Page 30 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
“Did she really dance at the Moulin Rouge?”
“She did. I’ve got some photos, and some of her costumes. They were in a couple of old steamer trunks in the attic.”
“Wow!” Cassie felt herself warm to the other woman. Lisa was right — she did seem really nice. And Tom certainly lookedhappy. “Lisa sent me a picture of that weird portrait. I remember that old drawing of my other Nanna — Nanna Marjory — that Mum had. It used to scare me a bit when I was little, but if you kept looking at it, it was sort of beautiful.”
“Yes, the painting was the same. It’s amazing to think it’s in the Pradera in Spain. I’d have liked to have kept it, but as Debbie said, it was better for it to go to a big art gallery where lots of people could see it. We’re going to visit the gallery while we’re on our honeymoon.”
“Oh, yes. Lisa told me you’re getting married soon. Congratulations. And the wedding’s going to be here in Sturcombe?”
“Of course. At All Saints.” Her face was glowing with happiness. “It’s in five weeks. Are you staying that long? Will you come?”
“I’d love to come.” Cassie smiled warmly. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“I know it might seem a bit quick — we’ve only known each other for a few months, but . . . Well, if you know it’s right, why wait?” Her eyes danced. “My mother was just itching to tell me to be sensible. That’s her favourite word.”
Cassie laughed. “It’s one of Nanna’s, too.”
Nanna must have heard that — she’d always had alarmingly sharp hearing. “There’s nothing wrong with sensible. And where’s my tea? Standing there nattering.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Just going, Nanna.”
“Huh!”
A long trestle table had been set up in front of the wooden pavilion, with plates of sandwiches, finger rolls and cupcakes, rows of cardboard cups, and a stainless-steel tea urn. Debbie was serving another customer, but she turned with a smile as Cassie approached.
“Hello, Cassie.”
“Hi, Debs. So this is how you spend your day off?”
“I enjoy it.” Debbie’s beaming smile emphasised the truth of that. “It’s lovely to be out in the sunshine, and I get to watch the cricket.”
“Is Bill playing?”
A hint of a blush coloured Debbie’s cheeks. “He’s the wicket keeper. Do you want tea for your gran?”
“Yes, please. And I’ll have a coffee.”
“Coming up. How is she?”
“Not too bad, I think.” Cassie glanced back to where the old lady was sitting, still bickering happily with Arthur. “She insisted on coming today. We were a bit worried about it, but Ollie said it was a risk worth taking. And she can be very obstinate.”
“She always has been.” There was a fondness in Debbie’s voice. “But she’s a sweetheart. Everyone loves her.”
“A sweetheart?” Cassie laughed. “That could be a bit of an exaggeration. By the way, I forgot to ask the other day, how’s your mum? Lisa wrote me she’d been poorly a while back.”
“Yes, she was — she had a touch of pneumonia. But she’s much better now, thanks.” She glanced past Cassie’s shoulder. “Oh, hello, Liam.”
“Hi, Debs.”
Cassie felt her shoulders tense. Liam, holding little Robyn’s hand. As she turned, he greeted her with a smile.
“Hello. Nice to see you again.”
“Hi . . . um . . . Yes. Nice to see you.”Oh, for goodness’ sake, get a grip!
The little girl was bouncing with excitement. “Daddy, Daddy, it’s the tappoo lady. Ask her.”
“I’m sorry.” He laughed. “She’s been nagging at me since Friday about having a ‘tappoo’.”
