Yes, it must be! The poor thing, I added charitably, because I could see how easy it would be to fall for Ben and, if you were inclined to mix reality and fantasy, dream up a whole relationship in your head.
The Egremont Gallery must have given her my number, because she keeps phoning me up. Im just afraid she might call the house too, and shes so unhinged she sees you as the usurper, darling, so goodness knows what she might say.
Do you know, there have been a lot of calls lately where the phones been put down the moment the caller heard my voice, I said. Do you think that might have been her?
Possibly. He leaned back, looking relieved. Im really glad Ive told you about it now, Josie!
Yes, but shouldnt we tell the police or something? Ive read of cases where stalkers can get quite nastyeven dangerous.
No, I dont think so. Im sure she isnt the violent type. And, after all, shes not going to turn up hereits too far awayand in London I avoid her as much as possible. Lets wait and see, he suggested.
He was probably right. For all we knew she made a habit of imagining herself in love with personable men and would soon lose interest in Ben and be off after someone new. And since after getting that off his chest he reverted back to being the good-natured, easy-going Ben I was used to, I felt much, much happier.
On Halloween I had a whole tray of small toffee apples to offer any young ghoul who turned up on my doorstepand quite a lot did, attracted to my pumpkin lantern like moths to a flame.
Id dipped the tops of the apples in dark chocolate and they were really yummy. Ben, who has a sweet tooth, ate three before the first trick-or-treater rang the bell, and there were only just enough to go round.
Since the Country at Heart article I had had an increasing number of enquiries about wedding cakes, though luckily once I made it clear that I only delivered locally, most of them lost interest. But not all. I was having to harden my heart and only take the ones I really wanted to do, because I didnt want to spend all my time making weird and wonderful wedding cakes!
At the moment, Libbys Pisa Tower cake was taxing my skills to the limit
Chapter Eight Snap Happy
Round here, on Guy Fawkes Night, we still tend to carve turnip heads to put our candles in, rather than pumpkins. The smell of hot turnip, the exciting tang of gunpowder in the air and the taste of hard, home-made, splintery treacle toffeethose are the things I associate with 5th November.
Sometimes we go over to the bonfire at Middlemoss, a few miles away, where they have the strange tradition of burning an effigy of Oliver Cromwell instead of Guy Fawkes
Cakes and Ale
Libby finally left for her shopping trip to London early next day, which, considering her wedding day was now less than three weeks away, was pushing it a bit. I was not even going to think about what monstrous bridesmaids creation she might bring back for me
Later that morning I was standing at the sink washing up the equipment Id just used to make parsnip wine, when I glanced out at the tranquil Green and spotted Aggie, the escapologist hen, wandering up the road. Without stopping to take off my red rubber gloves, I shot out of the front door.
A large, maroon car was sweeping up towards me and the unaware hen, who was ambling along in its path in an aimless, hesitating sort of way.
Aggie! I yelled, and, without thinking, leaped forward into the road to make a grab for her. Behind me, the car slammed on its brakes with a squeal, but Aggie, squawking loudly, shot off across the grass, with me in hot pursuit.
Luckily, all the titbits Id given her made her too fat to keep up any kind of pace, so I soon scooped her up and tucked her under my arm. She gave in instantly, and made amiable clucking noises.
The driver of the old Jaguar that had so narrowly missed us was now standing next to it: a tall, slender man with short, ruffled black hair and an olive complexion that contrasted startlingly with his light grey eyes. As we approached, he had the cheek to whip a camera up and click away with it!
I was already cross and this didnt improve my temper, so I marched up to him and let rip: Are you mad, driving so fast in a village? You could have killed Aggiein fact, you could have killed both of us!
Ooo-er! agreed Aggie, softly.
I wasnt actually driving fast, he said, with a hint of amusement in those grey eyes that made me feel even crosser. In fact, I was crawlingand Id seen the hen. I just wasnt expecting a madwoman in red rubber gloves to hurtle out right after her.
Aggie made another throaty crooning noise and he lifted his cameraan old-fashioned one, I noticed, not a new digital joband clicked the shutter.
What on earth do you think youre doing?
Sorryhabit. Do you mind? He had a very charming, apologetic smile that tilted upwards at one corner, but I wasnt at all beguiled.
Yes, I do mind!
Once a photographer he drawled, looking at me assessingly with half-closed eyes. And you do make rather a unique picture, standing holding that hen.
I became conscious that my hair was blowing out in the wind like a banner, my feet were bare and frozen, and my red rubber gloves did little to add to an ensemble that consisted of a rather pulled green fleece over torn dungarees. Maybe, but you should ask permission first!
Sorry, it really was just impulse. Actually, Im looking for a house called Blessings, if I have the name right. It sounds a bit unlikely.
Blessings?
Yes. Youve heard of it?
Youre practically next to it. Its that Elizabethan pile over there. Are youI mean, do you know Tim Rowland-Knowles?
He looked that typesort of minor public school, comfortably off and assured.
Not yet. But an old friend, Libby Cazzini, says shes going to marry him, so, since I was passing nearby, I thought Id pop in on my way back to London.
Youre an old friend of Libby s? I gazed at him like the halfwit he patently thought me, while my brain digested a couple of things. Ohthen would you be that photographer she told me aboutJonah somebody?
Noah. Noah Sephton.
I knew it was biblical. And youre out of luck, because Libbys actually on her way to London, to buy her wedding dress. Maybe youll catch up with her down there, though shell be a bit pushed for time since shes coming back tomorrow.
He smiled again, rather attractively. And I suppose you wouldnt be the mad friend who chose to stay in Neatslake when she could have lived in London, by any chance? I cant remember your name at all, biblical or otherwise.
JosieJosie Gray, I said, wondering what on earth Libby had said about me. Does she talk about me?
All the time. He offered a long, slim hand and, hampered by the hen, I shook it awkwardly. Then he turned to survey the Green and the church behind it, with its strange, rather squat tower and said, Well, its a pretty enough spot, but I always thought shed had a dodgy start in life here and never wanted to come back again.
So did I, but she always loved Blessings and now she loves Tim Rowland-Knowles too, so thats the reason shes coming back.
I wondered if, perhaps, he had become more than just a friend since Libbys husband had died (I knew her too well to think she would play around while she was still married); but he didnt look upset or even slightly jealous, just interested.
So its really love, purest love?
Definitely. Tims such a sweet man, I assured him. They fell for each other the minute they metor met again, because wed played tennis with him when we were teenagers. I didnt think he would remember us, because hes a few years older and we were just tedious, giggly fifteen-year-olds at the time, but he says he does.
Oh, well, he shrugged, it seemed a bit sudden, but shes old enough to know what shes doing. Maybe Ill see her in London, as you say. Ill give her a ring. Should have done before I called in, only I was so near. And I did meet you, after all. I expect Ill see you at their wedding?
I suppose I stopped, for the Jaguars passenger door had swung open and a girl with tousled blonde hair and the longest legs Id ever seen got out. Even dishevelled, without makeup and in Ugg boots and a crumpled denim miniskirt, she looked beautiful. She just had to be a model, she had that look at me! air about her.
Are you going to be much longer, darling? she asked Noah, ignoring me. Im freezing.
Get back in the car then, he said shortly.
Behind her, Ben suddenly appeared in the cottage doorway, tall, tousled and chunky, a smear of ochre paint up one cheekbone. As always, I felt my face break spontaneously into a smile and my heart melt.
Noah, looking bemused at this sudden transformation from the half-propitiated virago of a moment before, moved aside as I wished him an absent goodbye and went in, hen and allthough not before he had whipped that camera up again.
I heard the whirr of the shutter and sincerely hoped he had forgotten to load it with film, or I might just appear in one of his exhibitions as Portrait of the Village Idiot.
When I told Ben who Id been talking to, he was cross that I hadnt introduced him.
Hes very well known and hes photographed a lot of famous writers and artists. If hed known who I was, he might have taken my picture and it could have done my career a bit of good!
He seemed to be more interested in taking mine, I pointed out, and Aggies. Under my arm, Aggie crooned agreement.