Page 30 of Beyond Her Manner
She caught a small smile on her lips as she thought of their conversation. The woman was growing on her. She had gumption, especially in choosing to take on the estate when the easy option would have been to put it straight back on the market. To then create her mother’s vision, despite her loss, was admirable, and Gillian found herself admiring Viola. She was impressive in other ways too — learning to fly a helicopter, not to mention achieving significant success in her career.
Viola’s openness about her past the day before had stirred an unexpected feeling in Gillian, something she could only liken to pride. She was not one for apologies, but she felt better having given one. She could count on a single hand the number of times she had apologised for something. It helped that she was rarely in the wrong.
Viola’s understanding of the guilt that could be felt when one didn’t grieve resonated deeply in her. Gillian felt guilt over Jonathon’s death too, not only from the fact she had spent her life pretending to be happily married but also from the relief she no longer needed to. He’d been part of her life for the majority of it, and they had shared the occasional good times.
Perhaps she had never given Jonathon the chance he deserved. It was hard when he wasn’t who she truly wanted. In the end, she was relieved she hadn’t opened her heart to love again. The only real grief she felt was for how her life might haveunfolded had she been brave enough to pursue a different path. That would have meant no Kingsford — not that it was hers now.
“Not washing your hair then?” Viola’s voice came from behind her, making Gillian jump.
“I found time to do it this morning,” she said, watching Viola take the seat beside her.
“Lucky me,” Viola said, her face pinking a little.
Gillian couldn’t help smiling at Viola’s comment as she held out a folded handkerchief to her. She acknowledged it with a nod.
“Do you not have a dog or something?” Viola asked, settling back against the bench. “I thought you country folk all owned one.”
“I never could get along with them; they are too needy for attention. A husband was quite enough. I have the cat — Ihadthe cat.”
“You still have a cat.” Viola laughed. The gentle nudge she gave Gillian took her by surprise, making her lips tighten into a smile. “Although I am considering charging you for her bed and board when she sleeps over.”
“I’ll be sure to pass your invoice onto her,” Gillian retorted. “And you do know thatyouare country folk now.” She narrowed her eyes as she took in Viola’s grey jeans and light blue hoodie. “Not that anyone would be able to tell by your attire.”
“Ouch,” Viola said. “Coming for my clothes now, are you?”
“Well. You could play your part a little more… authentically.”
Viola raised an eyebrow. “Could you help?”
“I can direct you to a decent country outfitter not far from here,” Gillian replied with a light laugh.
“Why don’t you come with me? Give me a guiding hand?”
“I’m sure they can serve you adequ—” Noticing Viola’s face fall in what Gillian could only interpret as disappointment, sherealised she was looking to her for advice. “On the other hand, perhaps I should. To make sure.”
A smile bloomed across Viola’s face, giving Gillian a warm flutter in her chest. It led her to question when she’d started caring about how Viola felt.
“Thanks,” Viola replied with a grin as she closed her eyes and arched her head back into the sun.
Her long, auburn waves cascaded over the back of the bench. Gillian couldn’t help herself and stole a glance at the graceful curve of her profile whilst the opportunity allowed.
Viola radiated that annoying natural beauty that many women craved. Those who possessed it often failed to recognise it within themselves since women were conditioned to focus on their flaws rather than celebrate their natural appearance.
Her smooth, lightly tanned skin showed no signs of ageing, a stark contrast to Gillian’s complexion. She likely maintained an extensive and expensive beauty routine to help. Having invested in similar efforts in her forties, Gillian had come to the sobering realisation by her fifties that there was no denying the inevitability of ageing — at least not for her.
Mirroring Viola’s posture, Gillian allowed herself to bask in the warmth of the sun’s rays and the soothing melody of the birds twittering ina nearby bush.They remained that way, in peaceful silence, until they were interrupted by the sound of a miaow. Agatha jumped between them, looked at both women in turn, and then climbed onto Viola’s lap.
Gillian had expected to feel jealousy, but to her surprise, she only felt happy for Viola. “She trusts you,” she said, reaching out and tickling the cat’s head, feeling the vibration of her purr.
Viola tickled Agatha under the chin. “I trust her.”
Agatha stretched up, touching her nose to Viola’s. Gillian smiled at the bond forming between them amidst their recent upheavals.
“I can even forgive a cold, wet nose,” Viola said, wiping her own with her sleeve.
“It must be difficult being famous, knowing who to trust,” Gillian said softly.
“I’ve only trusted two people in my life,” Viola said with a sigh. “One of them has left this world.”
