Page 61 of Secrets and Seashells at Rainbow Bay
‘Ah, the infamous Lady Chesterford,’ Molly says, half smiling at me. ‘I had no idea you were so . . . young.’
‘Amelia is just fine, thanks. Lovely to meet you, Molly. Are you local to Chesterford?’
‘Lived here all my life . . . sadly,’ Molly says, rolling her eyes. ‘Never quite escaped . . . yet.’ She looks at Tom as though he might be the one who could enable this escape. Likely on his white charger, while wearing chainmail and carrying a sword.
I smile. Why did everyone, including my own son, see Tom as some sort of hero?
‘And what do you do here?’ I ask, ignoring Molly’s dig at Chesterford.
‘I’m a mobile beauty therapist and hairdresser.’
‘Ah . . . lovely.’
‘Perhaps you’d like me to pop up to the castle sometime?’ she says in a voice that suggests this isn’t a genuine offer. ‘I’m sure I could fit you in for a few appointments . . . I do nails, as well as hair and beauty, and I do a reduced rate for block bookings.’
Cheeky mare!I think, but I politely reply: ‘Thank you so much for the offer, but it’s not really my thing. I prefer a more natural look.’
‘Clearly,’ Molly says, looking me up and down.
I’m about to open my mouth, but Tom, suddenly realising what’s going on, hurriedly interrupts us. ‘Well, it’s good to see you, Molly,’ he says in a voice that suggests this is the end of their conversation.
‘Yes, likewise,’ Molly says, smiling back in a sultry fashion at him. ‘Perhaps we can catch up next week when you’re not so . . . bogged down with work?’ She glances disdainfully at me.
Even though it takes all my resolve, I keep a dignified silence.
‘Yeah, maybe,’ Tom says hastily.
‘I’ll be by the pool table if you can shake off the shackles,’ Molly grins, sashaying away so Tom is in no doubt as to her motives. ‘You owe me a game.’
‘Like I said, maybe another time.’
‘Oh, that’s right, you have a pool table . . . ’ I say, looking in the direction of the little room I’d seen when we came in. ‘That sounds like fun.’
‘Play, do you?’ Molly enquires airily, barely glancing at me, her eyes still firmly on Tom.
‘Depends – is it the one with lots of red balls, and they keep taking the balls back out of the pockets when you get them in?’
Molly’s eyes light up with a mixture of glee and danger. ‘Yeah . . . something like that. Wanna game?’
‘No, Molls,’ Tom protests, waving his hand across his throat, ‘Amelia doesn’t want to play pool – you just heard what she—’
‘Sure!’ I say firmly over Tom’s excuses. ‘I’ll try anything once. Lead the way, Molly.’
Twenty-four
Molly leads the way over to the room with the pool table in it, then she scribbles our names on the chalk board hanging on the wall to denote we’d like the next game.
The two young men already playing look at us with interest. ‘Who’s your friend, Molly?’ one of them asks.
‘Lady Penelope, ain’t she?’
‘Amelia,’ I tell them, ignoring Molly.
‘Cool,’ one of them says as he watches the other one take his shot. ‘You new around here, Amelia?’
‘Fairly new,’ I tell him, while watching what’s going on on the table.
‘You live local?’
