Page 10 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“Yes.” Vicky smiled to herself as she tucked her shopping into her bag. She’d always thought it was just a cliché that in a small village like this everyone knew everyone else’s business, but it seemed to be true!
Someone else had come into the shop and was wandering down the back aisle, but the shopkeeper was still intent on gathering as much news as she could for the village grapevine. “So you’re going to be moving in, then?”
“Of course she isn’t.”
Vicky turned sharply as a cold voice spoke behind her. Tom.
“She’s a city girl. Why would she want to bury herself down here among us country bumpkins? She can’t wait to sell it off to some London dude who’ll come down for Easter and three weeks in the summer.”
The shopkeeper’s smile faded. “You’re going to sell it?”
“You know how much people will pay for a nice little cottage down here.” His voice was heavily laced with sarcasm. “Who wouldn’t sell it? And after all, that’s just what we need around here, isn’t it, Brenda? Another place standing empty for most of the year. Or maybe a holiday rental. Certainly nothing that anyone around here could afford.”
“Yeah.” A glare that could crack rocks. “Like we don’t have enough of those.”
Vicky felt her cheeks flame scarlet. Clearly the friendly welcome had been rescinded. Well, why should she care? She’d be back in London in a few days. Tilting up her chin with all the dignity she could muster she picked up the rest of her shopping and stalked out of the shop.
She had started to walk up the hill, but stopped and turned back. As Tom came out of the shop, she confronted him.
“What did you do that for?” she demanded. “I was having a nice friendly conversation, until you came along and put your oar in.”
“So?” A cold sneer curled his hard mouth. “Why would you want to make friends? You’ll only be here long enough to flog Molly’s cottage for as much as you can get.”
“That’s beside the point. And it’s not Molly’s cottage now — it’s mine. I can do what I like with it.”
Oh Lord, where had that come from? She sounded just like the grasping bitch he clearly believed her to be. But he was way over the line. How dare he speak to her like that?
He didn’t even bother to answer — he just stepped past her and strode off up the hill.
Huffing out a sharp breath, she set off up the hill behind his receding back. At least he was walking so fast that there was no danger of her catching up with him. She’d really like to throw something at him, but she didn’t think a banana would do much damage.
Chapter Three
Vicky was still fuming by the time she got home. Of all the arrogant, aggravating, infuriating men! She had wondered whether the local people might be wary of accepting her, but he had deliberately made it more difficult for her.
Okay, he had done her a favour, towing her car — well, two, counting recommending the garage. But that didn’t compensate for what he had done.
She slammed around the kitchen, putting her shopping away and making herself a coffee.Calm down...After all, it didn’t really matter — it wasn’t as if she was going to be living here permanently.
The buzz of her phone forced her to come back down to earth. She glanced at the screen. Her mother. Oh Lord, that was all she needed right now. She drew in a long, steadying breath and made herself smile to warm her voice as she opened the call.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Hello, darling. How are you?”
“Absolutely fine, Mum. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine, thank you. Did you have a good trip down?”
“Yes, no problem — the weather was lovely, which made it a really pleasant drive.”
“And how’s the house?”
“It’s fine.” Too many fines — was she protesting too much? “Well, it needs a fair amount of work, but it’ll be fine. Which is more than can be said for the next-door neighbour.” Oops — she hadn’t intended to mention that.
“You mean the farm? Oh dear — are they being difficult? I remember them being quite nice. They used to let you go up and feed the calves — do you remember?”
“Um... yes, I think so.” She frowned, delving back into distant memories. A pleasant middle-aged couple, always warmand welcoming. A cosy kitchen filled with the aroma of baking. “But that was a long time ago — I don’t think they own it now. It’s someone called Tom. He can’t be more than early thirties.”
