Page 55 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
“By then the fashion might have passed, and you won’t have to worry,” Cassie assured him.
“I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Robyn, sweetie, what would you like to eat?”
The child’s eyes were wide as she gazed at the spread on the long table. “Can I have some of those please, Daddy?” She pointed to the frittatas. “And those. And those.”
“Of course. This is a buffet, which means you can choose whatever you want. But not too much,” he added quickly as she began to pile up her plate. He smiled at Cassie. “She’d eat the lot, then be sick.”
Robyn turned her angel face up to his. “I won’t be sick, Daddy. I promise.”
He laughed. “I hope not, sweetie. Especially in that pretty dress. You wouldn’t want to spoil it.”
“Oh . . .” She hesitated, drawing her hand back from the savoury kebabs.
“Good one,” Cassie mouthed silently over the child’s head.
But then Robyn spotted the pavlova. “And can I have some of that?” she pleaded.
“Later, when you’ve finished what’s on your plate.”
Her small face crinkled into a frown. “Can’t I put this back?” She picked up one of the frittatas.
“No, sweetie.” He stroked his hand over her hair. “That would be rude. Come and sit down now and eat your tea.”
“Can Auntie Cassie sit with us?”
Cassie managed to keep her smile in place. She really couldn’t refuse, but she knew the kind of interest it would generate. The downside of living in a small place like Sturcombe was that everyone thought they were entitled to know everyone else’s business.
And ten years certainly wasn’t long enough for old business to be forgotten.
They found a table in the corner. Liam set a cushion on Robyn’s chair to lift her closer to the table, and tucked a napkin under her chin and on her lap. “You can eat with your fingers,” he told her, much to her delight.
Cassie sat down opposite him. She could feel her pulse fluttering — ten years wasn’t long enough for her to forget either. She just hoped he wouldn’t notice the effect he had on her — this was supposed to be just a casual friendship. Anything else . . . No, she wouldn’t even think about that.
The food was delicious. The hotel may not have been the smartest in the south west, but its kitchen had a deservedly high reputation. She bit into a mini sausage roll, made with flaky pastry so light it crumbled away from her lips.
Robyn giggled. “You’re making a mess, Auntie Cassie. You should have a napkin too.”
She laughed, brushing the crumbs from the tablecloth onto the side of her plate. “So I should.” Debbie and Bill were chatting to Bill’s parents, discreetly holding tight to each other’s hands. “It’s lovely to see those two together,” she remarked. “They should have got together years ago — they seem made for each other.”
Liam nodded. “He had a thing for her even when they were at school, but he was such a noodle he couldn’t work up the nerve to tell her how he felt about her.”
“So she ended up with that prat Alan Gowan instead. She’s much better off now. And at least it gave her Amy.”
She glanced around the conservatory. It was growing dark outside, lending the place a cosy atmosphere, lit by the fairy lights in the fig trees and palms.
“We used to come here sometimes for a treat when I was little — afternoon tea on the terrace, with scones and raspberry jam.”
He laughed, pausing to help Robyn cut up a wedge of pizza. “You must have seen some interesting places these past ten years.”
Cassie nodded. “Oh, yes — lots.”
“What was your favourite?”
“That’s difficult,” she mused. “There were so many. But I think I’d put New Zealand at the top of the list. Especially the South Island. It’s so beautiful, unspoiled, with all those fantastic mountains and rivers, and the most spectacular waterfalls. Have you seenLord of the Rings?”
“Of course.”
“Well, it’s just as beautiful as it looks in the films.”
