Page 12 of Beyond Her Manner
“I didn’t,” Viola replied as she entered, noticing the cat had changed location and was curled up on the sofa. It was useful to have a name for her.
The major sat himself down next to Agatha. “I’ll cut straight to the point. It’s regarding your bottom field. Every summer we hold a classic car show, and I thought I should let you know, out of courtesy, that we’ll be doing it again.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” Viola asked, glaring at him as she sat on the sofa opposite.
The major made some noises with his cheeks before saying, “Gillian never had a problem with it.”
“I am not Gillian, and this is not her estate.”
“No, no, I know that. I was hoping you would appreciate the importance of community activities. I was also hoping you would open the event for us.”
Viola flashed him a thinly veiled smile of gratitude for the offer, though she couldn’t help thinking it was to give her no other option than to agree to his request.
“It would be nice to have a proper celebrity opening it for a change,” the major added.
“Proper celebrity? Who normally opens it?” Viola questioned, intrigued.
“Gillian.”
Viola suppressed a laugh. “Is she a celebrity?”
“No,” he was quick to reply. “She likes to think she is, being lady of the manor and all that. She also won a point-to-pointback in the eighties, and she’s been riding on that one ever since. Pardon the pun.” He chuckled to himself as his eye glanced over Viola’s figure, making her shiver.
“Look, I’m not opposed to the idea of you using the field. I would simply like more information. Could you put a full proposal together so I know exactly what I would be agreeing to? Access, insurance, timings, that sort of thing?”
The major nearly blustered at this, then seemed to think it would be in his better interests to rein in the impulse. “Well… yes. I’ll see what I can summon up.”
“Good,” Viola said, standing up and hoping he would take the hint. “I look forward to seeing what you summon up.”
“Yes, of course,” he mumbled, getting to his feet.
As she ushered the major out, two elderly women approached the front door, arms linked. The major doffed his cap at them as he passed. One of the ladies was carrying a bunch of vibrantly coloured flowers.
“Miss Berkley, please forgive the intrusion,” her companion said. “We wanted to welcome you to the village and give you this spring bloom from our garden to brighten your new home.” The woman nudged the other, who was staring at Viola in awe.
“Thank you,” Viola said, relieving the woman, who was still gaping at her, of the flowers.
“Don’t mind Louisa; she’s a big fan of yours. Not that I’m not! I’m more able to keep my wits about me.”
Viola smirked at her. “And you are?”
“Elouise,” she replied with a soft smile.
“Oh. Two Lous,” Viola observed with a laugh.
Elouise’s smile widened. “Yes, exactly. Now we won’t keep you, Miss Berkley.”
“Oh, please, call me Viola.”
The woman acknowledged her with a nod.
“Come along, Louisa,” Elouise slipped her arm back through her companion’s and pulled at her. “Toodle-oo.”
Viola couldn’t help chuckling at the pair.
The news of her arrival seemed to have spread through the village, likely thanks to the postman. So much for trying to keep a low profile.
As the women disappeared up the drive, Viola pondered what she should do about the cat. Should she put it outside? Return it to Gillian again? It appeared quite intent on staying put. Whatever she was going to do, she needed a coffee first. As she reached the kitchen and put the flowers down, the sound of the bell rang out.
