Page 29 of One Golden Summer
Saffron nodded too, her gaze falling on Kirsty. “Count me in. So long as you promise to show us some baby photos of your daughter.”
Her mum needed no more invitation. “I’m sure I could rustle some up.”
Chapter 10
“This is one of my favourites!” Ruth held the yellowed photo delicately by the corner. “She always had her left eye closed when in direct sunlight. Those greys of hers are super sensitive.”
“Oh. My. God.” Saffron, sitting at a wooden table with Ruth, leaned closer. “How adorable is she in that pink pinafore dress? Was this taken over Easter? It had to be.”
Ruth nodded. “She was about three years old, so she didn’t put up much of a fuss about wearing dresses. As you can see in this photo the following year, that changed drastically.” She handed Saffron a photo of Kirsty in a red hoodie, with the hood up, and yellow checked trousers, holding a doll by her hair, the plastic toy carelessly touching the ground. “I’m glad she’s outgrown her Rupert Bear stage.”
“Her what?” Saffron scratched her cheek.
“The outfit,” Ruth said, distracted by the shriek of one of the guests on the other side of the garden.
“Come now. You must remember the comic strip.” Kirsty set her glass down on the table.
Saffron shook her head.
“The bear who wears a red jumper and bright yellow checked trousers.” Kirsty narrowed her eyes. “I think it’s still going.”
“I didn’t have a typical childhood.” Saffron twisted her long hair to the side to get it off her neck, the sun seeming to sear her back.
Ruth stopped trying to figure out the reason for the fuss on the other side of the garden and returned her attention, pointing at the photo. “Sadly, it was the last year for dolls.”
Kirsty gave Saffron anI’m sorrysmile, probably for the childhood comment, and then said to Ruth, “Oh please, Mum. Dolls are lame, even back then when we weren’t spoiled for choice like kids are today.”
“She really liked Swingball. She took great pleasure in whacking that ball for hours.” Ian wore a maroon apron with100% British Beefprinted on it, and a rainbow badge on the left strap.
Saffron nearly choked on her wine.
Ruth ignored her husband, too busy rifling through more photos. “Here’s me holding Kirsty when she was only a few weeks old.”
Saffron seized the photo. “Oh, look how tiny you are.” She showed Kirsty.
“You’re wearing checked trousers!” Kirsty waggled a finger at her mum.
“Don’t blame me for the fashion in 1971.”
“Mum!” Kirsty’s face morphed into a livid grape colour.
Ruth laughed. “If you’re just going to yell, leave us be. Or better yet, open another bottle of red to match your face.”
Kirsty shook her head but followed Ruth’s orders.
“She’s always been a touch shy.” Ruth sorted more photos from the shoebox.
Saffron gazed at Kirsty, talking to Ginger, as she uncorked a bottle. How did the woman make that task sexy as hell? Only if Kirsty turned a little more to the right, Saffron would be able to really check out her bicep.
“How’d you come up with the name Saffron?” Ruth’s expression was completely judgment free.
“All the credit goes to my parents.” Saffron narrowed her eyes.
“It’s not a stage name?” Ruth didn’t seem to believe that, like the majority of the human population.
“I wish, but no, my parents saddled me with the name and my agent loved it, so I was born Saffron Oliver and I’ll have to live my entire life as a seasoning.” To make matters worse, Saffron didn’t even like the spice since to her it only added colour, not flavour.
“If you ask me, you lucked out in the name department. Saffron is the most expensive spice on the market, which is fitting for a movie star. Maybe they saw into the future.” Ruth’s smile gave the parents in question the benefit of the doubt, something Saffron never did, not even after all these years.
