Summer at the Lake by Erica James Page B

way did he flaunt it. ‘Admirably modest’ was how Esme described him in one of her typically discerning remarks. They both agreed he played his cards pretty close to his chest, thereby making it difficult to know at times what he was thinking. But given the choice, Floriana would rather be around someone who was taciturn and genuine than a showy big-mouth. What he lacked in blether he certainly made up for in thoughtfulness and dependability.
    Outside on the street, a white van pulled up behind Adam’s car. Seconds later a squat man the shape and size of an Olympic weightlifter was opening the back of the van and chatting to Adam. Together they carried the rolls of underlay and carpet into the house.
    In what seemed no time at all the furniture was back in place and the manky old carpet was on its way to the tip in the back of the van. Job done.
    ‘Thank you so much, Adam,’ Floriana said, looking round delightedly at her transformed sitting room. ‘You’re a miracle worker. Do you walk on water as well?’
    ‘You’re pleased with it, then?’
    ‘I’m over the moon! And if we weren’t due at Esme’s, I’d throw myself on the carpet and roll about like a demented dog for the next hour!’
    He raised an eyebrow. ‘Go ahead, don’t let me stop you enjoying yourself.’
    ‘Second thoughts,’ she said with a smile. ‘Maybe I’ll save that pleasure for when I’m alone tonight.’
    By the time they’d cleaned up and Floriana had changed into some kind of weird extensively layered ensemble that looked like she hadn’t known what to put on so had decided to put on everything, along with a pair of clompy boots, the first snow of winter began to fall from the darkening sky. All day the sky had been ominously leaden and the temperature had steadily dropped.
    They were on their way to Trinity House to have tea with Esme; it was to be the first time since the night of Floriana’s accident that all three of them would be together again. They had each independently called on the old lady – Adam because he was frequently at his new house next door, and Floriana because she was fascinated by the old lady and wanted to get to know her better.
    ‘There’s just something about her,’ Floriana had said to Adam. ‘She’s so inscrutable and just when I think I’ve got her sussed, she’ll say something to make me rethink. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she turned out to be a cold-war spy and being a librarian was just a cover!’
    Wildly random statements from Floriana were fairly standard issue, Adam had come to realise; they were as richly flamboyant as her quirky dress sense, which very much reflected her haphazard and impulsive personality.
    There again, for all he knew there might be nothing haphazard or impulsive about her appearance, she might actually spend hours carefully crafting her look. After all, what did he know about fashion? Although under Jesse’s guidance he had learned to appreciate the sleek and stylish look she had mastered. Updating his wardrobe had been one of the first jobs she’d carried out when they’d got together. She’d rifled through his less than impressive selection of clothes and after much tutting and head-shaking had taken him shopping.
    ‘It’s weird,’ Floriana said now as they stood at the junction between Church Close and Latimer Street and waited for a car to pass, its wipers working at keeping the falling snow from settling on the windscreen, ‘but whenever I’m with Esme at Trinity House, I feel like I’m in a parallel world, a more interesting world. I think it’s one of the reasons I like being with her.’
    ‘I know what you mean,’ Adam said. ‘I’ve decided it’s all those interesting paintings she has; they create an atmosphere all of their own.’
    ‘Yes!’ she cried excitedly, turning to look at him so fast the pom-pom hanging at the end of the long tassel on her hat – a multicoloured hat with earflaps that looked hand-knitted – whipped