Page 72 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
She spread a generous scoop of rich Devon cream onto her scone and smeared a little jam on the top.
“But I’ve got my workroom done — I spent a very entertaining couple of hours yesterday assembling the cupboards and drawers to make the base for my desk. It’ll be great to be able to spread out in there. I’m getting a new desktop computer — the laptop’s fine for a while, but if I’m going to do some serious writing a desktop will be better.”
“Bill said they’ve got the new windows in. He said they look really smart.”
“They do. My new bed came this morning, so I’ll be able to move back into the main bedroom and get a good night’s sleep— that mattress in the spare room must be fifty years old and it’s as hard as concrete. And they’re installing the new kitchen next week. I’ll be glad when it’s all done.”
“I bet.” Debbie turned to say goodbye to a family who were just leaving. “Are you going to have a housewarming party?” she asked when she came back from clearing their table.
“I hadn’t thought of it, but... yes. At least a small one. You and your mum. And Bill, of course.”
Debbie’s blush told her everything.
“You’re still seeing him?”
Her friend’s shy smile put two tiny dimples into her cheeks. “Yes. We’ve been to the pictures a couple of times. And we’re going out to dinner tomorrow.”
“That’s good.”
“I . . . um . . . wanted to thank you.”
“What for?” Vicky bit into her scone, letting the cream ooze into her mouth.
“He... Bill... he told me what you said to him.” Again that shy little smile. “I suppose we both needed a bit of a push.”
Vicky laughed, shaking her head. “I’m getting to be a real interfering bugger.”
“Oh, no! At least, in a good way. Without it we’d both still be dithering around, I expect. And young Beth would have gone off to London, and heaven alone knows what would have happened to her.”
“I don’t think she’d have stayed, when it came down to it,” Vicky mused. “She may be only seventeen, but she’s got her head screwed on.”
“Even so, you saved her mum a lot of worry. And now she’s planning to go to university. That’s brilliant.”
Debbie’s mum came through from the kitchen with a fresh batch of cupcakes to put on the counter. “What time’s Arthur coming home?”
“I’m picking him up at two o’clock. I spoke to the social worker again — they’re arranging for a carer to come in to him, at least for a while, to help him get dressed in the morning and make him some breakfast, and then help him to bed.”
“That’s good. Brenda said you’re getting up a rota to go in and give him lunch.”
“That’s right. Bez is helping too, and Linda.”
Kate laughed. “Ah — so we’ll get to hear all the details then. Anyway, count me in. I’ll see to him tomorrow. I’ll take some meals down to pop in his fridge, that’ll just need heating up. And I’ll make some pasties, and the apple pie he likes — he can have them cold or heat them up.”
“Brilliant.” Vicky finished her coffee and glanced at her watch. “Anyway, it’s half past — I need to be going. He’ll fret if I’m late. See you tomorrow.”
* * *
“Well, here we are.” Vicky drew the car into the kerb and switched off the engine. “Home sweet home.”
“Oh, ah...” Arthur beamed with pleasure. “Thank you, my luvver.”
She climbed out of the car and paused to study the house. The garden was overgrown with bindweed and wild garlic, and the front door was in need of a coat of paint. Maybe there’d be a lad in the village who’d be willing to do a few odd jobs for a bit of extra pocket-money — she’d ask around.
Arthur was struggling with his seat belt, so she hurried round the car to help him out.
“Oops-a-daisy.” He stood up with some effort and looked around contentedly. “It’s good to be home.”
“You were spoiled rotten in that hospital,” she teased him. “You won’t have a dozen nurses fussing around you now.”
