Page 13 of Beyond Her Manner
With a deep breath, she turned on her heel and headed back to the front door, already feeling this big house was going to make her fitter. She opened it to reveal a short, middle-aged woman with a light brown long bob and a wide, beaming smile.
“I’m Bridget, from the village.”
Viola could see she wasn’t going to get any peace until she’d greeted every villager, and now in desperate need of a coffee, the only answer was to invite the woman in.
“Come in, Bridget from the village. Coffee? I was just trying to make one.”
“Oh, yes please,” Bridget answered with a goofy smile. “I live in one of your estate cottages in the village, so technically that makes you my landlady.”
Viola hadn’t thought of herself as a landlady. There was a lot she would need to get to grips with as an estate owner, and she didn’t feel ready for any of it. At least she had her solicitor to deal with the financial side of things.
Viola stepped back to let Bridget into the porch and found herself following her through the great hall in the direction of the kitchen. It seemed the villagers were more familiar with her house than she was.
“The word around the village is you arrived by helicopter, and you flew yourself,” Bridget said as they entered the kitchen.
“Yes, that is true,” Viola said, placing two cups under the spouts of the coffee machine and pressing a button.
“Impressive. When did you learn to fly?”
“About fifteen years ago.”
“Is it not frightening, being up in the sky alone?”
“I’m not usually alone, though yes… I suppose I am now,” Viola’s tone dulled.
“I expect after singing in front of millions of people, not much frightens you.” Bridget paused. “I’m sorry. You’re not supposed to ask famous people personal questions, are you?”
Viola was going to debate asking anyone personal questions, but Bridget continued before she could even answer.
“Oh, what a posh coffee machine!” Bridget said, admiring it as the last of their rich coffees poured from the spouts. “I’ve never seen one so big. I’d love something like this.”
“How do you take it?” Viola asked, smiling at the woman’s enthusiasm. Perhaps the villagers weren’t all savages.
“Black, please. We’re all delighted to have you here in Kingsford, you know.”
“So I gathered.” Viola passed Bridget a cup. “I’ve received quite the welcome already today.” She nodded at the flowers resting on the hideous stainless-steel worktop as she took her own cup from the machine. She couldn’t wait for the builders to start ripping the kitchen out.
“Oh, are they from Louisa and Elouise? They’re beautiful.”
“They are. Sadly, I didn’t think to bring a vase,” Viola said, pushing the box containing her mum’s ashes further along the worktop so she could put her cup down. She would need to move her to safety before the builders arrived. “I have a penthouse in London which I still use regularly. I couldn’t bring anything from there, and there is only a certain amount you can fit intoa helicopter. I’ve had a delivery of essentials from John Lewis yesterday, but I never thought of a vase as an essential before.”
“It is around here. I can lend you one if you like, until you get yourself kitted out.”
“Thank you. Everyone is being so welcoming. Well, except for one,” Viola groaned.
“You’ve met Gillian then.” Bridget giggled into her coffee cup.
“Yes! She accused me of stealing her house the moment I arrived.”
Her mind slipped back to the previous day and the figure of Gillian Carmichael striding across the lawn in her jodhpurs and riding jacket. Her shoulder-length blonde waves bounced with her stride. Viola shook the thought away as she recalled the fury on the woman’s face.
“Oh, don’t mind Gillian. She doesn’t bite. Well, not unless you give her a good reason to.” Bridget smirked.
Viola let out an amused breath of laughter; Bridget’s sense of humour had caught her off guard. “Is stealing her house a good enough reason?”
Bridget grimaced. “Perhaps give her a wide berth.”
They both laughed.
