by Kate Hewitt
“You’ll have to bring him in to say hello,” Monica said when Lindy had stopped by to purchase a few dog biscuits. “He sounds like a sweetheart.”
“He is. I’m not taking him out into public places too much yet, because he’s nervous and apparently he has to learn to socialise slowly.” She had a raft of literature from Blue Cross, and she’d also been spending some time on a website for greyhound owners called Gaga for Greyhounds, which had plenty of advice for newbies like her.
“Well, when he’s ready,” Monica answered. She leaned her elbows on the counter, looking curious. “How is everything going, anyway? I’ve hardly seen you since you’ve opened Take a Twirl. It’s going well, I hope?”
“It is.” Monica had usually locked up by the time Lindy came for her Monday evening classes, and on Saturday a young girl named Pip worked the counter. She’d hardly seen Monica at all since she’d had the floors done back in August, which was already feeling like a lifetime ago. “It’s all going well,” Lindy reaffirmed. “Really well.”
And it was, although occasionally Lindy felt a strange, niggling restlessness that she did her best to ignore. She’d managed not to feel it for fifteen years, so why start now?
And yet Lindy knew she did feel it, and that was in part due to Roger. After the appearance of Helena—who was, Lindy discovered, a lovely, shy young woman—she’d decided, quite firmly, to drop any romantic notions towards him. It simply wasn’t worth the aggro—or the heartache. She’d done fine with friends before, and she could do so again. And so she’d done her chipper, chirpy best to be his friend, and it seemed to be working, but it was still leaving her feeling a little flat, even if she was trying not to let it.
But never mind, Lindy told herself as she left Waggy Tails. There were worse things, surely, and in any case it would be good to be Roger’s friend. They were taking that walk tomorrow and Lindy hoped it would be a fun and relaxed time—although when she thought about it fun and relaxed were not words she really associated with Roger. Still, she hoped it was…acceptable.
The weather outdid itself, which was a plus; a rain-washed blue sky, everything damp and fresh, but with the sun out in full force and an autumnal crispness in the air that made you feel like taking a deep breath and drinking it in.
Toby was eager, if a bit skittish for his walk; Lindy had arranged to meet Roger by the gazebo on the village green. They’d walk up the high street to help Toby socialise, and then stroll along the Lea River, which was a bit more quiet.
She was feeling almost as skittish as Toby as she walked towards the village green, Toby glued to her side, his ears flattened back with nervousness. She’d been keeping her distance from Roger for the last two weeks, although she wasn’t sure if he’d even have noticed. She certainly hadn’t been flirting any longer. But now she wondered how they would get on, just the two of them.
As she came towards the gazebo, she saw his tall, solitary figure standing by it; he was dressed in his usual uniform of khakis and a button-down shirt, and wore a sturdy pair of work boots as well as a weatherproof parka.
“You look prepared to hike Everest,” Lindy teased as she came up to him. She realised she was glad to see him, and it didn’t feel weird. At least, not too weird.
“I prefer to be prepared for all eventualities,” Roger answered. He glanced up at the cloudless sky. “Although perhaps the waterproof wasn’t necessary.”
“You never know,” Lindy answered. “The weather can change on a sixpence, after all.” But she didn’t want to natter on about the weather. “So here’s Toby.”
“Hey, boy.” Roger crouched down to stroke Toby’s narrow head and Lindy smiled at the sight, while Toby quivered and pressed closer to Roger.
“He knows you.”
“I should hope so.” Roger glanced up at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Lindy had to catch her breath. She was not going to react that way, she reminded herself sternly. They were friends. Friends only. Better—and safer—all around.
“Shall we walk?” she asked as Roger straightened. “I thought we could go up the high street to help him get used to people, and then along the river.”
“That sounds like a well-thought-out plan.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t keep from giving him a teasing smile—which was not flirting—and was rewarded with the tiniest quirk back. “Have you explored much of the area?” she asked as they headed up the high street, past Waggy Tails, and then Tea on the Lea.
“No, I’ve been too busy with work and—” He stopped abruptly, and Lindy filled in gently, “Caring for your mother?” Roger gave her a quick, startled glance, and she explained, “Olivia told me she has cancer. I hope that was okay for her to—”
“Yes, I suppose it’s fairly common knowledge by now.”
“I’m so sorry, Roger.” He gave a terse nod. “That’s why you moved to Wychwood? To take care of her?”
“Yes. She only moved here a year ago, when she retired from teaching. She didn’t know that many people and…” He blew out a breath. “It’s been just us since I was twelve.”
“I understand that.”
“Yes, I imagine you do. The joys as well as the sorrows of being close to your parents.”
“Yes.” Lindy glanced down at Toby, trotting happily between them. “It’s wonderful, but when it’s gone…”
“It’s gone.” He spoke flatly, but Lindy sensed the ocean of grief seething beneath, and it made her ache.
“Her prognosis?” she asked after a moment, and Roger shrugged.
“She had several rounds of chemo but the consultant was never optimistic. Pancreatic cancer has one of the worst five-year survival rates—only seven per cent. She was diagnosed a year ago, and six months later they said there was no further treatment possible.”
“So…”
“We’re just waiting.”
“Oh, Roger.” His expression was so bleak that Lindy couldn’t keep from putting a hand on his arm.
He turned to her with a set expression. “In some ways it’s a mercy to know. There’s been time for her to get her affairs in order, which is very important.”
“Ever the accountant.”
“Numbers don’t change.”
“That’s what attracted me to them, as well,” she replied with a little, sorrowful laugh. “You can depend on them. You can move them around. You know just where you are with a stack of figures.” And they never died.
“Yes, exactly.”
They shared a quick, complicit smile that made something in Lindy settle rather than fizz. Yes, she was Roger’s friend—and she was glad of it.
Chapter Eleven
“Come in, come in!”
Henry Trent, the Earl of Stokeley, was full of gracious bonhomie as he opened the door of Willoughby Manor and ushered Lindy in. She handed him her six-pound bottle of wine and box of chocolates from M&S with a slightly shamefaced smile; for anyone else they would have felt appropriate and even generous but here she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she should have come with a bottle of Dom Perignon and a hamper from Fortnum and Mason.
Henry, however, took both with apparent pleasure. “How delicious! You didn’t have to bring anything though, you know. Come through to the kitchen—I won’t stand on ceremony, and in any case it’s still the most comfortable room in the house.”
As Lindy followed Henry past several elegant and grand reception rooms, she wondered at that, but she was as happy as he was to stay in the kitchen. She knew from Alice that they’d been doing the manor up slowly, room by room, in preparation to offer holidays to foster children. They’d been able to offer their first week at the end of July, and it had been a success, although Alice had admitted ruefully there was still plenty of room for improvement.
Lindy felt a bit awed to be in the house at all; this was only her second time inside, the first being a drinks party for all the Willoughby Close residents back in June, when she’d only just arrived.
The kitchen
was as welcoming a room as Henry had promised, with a big, rectangular table and an enormous Aga taking up most of the space. A soft grey cat was curled up on an armchair, and the windowsill was cluttered with houseplants and cookbooks.
The cosy clutter reminded Lindy so much of her home growing up that for a second she could only stand in the doorway and stare, trying desperately to rein in the emotion she hadn’t expected to feel.
“Sorry, it’s all a bit of a mess,” Alice said as she turned from the Aga where various pots were boiling and bubbling away.
“It’s lovely,” Lindy answered, because it was. The lovable mess, the chaotic warmth…it was all so similar to the home she’d left when her parents had died. It had been lovely like this, as well. So very lovely.
In the fifteen years since she’d lost her parents, she’d kept to comfortable but fairly utilitarian flats, never wanting to attempt to replicate the crowded clutter of the home she’d absolutely adored—and still owned, since she’d inherited it when her parents had died. She hadn’t been able to bear either visiting it or selling it, and so she’d kept it as it was, looked after by a neighbour, the heating and electricity bills paid regularly to keep it all going. For what purpose, Lindy didn’t even know, but she liked simply knowing it was there. Perhaps she’d go visit it again at some point, she thought, knowing that she wouldn’t actually.
“Come, sit down, make yourself comfortable,” Henry entreated. “What can I get you? White? Red? Gin? Vodka?”
Lindy laughed at that. “A glass of red would be lovely.”
She settled herself at the table as Henry opened a bottle of wine and Alice turned back to the Aga to stir something that smelled delicious. Outside the sky had turned to slate grey, the brilliant weather from yesterday having turned, after all. Already it was feeling closer to winter than summer; there had been frost on the ground this morning, every blade of grass tipped with glittering white.
“So how are you finding Willoughby Close?” Henry asked as he handed her a glass of wine. “And Wychwood-on-Lea?”
“I’m finding both very friendly,” Lindy replied with a smile. “It already feels as if I’ve been here for ages.”
“Willoughby Close has that effect on people,” Alice chimed in. “I enjoyed my time in number four.”
“But I’m glad it was brief,” Henry interjected with a loved-up look for his wife. “I’m just going to check on the fire in the sitting room. I’m hoping to have a roaring blaze going by the time we’ve finished dinner.”
As he left, Lindy gave Alice a smiling look. “You two seem very happy.”
“We are.” Alice blushed and ducked her head. “I still feel like a newlywed even though we’ve been married for nearly two years,” she confessed. “Some days I still have to pinch myself.”
The words were genuine, and yet as Lindy watched Alice fuss about the stove, she couldn’t help but feel there was something slightly brittle about her smile, and she wondered why.
Alice had everything—the huge house, the lovely husband, rewarding work. She was, quite literally, living the fairy tale; the only thing missing, perhaps, was a baby or two…but surely that would come in time, if they wanted them to?
“What about you?” Alice asked as she poured herself a glass of wine and joined her at the table. “Any possibilities here in Wychwood?”
“For romance? No.” Lindy spoke as firmly as she could while remaining upbeat.
“Are you sure?” Alice asked teasingly. “A little bird told me she saw you walking with someone up the high street, and the two of you looked very cosy.”
“Wha—what?” Lindy stammered, surprised and yet knowing she shouldn’t be. After fifteen years in a big city, village life still took some getting used to, but she should have known you couldn’t parade down the high street with a man and a dog without people assuming intentions had been declared, vows spoken.
“Sorry, I’m being nosy,” Alice said, only slightly abashed. “I just wondered…”
“We’re friends,” Lindy answered. “He’s from my dance class.”
Alice’s eyebrows rose. “Wait—the man who was so unsuitable?”
Lindy flushed at the memory of that unfortunate conversation. She still hadn’t figured out a way to apologise to Roger about that, and she hoped it was no longer necessary.
“He’s not unsuitable,” she protested, conscious of how hot her cheeks felt. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you’re just friends?” Alice said, looking unconvinced.
“Yes.”
Alice gave her another searching look before she threw up her hands with a laugh. “Okay, I give up,” she said. “Sounds interestingly complicated.”
“It really isn’t,” Lindy answered with a smile. At least, she didn’t want it to be. Yesterday had been lovely; she and Roger had managed to chat all the way up the high street and then while ambling along the Lea River, the conversation surprisingly easy. After that brief heart-to-heart about his mum, they’d chatted about accountancy, and Lindy liked to think there had been some low-grade banter involved. Then they’d talk about travelling—she’d told him some of her highlights over the years and he’d mentioned always wanting to go to Alaska, because, he’d told her matter-of-factly, it had beautiful scenery and no native snakes.
“Snakes!” Lindy exclaimed. “Are you scared of snakes, Roger?”
He’d given her a serious look. “I have a healthy and informed wariness of them, especially poisonous ones.”
Which had made her smile. In fact, she’d smiled quite a lot yesterday, which had obviously made the little bird Alice had mentioned notice. She wondered how many other little birds were twittering around Wychwood.
Henry came back into the kitchen, and the next few moments were taken up with getting the food to the table, all of which looked delicious—roast lamb with mint sauce, roast potatoes deliciously golden and crispy, fluffy Yorkshire puddings, green beans, and a sherry trifle for pudding with masses of whipped cream. Lindy couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten so much or so well.
Fortunately Henry and Alice kept the conversation easy and light as they ate, with no more talk of romance, at least not Lindy’s. She asked questions about the charity they’d formed, Willoughby Holidays, and the hopes they had to run a full season of week-long camps next summer.
“And I have to tell you about our Christmas ball,” Alice said when they’d started on the trifle. “You’re invited, of course. Everyone is.”
“Sounds fab,” Lindy replied as she licked her spoon. “Is it another charity fundraiser?”
“No, this time it’s just for fun. A thank you to all our friends and neighbours, and really, this house is built for a ball. Have you seen the ballroom?”
Lindy shook her head.
“I’ll show you,” Alice said. “It’s amazing.”
While Henry made their coffees, Alice took Lindy through the house to show her the room in question, which was every bit as grand as Lindy could have imagined, with frescoed walls interspersed with wall-length mirrors, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a stunning terrace and the landscaped gardens.
“I should have had my lessons in here,” she joked, only to have Alice beam at her.
“But that’s a brilliant idea! I don’t know why I didn’t even think of it. You must have them here. It would be perfect.”
“I’ve already signed a lease on the room above Waggy Tails for the year,” Lindy told her, a bit taken aback at Alice’s enthusiasm, but also touched by the offer. “But if the school is a success, I’ll keep this in mind, I promise.” She looked around the room again. “Teaching a class in here would be absolutely amazing.”
“If you can’t teach a class, what about a performance?” Alice suggested, and Lindy glanced at her, nonplussed.
“What do you mean?”
“A performance,” Alice repeated, clearly warming to the idea. “At the Christmas ball! That would be perfect!”
“A perform
ance…”
“Of all your pupils. An extravaganza!” She gestured expansively, to encompass the ballroom, or even the whole manor. “We could open the dancing with it—or perhaps we should have it in the middle. Either way, it would be so much fun and it would be a fabulous advertisement for your dancing school. All your pupils could perform for everyone.”
“True…” Lindy’s mind was racing as she pictured the possibilities. While she absolutely thrilled to the idea of putting on a performance in this gorgeous room, when she considered her small, motley crew of pupils she wasn’t so sure. Roger would have a conniption at the thought of dancing in public, and Simon and Olivia still preferred to fall over each other laughing rather than actually dance. Maureen had the will if not the body, and Helena was very much a beginner; Lindy had started to suspect she kept coming simply to see Roger rather than to learn the box step.
And what about her juniors? Ollie would love it, she was sure, and she thought the other three would as well, but they were all six. Which made her think of her Year Sixes… She’d only had two sessions with them so far, and while there were many lovely pupils, there were also several who skulked about the corners, looking determinedly bored.
And yet. And yet…
“What do you think?” Alice asked, looking at her hopefully.
“I think I love the idea,” Lindy said honestly. “It’s really just a matter of whether I can convince all my pupils.”
*
She decided to broach the topic the very next evening, at her beginners’ class. Tonight they were learning the samba, which required a bit more of bounce and hip wiggle than anything else they’d learned so far, but was otherwise fairly sedate. She hoped her students were up for it, especially Roger, who was still approaching the lessons with an attitude of sorely tested forbearance.
Helena was the first to arrive, surprising Lindy since she usually was a good fifteen minutes late, thanks to having to bike.
“Helena! Did you get off work early?”
