Summer House by Marcia Willett Page B

quickly repent of his first generous idea and nobody would ever mention it again – and was immediately seized with disappointment lest this might be true.
    â€˜Don’t forget,’ Nick had warned her as they’d said goodbye
in the car park, ‘you don’t know anything. We haven’t met. Sorry, sweetie, but it seemed the best way.’
    They’d hugged and he’d driven away, but she’d felt slightly irritated by the fact that she would have to play-act her way out of it. Now as she drove through Tivington and passed below Selworthy Church, dazzlingly white in the bright sunshine, she came to a decision. She turned right into Allerford and continued along the lane into Bossington until she reached the drive to the High House. Milo’s car was missing but Lottie came out to meet her, bending to smile at Rosie who stared back at her solemnly and then raised the little rabbit as if in greeting.
    At the sight of the rabbit, Imogen’s heart seemed to shift in her breast.
    She thought: Thank God, Rosie can’t talk. But this made her feel even more guilty and she turned quickly to Lottie, chattering about nothing in particular; how they’d been into Dunster and walked up to the Conygar Tower and then had coffee in the Castle, and decided just on the spur of the moment to come in and see how it was all going … Suddenly she fell silent, thinking of all the things she mustn’t say, pretending that she mustn’t even know if Nick was still with them.
    Lottie slipped an arm about her and kissed her.
    â€˜Nick’s gone,’ she said, ‘and all is well. Can you stay to lunch? If you get Rosie out I’ll bring the bag with all her things in. I expect you’ve got some milk for her, haven’t you? Milo’s dashed into Porlock but he won’t be long.’
    Imogen unclipped the straps and lifted Rosie out of her seat. She had a feeling that Lottie knew perfectly well that she and Nick had been in touch, she probably even knew that they’d met, and she felt uncomfortable. When they got
inside, Lottie fetched the folding playpen that was kept for Rosie’s visits and set it on the floor near the wood-burning stove. Imogen plonked her down in it and Rosie sat on the padded floor, examining the rabbit – which now to Imogen’s guilty eyes looked life-size – and murmuring her own peculiar words to it.
    â€˜Bah,’ Rosie muttered. ‘Bah, boh, da.’ She pressed the rabbit to her cheek and then with a swift movement flung it against the netting wall of the playpen. She shifted her weight and half shuffled, half crawled, towards a little rag book that hung from the rail.
    â€˜She’s had her milk.’ Im busied herself with the bag full of nappies and juice and toys, hardly able to look Lottie in the face lest she should burst out with the truth. ‘But I’ve got some lunch for her with us, just in case.’
    â€˜I expect you’ve heard from Nick,’ Lottie said tranquilly. ‘You’re his rock at times like these, aren’t you? He knows you’re always on his side.’
    Imogen was silent, her hands briefly stilled, replies jumbling together in her brain although she couldn’t find one that was adequate.
    â€˜Anyway,’ Lottie was saying, not waiting for any response, ‘Milo has found a way out for him. And it includes selling the Summer House.’
    â€˜Oh!’ cried Imogen, her head still buried in the bag. ‘Oh, poor Milo.’ She simply couldn’t look at Lottie and she cursed Nick for putting her into this situation. ‘I’m so sorry.’
    â€˜Well, he isn’t.’ Lottie sounded almost amused. ‘He’s been trying to think of a way he could offer the Summer House to you and Jules at a reasonable price that was fair to Nick and wouldn’t send Sara into orbit, and now Nick has provided him with the ideal solution.’

    Imogen raised