Starting Over by Sue Moorcroft

working well, she had friends. Olly Gray? Just somebody she used to know.
     
    Early afternoon and the courier had taken The Dragons of Diggleditch on paper and on disc, parcelled stiffly and marked about eight times, ‘Please Do Not Bend’ . She shouldn’t have to worry about that book any more.
    There would be a nice fat cheque from Kitty. A few Nigels for the card company and some book jackets would tide her over gently until her next commission. For the first time since coming to Middledip she felt content to slither to a halt, award herself a lazy time. She yanked out the tie from her ponytail and flung back her hair. Out, then, into the sunshine!
    Her feet took her next door, to Pennybun, through the gate and into a romp of roses, dahlias and late, sexy-scented honeysuckle.
    Lucasta, classy today in lavender with jet beads, ushered her in as she always did, hobbling past the asparagus fern into the little parlour. ‘You’re looking wonderful, Middledip must agree with you!’ Despite limping more than ever, Lucasta produced lapsang souchong in stubby, handleless cups like little sugar bowls and settled back to admire the view through her window. ‘Isn’t the garden wonderful? Miles has found a youngster to cut the grass and he moved the old bench into the sunshine last week. I’m wondering if he’d search out a new garden parasol for me. That would be lovely, wouldn’t it?’
    Relaxing on the cool cotton covers, Tess resigned herself good-naturedly to a conversation littered with references to Miles Arnott-Rattenbury. Despite that ritual, she always left Pennybun soothed and calm from the serene, pretty colours with which Lucasta surrounded herself and the old furniture collected from around the world as an army officer’s wife. And Tess wasn’t alone, half the village seemed to stroll past her gate to visit Lucasta. If they were all greeted, ‘How lovely!’ as she was, if they all warranted delicate china and delicious snacks and found the same comfort and tranquillity at Pennybun, it was understandable.
    ‘I’m going to Bettsbrough in the morning, I’ll collect your parasol, if you like,’ she volunteered.
    ‘Thank you, dear! Miles is travelling to Devon at the weekend so I expect he has enough to do. I’ll find my purse. More tea? Something from the fruit bowl? Or,’ she smiled conspiratorially, displaying faultless white dentures, ‘Miles brought me some chocolate fudge ice cream ...’
    The ice cream was delicious, a peculiar contrast to the smokiness of lapsang. ‘I used to know Miles’s grandfather,’ Lucasta said, suddenly, putting aside her empty bowl.
    Tess nodded, and then realised she might not be supposed to know. ‘Really?’
    ‘We were … each married to other people. But we formed an attachment. It’s what divided my husband and me.’
    Tess nodded some more.
    Lucasta’s knotted hands, with the skin so soft-looking she must have been diligent with the hand cream all her life, toyed with the jet necklace where it brushed the front of her dress. She looked directly at Tess. ‘I don’t know that he was worth it, he didn’t act particularly well, in the end. But his wife was a strong woman and perhaps that’s why Lester and Miles are better men, though Miles works hard to disguise it. Don’t you find him very disagreeable, sometimes?’
    Tess smiled slightly. ‘I don’t know that I’d say disagreeable …’
    Lucasta tutted. ‘You’re a saint if you don’t! Some days he’s as contrary as a tom cat. Even when he does you a favour he makes you feel as if it’s nearly killing him.’
    Wandering on when she felt Lucasta was tiring – she was really looking so faded and silvery these days it was worrying – Tess waved at Pete and Jos working in the shady garage. Would Angel fancy a bit of company, she wondered? She might be glad to escape chores, cry, ‘Bliss, you’ve come to rescue me!’ Yes, she’d pop in, see if the family fancied a stroll. Perhaps to the swings