Page 40 of Beyond Her Manner
“Singing is about all I can do, so, sorry, not sorry, I guess,” Viola said.
“And fly a helicopter! That’s rather impressive.”
“Yes, that too. I’m sorry it took you by surprise.”
“I may have overreacted.”
“You didn’t, considering your history,” Viola remarked gently as the car pulled up outside the lodge. “Here you go; you can make an escape.”
Gillian didn’t feel like she wanted to, yet her hand naturally reached for the handle and opened the door. “Thank you for lunch.”
“Thanks for helping me out with the outfit.”
“It was my pleasure.” Gillian felt her face flush as she realised how pleasurable their time together had been.
“We should do it again,” Viola said. “Soon.”
Viola’s suggestion caught Gillian off guard, as much as she approved of it. “Erm, yes. That would be agreeable.”
As she shut the door, she noticed the window going down, and Viola was leaning over from the driver’s seat. Her breath caught at the eyeful of cleavage Viola was accidentally revealing.
“If I don’t see you before Sunday, please ensure you take the Kingsford pew and get that damn reverend off my back. Tell him you are representing Kingsford; the lodge is part of it after all, and if he doesn’t like it…”
“Yes?” Gillian said, peeling her eyes up, to Viola’s face.
“You can deal with him, I’m sure,” Viola winked.
Gillian smiled at Viola’s confidence in her ability to handle the situation and at the thought of retaining her pew. She wasright; the lodge was a part of the estate, despite having different owners — though she very much hoped she would see the owner of the manor before Sunday.
CHAPTER 11
Much to Gillian’s annoyance, she did not see Viola for the rest of the week. With arrangements for the summer flower show in full swing, she and Bridget were busy trying to work out how to fit everything into the village hall. It was proving to be a challenge, and its success would hinge heavily on the British weather playing ball — something no one should or could rely on.
She spent the last hour of the church service going through the plans in her mind, making sure everything was in order and checking they hadn’t forgotten anything. She needed to keep herself busy or she would nod off, and that wasn’t a good look, especially not from the front pew. Keeping her thoughts occupied also helped her to avoid eye contact with the reverend over her seating position; there were only so many smug smiles you could give a person.
Finally emerging into the warm, bright sunshine — a stark contrast to the cold, dark, dreary church — Gillian approached the reverend.
“Ah, Reverend, wonderful sermon today, and always so easy to hear from the front pew.”
The reverend opened his mouth to speak, but Gillian continued before he could get a word out.
“You know, my friend Viola pointed out the other day — after we’d luncheoned together — that the front pew is a Kingsford pew, and as Kingsford Lodge is technically within the boundaries of the estate, she insisted I should make use of it.”
The reverend’s mouth closed again as the colour drained from his face.
Where once she would have enjoyed waiting for a reply, an apology even, she found herself moving away. Enjoyment came from other places now, like passing the time of day with a good friend. Her mind went to Viola as her eye caught Bridget’s. A pang of guilt kicked her in the stomach. She could have two friends. She’d spent the last four days with Bridget yet found herself missing the quiet company of Viola — more than she could explain.
Bridget joined her, accompanied by Mrs Hawkins.
“Mrs Carmichael,” Mrs Hawkins said, “I was hoping Dudley might be able to use these carrots. They are a little past their best, but I don’t suppose he minds.”
“No, I don’t suppose he will,” Gillian replied, taking the carrier bag she was offered. “Thank you.”
As Mrs Hawkins walked away, Bridget whispered, “She’s the second person who’s asked me this morning if there will be a ball this year.”
“If anyone wants to know, then they should ask me.”
“You mean Viola?” Bridget corrected her.
