Page 95 of A Colourful Country Escape
Mrs Moon looked at her lap and smoothed her skirt again.
‘It’s really not my place to say. Maybe Ben will tell you.’ The housekeeper’s voice was quiet then. Sad, perhaps.
And then Grace clattered in with a tray full of teas, a Jaffa cake hanging from her mouth. The rest of the packet appeared to be drowning in the spillages.
Mrs Moon bounced up on autopilot, taking the tray and putting it safely down on aLexie LovesBubblegum coffee table. ‘There, there, sweet girl. I hope they’re not going to put you in charge of refreshments in this place.’ She looked around, taking in the wild array of colours. ‘It really is quite spectacular, you know. I’m so proud of you, Lexie.’
Lexie swallowed back another sob.
They settled themselves around the coffee table, Mrs Moon mopping up Grace’s tea puddles with hankies that she kept pulling from her sleeves like a magician.
‘Now, it’s not really my place to say this either,’ said Mrs Moon.
Grace and Sky leaned in.
Lexie froze. ‘Then you probably shouldn’t. I’ll speak to Ben soon; it’s on my list.’
‘You make him sound like a packet of biscuits,’ said Grace, waving the Jaffa cakes she’d been quietly demolishing.
‘Actually, they’re cakes,’ said Sky. ‘Small, biscuit-sized sponge cakes covered in chocolate.’
The two of them began a lively debate until Lexie thought her head might explode. ‘What isn’t it your place to say, Mrs M?’ she heard herself asking. ‘Just say it.’
Sky and Grace halted mid squabble to look at the housekeeper, who simply scratched her head and looked confused. ‘Ooh, do you know? I can’t remember.’
Lexie exhaled the breath she’d been holding. It was probably for the best.
‘Oh, my goodness. Mr Moon! I’d forgotten him too,’ Mrs Moon yelped as she scrambled to her feet, tea slopping over as her cup landed on the table. ‘I’d just been taking him for a nice walk when I spied some kerfuffle in this shop, and … ’ Her voice faded as she stalked back towards the door.
‘Mr Moon! Well, bring him in. In all those weeks I never did get to meet him.’
Within moments, Mrs Moon was fussing her way back, the silver pot she’d arrived with tucked safely under her arm.
‘Don’t be silly, lovey, I did bring him in. Poor thing’s not that keen on shopping.’
Lexie’s mouth dropped open. So the pot … was an urn? Mr Moon was dead? Had he always been dead? Obviously, not always, but … What was the polite way of asking? Nutgrass Hall really was a place of strange secrets.
‘Nobody ever told me Mr Moon was … ’
‘Inside a funny jar.’ Sky finished Lexie’s sentence, tilting her head as though trying to work it out.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Lexie stood up to put her arm around Mrs Moon and guided her back to her seat. ‘I hadn’t realised your husband wasn’t alive anymore. I’d just assumed … ’
‘It’s OK, dear. Don’t worry.’
‘Oh, Lexie assumes alotof weird stuff these days,’ said Sky, butting in as only troublesome little sisters could. ‘She jumps to crazy conclusions instead of actually asking people stuff.Like Ben.’
‘Instead of just opening my trap like a big old foghorn?’ Lexie grabbed a Jaffa cake and shoved it squarely into her sister’s mouth when she opened it to object. ‘And I don’t think I assumed Mr Moon was alive without reason.’ Lexie cast back her thoughts. ‘I was sure I heard you … having discussions with him once or twice, Mrs M.’ She didn’t like to sayblazing rows.
‘When was that?’ Mrs Moon scratched her dandelion-clock hair.
‘Well, once in the kitchen, on a Friday night before my meeting with Ben. Then that morning when I came knocking on the door of your cottage.’
Mrs Moon blushed and lowered her voice. ‘Well, Friday nights are when I catch up withThe Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. But don’t let Mrs Carrington-Noble hear of it. She doesn’t even know about the kitchen TV; she’d call me a slacker.’ She gave the urn a loving stroke. ‘But those crazy, bickering housewives have kept me company since Mr M passed, even if I do end up shouting at their silliness. And I do love that bling!’
‘The Housewivesrock.’ Grace nodded.
‘Bling?’ Everything Lexie thought she knew was blithely turning itself on its head. Although perhaps that’s why the housekeeper knew so much about a Bulgari Serpenti.
