Starting Over by Sue Moorcroft Page A

behind the village hall, Jenna loved the cage of the infant swing. The higher, the faster, the better she liked it, the more she crowed and shrieked for more. Lovely, lazy day. Her mobile phone was at home so that James couldn’t ring to discuss Olly and whether he could be coaxed back.
    And there was McLaren, obviously an escapee again, wagging an enthusiastic hullo and crossing towards her, his brown patches aglow in the sun, eyes bright in welcome. Tess fussed his silky ears. ‘We don’t need horrid old Olly, do we McLaren? Fancy a walk, sweetie?’
    Angel was pleased to see her and because The Dragons of Diggleditch had been successfully completed she even opened a bottle of wine. Because of the hot weather they drank it quickly. Because their subsequent sunshine-drenched dawdle took them past MAR Motors they felt inclined to linger and chat, pretty loose and giggly. And because Tess felt pleased with herself she proposed, rashly, ‘How about an early finish tomorrow, as it’s Friday, so you can all come to Honeybun to celebrate the completion of my first full book commission in the village?’
     
    Buying a garden parasol for Lucasta – ‘blue, or perhaps mauve. With a fringe’ – Tess was tempted into a little splurge on her own garden. A plain green parasol, a wooden bench, dark green patio chairs of wrought-iron ivy leaves, a table and a gas barbecue.
    ‘British Racing Green,’ Ratty approved, appropriating a chair and sending McLaren to pant and snap at flies in the shade. ‘Congratulations on finishing your commission.’ Astounding her, he produced a pink patio rose in a pot, a little bottle of Tendre Poison and a kiss on the cheek .
    The rose was just the pink of her blush. ‘Oh! I didn’t expect presents! I just felt like sharing my great mood. But here you all are making it a party!’
    Toby offered a silver-framed photograph of him and Jenna taken at his playgroup. ‘It’s very good,’ he pointed out. ‘That’s my best shirt and Jenna’s party dress. Mrs Lewis combed everyone’s hair with the same comb and Mummy said she hoped no one had nits.’
    Jos brought a corn dolly from the woman in the village who made them and bottles of potato wine he’d made himself. Potato wine? Could wine be made from potatoes? Not wanting to hurt his feelings by asking, Tess repeated, ‘I didn’t expect presents!’
    Blinking hot eyes at the niceness of everybody, she disguised the moment by touching a little of Ratty’s perfume to her throat. ‘Do I smell good?’
    Ratty dipped his face to her neck. ‘As gorgeous as you look.’
    Gorgeous . She let the remark nestle in her mind as she poured wine into new glasses from the new coolbox and brought out the new patio-ware for when the barbecue-sauce-smothered food was ready.
    She’d been alone, she’d been low, she’d been uneasy in her own skin. But now she had friends to share her high and she was ‘gorgeous’.
    She manned the barbecue from a chair and enjoyed Pete and Angel sharing an eye-watering, wine-induced snorting giggle, the children screaming with delight as Jos gave them horse rides on faded denim knees. Ratty, grinning like the pirate king, sea-blue eyes flicking over her, smile softening.
    Ratty. Funny Ratty. Snappy today, kind tomorrow. Hard, sarcastic, mocking Ratty. But also warm, teasing, laughing Ratty who shared the profits from a good deal with his friend-employees, who the children loved. Tess’s eyes drifted upward from the smile and paused to collect that glittering gaze. What did it say? Offer? Would she ever ...?
    ‘Teth-Teth!’ An insistent little hand patted Tess’s leg and the thought remained unformed. ‘Hul- lo , my Jenna.’ She obeyed the outstretched arms and jumped the toddler, pink-cheeked and silken-haired, onto her lap.
    ‘Bic-bic.’ Jenna showed her the biscuit, softened by being saved for some time in her hand, and settled down to gnaw it.
    It was pleasant in the sunshine, swapping lazy insults, emptying