house. Comfortably padded wooden furniture was arranged to take the best advantage of the gorgeous views. ‘I think it’s warm enough to sit outside.’ Sherry smiled at her daughter. ‘I’ll go get Rick. He’ll be so happy to see you, Daisy. He was saying the other day we see more of Rose and she lives in New York. You two make yourselves at home. Then we can have a drink. Daisy, darling, let Vi know you’re here, will you?’
‘I’ll text her.’ Daisy perched on a bench as she pulled out her phone and, after a moment’s hesitation, Seb joined her. Of course they would sit together. In fact, they should be holding hands. He looked at her long, slender fingers flying over the phone’s surface and willed himself to casually reach over and slip his own fingers through hers.
Just one touch. And yet it felt more binding than the ring he had bought her and the vows he was prepared to make.
‘That’s Dad’s studio.’ Daisy slipped the phone back into her dress pocket and pointed at the largest of the outbuildings. ‘The first thing he did was convert it into a soundproofed, state-of-the-art recording studio—we were never allowed in unsupervised but it didn’t stop us trying to make our own records. They weren’t very good. None of us are particularly musical, much to Dad’s disgust. The room next to it is used as rehearsal space and we turned the orangery into a pool and gym, otherwise we pretty much left the house as it was. It hasn’t changed much since it was built.’
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