Page 44 of Sunny Sundays at Primrose Hall

‘Unlikely,’ said Greta with disdain.

That was when the evening took a turn, as it often did when the pair of them got together, when they would wander off into the realms of fantasy, this time coming up with increasingly outrageous scenarios as to what had been poor Tom’s fate, which included being trampled by a herd of cows, abducted by a UFO and being arrested for criminal damage. It went no way to helping Sophie understand how Tom might be feeling about her, but it made her laugh until her ribs ached and she was so grateful to Greta for helping her see the funny side.

29

Sophie had that Wednesday hump feeling, which probably had something to do with the Tuesday night over-indulgence feeling that was lingering into the following morning. As she quickly got herself ready for work, applying her make-up and running the straighteners through her hair, she kept giggling to herself as she remembered how she and Greta had laughed last night, so much so that it had got to the point where they’d forgotten what they were even laughing about. Still, it had taken her mind off Tom and his reasons for not contacting her about that dinner date. Her heart-to-heart with Greta had clearly done the trick because she’d hardly thought about Tom the whole morning, well, only on a couple of occasions at least instead of the usual dozens of times. Climbing into her black trousers and a bright green short-sleeved jumper, she padded down the stairs to the kitchen, filled up the kettle and flicked it on at the wall, and pulled out a mug from the cupboard, popping a teabag inside.

Last night had given her a clearer perspective on the situation and she realised she had let her imagination run away from her. Tom had done the right thing in putting some distance between them. They had a good relationship, even ifit was destined to stay forever platonic, and she would hate to lose that close connection that they’d made. Sophie needed to put her impatience to one side and just allow their friendship to develop organically. You couldn’t push these things, they needed to happen at their own pace and time. And it wasn’t as though she wouldn’t be seeing him again. She would have plenty of time to catch up with him at the upcoming Sunday craft fairs.

She rested her bottom against the worktop, clasping her mug in her hands. The weekend couldn’t come soon enough. Most of it would be spent in her little studio at the back of the house, making some new pieces to sell at the stables. The forecast was for fine, sunny weather so she would open the back door into the garden, so that the warmth of the day could seep inside the cottage and she could listen to the birdsong, the best soundtrack to accompany her as she worked. She would spend some time on her website too, which was slowly coming along. She’d done the home page and Greta had taken an atmospheric photo of her the other week, in the studio, sitting on her stool, an Anglepoise lamp to one side of her, as she crouched over a piece of work. It would be the photo she would use on the landing page and she thought it would give exactly the right impression of her small artisan business.

She was also planning on fitting in a visit to Primrose Woods. She loved it over there and she could spend hours wandering off the beaten track to find new spots of interest. Sometimes she would just sit on one of the benches beside the lake and watch the movement of the water, smiling at the activity of the ducks, the moorhens and swans. It brought her a sense of calm and peace and it never failed to lift her mood. On her travels around the woods, she would collect small branches and twigs, pinecones and leaves, and anything else that took her interest, her hands running over their form, assessing their colours and texture, before she would pop them in her rucksack to takehome with her. Back in the studio, she would place them on her worktop and they would act as inspiration for the pieces she was working on, trying to incorporate the natural movement within the flora into her jewellery.

Sophie glanced at her watch. She still had plenty of time before she needed to leave for work, so she cut herself a slice of granary bread and placed it into the toaster and reached for the marmalade in the cupboard. She often imagined how it would be waking up every day to go to work in her studio, rather than into an office to do a job that served her perfectly well but didn’t inspire her in any way. Her dream of working for herself full-time was still a long way off, but at least she had begun to take tentative steps in that direction.

As she ate her breakfast, she scrolled through her phone, not only to check that she hadn’t missed a message from Tom, but also to see if she’d heard from Pia. Sophie had been wondering how they were all getting on up at the hall and if Jackson had been discharged from hospital yet. She’d sent a card and some flowers to Pia last week and had received a lovely thank you message from her, with a promise to be in touch again soon with ‘all the news’, but she hadn’t heard anything since. Poor Pia was probably rushed off her feet with hospital visits and dealing with everything at the hall.

Just as she’d popped the last piece of toast into her mouth, wiping away the crumbs from the corners of her lips, she heard a scrabbling noise coming from outside the front of the house. She wandered through into the living room, expecting a knock to come at the door, but it wasn’t forthcoming. She thought she might get some bumpf through the letter box, which would go straight in the bin, but maybe her ears were playing tricks on her. There it was again! This time she went across to the window and peered outside, but she couldn’t see anyone. Perhaps it was a visiting fox or a hedgehog, she often had visits from the localwildlife during the early hours and maybe they’d had a late night like her and were only just making their way home. She picked up her handbag from the sofa, checking she had everything she needed for the day ahead, but when she heard the noises from outside again, she couldn’t ignore them. It was probably kids messing about. She marched over to the front door and yanked it open.

‘Oh!’

On his hands and knees, scrabbling around on her covered porchway was Tom, with a bunch of flowers in his hands, which he was attempting to lean against one of the oak struts of the porch.

‘Hi! Sorry,’ he said, looking up with a sheepish smile on his face. ‘You weren’t meant to see me. I just wanted to drop these off. I was supposed to be in and out like a ninja, undetected, but it’s clear my ninja skills need some work.’ He pushed himself up off the floor to face her and handed her the flowers with a smile.

‘Well,’ she said, gathering her thoughts and trying to ignore the thumping in her chest. ‘These are lovely, but… why? I mean, thank you. Did you want to come in? I need to get off to work soon, but we could have a quick coffee?’

‘No, I don’t want to keep you, but maybe if I could just wash my hands,’ he said, looking down at the soil covering his fingers.

‘Of course,’ she laughed. ‘Come in.’

Inside, while Tom washed his hands, Sophie found a vase for the profusion of blooms, a heady mix of delphiniums, lilies and sweet peas, which brought a welcome burst of colour into the room.

‘These are beautiful,’ she gasped, holding them to her nose. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had bought her flowers and it filled her with happiness.

‘I mean, I hope you don’t mind. That it’s not too much…’ he grimaced. ‘But I realise I’d said I’d call you and then, well, that’swhen everything blew up and I had to go away. So these are by way of apology. I didn’t want you thinking I’d forgotten… well, completely forgotten.’

‘No, not at all, it really didn’t occur to me,’ she said disingenuously, looking up at him from beneath her long lashes, her mouth pursed in nonchalance. She really hoped her nose wouldn’t grow in front of him.

‘It’s been one hell of a fortnight.’

‘Has it?’ Now, she felt bad. ‘Why?’

‘Well, I don’t know if you heard, but Dad had a heart attack while he was on holiday in France.’

‘No!’ Sophie gasped, holding a hand to her chest. ‘That’s awful. Is he okay?’

‘Yeah, he’s on the mend. He had a stent put in over there and was given a ton of medication. He’ll have to take it easy for a few weeks as he’s still very tired, and he’ll be followed up at the hospital here, but fingers crossed it looks like he’s going to be okay.’

‘Oh, my goodness, what a worry for you. On top of Jackson’s accident too.’

‘I know, right. As soon as I heard about Dad, I jumped on the first plane out there. He had to stay in the hospital for about a week and then when they gave him the all-clear, we made the journey home in the camper van. I wouldn’t have wanted Ronnie doing that trip on her own, not when she’s acting as chief nursing officer to Rex. She’s obviously been so worried about him, so it was a relief to get them home. They’re both now safely ensconced back at Primrose Hall.’

‘Blimey, you must be exhausted.’ Sophie felt a pang of guilt at the way she and Greta had been joking over what had happened to Tom when in fact of all the scenarios they’d imagined, this one hadn’t even entered their minds, and it was so much worse thanall their most fanciful ideas. She was only grateful that it looked as though there was a happy ending to the story.

‘The thing is,’ Tom went on, ‘while I was away, I kept thinking about you…’

‘Ah, okay.’ Sophie felt her skin prickle and she wondered if this was the point where he told her that they could only ever be friends.

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