“Have her.” Anastasia shook her head, and smiled.
“Sorry?”
“You were immensely gracious last year, when Victoria had her accident and I was all but AWOL for three months while I caredfor her. I essentially snatched Eva from your grasp and kept her locked up in here in my place. God knows how you coped.”
“It was a struggle,” Kivi murmured. That was putting it mildly. She’d hardly stopped for months, running the guest house pretty much on her own.
“And if we are going to lose Eva, then this is about the best time of year to do it. Jade’s daughter Emilia is coming home on Saturday for the summer – she’s just finished her first year at uni, and I was going to put her on Saturdays here. But if she were to take Eva’s hours, I could find another Saturday girl. I’d have to check with her first, of course, but I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. She’ll want the money for next semester.”
“Really?” Kivi said. “You think it could work?”
“I do,” Anastasia said. “I really do. And I owe you a favour, too. Your Ukrainian fund… really means a lot to me.”
Anastasia was Ukrainian, and when the war over there had started the previous spring, Kivi had started a donation box in the guest lounge. People had been remarkably generous, even after all the press coverage of the situation had died down.
“Give me a week or so to sort things out with Emilia,” Anastasia said. Where she had been briefly misty-eyed, now she was all business again. “And you talk to Eva. If there is a problem, we’ll let each other know. But let’s call it a tentative yes for now.”
“Great,” Kivi said, and they shook hands. The bell on the shop floor went – it had been dinging on and off the whole time she had been sat here as customers came and went, but now she heard an unmistakeably familiar voice.
“Nastya,” Jade called. “Someone for you out here!”
Chapter Nine
Saskia
Saskia’s heart sunk when Kivi Chadwick appeared behind the smiling owner of Beachy Blooms. She could see mirrored dismay in Kivi’s eyes, before quickly being replaced by a professional smile. She quickly donned one of her own, and slid her attention to the other woman.
“Miss Savchenko, isn’t it?” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Saskia Saltmarshe.”
“Please, call me Anastasia,” Anastasia said, shaking her hand. “How can I help?”
Saskia launched into her spiel about being a journalist fromBritish Livingand having a few questions, but in the corner of her eye she was watching Kivi. The woman had no escape, as Anastasia was positioned directly in front of the counter flap, thus blocking her exit. Eventually, Anastasia followed her gaze, and stepped aside to let Kivi out.
“I’ll be off, then,” Kivi said, when Saskia paused for breath. “Anastasia, it was great to talk to you, thank you. I’ll talk to Eva and we’ll be in touch.”
Anastasia waved to Kivi, and then gave Saskia a kind smile, perhaps sensing her discomfort. “Come on around the back. I’ll answer your questions.”
And answer them she did. Saskia felt immediately more at ease with her than she had been with Martine, the owner of the boutique, who had reminded her of her mother in a highly-polished go-getter sort of way. Anastasia told her all about herself – how she had moved from Ukraine when she was eighteen to become a nurse, then moved down here and bought the florist two years ago. The florist had been on the verge of closing, but with re-decoration, re-branding and a strong online presence, she had turned it around. “The fact that it is a Ukrainian-owned business helps too, of course,” she said. “The people of this village have been wonderfully supportive.”
That got her going about the people in Miltree. “They were so incredibly friendly when I moved here,” she said. “Bar one or two. I bucked their attention for a while, because I was so focused on the business. But then I found my girlfriend, Victoria, last year… and that was sort of my entry-way into the social side of this village. She introduced me to Petra, her deputy, who has a spouse called Jean… and then they introduced us to Cass and Felicia, another Sapphic couple in the village… and then they knew other people. Etcetera, etcetera. Now I’m fully integrated in the village, and the business had shot from strength to strength. Highly unusual in a cost-of-living crisis, I think you’d agree!”
“I would,” Saskia said. This was the complete opposite of Martine at the boutique, who had confessed that her business was struggling, despite having a flourishing Instagram account and website. Privately, Saskia thought that the astronomical prices of her clothes were mostly to blame. It had given her something to write for the fashion article, though. While she had a receptive interviewee, she decided to touch on some of the other topics. “What is there down here, in terms of events?”
“Events?” Anastasia frowned. “Honestly, not much, in Miltree at least. The main events of the year are based at the school – their summer fete, and their Christmas celebration. That’s when the whole village gets together. Stalls, games, a performance from the village choir, that sort of thing. My girlfriend is the headmistress.”
“Scary Miss Berry?” Saskia said without thinking. Martine had mentioned the headmistress by that name, and it had amused her. Anastasia rolled her eyes.
“Yes, some people do call her that,” she said. “But she’s less scary when you get to know her. Actually… who am I kidding? She is scary. Intimidating. In an ice-queen-fashionista sort of way. That’s why she’s so well-known in the village. But she’s always polite. Never deliberately rude.”
“A bit like me, then,” Saskia said, and they both laughed. “Well, thank you for talking to me today. I’ve spoken to all the businesses down here except the pub, and that was only because it was shut until this evening. I’ll go back there another day and talk to the owner.”
“Good luck with Veronica,” Anastasia grimaced, and Saskia’s ears pricked up. This woman didn’t seem the type to harbour animosity, so…
“How come?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing. You’d be safe from her. She doesn’t like me and Victoria. Or Petra and Jean. Or Cass and Felicia. She’s… not a fan of gay people. But you don’t have a girlfriend with you, and you don’t ping my gaydar, so you’d be fine.”
“That’s because I’m straight,” Saskia chuckled, but her skin prickled with unease, and she knew she had to get out of there. Anastasia gave her a slip of paper, which had her phone number on it.
