Page 31 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“It is. What can I get you?”
Vicky asked for two glasses of white wine, and glanced around at the crowd. She had noticed on their previous visit that among the locals there were few who appeared to be around her age — indeed, few who appeared to be under fifty.
“Is it very quiet here in the winter?” she asked.
Alice smiled crookedly. “You could say quiet — you could say dead. No jobs see, once the holiday crowd be gone. The hotel gets by on the golfing types, but the rest of us just keeps our fingers crossed and hopes for the best.”
She set Vicky’s drinks down on the bar.
“And even if there was enough jobs,” she added, “there’s nowhere for the young ’uns to live, not that they could afford. Some of ’em stops with their folks, but that don’t do for all of ’em. Most of ’em just has to move away.”
The old man nodded. “That’s right. Lot of the houses down here has gone to holiday homes, see — landlords can charge a lot more, make a lot more money even if they stay closed up all the winter. Same in a lot of places like this. You’re glad to have thetourists o’ course, but then they edge the locals out. What can you do?”
“That’s a shame.”
It was exactly what Tom had been so annoyed about. It didn’t excuse the way he had spoken to her, but she could understand how he felt.
It must be difficult for people who had grown up here, lived here all their lives, to see what must once have been a close community slowly dying, to be replaced by little more than a tourist attraction.
She nodded a polite goodbye and took her drinks, edging through the throng to hand one to Jayde — she didn’t get a thank you, but then she hadn’t expected one. She found herself a corner where she could comfortably people-watch, sipping her wine and listening to the conversations and laughter bubbling over the music playing on the old-fashioned jukebox.
If she could find a way to live here, some of these people would be her neighbours, maybe even her friends. She’d like that. She’d more or less lost contact with the friends she’d had before she’d started dating Jeremy — their social life tended to revolve solely around his circle, and she’d never really felt able to get close to any of the women. Not meet-up-for-a-casual-coffee close, not ‘let’s go shopping’ close.
The darts match ended in a home win, much back-slapping and a fresh round of drinks. Jayde seemed to have forgotten that Vicky was even there — she was in her element, flirting wildly with both darts teams and their supporters.
“Your sister seems to be very popular tonight.”
Vicky glanced round, startled by Tom’s voice close behind her. “Oh... Yes, she is.” She laughed a little unsteadily. “Nothing unusual in that.”
“I don’t suppose there is. She’s a very pretty girl.”
“Yes.” Somehow she managed to keep her smile in place. She wasnotjealous.
“Is she staying long?”
“I . . . don’t know. A few days.”
“Well, I hope she doesn’t stay too long.” There was a lilt of amusement in his voice. “Our lads are liable to lose their heads completely.” He leaned past her to put his empty beer-glass down on the bar, brushing so close to her that she was sure she could sense some kind of magnetic forcefield between them. “Goodnight then.”
“Uh . . . goodnight.”
She didn’t intend to watch him go, but her gaze followed him as he eased his way across the room, pausing now and then to chat with his neighbours, slapping shoulders, kissing cheeks, laughing at shared jokes.
Dammit, what was happening to her? One good-looking farmer and suddenly her heart was all a-flutter like some Regency virgin kidnapped by a dangerous duke. Her head was in a spin — the solid, steady, sensible life she had been living no longer seemed to fit.
Was she really thinking of leaving her job, leaving her home, leaving her fiancé and the wedding that was already being planned, to move two hundred miles away, to a place she barely knew, where the chances of employment were limited, all on a whim?
Yes she was. Though it was nothing to do with Tom Cullen. Of course not.
It was that letter from the solicitor about Aunt Molly’s will that had shaken her out of the lazy drift she had settled into, made her stop and think about what she really wanted in life.
After all, if Aunt Molly could dance at the Moulin Rouge in those exotic costumes, maybe it wasn’t so foolish to have dreams after all.
Jayde had been so caught up in the admiration she was getting that it was several moments before she looked around to find Tom. Frowning, she pushed her way back to where Vicky was standing.
“Where is he?” she demanded, as if Vicky was hiding him in her pocket.
“Tom?”
