Page 59 of A Summer Scandal

‘You should be a politician,’ Violet grumbled. ‘I don’tknow that I love him, for the record. I thought I loved my ex-boyfriend up to a few months ago, and then he proposed and I realised that actually I probably didn’t. And then I’ve come here and Cal is all gorgeous and handsome and luring me into the sea for sex, and now I don’t know if I love him, or I lust him, or if in fact I’m just on the rebound and don’t anything him at all really.’

Linda’s eyes bulged. ‘You had sex in the sea with Calvin?’ She picked up a booklet off the table and fanned herself.

Vi dropped her head into her hands. ‘Don’t tell a soul I told you that,’ she said. ‘It was before Ursula was a real person, obviously.’

Linda clicked her tongue. ‘We need to send Ursula packing.’

‘Is that your therapeutic advice?’ Violet said. ‘Because it doesn’t sound very scientific.’

Linda fluttered her hands in the air. ‘Love isn’t a science. It’s here in the air. Love particles.’ She leaned forwards over the table, presumably for confidentiality purposes. ‘The air around you is practically crimson, Violet.’

Vi frowned, because Linda seemed to be talking in riddles. But, more pressingly, she was in imminent danger of going up in smoke. Vi leaned forwards to bat Linda’s chiffon scarf away from the candles, but she was a second too late and the fringes started to singe.

‘Linda, you’re on fire.’

Linda nodded, taking the compliment in her stride, unaware of the danger. ‘Thank you. I just understand the mechanics of the heart, Violet. It’s my gift.’

‘No, Linda, you’re on actual fire,’ Vi said, louder, and in a panic she reached for a glass of water on the table and threw it over Linda, who gasped as if she might actually dissolve. The candles and incense spluttered out too, throwing the room into deep grey shade.

‘I’m so sorry – your scarf was on fire,’ Vi said by way of explanation, gesticulating at the charred tassels.

Linda’s mascara slid down her cheeks, making her look like a Pierrot clown.

‘It’s a sign,’ she whispered. ‘There’s a force here on this pier, Violet. I felt it the moment I first stepped on the boards, and I feel it right this very minute.’

Vi stood up, shaking droplets of water from her dress. ‘I don’t think I know what you mean.’

‘I think you do,’ Linda said, so low it was practically a growl.

‘I genuinely don’t,’ Vi said.

Linda unwound her ruined scarf from around her neck. ‘Love is like water, Violet. It finds its way through the cracks and ravines. It doesn’t give up. It’s just there.’

Thoroughly confused, Violet backed towards the door.

‘Well, thanks for that,’ she said, disjointed. ‘And I’m sorry about your, er, your scarf.’

Linda lowered her glasses over her ruined eye makeup. ‘Just doing my job, Violet. My hand is guided by the unseen.’

Closing Linda’s door, Violet wondered if Linda’s hand was guided by the unseen bottle of rum she kept stashed in her handbag.

Vi drove along the graceful sweeping road of tall, red-brick villas in Darley Terrace, squinting to make out the numbers on the doors until she spotted number twenty-four. Easing the Traveller to a stop by the kerb, she looked up at Hortensia Deville’s gothic home, mildly perturbed by the intricate gargoyles peering down at her from the eaves. It wasn’t the most welcoming of houses from the outside; Vi only hoped that Hortensia would be more welcoming of her unexpected visitor than her stone guardians.

The door opened as Vi walked up the garden path.

‘I expected you’d come,’ Hortensia said, leaning heavily on her walking stick.

Vi stepped sideways to avoid a nettle bush invading the paving stones. Hortensia’s garden wasn’t exactly a jungle, but it definitely erred on the side of unkempt.

‘You did?’

‘Crazy old lady turns up and mutters bizarre warning,’ Hortensia said, walking away slowly down her hallway. ‘You wouldn’t be Monica Spencer’s granddaughter if that didn’t bring you running. Come in.’

Vi stepped inside, flicking her eyes around the mahogany-clad hallway. It was pleasant enough, in a horror-movie kind of way. Gloomy. Yesteryear. Hortensia used the end of her stick to push open a door, and seconds later they were in a small back living room lined with bookcases.

‘I take it you’ve come for a sitting.’

Vi frowned. ‘Well, no,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to talk to you.’

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