Page 55 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
There was an old spin-dryer — the top-loading sort dating from the 1960s. A broken deckchair, paint tins, garden tools. In the middle, under a dusty tarpaulin, was Molly’s motorbike and sidecar.
“Oh, I remember this old thing.” Tom flipped up the tarpaulin. “She gave me a ride in the sidecar once — I’ve neverbeen more scared in my life. She thought speed limits were nothing more than a casual suggestion.”
Vicky laughed. “No wonder my mum would never let me go for a ride in it. Here’s the lawnmower.” She edged past the motorbike. “I don’t know if there’s any petrol in it.”
“There’s a jerrycan here.” He picked it up and shook it. “Yes, it’s full.”
“Right.”
The lawnmower was heavy. Tom came to help her manoeuvre it out of the garage and over to the edge of the lawn. “We’d better check if there’s any oil in it.”
“Ah — yes.” She wouldn’t have thought of that.
He messed about, checking the engine oil and filling the tank with petrol, and finally managed to get it started. It rattled alarmingly, but then to Vicky’s relief it settled into a steady throb.
“There you go. Try it.”
She took the handle and pulled up the starter lever... and found herself sprawling on the ground as the mower leaped forward.
“Oh... !” Laughing, she eased herself to her knees, awkwardly aware that any dignity she might have hoped for had been shattered. “What a klutz.”
“Are you okay?” Tom took her elbow to help her to her feet.
“Yes, thanks...” He hadn’t moved his hand. A small glow of heat was spreading up her arm, and when she lifted her gaze to those deep, dark eyes she felt as if she was caught in some kind of spell.
Had he stepped closer to her, or was it just that he was the only thing she could see? There seemed to be some kind of static charge in the air, like the moments before a thunderstorm. She couldn’t move, had forgotten to breathe.
His hand slid slowly up from her elbow to her shoulder...
A burst of ecstatic barking shattered the moment. A small brown-and-white terrier scrambled out of the bushes at the side of the garden and hurled himself at his master as if he hadn’t seen him for months.
Vicky stepped back sharply, alarm bells ringing in her head. If Rufus hadn’t saved her...Girl Code: Off Limits.
And what the hell did he think he was doing? He was married, with a kid — and another on the way. He had no right —no right— to play flirty games with other women. In a small village like this he was probably the number one babe-magnet, and clearly it had resulted in an outsized ego — not to mention a sense of entitlement.
Well, this was one babe who had no intention of being magnetised. She had too much respect — for herself, for his wife, for any woman — to fall for a man who collected women like teenagers collected TikTok followers.
“Ah — he’s decided to come back.” She forced a smile, cool and friendly. “That’s good. Well, I’d better get on with mowing this lawn. See you around.”
She sensed his brief hesitation. But as she started up the mower again and set off down the garden he called to the dog, and by the time she risked a glance back over her shoulder he was gone.
* * *
How had she forgotten, in just ten days, how awful the London traffic was? It wasn’t helped by the roadworks on Hammersmith Bridge. Vicky sighed as she pulled up behind yet another traffic queue.
There were two options — driving all the way across town to Hatton Garden and hoping to find a convenient parking space, or leaving the car in the car park beneath her apartment blockand catching the Tube. Of the two, the latter was probably the best one to go with.
Molly’s diamond brooch was safe in her pocket, in its velvet pouch and covered by her sweater. It was a quick ride on the Circle line, thirty minutes, almost door to door. If anyone was going to mug her they’d take her bag and be satisfied.
It was a relief to turn off the main road onto the quieter side street. A few hundred yards along was the entrance to the cavernous car park beneath the apartment block. Jeremy’s car was in his allocated space next to hers.
That wasn’t unusual — most days he walked to the office. Unless he needed to go out to a viewing — then he felt it gave a more professional impression to arrive in his BMW rather than on foot.
The other advantage of parking here was that she could nip up to the apartment. After the four-hour drive from Devon she was ready for a cup of coffee and a chance to freshen up before she set off for Hatton Garden.
After she finished the business at the jewellers she’d come back and pack up all her stuff and load it into the car. By the time Jeremy got home from work she’d be ready to sit down and have a calm conversation with him, give him back his ring. And leave.
The lift took her to the fifth floor. Strange to think that after almost twelve months she wouldn’t be living here anymore. She wouldn’t miss it.
