The twins are my nephews, and Lydia—their mother—is my sister.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘OH—I beg your pardon.’ Taken aback, Hester busied herself with taking down his address. Patrick Hazard, it seemed, lived in the depths of the Gloucestershire countryside in a house called Long Wivutts near the village of Avecote, several miles from Chastlecombe.
‘I moved in a couple of days ago,’ he explained. ‘I’m more or less camping out with the bare necessities, but a desk is my first priority.’
‘If you’re really urgently in need of it we could get it to you this evening,’ offered Hester.
‘It seems a bit much on a Saturday evening...’ he began, but the idea so obviously appealed to him that Hester shook her head.
‘No trouble, Mr Hazard. If someone brings it round about seven—will you be in, then?’
‘Yes. My brother-in-law came home this morning, so I’m free to get back to my own place. In confidence, Ms Conway, he flatly refused to let Lydia go to court with the twins in her present condition, so I volunteered for the job and took the boys back to school afterwards.’ His face hardened. ‘Which is probably a good thing—gives their father time to simmer down before he fetches them home for the summer.’
Hester made no comment. She got up and handed him the detailed provenances. ‘Thank you, Mr Hazard. I hope you’re happy with the desk.’
‘I can hardly fail to be. It’s exactly what I had in mind,’ he assured her, rising quickly. He held out his hand. ‘Thank you for your help, Mrs Conway.’
‘Not at all. Thank you for your custom.’ She shook the hand briefly, then preceded him out into the shop. ‘Are you taking the mirror now, or shall we deliver it with the desk?’
‘Now, please.’ He complimented Sheila on her artistic skill, then took the large, beribboned box and with a smile of farewell at Hester went out into the sunlit square, where the bright afternoon light glinted on strands of silver in his thatch of blond hair.
‘Very nice,’ said Sheila softly, and Hester grinned.
‘He spent a nice lot of money, too. Where’s Mark?’
‘It’s his afternoon off, remember? Playing cricket.’
‘Oh, bother, so he is.’
‘Can I do something?’ asked Sheila.
‘No, thanks. I’ll wait until David gets back. If you’ll take over for a bit with Iris I’ll shut myself up in the office with a sandwich and a cup of coffee.’
Hester often brought a packed lunch on summer Saturdays. Sometimes she went for a walk down to the river and ate it there. At other times, like today, half an hour with a novel was more to her taste. But the encounter with the intriguing Mr Hazard had left her feeling curious, and instead of reading she couldn’t help wondering why he needed a desk so urgently—and if there was a Mrs Hazard helping him with the move. Perhaps the need for the desk was due to the lady’s sovereignty over her kitchen table.
Hester turned back to her book. Her interest in Patrick Hazard was due solely to the possibility that he might be lacking other furniture that Conway’s could provide. Otherwise, whether he had a wife or not was really none of her business.
When David got back Hester asked him if he could possibly deliver a desk out to Avecote that evening. He looked at her in utter dismay.
‘Tonight? I’ve planned an intimate dinner for two, remember? Which I am cooking with my own fair hands. And I rather wanted my evening uninterrupted by thoughts of business, or anything else—other than of bed at the end of it!’
Hester flushed, and gave him an unladylike shove. ‘All right, all right, you get on with your cooking and I’ll deliver the desk.’
‘It is one of my efforts, I hope?’
‘It certainly is. And I sold that Venetian mirror old Mrs Lawson passed on to us. She’ll be thrilled.’
‘You have been busy. Who bought my desk?’
‘A man by the name of Hazard—he bought the mirror, too.’
‘Can’t Mark deliver them?’
Hester shook her head. ‘Cricket match. But don’t worry; if you can heave the desk in the car this end, I imagine Mr Hazard can help heave it out at Avecote. He’s in a hurry for it, apparently.’
‘You’re an angel. Thanks, love.’ David stooped to kiss her cheek, then went off, whistling, to his workshop, leaving Hester and her attendants with the slowing-off business of Saturday afternoon.
Later, after David and Peter had loaded the muslinswathed desk into her estate car, Hester drove home and spent some time in the shower. Afterwards, comfortable in old jeans and a white cotton shirt, her newly washed hair gleaming loose on her shoulders, she set off for Avecote, not at all averse to driving through the sunlit summer evening along winding minor roads to avoid the holiday traffic.
Avecote was a typical Cotswold village, nestling in a hollow, with steep-pitched roofs pointing through trees fluttering with the tender green leaves of early summer. She drove slowly along the road which skirted the village, then stopped in a layby a mile or so beyond and consulted a large-scale local map to track down the narrow road Patrick Hazard had mentioned.
Eventually, after careful progress between high hedges along a road with only occasional passing places, she spotted a rutted, unadopted lane which finally led her to the home of Patrick Hazard. Halfhidden at the end of a long drive edged with limes, the familiar Cotswold limestone of the walls glowed like honey in the evening light. The house was typical of the region, with prominent gables, moulded dripcourses round the tops of the window and a beautiful roof of Cotswold stone tiles with the familiar, purpose-built dip to prevent the tiles from shifting.
Long Wivutts was certainly beautiful, but it was also in the middle of nowhere. Hester couldn’t help wondering what had attracted Patrick Hazard to such isolation. The garden was wildly overgrown and the house looked strangely somnolent, as though it had been sleeping, undisturbed by tenants, for centuries.
She brought the car to a halt on the gravel in front of the aged oak front door set in an arched stone frame, and almost at once Patrick Hazard emerged, hair wet from a recent shower, his eyebrows raised in astonishment as he saw Hester.
‘Mrs Conway! If I’d realised I was putting you to such trouble the desk could have waited until Monday—or later.’
Hester shook her head, smiling as she got out. ‘It’s only a few miles, and a beautiful evening. It was no trouble at all, other than a bit in finding you. Oddly enough I’ve never been anywhere near your home patch before, Mr Hazard.’
‘My lack of neighbours was the big selling point, other than something which drew me to Long Wivutts the moment I laid eyes on it.’
‘I can understand that. It’s a beautiful house.’ Hester smiled at him apologetically. ‘But the main drawback to making the delivery alone is that you’re obliged to give me a hand to get the desk inside.’
Patrick
