Bryony’s voice was muffled. ‘Two minutes.’
Downstairs, Gareth was already settled in his armchair, the newspaper and TV remote balanced on the arms, his crutches beside him and his legs on a stool. He frowned over his reading glasses as she passed through the sitting room. ‘Going out?’
‘Peterborough. Bryony’s coming, too.’
‘What are you going there for?’ His heavy brow shut down over his eyes.
Had she always reported her movements to him automatically?
He’d never seemed to feel a need to reciprocate, and somehow she hadn’t really expected it.
An appointment at the bank was scheduled and she had no intention of sharing that information with him, nor the update to the business plan that James had shown her how to draw up, to her an unnecessarily formal method of saying, ‘I need more money because I now have two fabulous outlets to supply and will have to buy another machine and somebody to use it.’ To cope with Unity’s Christmas orders, plus supplying The Monkee Box, she was going to need someone who could cut patterns and machine- and hand-sew as soon as possible and Gareth was bound to explode when he discovered there would be a strange person in the workroom – which he insisted on still referring to as the dining room – every day. Until that hurdle had to be leapt she intended to keep her business as just that – her business.
‘I’ve got a few things to do. I’ll be back this afternoon,’ she answered. ‘There’s plenty of soup in the cupboard for your lunch, or you could make a sandwich.’
‘I suppose I can manage,’ he said shortly, and pointed the TV remote at the set.
‘I’m sure you can.’
Bryony padded down the stairs. Her pregnancy showed itself as a soft segment of big naked tummy looming between her maternity jeans and a top the colour of blackberries. Diane wasn’t keen on the look. When she’d been pregnant the idea had been to cover up the bump and distract the eye with flamboyant collars, not display it for everyone to admire. But such observations only drew Bryony’s most exasperated, ‘Oh, Mum!’
‘See you this afternoon, Dad.’ Bryony dropped a kiss on her father’s cheek.
His forbidding expression melted into a smile for her. ‘Mind how you go, darling.’
‘Want anything from Peterborough?’ Bryony perched on the edge of a chair and slid her feet into gold-coloured trainers with dark turquoise laces, bending awkwardly.
Gareth’s smile broadened at her concern. ‘I could do with a new box of tissues –’
‘Kitchen cupboard,’ offered Diane.
‘– and a pen that works –’
‘Kitchen drawer.’
‘– and a sudoku book.’
‘I’ve never seen you do sudoku,’ commented Bryony, standing up.
‘Got to keep the little grey cells going.’
Diane looked at her watch and moved towards the door, heroically suppressing an unworthy remark that yes, he would need to find some activity to replace the deceit and duplicity with which he’d exercised his mind for so long.
In the car, as soon as Gareth was safely out of hearing, Bryony burst out, ‘Well?Was it really your stuff on sale in Covent Garden?’
Diane cast a glance behind her as she pulled away from the house, as if Gareth might be tuned into their conversation, somehow. ‘It was. But it’s all working out, because now I’m going to supply The Monkee Box myself!’
Bryony’s dark eyes sparkled. ‘That’s socool. A Covent Garden shop wants to sell your stuff. How cool is that? That’ssocool.’
Turning into Purtenon St. Paul’s main street, making sure that she got out ahead of an oncoming tractor to avoid following it at 15mph for miles, Diane laughed. ‘I admit I hadn’t seen it in quite that light. I’ve been focusing on how some shit’s been buying stuff off me cheap and selling it on heavily marked up.’
Bryony’s brows shot up. ‘Oh, yeah. So, are you going to speak to Rowan?’
Diane accelerated away from the village. ‘He’s going to be my first call this morning.’
The brown eyes shone again. ‘Can I come? I haven’t seen you in a strop for ages.’
‘If you think me in a strop is particularly entertaining.’
