your breakfast, Daisy,’ Arizona said smoothly.
‘But I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ Arizona replied with the patience of long practice.
‘Well, for crying out loud then,’ Ben muttered moodily, ‘what happened to the old saying about children—’ he glared at his baby sister ‘—being seen and not heard?’
‘Daisy not heard!’ Sarah said with a giggle.
Richard piped up, ‘That’ll be the day!’
Whereupon Ben got up and flung out of the kitchen with his breakfast half eaten.
Cloris wrung her hands and murmured something about growing boys, Daisy embarked upon the hazards of not eating one’s meals and wasting away, Sarah and Richard became convulsed with giggles, and Arizona raised her eyes heavenwards as she wondered where this golden, solemn little girl had inherited her lecturing and worrying tendencies from—because Daisy worried dreadfully about everything and never hesitated to expound upon it.
‘It’s all right, pet,’ she said to Daisy. And later when she dropped Daisy off, last, at school, reassured her once again.
‘Ben’s not really cross with me is he, Arizona?’ Daisy hung back in the car.
‘No, but it might be an idea not to, well, lecture Ben at the moment.’
‘What’s lecture mean?’
‘Uh—tell him what he’s doing wrong all the time—’
‘Because he might go away and never come back? You wouldn’t ever go away and never come back like Daddy did, would you, Arizona?’ Two large tears began to glisten on Daisy’s lashes.
‘No, no,’ Arizona said hastily and gave her a quick hug and a kiss. ‘Look, sweetheart, there’s Chloe waiting for you. Now, don’t forget you’re going home with Chloe and her mum after school!’
When she got back to Scawfell it was to find Cloris in a suppressed state of excitement. ‘Staying for the whole weekend, Arizona?’. She beamed widely. ‘I’ve already started on the blue bedroom and I’ve made a little list of menus—what do you think?’ She fluttered a piece of paper at Arizona.
‘I have absolute faith in you, Cloris, just don’t make it too grand.’
Cloris managed at the same time to look pleased yet slightly crestfallen. ‘Well, all right,’ she said slowly then smote her cheek. ‘The garden,’ she said anxiously. ‘It’s in a bit of a mess and we’ve only got two days, it’s Thursday today—’
‘I’m about to attack it, Cloris,’ Arizona reassured her.
‘Well, you are so good at it, but I did wonder if we shouldn’t get a gardening firm in, and then there’s Ben!’ she added dramatically. ‘What do you think is wrong with the poor boy?’
Arizona looked at her ruefully. ‘Still missing his father I would say—Cloris, don’t get into too much of a flutter about Declan Holmes, he’s only a man.’
‘I know.’ Cloris blushed nevertheless. ‘But it is a bit of an honour to know him, don’t you think, Arizona?’
‘As a matter of fact I don’t.’ Oh, hell, Arizona thought immediately, I’m going to have to do a bit of an about face soon, aren’t I? And with an impatient grimace, took herself off to attack the garden.
She backed the ride-on mower out of the shed and started on the wide expanse of lawn in front of the house. Scawfell, which Peter Adams had inherited from his parents, was situated on the south coast of New South Wales and comprised about fifty acres. The house was old, two-storied, large and rambling on the outside, but over the years Peter had redesigned the inside so that it was light, modern and very comfortable. It stood with its back to a tree-lined ridge and faced, over its several acres of lawn, the sea. There was a fairly steep cliff face beyond the lawn down to a perfect little bay with a crescent of sandy beach. It was a wonderful place to live if you liked the out-doors, sweeping vistas and the sea. Arizona, born in a city and carted from city to city, excepting while she’d been training to be a teacher, had taken to Scawfell and country life as if she’d been born to it. Always an energetic person, she’d found she loved gardening, grew her own herbs and vegetables and had reclaimed the orchard from a charming wilderness to a garden of bounty. She’d also had the stables renovated, and at present they housed three hacks and three ponies. All of which Declan Holmes had been paying for, she thought with a sudden pang.
Which led her to think further, as she drove the mower expertly and the scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, that she’d been proud of her achievements in her three years at Scawfell, proud in her first year as governess of what she’d achieved with Pete’s children, then in her second year all she’d achieved with his estate. And I even thought I was holding it all together over this last year, she reflected a little bitterly. Little to know...at least I was a model of thrift and resourcefulness. Little to know that the money Declan was feeding into the bank as per the arrangement after the will was read and until probate was his own. Not that it’s helped me much, being so thrifty and resourceful, he still views me with the utmost cynicism and he’s still determined to marry me...
She sighed again and thought of Peter Adams, who had been a vague, warm, friendly man, a genius at designing buildings but not a good businessman, apparently, yet a man who had understood her and had known something of the forces that had moulded her. Why did he have to die? she thought sadly. For the first time in my life I felt...safe.
She spent that day and the next working extremely hard, often alongside Cloris although certainly not in the same mood. But she couldn’t deny that she was also motivated to have Scawfell looking its best. It was unfortunate that Declan Holmes, who’d said he would arrive on Saturday morning, arrived late on Friday afternoon, catching her unkempt after a bout in the orchard. But the news he brought with him upset her all the more...
CHAPTER TWO
SHE was crossing the driveway, hauling the dead bough of a peach tree, when he drove up in his dark red convertible Saab.
She dropped the bough and stood with her hands on her hips as he stopped the car only feet from her. It was a windy, cool dusk with the promise of rain in the air, and she wore a pair of denim dungarees over an ancient checked shirt, wellingtons, gardening gloves and had her hair bundled into a red scarf.
On the other hand, as he opened the door and stepped out of the Saab, she saw that he was wearing well-pressed khaki trousers, highly polished brown moccasins and a white knit sports shirt beneath a beautiful dark brown leather jacket.
‘What are you doing here today?’ she said crisply as his blue eyes drifted amusedly over her.
‘Came a bit early, that’s all,’ he drawled. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘You could have warned us!’
‘Sorry,’ he said entirely unrepentantly. ‘But if you’re embarrassed about how you look, may I say that it makes no difference what you wear, you still look like a goddess, Arizona. Although in this case an avenging goddess,’ he added with soft mockery.
Arizona’s
