Page 57 of A Summer Scandal

Ursula’s eyes travelled over Vi’s workbench. ‘You could make me one of these, I suppose. Mates’ rates, seeing as we’re neighbours and all.’ She perched on the end of Violet’s worktable, crushing a few scarlet feathers under her white jeans. ‘Something skimpy.’ Her sly eyes sparked. ‘Sexy.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t take such small commissions,’ Vi said through gritted teeth, smiling even though it actually hurt her face.

‘Shame,’ Ursula said, careless as she played with a pile of buttons on the bench. ‘I look good in red.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Vi said, needled because she had no doubt Ursula looked good in every colour of the rainbow.

‘I wondered if you knew what time my husband is due back from London,’ Ursula said, watching her carefully.

Violet dug her nails into her palm beneath the table. There was no mistaking Ursula’s tone when she called Cal ‘my husband’. Territorial. Cat-like.

‘I’m afraid I’ve no clue,’ she said, and then instantly regretted adding, ‘Didn’t he tell you?’

Ursula looked at her, a knowing half smile on her mouth. ‘We didn’t have much time for talking this morning,’ she said. ‘You know how it is.’

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did Ursula know about them, or was she just stabbing around in the dark to try to find out if there was anything between Violet and Cal? She must have her suspicions after seeing them together so late on Saturday night. Violet could only hope and pray that Cal had kept their fleeting romance secret from his wife. God.His wife.She’d had sex with this woman’s husband on Saturday night. There was no way to square that with herself now that Ursula was back on the scene. It didn’t matter that she’d been out of the picture at the time. She was here and real now, her cat eyes missing nothing as she watched Violet fidget in her seat.

‘Right,’ Vi said, non-committal, because no, she didn’t know how it was to wake up next to a man like Cal.

‘Cal said you’re moving on at the end of the summer.’

Ouch.That one hit the target. He must have said that, because it was too specific to be guesswork.

‘Possibly,’ she said, shrugging in awho knowskind of way. ‘I’m keeping my options open.’

Ursula fiddled with her hair, sliding the band from her ponytail and running her fingers through her blonde waves until she looked beach-ready – more Malibu than Swallow Beach.

‘Just as long as you don’t think Cal is one of your options,’ she said, plain as that.

So the gloves were off.

‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ Violet said, earning herself a sarcastic laugh from Ursula.

‘It’s not my business if you’ve got designs on my husband?’

‘You weren’t here,’ Vi said, overplaying her hand.

‘And now I am.’ Ursula held her left hand out, showing Violet the wedding band on her third finger. ‘So back off, lady.’

Vi folded her arms across her chest and decided she’d had more than her fill of Ursula Dearheart.

‘I’d like you to leave my pier now,’ she said, keeping her voice steady.

‘And I’d like you to leave Swallow Beach,’ Ursula said, sliding down from the bench, scattering feathers on the floor. ‘I wear his jacket, and I wear his ring, and I wear his name.’

Violet crossed to the door and opened it, staring the other woman down. Ursula was right. She held all the cards, but she’d be damned if she let her see that she’d got her on the ropes.

‘I’ll tell him you came by,’ she said, attempting dismissive, knowing that Ursula would prefer to keep her visit between them.

‘And I’ll tell him you’re mistaken,’ Ursula said, sauntering past her, Amazonian. ‘Do yourself a favour, little girl. Pack up your button box and go home.’

Much as Vi wanted to, she resisted the urge to slam the door behind Ursula. Breathing too fast, she crossed the room to the glass wall looking out over the sea, resting her head on the window pane, breathing in, breathing out, slow and steady, trying to pull herself together.

‘I’m in too deep, Gran,’ she whispered. ‘Is this how you felt too?’

A tear slid down her cheek and she dashed it away, angry with herself for being weak enough to cry. Cal’s bracelet caught her eye, still strung around her wrist, and she slid it off, feeling foolish for wearing it. Glancing at Lola, she wrapped the bracelet around the mannequin’s wrist and went back to work.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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