Page 24 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
Tom smiled down at her. “It’s a long drive down from London.”
“Oh, I came on the train.” She giggled. “I don’t drive — I haven’t passed my test yet. I’m such a klutz — I’ve failed it five times.”
Tom laughed as he held the door open for them. “At least it shows you’re persistent.”
The moon was half full, shimmering like silver on the dark sweep of the sea, and the sky was a swathe of black velvet scattered with a million diamonds. Vicky gazed around in delight. She hadn’t been down to the seafront when it was dark before.
The tide was in, the waves lapping right up to the sea wall. The length of the Esplanade was strung with multicoloured lights looped from lamp post to lamp post, their reflection pooling like jewels on the water below. The jangling Wurlitzer music from the amusement arcade on the corner drifted on the warm evening breeze.
“Oh — it’s so pretty!” Jayde exclaimed. “I could stay here for ever.”
“Really?” Tom arched one dark eyebrow. “Not too quiet for you?”
“Oh, no — well, maybe,” she conceded in an uncharacteristic moment of self-awareness. “But it would be a great place to have a holiday home.”
“No doubt.” The sudden chill in his voice reminded Vicky that this was a touchy subject.
Jayde glanced around. “Where’s your car?”
“No car. Why would I drive down when it’s such a short distance, then have the hassle of trying to find a place to park? Come on — the walk’ll do you good.”
“But it’s uphill.”
“All the better.”
And he strode off along the pavement, leaving Jayde little choice but to hurry to catch up with him, tottering on those ridiculous heels.
* * *
Vicky didn’t expect her sister to be out of bed early the next morning, and she was right. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the kitchen table to eat it. It was good to have a bit of peace — Jayde could sometimes be pretty tiring.
She hadn’t slept well last night, waking hot and bothered, with the sheets all tangled and a slightly guilty feeling that it was her next-door neighbour who had been the cause of the turmoil in her dreams.
But there was no reason to feel guilty about it, she assured herself — she couldn’t help what happened while she was asleep. So long as she didn’t indulge those stupid fantasies while she was awake. Which she wouldn’t. Definitely not.
With a small sigh she took her empty bowl over to the sink and rinsed it out. She had planned to spend some time today sorting through Molly’s old clothes. She could probably get some of that done before Jayde surfaced.
She had finished emptying the wardrobe in Molly’s bedroom and had made a start on the contents of the big chest of drawers when Jayde strolled in, yawning, still wearing her nightie, her hair unbrushed.
Vicky smiled to herself. “Hi. Do you want some breakfast?”
“Ugh.” Jayde pulled a face. “I never eat breakfast. What are you doing?”
“Just going through Aunt Molly’s things to see what to throw away and what to take to the charity shop.”
“Huh.” Jayde came over and peered at the contents of the drawer. “What a load of fusty old rubbish. You might as well throw it all away.” She picked up a pink cardigan with tiny pearl buttons. “No one’s going to want this old stuff. I’m surprised the moths haven’t got at it.”
“She put rose petals in the drawers. Mmm...” She lifted one of the jumpers to her nose. “It makes them all smell lovely.”
“It’s an old-lady smell. Still, I suppose she was an old lady.” Jayde plumped down on the bed with a sigh. “I’m bored. It’s a lovely day — can’t we go down to the beach?”
“You can if you like — I want to crack on with this, at least until lunchtime. Then I’ll come to the beach with you.”
“Oh, all right,” Jayde conceded sulkily. “I’ll wait.” She flopped back on the bed, her hands behind her head. “That Tom — he’s really boring. All he kept going on about all the way home was his stupid cows.”
Vicky dived into the contents of the drawer to hide her amusement. That had been a very clever tactic on his part to gently deter Jayde’s unsubtle attempts to flirt with him.
She was finding herself actually beginning to like him. No more than that, of course — no matter how attractive he was. Anyway, there was Jeremy.
