low-heeled sandals that echoed the colour of the lapis lazuli drops in her ears. Yet for some reason, she did.
Ian was in the sitting room talking to her aunt and uncle when she arrived downstairs. When he turned in response to her quiet, ‘Good evening,’ and saw her standing in the doorway, his jaw dropped.
‘God, Clo, you look amazing—like someone from a magazine cover.’
‘You look pretty good yourself.’ And it wasn’t just his looks, she thought as she went to him smiling, appraising his black-and-white houndstooth tweed jacket, worn with dark trousers and the ruby silk tie which set off his crisp white shirt. He’d dressed to kill too, for this important night in their lives.
It’s going to be all right, she thought. It’s going to be wonderful.
She lifted her face, offering him her lips, but he reddened slightly and deposited a kiss on her cheek instead.
‘Have a wonderful time,’ Aunt Libby whispered with a hug, as Ian paused to have a final word with Uncle Hal on their way out. ‘I won’t wait up.’
Chloe detected a hint of apprehension in her smile and hugged her back. ‘Don’t worry. I’m a big girl now. I know what I’m doing.’
When Chloe was growing up, the Willowford Arms had been just a village pub offering good beer, a dartboard and a skittle alley.
Over the years, under successive landlords, however, it had changed completely. The saloon bar still offered tradition, but the lounge had morphed into a reception area and smart cocktail bar for the restaurant, now housed in a striking conservatory extension.
There were no great surprises on the menu, but the freshness of the ingredients and excellent cooking had earned the pub favourable mentions in the county magazine and various food guides and, even early in the week as this was, there were few empty tables to be seen.
The staff were mainly locals, and they all seemed genuinely pleased to see Chloe, if a little surprised. Ian, she noted with some surprise of her own, was treated as a regular.
‘That pork afelia you liked last week is on the specials board tonight,’ their waitress told him as she showed them to their table, where Chloe was thrilled to find champagne on ice waiting along with the menus.
‘Now there’s a bit of forward planning,’ she teased as their glasses were filled. ‘What a terrific thought.’
‘Well, I felt something special was called for to celebrate the return of the native.’ Ian touched his glass to hers. ‘It’s great to see you, Clo. It’s been a hell of a long time.’
‘I know.’ She smiled into his eyes. ‘But now, I promise you, I’m home for good.’
She paused. ‘Unlike, I’ve discovered, my aunt and uncle, busily transforming the Grange for the market and a major move. Rather a shock to the system, I have to say.’
‘It was a surprise to me too,’ he admitted. ‘But—things change. People move on. It’s the way of the world, and Hal’s put his heart and soul into the practice for a long time, so he deserves to enjoy his retirement.’
She toyed with the idea of some jokey comment on the lines of, however it means I’m going to be homeless. Any suggestions? but decided it was too early in the evening, confining herself to a neutral, ‘I’m happy for them too.’
Besides, the lead should definitely come from him, she thought as she sipped her champagne.
She’d played the scene so often in her imagination—hearing him murmur, ‘It’s so wonderful to have you back with me, darling. Stay for ever,’ as he produced the little velvet jeweller’s box—that she felt as if she’d somehow missed a cue.
‘I think I might try this pork afelia you’re so keen on,’ she said as she scanned the menu. ‘With the vegetable terrine to start with.’
‘It’s a good choice,’ he said. ‘I had it when I brought Lloyd Hampton, our new partner-to-be here. Wanted to convince him that he wasn’t altogether moving away from civilisation as he knows it.’
‘It’s clearly done the trick.’
‘I hope so. He’s a really good bloke, and his wife’s a doll.’
He’s married then? was also going to sound like a sharp elbow in the ribs, thought Chloe.
‘I shall look forward to meeting her,’ was her chosen alternative.
‘You’re bound to,’ he said. ‘I’m pretty sure that Lloyd is interested in buying the Grange. He and Viv have two children, and the third’s on the way, so they need the space.’
‘Well, yes. It sounds ideal,’ said Chloe, resolutely ignoring the pang of disappointment in the far corner of her mind which had visualised a very different future for her old home when she and Ian would also need more space than the cottage. Hopefully for the same reason.
When they took their seats at the corner, candlelit table waiting for them, Ian drank another half glass of champagne, then announced he was switching to mineral water.
‘Because you’re driving?’ Chloe, settling for a glass of house red, gave him a rueful look. ‘What a shame, because it’s a lovely evening, and we could easily have walked.’ And the cottage is even nearer than the Grange when it’s time for home …
‘Past all those twitching curtains?’ He pulled a face. ‘I’d really rather not. A vehicle at least gives an illusion of privacy.’
‘Talking of which,’ she said. ‘I gather you sold your last jeep to Darius Maynard.’
‘I heard he was in the market for something more serviceable in addition to that flashy sports car he’s so fond of. I’d decided to trade up, so it seemed like serendipity.’
She said slowly, ‘Yes, I suppose so. Although it seems odd—having him back here just as if nothing had happened.’
He shrugged. ‘It must have been with his father’s agreement, Clo, so it’s their family business, not ours.’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She played with a fork. ‘I understand Sir Gregory’s getting over his stroke.’
‘Indeed he is. Coming on by leaps and bounds, according to the latest reports.’
‘I’m glad. I always liked him, although he could be intimidating.’ She paused. ‘I used to go up the Hall when I was in my teens and read to Lady Maynard when she was so ill.’
‘How did that happen?’
‘I won a school poetry competition that she judged. I enjoyed being with her. She was the sweetest person. Darius was with her a lot too and I always felt that he was secretly her favourite.’ She paused. ‘I was always glad she didn’t know how he turned out. What he did to—Andrew.’ She bit her lip. ‘Betrayal’s such a terrible thing.’
‘It is,’ Ian said quietly. ‘But we don’t actually know the circumstances. Maybe they couldn’t help themselves.’
Upon which the
