well, thank you.’ Rachel saw no reason to tell them of her restless night. ‘And thank you for your kind words. It was a pretty compliment.’
‘Nothing less than the truth, I do assure you,’ Robert replied gallantly, picking up one of her hands from the table and raising it to his lips. ‘Hmm, you smell delightful. What is it? Something to drive us poor males mad, I’m sure.’
Rachel giggled. ‘It’s Charlie perfume, actually,’ she admitted, as he let her draw her fingers away. ‘And you’re an old flatterer. I don’t know what Liz must think of you.’
‘Oh, I’m too old now to try and change him,’ remarked Liz dryly, but she and her husband exchanged a knowing smile.
‘You’ll never be too old,’ he retorted affectionately, then looked up at Maisie and gave her a wink. ‘I’ll have the same as usual, if you don’t mind,’ he told her. ‘Oh, and remind Andy I want to speak to him later, about those canes in the greenhouse.’
‘Yes, Mr Shard,’ Maisie nodded. ‘Shall I take Jaime’s breakfast upstairs, do you think? Or is he likely to be coming down?’
Liz looked uncomfortably at her husband, and he shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly. ‘I—think, perhaps, you ought to take it upstairs,’ Liz conceded at last. She glanced awkwardly at Rachel. ‘You don’t mind, do you, darling? He’s not being deliberately rude. It’s just—’
‘I don’t mind at all,’ Rachel averred, only too willing to put off the moment when she would have to face Jaime in his parents’ presence, and with a sigh of relief Liz gave Maisie her instructions.
‘It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?’ Rachel offered, as the housekeeper left the room. The last thing she wanted was to lose the rapport they had recovered earlier, and as if sharing her feelings, Jaime’s father took up her words.
‘Perhaps you’d like to walk down to the village with me later,’ he suggested. ‘I’ve got a bottle of rare old Scotch whisky for the vicar to sample, and I want to call at the garage for a couple of new plugs for the Rover.’
‘Rob!’ His wife looked slightly scandalised. ‘You’re not going to offer Mr Conway some of that stuff Jaime brought you, are you?’
‘Why not?’ Her husband was unrepentant. ‘It’s good whisky. And you know as well as I do that old Conway enjoys a wee dram!’
‘I know, but—’ Liz shook her head at Rachel. ‘What would you do with him? Anyway,’ she sighed, ‘if you get drummed out of the church, don’t blame me.’
‘They’d have to get me in there before they could drum me out!’ retorted Robert, with a grin. ‘Stop worrying, woman. Conway and I understand one another. And he plays a fair round of golf.’
Rachel smiled. She had always envied Jaime his parents. Her own mother had died in a car accident soon after she was born, and she had been brought up by her father’s older, unmarried sister, who had come to share her brother’s home on his wife’s death. When Aunt Catherine died, Rachel was already fifteen, and old enough to take over the running of her father’s house, and her own ambitions to do well at her ‘A’ levels and go on to university had been squashed by family circumstances. Not that her father had ever deliberately stood in her way. But she had known she could not leave him, and in consequence, she had left school at sixteen, and after a year at a secretarial college had taken a job in the typing pool of an independent television company. That was how she had met Jaime, how it had all started, and she determinedly turned her thoughts aside from the memories it evoked.
Liz had already had her breakfast; like Rachel, she had had only toast and coffee, and leaving Robert to his plate of bacon and kidneys, the two women adjourned to the living room. Like the morning room, this room also was at the back of the house, and Rachel seated herself on the wide banquette that circled the long jutting bay window.
‘Now—’ Liz pushed the letters her husband had not wanted to see away into the small bureau, and added several cards to the collection already hung about the mantelpiece. Unlike the sitting room, there was only an electric fire in here, but the efficient central heating system banished any sense of chill. ‘Let me see what I have to do.’
‘Can I help you?’ Rachel would be glad of the diversion. The last thing she wanted was to be sitting about aimlessly when Jaime eventually decided to put in an appearance.
‘Well, you could get me one or two things at the store, if you’re going down to the village with Rob,’ Liz considered. ‘He hates going in there, you know. It’s such a gossipy place. And if they’ve heard that Jaime is home, Mrs Dennis will be dying to ask questions.’
‘All right.’ Rachel doubted they would remember her, and even if they did, she was not perturbed. ‘You make out a list, and I’ll do your shopping for you. And afterwards I’m quite willing to help around the house.’
Liz smiled. ‘You’re a sweet girl, Rachel, and I’m very fond of you.’ She touched her cheek gently, with a probing finger. ‘I’m so sorry Jaime hasn’t even had the good manners to come and speak to you. And I shall give him a piece of my mind, when I have the opportunity.’
‘Oh, no, don’t! I mean—’ Rachel broke off in embarrassment. ‘Really, I prefer it this way, honestly. He—he and I have nothing to say.’
‘If you insist.’ But Liz still looked slightly doubtful. Then, dismissing her momentary solemnity, she gave another smile. ‘Andy is installing the tree in the hall this morning. Perhaps you could help me dress it before Robin and Nancy arrive.’
Rachel displayed an enthusiasm she was far from feeling, and Liz bustled away to see Maisie, to find out what was needed from the village. Left alone, Rachel gazed out pensively at the seagulls wheeling above the heaving waters, and wondered rather apprehensively how Jaime’s parents would introduce her to their daughter-in-law.
She was lost in thought when a voice broke into her reverie: ‘Well, hello, Miss Williams! It is Miss Williams, isn’t it? You know it’s so long since we met, you’ll have to forgive me if I’m confusing you with someone else.’
Rachel swung round to face her tormentor, and gazed up resentfully into Jaime’s dark mocking face. He was standing just inside the doorway, a sinister Machiavelli, in a black shirt and black denims, his dark hair smooth, and brushing his collar at the back.
‘I suppose you think you’re very amusing, don’t you?’ she demanded tautly. ‘If this is your idea of saving me embarrassment, then don’t bother.’
‘Ah, but that was last night,’ remarked Jaime annoyingly, using his stick to walk heavily across the carpet. ‘And you turned me down. So you can hardly blame me if I try to protect my own interests.’
‘Didn’t you always?’ retorted Rachel angrily, turning back to her contemplation of the view, then stiffened instinctively when he approached the window seat and lowered himself down on to the banquette beside her.
‘What a vindictive tongue you have, Grandma,’ he taunted, glancing over his shoulder to see where she was looking. ‘Reliving the halcyon days of the past?’ He propped his stick against the wall. ‘I seem to remember we spent one memorable afternoon down there.’
‘I don’t recall it.’ Rachel’s mouth compressed. Then: ‘I thought you were supposed to be resting. Mrs Armstrong was going to serve you breakfast
