Page 58 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
Vicky suppressed the impulse to punch the air. “Then go for it,” she urged. “If you don’t take the risk, you’ll never know if you could have found the best thing in your life.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, I... I’ll try.” His smile was very sweet, and suddenly she saw why Debbie was attracted to him, in spite of his bashfulness. “Thank you.”
“Good luck.”
She watched him as he walked away, down the drive and into the lane. Oh dear — had she done the right thing? It had been bad enough meddling with Bez, but at least that had had a positive outcome.
Perhaps that was a good omen. She could only hope so.
She brought her breakfast to the table and sat down, eyeing her phone with reluctance. As soon as she switched it on, it started pinging to tell her that there was a stack of voicemail messages for her. Four from Jeremy, two from his mother, one from Jayde, three from her mother — and one from Leonard, the medal expert.
She wasn’t going to answer the ones from Jeremy or his mother. And she certainly wasn’t going to answer the one from Jayde. She opened the one from the medal expert.
“Hello, my dear. It’s Leonard Kovacs here. I’ve discovered some very interesting information about your relative Meline. Do call me back as soon as you can.”
Intrigued, she dialled his number. He answered after only two rings.
“Herr Kovacs? It’s Victoria Marston. I got your message.”
“Ah hello, my dear — I’m very happy to hear from you. You really will be fascinated by this. I found some more details about your Aunt Meline’s adventures in Paris during the war. Apparently she was quite the little heroine.”
“Really?” She put the phone on speaker while she poured herself a coffee.
“Yes, indeed. She worked with a local Resistance group — not just relaying messages between members, but also conveying weapons and explosives in her schoolbag, concealed beneath her books.”
“Wooo!”
“The group leader who recommended her for the medal spoke very highly of her. He said she was a key to the group’s success. And that’s not all. She also acted as a courier, helping airmen who’d been shot down, and escaped prisoners of war, guiding them between safe houses and putting them in contact with the escape lines to Spain.”
“Wow — that’s amazing,” Vicky breathed. “She really was quite a character.”
“She certainly was. And thank you so much for introducing me to her — I’ve been absolutely fascinated to find out about her.”
“Yes. Thank you for telling me about her.”
“My pleasure.”
They said goodbye and ended the call. Vicky sat staring at her phone for a long moment. Auntie Molly, that eccentric old lady with soft white hair and the lingering fragrance of roses... Incredible.
She wasn’t going to answer the calls from Jeremy or Jayde, or Charlotte Thorington. But she might as well speak to her mum — get it over with.
“Vicky! What on earth’s going on?”
Vicky felt a small stab of guilt. Maybe she should have stayed over at her mother’s last night, instead of dashing back here to Sturcombe.
But that would have meant facing the third degree. Not that she was going to escape it entirely. But at least on the telephone, with two hundred miles between them, it was a little easier to smile about it.
“I’ve had Jeremy calling me, asking where you’ve got to.” Her mother’s voice was shrill with agitation. “He’s been so worried, and so have I. Where are you?”
“I’m at the cottage, Mum.” She spoke calmly, reassuringly. “Where else would I be?”
“But... Jeremy said you came up to the flat yesterday, and took all your things.”
“That’s right. I’ve decided to move down here.”
“What — for good?”
“Very much for good.”
