Page 58 of A Brambleberry Manor Christmas
‘I’m not sure. She knows all about her dad now. Madison letthe cat out of the bag.’
Flo gasps. ‘How did she take it?’
‘She was just really quiet. I tried to talk to her about itbut she didn’t want to. Not yet.’
‘But she sounded okay on the phone just now?’
‘She did. She was just saying how much she loved her dad andthat nothing would ever change that, which I found really touching, actually.’
Flo nods. ‘That’s good.’
‘She even seemed open to talking to me later.’
‘Even better.’
I nod, my heart feeling lighter having spoken to Tavie.
‘So, how’s Hard Hat Man?’ I ask with a mischievous smile, aswe set about chopping vegetables for the main course in the Brambleberry Manorkitchen.
She does an impatient eye flick and reddens slightly. ‘Nothim again. For your information, I haven’t spoken to him. Not since that nightI met you in the corner shop.’
‘Really? That’s disappointing.’
‘He’s waved to me a few times, though. I think he’s theforeman at that new housing development at the far end of Sunnybrook HighStreet.’ She shrugs. ‘Not that I’m interested because I’m definitely not in themarket for romance.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’ve got a jumper to knit to match the scarf.’ She grins.‘It’s going to look great.’
‘You’re going to actuallywearit?’ I look at her infake alarm. ‘I have to say, that would be the perfect way to keep the oppositesex at bay. If the scarf is anything to go by.’
We both snort with laughter.
And Flo says, ‘A nice idea for a new business, perhaps? Arange of clothing designed to keep potential admirers away. It’ll sell like hotcakes.’
‘Or not.’ I grin. ‘Seriously, though, why don’t you ask HardHat Man out? He can only say no.’
Flo looks at me with murder in her eyes and says nothing.
‘Okay, I get the hint. No more talk of Hard Hat Man.’
‘Good.’
We work away in silence for a moment.
‘So…where do you think he lives? Hard Hat Man?’
Flo turns and flings a tea towel at me and when I laughinglyduck, it lands in the dessert I’m whisking.
‘See what you’ve done now? I’ll have to start all overagain.’
‘Good,’ she says firmly.
And I smile. Because having to make the pudding again isnothing compared to working on my own without Florence Baxter there, supportingme and making me laugh…
*****
The day passes quickly and by a quarter to nine, we’reclearing up the kitchen, getting ready to go home.
