Page 17 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
“You’re right. I’ve never played golf in my life. Yes, I came for a holiday, and to visit my grandfather — Arthur Crocombe.”
“Arthur? The old guy who lives up the road from the hotel?”
“That’s the one.”
She smiled, a warmth in her blue eyes. “How is he?”
“He’s doing fine, considering he’s nearly ninety-four.”
“He’s really nice. He spoke at the funeral when old Mrs Channing died. It was a nice funeral, not one of those gloomy things with everyone in black. She’d wanted everyone to wear bright clothes, so we did, and lots of people stood up to talk about her, stuff no one else knew about. I went because she was Lisa’s grandmother. I didn’t really know her myself, though I’d seen her sometimes at the village cricket matches. Your grandfather said he’d promised to outlive her, and everyone clapped.”
Alex laughed. “That sounds just like Gramps.”
“How long are you going to stay?”
“I don’t know yet. A month or so, maybe.”
“Don’t you have a job?”
“Not at the moment. I was in the air force — the Canadian Air Force. I completed my ten years’ service last month and decided I didn’t want to sign up for another ten.”
“Why not?”
His mouth quirked into a wry smile. “Ten years was enough. So I decided to come and see Gramps, and have a look around the country I was born in.”
She seemed a little more relaxed, the hint of tension around her mouth smoothed away.
“Why did your family decide to move to Canada?”
“My dad got a job in television there.”
“Wow! That’s exciting. What does he do?”
“He produces a quiz show. It’s very popular.”
“Oh.”
He sensed her beginning to withdraw again, the fox stepping delicately backwards across the lawn to the screen of the bushes. What had he said to make her uneasy?
Was it because she’d figured out very quickly that if his father was a successful television producer, his family was quite well-to-do? Why would that bother her?
Most of the women he had dated would have been delighted. He had never been quite sure if they were attracted to him because of his bank balance, or maybe the hope of wheedling a way into television themselves.
But it seemed to have the opposite effect on Shelley. He smiled to himself. If she knew about the very successful side hustle in real estate he had run while he was in the air force, she’d probably freak.
They had reached the turning from the main road, down Church Road to the hotel. As he drew into the car park, Alex glanced across at his passenger. He’d like to ask her out for a drink, but he had a feeling she’d run a mile.
He drew the car to a halt, and she swiftly unfastened her seat belt. “Well, um . . . Goodbye then. Thank you for the lift.”
“No trouble. Goodbye.”
She flicked him a quick smile and clambered out of the car, scurrying across the car park to the staff entrance at the side of the hotel. Escaping? The thought was unavoidable.
He shook his head wryly and glanced at his watch.
There was time to get a coffee before visiting his grandfather again. Then after dinner he could choose between dropping into the pub down on the sea front for a pint of warm British beer, or a night alone in his hotel room reading or watching British television.
Chapter Four
