now. See you tonight, uh?’
‘You’re taking an extra day? But that’s wonderful! What time shall I meet you?’
‘It’s part business, part pleasure, so I’m driving up. I’ll tell you about it when I see you. I’d like to be clear of London before the rush hour starts. Once I’m on the M6 I’ll stop at the first caff for something to eat, so don’t bother cooking.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Absolutely! I’ll be there before dark. See you!’
‘That was Jeannie,’ I said to Hector, who had heard the rattle of the biscuit tin. ‘She’s coming tonight and there’s not a thing to eat in the house!’
I took a sip of tea, giving a biscuit to Hector. I would go right away to the village in case Jeannie got her foot down on the motorway and decided not to stop. Anyway, I was low on coffee.
Chicken pie, peas, oven chips – I made a mental list – coffee, white wine and a phonecard. Mum would cluck and scold for not waiting until after six, but she’d be pleased to hear from me. I smiled at the red rose that peeped, nodding, through the kitchen window, feeling almost completely happy, wondering if I wasn’t tempting fate, because no one could feel this smug and go unpunished. I looked at the calendar beside the fireplace. Soon, Beth’s lot would be home and I would have to give back Deer’s Leap. Just to think of it wiped the smirk from my face.
‘Want to come to the village?’ I reached for Hector’s lead and he was at the door with a yelp of delight, tail wagging. I would miss Hector too.
I stopped at the lidded box and left a note for the milkman to find in the morning, then wondered if there would be any sign of the airman. It seemed ages since the last encounter.
Yet the trip there and back passed completely without incident. Even my parents hadn’t been in; all I’d got was Mum’s posh telephone voice, inviting me to leave a message on the answerphone.
I got back a little after five, just enough time to make up Jeannie’s bed and dust her room. Then a quick tidy-up all round and with luck I’d be able to wash my hair before she got here.
The contented feeling was back again. I looked forward to seeing Jeannie and wondered why she was taking the day off, and driving up too. I opened wide the windows and smiled into the pale purple distance, remembering that the big, blowsy poppies Jeannie liked so much were just breaking bud, and though they would quickly open and fall indoors, I decided to pick some for her room.
Jeannie was her usual unruffled self with not a hair out of place, despite the long drive.
‘Did you stop to eat?’ was the first thing I asked and she said she’d had fish and chips and peas. Mushy, of course.
I helped her in with her things, thinking that if she wasn’t such a love, I could hate her for the way she could pig it, without adding an inch to her waistline.
‘So what’s news?’ We were sitting outside with glasses of wine, watching the twilight thicken. ‘How come you’ve driven up, and a day early too?’
‘There’s a literary luncheon hereabouts tomorrow and I’m minding Susanna Lancaster. You’ll have heard of her?’
‘Of course. Who hasn’t? But what is minding?’
‘That, my dear good girl, is the taking care of an author when she’s making an official appearance, so to speak. Writers of Lancaster’s calibre always get one. She’s the guest speaker. It’ll be her last time, so Harrier Books want it to go well for her. Her book comes out officially today, and after that she’s giving up writing, or so she says.’
‘And are you her editor, Jeannie?’
‘No, her regular editor is getting married on Saturday, so I volunteered. I tried to get a ticket for you, Cassie, but no luck. Strictly limited, and sold out ages ago.’
‘No problem.’ For some reason, literary luncheons made me think of poetry readings, and big hats. ‘Where will it be?’
‘At the Throstle Farm Hotel, about seven miles from here. The great lady will want driving there – it’s why I brought the car. I’ll have to be up early in the morning to give it a wash and polish.’
‘Does she live far from here?’
‘Near Lancaster, actually. I believe her house is really something.’
‘It follows.’ Every one of Susanna Lancaster’s novels were bestsellers and some had been made into television dramas. I figured she wouldn’t be short of a pound or two. ‘What’s her latest book called?’
‘Dragonfly Morning. There’ll be books for sale at the luncheon and she’ll do a signing session afterwards. The area sales rep will be there and we’ll organize things between us. And when she’s had enough, I’ll drive her home.’
‘Do all writers speak at luncheons and have book-signing sessions?’ Just to think of it made me uneasy.
‘Quite a few. It’s a pity you can’t come along, Cas, and see how it’s done. There’s more to getting to the top of the heap than writing good books, you know. Publicity is important, as well.’
‘Mm. Piers arrived this morning,’ I said, by way of changing the subject. ‘Uninvited and unannounced.’
‘Oh, lordy! I thought your mother wasn’t going to give him this address?’
‘She wasn’t – didn’t. But he saw a postcard of Acton Carey I’d sent home, and put two and two together. We had words and, to put it in a nutshell, I gave him his marching orders. Hector got so nasty I had to shut him in the outhouse.’
‘Well, if it’s to be the end of Piers Yardley I can only say I’m not altogether sorry. I got the impression, from things you let slip, that he can be a little bit selfish.’
‘He is, but it isn’t entirely his fault.’ I had to be fair. ‘His parents dote on him. From being little, nothing was too good for our Piers. He expects everyone else to bow down and worship too. It’s a pity, because he’s very attractive, if you like ’em dark and brooding.’
‘And all of a sudden you don’t?’
‘Seems not. Aunt Jane was right, I suppose. She always said you shouldn’t settle for second best and that’s what Piers would have been.’
‘Why, Cassie? Was there once someone else?’ She topped up the glasses, avoiding my eyes.
‘No. Piers was the first, but I think I always knew he wasn’t the right one. Better to end it than let it drift on and fizzle out. Mind, Mum would like to see me married, though I think she went off Piers a bit when she found he’d asked me to go to London and live with him.’
‘So we’re both fair, free and on the shelf. Spinsters, I suppose you’d call us.’
‘Then here’s to spinsters!’ I said defiantly, raising my glass. ‘And just look at that sunset!’
A blazing sun had reddened the sky and the hills stood
