Page 77 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“She was always the adventurous one — she was never going to settle down in Sturcombe. She’s been all over — America, Africa, Australia. She’s in New Zealand now, bungee jumping and white-water rafting.” Lisa laughed. “She’s always sending me pictures of her doing something wild.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and clicked a few buttons. “That’s her.”
“Oh, wow!” A very pretty girl. Dark hair flying, face full of excitement, arms flung wide as she soared against a dizzying backdrop of steep mountains.
“That was at a place called Nevis Bungy — apparently it’s the highest bungee jump in New Zealand.” She rolled her eyes. “Trust Cassie. Anyway, as you can see, there are ten rooms on this floor. They’re all pretty much the same, so there’s no need to look in them all. Any questions?”
Chapter Fifteen
Well, she’d certainly mucked up, big time. Vicky felt as if she was dragging her heart with her like a lead weight as she walked up the hill. Tom wasn’t married. If it wasn’t for her stupid pride she could have just asked Debbie or someone, and resolved it in seconds.
Instead she had been so hostile to him when he had kissed her — which had had exactly the result she had intended. It had pushed him away, made damn sure that she had killed off any interest he may have had in her.
And she had the feeling that he didn’t give second chances.
But it was probably just as well, she told herself firmly. Even though she had got it wrong about him being married, she doubted that he was looking for anything more than a casual fling — a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement. Which wasn’t her thing.
And if she did let herself succumb to temptation, it would be beyond awkward afterwards, living so close to him.
Oh, dammit — she had known from the start that it would be stupid to let herself indulge in fantasies about him. But it was just too easy to let herself dwell on the way he had kissed her. The way his strong arms had held her, the way the subtle male scent of his skin had drugged her mind...
“Vicky!”
She glanced around as she heard someone call her name. Bez came bouncing out of the shop.
“We heard about Kate’s picture. We’ve got one too — of my granny. Do you think it would be worth anything?”
Vicky blinked, startled. “I don’t know — I haven’t heard anything back from the auction house yet. But it might be.”
“Can you wait a tick? I’ll go and fetch it.”
“Of course.”
Vicky followed her into the shop, smiling to herself. How many more of those drawings were there in the village? If they were valuable, it could be quite a bonanza.
Brenda greeted her with a wide smile. “Oh, that old picture! She’s been so excited about it — I just hope she won’t be disappointed.”
Bez hurried out from the back of the shop with the picture in its frame. “Here. Is it the same?” Her eyes were bright and eager. “It’s got the rabbit ears — there.”
Vicky studied the sketch. “Yes — I’m pretty sure it’s by the same artist. They’ve all got that weird thing he did with the hair. Do you want to sell it?”
Bez glanced at her mother. Brenda shrugged. “We might as well — it’s been away in a cupboard for years. To be honest, I don’t like it that much. And besides, I could do with the money — it’ll help pay your university fees. I thought once about taking it along to one of those telly programmes where they value things for you, but I didn’t have the time.”
“That’s a good idea,” Vicky agreed. “If I don’t get a reply from any of the auction houses I might try that.”
“I’ve been looking him up online.” Bez was bubbling with enthusiasm. “I’m going to do some research on him — it’ll be a chance to practise my Spanish. Then I’m going to interview any of the old people in the village who might remember him, like Arthur, and make a blog. If that’s all right?”
“Of course.”
“Très bien. Can I have a copy of the picture you took of the painting? That should be the main bit of it. And the other pictures, so I can put them up too? How amazing is it, to have had a famous artist living right here in Sturcombe?”
She danced away with the picture, disappearing through into the back room. Brenda laughed dryly. “I think someone must have stolen my daughter and replaced her with a different one.I’m getting French and Spanish, morning, noon and night — I’ll be speaking it myself soon! And she’s really excited about this university thing — especially the idea of spending a year abroad as part of her course. I’m not sure, but I suppose it’ll be all right.”
“Don’t worry — she’ll be fine. I’m so glad that she’s really into it.”
“Thank you. I know you keep insisting that you didn’t do anything, but you really did help. And you were right — I’ve backed off the nagging, and that seems to have worked too.”
“I’m glad. She’s going to have to work hard to get good grades, but this idea of researching Juan-Jorge Conejero could give her an extra boost.”
“It’s really quite exciting, isn’t it?” Brenda was almost girlish. “Even if it’s not worth much, it’s fun to know that a famous painter did a drawing of my mum.”
