Page 27 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“I suppose so.”
Oh dear — grumpy Jayde was back. The phone claimed her attention again, and any possibility of conversation was wiped out. With a small sigh Vicky propped her chin on her hand and contented herself with gazing out at the view.
Far out in the bay a line of small yachts were scudding across the water, their white sails sparkling in the bright sunshine.
Could she find a way to stay here? Maybe once she’d sold Aunt Molly’s cottage and paid off the inheritance tax and the loan for the renovations, she would have enough money left to buy a smaller place — a flat, maybe?
But what would she do for a job? Writing was her dream, but even if she could ever get something published it was unlikely to make much money. And she’d need to support herself in the meantime.
And then there was Jeremy, of course. She felt a small stab of guilt. He was her fiancé, he should be her first consideration, not... an afterthought.
Debbie came over with their food, and with a rather exaggerated show of reluctance Jayde turned off her phone and picked up her napkin to wrap it round her tortilla.
“Thanks, Debbie.” Vicky smiled up at her friend. “These look delicious.”
“Hope you enjoy them.”
More customers had arrived and she hurried away. Vicky took a bite of her tortilla.
“I’ve been thinking about what to do with some of that better stuff of Aunt Molly’s.” Maybe the topic of clothes would engage Jayde’s interest. “Do you think I could sell them online?”
“Some of them.” Her sister shrugged. “It can be a bit time consuming if you want to sell a lot of stuff.”
“Could you help me?”
“Sure.” That was more of a smirk than a smile. “Fifty-fifty.”
Vicky shook her head. “Thirty-seventy.”
“Forty-sixty.”
“Okay.”
Jayde laughed in triumph. “I was going to accept thirty-seventy.”
Vicky laughed with her. She didn’t confess that she’d been going to offer fifty-fifty.
* * *
To Vicky’s relief the good mood lasted through lunch and beyond. They strolled down to the beach, wriggling out of their clothes as discreetly as possible, then stretched out on their towels in their bikinis, slathering each other generously with sunscreen.
“Ah — this is perfect.” Jayde sighed with contentment, lying back and closing her eyes. “Wake me in an hour so I can do my other side.”
Vicky laughed. “Okay.”
She pulled her book from her bag and found her place. But for once even the convoluted murder investigation by Ellis Peters’ medieval monk couldn’t engage her attention. She sat up, hugging her knees and gazing out over the bay.
The yachts had moved on. Now the grey shape of a large ship — a freighter or a cruise ship? — hovered on the horizon. The sky was a pure, clear blue, dusted with a few wisps of cloud like the sweepings of a careless broom.
On the beach, small children were racing around, squealing with joy, splashing in and out of the shallow wavelets at the water’s edge. A couple of Labradors and an excited springer spaniel were chasing each other, barking and yapping and play-fighting.
Suddenly a small brown-and-white terrier came racing up out of the sea. A few yards up the beach he paused and shook himself vigorously, sending sparkling droplets of water in all directions. Then he spotted Vicky and hurtled towards her as if she was his dearest friend, and launched himself into her arms, panting and licking her face.
“Rufus! Get off — you’re soaking me, you horrible animal!”
Jayde screeched and rolled aside, jumping to her feet. “Oh my God — get him off. He’s dangerous. Where’s his owner?”
“I’m sorry.”
