if I dish up one more salad meal I’ll have a mutiny on my hands! What’s the matter with men and salad?’ she said.
She nodded her head in the direction from which male voices could be heard, and Melody found herself unable to resist the genuine invitation she’d been offered.
‘Well—if you’re absolutely sure,’ she began hesitantly.
‘Wonderful!’ Fee said. ‘Come on through. It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes. Just time for an appetiser!’
Although she’d really have preferred to do her own thing tonight—mainly because she didn’t particularly want to spend more time in Adam’s company—Melody knew it would have been churlish to refuse Fee’s suggestion. Besides, the smell of roasting meat was extremely tantalising!
She followed the other woman along a narrow passageway that led to the kitchen, where Adam was already sitting comfortably with his long legs stretched out in front of him, while Callum was busy uncorking a bottle of wine. Both men looked up as they came in, and Adam got slowly to his feet.
‘Ah, good,’ Callum said easily. ‘I want your opinion on this wine, Mrs Forester. I bottled it two years ago, and we haven’t tried it yet.’
‘Look—please call me Mel,’ Melody begged. ‘Do you make your own wine, as well as everything else you do?’ she added, impressed. She bent to smooth the glossy heads of the dogs, who were fast asleep sprawled in front of the Aga.
Callum grinned. ‘Oh, my wife beats me about the head if she finds me shirking,’ he said. ‘And we can’t let all the plums and damsons go to waste.’ He eased the cork out gently. ‘Besides, what we don’t keep for ourselves we sell off at the village fête. It disappears even quicker than Fee’s fruitcakes!’ He threw her a quizzical glance. ‘I don’t expect you’re used to the sort of daft things we get up to,’ he said. ‘Like pig roasts and skittle championships, and tugs of war at the annual Harvest Fair. Not your usual scene, from what Adam has been telling us. Still, I’m sure you’ll get used to it, in your own time.’
Melody looked away. What exactly had Adam been saying about her? she wondered. That she was never likely to fit in here, never be ‘one of them’? She began to feel uneasy.
Adam pulled out a chair for her to sit, glancing down at her, admiring her casual, summery appearance, and the feminine hairstyle which seemed to add something to the package, he thought. Or maybe it took something away—whatever it was, it held more allure for him than the rather sharp-edged look he’d observed that morning.
Callum took a sip of his wine. ‘Mmm,’ he said, rolling his tongue around his mouth in extravagant appreciation. ‘I think you’re all going to approve of this. How shall we describe it? Fruity, nutty, saucy, suggestive…?’
‘Shut up, Callum,’ Fee said. ‘Give us all a glass, for goodness’ sake. Why do we have to go through this ridiculous rigmarole every time you open a fresh bottle? Just let’s drink it, then can you come and carve the meat, please?’
Melody took a few tentative sips of the wine and realised that it was the most delicious she’d tasted in a long time. ‘This is fantastic, Callum! It beats champagne by a mile,’ she added, taking another generous mouthful.
‘Oh, I’m afraid we don’t have much experience of drinking champagne,’ Callum said easily. ‘Though I think we had sparkling wine at our wedding, didn’t we, Fee?’
Melody bit her lip, feeling her colour rise. She hadn’t meant to give the impression that she was a connoisseur—though it was certainly true that she was offered plenty of expensive wines in her career. What sort of impression was she giving these people? Especially after her extravagant purchase that morning, she thought desperately.
The episode passed as Callum got to work with the carving knife, while Fee put bowls of vegetables and a large plate of crisp brown roast potatoes in front of them. Adam sat down next to Melody, and conversation paused significantly while they all helped themselves to the mouthwatering food. And although Melody felt uneasy, and somewhat out of place sitting here with these complete strangers, she couldn’t help enjoying the feeling of being made welcome. And it wasn’t long before the wine kicked in, making her feel warm, tingly and relaxed.
It was nearly ten o’clock before she decided to call it a day, and she realised how good it had felt to be with people who were not involved with work. Even though the staff often called in at a wine bar on the way home, or had the occasional meal together, it was always a case of talking shop. This had been different.
After thanking her hosts profusely, she stood for a moment outside, breathing in the soft evening air, and as it was still not quite dark she decided to go for a short stroll. This was the sort of thing you could do in a quiet retreat like this, she thought, as she walked noiselessly down the drive—there was no sense of danger lurking around every corner, no dark-hooded yobs hanging about, and the only sounds were the occasional baaing of a sheep or the hoot of a night owl.
She wandered along the few hundred yards towards Gatehouse Cottage. Not that she would be actually given the keys until the day after tomorrow, when all the financial arrangements had been completed—but it would be good to just stand in her very own front garden and plan the future. And not only that, she realised. The future was one consideration, but she also wanted to visit the past—a past which she had not seen fit to talk about to the others. It was not important to anyone but her, after all.
It took only three or four minutes to get to the cottage, and she paused before silently opening the small wooden gate and going up the path.
She peeped in through one of the windows—which was in need of a good scrub, she noticed—and stared in at the sitting room. She couldn’t see much in this light, but, cupping her hands around her eyes, she could just make out its shape, and the open grate in the corner. She’d have a log fire there one day, she promised herself. On a grey morning that room would spring to flaming life.
Suddenly something wet touched her ankle, followed by a snuffling sound, and Melody jumped, letting out a faint cry of alarm. She sprang back and turned quickly to see one of the Labradors gazing back at her solemnly. Then Adam’s voice sounded through the darkness.
‘I knew I’d find you here,’ he said quietly. He paused. ‘I volunteered to give the dogs their nightly stroll,’ he went on. ‘Tam didn’t frighten you, did he?’
‘No, of course not!’ Melody lied. She swallowed nervously. ‘My instinctive thought was that it might have been a fox…or a badger…’
‘Well, would that have worried you?’ he asked casually.
‘No…it was just…I didn’t expect to have company—of any sort,’ she said.
Melody’s instinctive sense of irritation at being followed had been replaced almost at once by one of mild relief at not being down here alone, and she bent quickly to pat the animals. Although she’d convinced herself that this quiet rural paradise was her dream, in fact she felt slightly wary at just how solitary it was. The silence was deafening, and with no street lights at this point the darkness was very dark indeed. She’d already made a mental note to have a security light put over the front door.
After a moment, she said casually, ‘I didn’t think I’d be able to get to sleep very easily—especially after that rhubarb crumble and clotted cream,’ she added, as she came to stand next to him. ‘So I thought a walk seemed sensible.’
‘Well,
