I was old enough and ugly enough to make my own cuppa, he was already busy making phone calls on my behalf, and his is white with three sugars while Iâm at it, thank you very much.â
âRight.â She smiled as if she was imagining the scene, then looked at him. âI canât believe youâve never had a proper posh afternoon tea.â
âI take it you have, then?â he asked.
âOh, yes.â Her eyes lit up. âBirthdays, red letter days, and any other time I can find an excuse to do it.â
âSeriously?â
âProvided the cake isnât chocolate. Then I have to talk people into swapping with me. But posh tea, dainty finger sandwiches, scones with jam and clotted cream, yummy little savouries... Yeah, I love all that. Itâs so decadent and such a treat. Like going out for breakfast. I think Iâd rather do that than go out for dinner, even. It feels more special.â
Heâd enjoyed sharing brunch with her. And he had a feeling that this particular item on his bucket list would be even more enjoyable if he shared it with her, especially as she sounded so enthusiastic about it. âRight then, Ms Thompson, would you like to come to afternoon tea with me?â
âThank you, mâlearned friend, I would,â she said.
âGood. When?â He took his phone out of his pocket and checked his diary. âThis weekend?â
Sammy grabbed her phone to check her diary, too. âSorry, I canât. Iâm in Somerset doing a shoot with an organic cider producer.â
âOK.â He checked the next week. âHowâs Wednesday afternoon looking for you?â
Sammy nodded. âIâve got a planning meeting at one of the magazines in London that morning, so Wednesday afternoon is pretty much perfect for me.â
âGreat. Iâll book something tomorrow and let you know where and what time,â he said. âCall me if thereâs a problem and weâll reschedule if we need to.â
âOK. That sounds good.â
âAnd Iâd better let you get on.â He stood up, and she saw him to the door.
He kissed her goodbye, being careful to keep his libido in check. âSee you on Wednesday,â he said.
And he could hardly wait.
CHAPTER SIX
W EDNESDAY .
A seriously posh hotel.
For afternoon tea.
Panic flooded through Sammy the more she thought about it. Given that kind of venue, she could hardly turn up in her usual black trousers. But a business suit with opaque tights wouldnât be appropriate, either; they were having an Indian summer, even though it was late September. Wearing a floaty cotton dress meant having bare legs or wearing the sheerest tights; and either of those options would mean that the scar on her left leg would be clearly visible.
Even though Nick would probably be too nice to ask her what had caused the scar, sheâd know that he was wondering about it. Or maybe heâd recognise it as something that heâd seen before, on his nephewâs leg. And in the end sheâd cave in and tell him that sheâd had a strange bony lump on her shin as a teen, and when it had been investigated the doctors had told her that she had osteosarcoma.
Bone cancer.
Chemotherapy had shrunk the tumour before the operation, and the surgeon had been able to take out the tumour from the bone and put in a metal prosthesis. Sammy knew sheâd been one of the lucky ones, able to have bone-sparing surgery rather than an amputation. Sheâd done every single breathing exercise and every single physiotherapy exercise to the letter after the operation. Sheâd been through more chemotherapy to mop up any last bad cells after the operation and sheâd attended every single one of her regular check-ups. And she was hugely grateful that sheâd come through it.
She was strong. She had the full support of her family.
And when sheâd met Bryn, sheâd thought sheâd
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