows. ‘Our nephew does.’
‘Other than Bruce, I meant,’ snapped Rita.
‘Okay. Thanks.’ Hanna was close to snapping now. ‘I think I get the picture.’ She couldn’t listen to much more of this. She had her answer.
Basically, a lot of people, both in Betancourt Bay, and beyond, believed she was in love with Grifforde Betancourt. The feeling in her tummy was no longer one of hunger, it was more like nausea now.
Vera tapped her on her arm. ‘We were just on our way to meet Daisy for lunch in Betancourt Bay Café. And we’d better hurry as we’re already late. We’re here if you want to chat. Oh, and you’re welcome to join us, dear.’
‘Thanks. But no,’ Hanna said, and watched as the sisters hurried away, their walking sticks tapping on the pavement in perfect rhythm.
Perhaps she should give lunch at The Royal Oak a miss and eat at home instead. Assuming she could actually eat anything at all after that conversation.
Barbra Brimble, and the vicar’s wife, and at least half of Betancourt Bay, along with several people in Folkestone, thought she was in love with Griff. And no doubt every single one of those people had told at least one other person this astonishing news by now.
Daisy would definitely have told the vicar, who had doubtless said he would pray for Hanna, because that was his answer to everything.
And Hanna didn’t doubt for a second that Charlie Tollard, the daughter of Freddie, the owner of The Royal Oak had heard this gossip, and that meant everyone in the pub would’ve heard it too. Charlie wasn’t one for keeping secrets.
Hanna needed time to think. And time to decide what she should do next.
It was only as she opened the front door of Catkin Cottage and stepped inside that she realised something.
‘Oh bloody hell!’ She slammed the door shut behind her. ‘I didn’t say it wasn’t true! I didn’t even try to deny it.’
Well that was that. She was never venturing outside again.
