world had turned dizzily and wonderfully upside down for them both.
Winston, in typical Harte fashion, had wasted little time. The moment their affair had begun he had broken off with Alison, and shortly thereafter he had asked Emily’s grandmother if they could become engaged. Emma had given her consent, thoroughly approving of the match between her granddaughter and her great nephew. And one year later, when her Gran had returned from Australia, they had beenmarried in the quaint old church in Pennistone village, and Gran had given the most beautiful wedding reception for them in the gardens of Pennistone Royal; her life as Winston’s wife had begun…and it was the best life any woman could ever want…
Emily sighed with contentment, brought her thoughts back to the present, picked up her pen and began to write out the menu for lunch. When she finished, she started on the one for dinner, but stopped abruptly as an idea occurred to her. Tonight, she and Winston, Paula and Shane, would drive over to Beaulieu and have dinner at La Reserve. Just the four of them. Without the tribe. That would be much more peaceful. Not to mention romantic. Winston will approve, she thought, and smiled a small secret smile.
Chapter 6
‘You clot! You unbelievably stupid clot! Look what you’ve done! You’ve splashed my beautiful painting and ruined it!’ Tessa Fairley yelled at the top of her lungs, glaring at Lorne, adopting an angry stance, waving the paintbrush in the air.
‘The side of the swimming pool is hardly the proper place to set up an easel and start painting,’ Lorne rejoined loftily, returning her glare. ‘Especially when everyone’s leaping in and out of the pool. It’s your own fault the watercolour’s been splashed, not mine. And one more thing – I’m not a stupid clot.’
‘No, you’re a stupid CRETIN,’ his twelve-year-old twin shot back, then sucked in her breath with a horrified gasp. ‘Don’t do that, Lorne Fairley! Don’t shake yourself like that! Oh! Oh! you rotten thing. You’ve spoiled my other pictures. Oh, God, you’ve made them all trickly.’ She had the sudden murderous urge to bash her brother in the head, to do him some kind of bodily harm, but instantly suppressed it because of her mother’s presence this morning. ‘Mummy… Mummy …tell Lorne to stay away from my paintings drying on the grass,’ she wailed.
‘I want this hat,’ Linnet announced matter-of-factly and snatched Tessa’s large yellow sun hat from the chaise near the easel, placed it on top of her bright red curls and happily marched off, dragging a rubber duck on a string behind her and pushing the hat up as it kept sliding down over her eyes.
‘Bring my hat back at once, you naughty girl!’
When her five-year-old sister paid not a blind bit of notice, Tessa exclaimed to no one in particular, ‘Did you see that? She took my hat without my permission. Well! Her behaviour certainly leaves a lot to be desired. Mummy … Mummy …that child’s spoiled rotten. You and Daddy have ruined her. There’s no hope – ’
‘Pompous, pompous, Tessa’s being pompous, just like Lornie, she’s parroting Forlornie,’ Gideon Harte taunted in a sing-song tone from the relative safety of the pool.
‘I won’t dignify that ridiculous remark,’ Lorne sniffed with hauteur and lowered himself onto a mattress, picked up his copy of Homer’s Iliad and buried his face in the book.
‘Bring my hat back!’ Tessa screamed, stamping her foot.
‘Oh for God’s sake, leave her alone,’ a faintly disembodied voice admonished from the pool, and Toby Harte’s reddish-gold head bobbed up over the side. The ten-year-old grinned at Tessa, who was his favourite girl cousin, and then hauled himself out of the water, being careful not to splash her or her paintings, having no wish to incur her wrath. Reaching for a towel, he added, ‘After all, she’s only a little itty bitty baby, and how could she – ’
‘Not a baby,’ a
Winston, in typical Harte fashion, had wasted little time. The moment their affair had begun he had broken off with Alison, and shortly thereafter he had asked Emily’s grandmother if they could become engaged. Emma had given her consent, thoroughly approving of the match between her granddaughter and her great nephew. And one year later, when her Gran had returned from Australia, they had beenmarried in the quaint old church in Pennistone village, and Gran had given the most beautiful wedding reception for them in the gardens of Pennistone Royal; her life as Winston’s wife had begun…and it was the best life any woman could ever want…
Emily sighed with contentment, brought her thoughts back to the present, picked up her pen and began to write out the menu for lunch. When she finished, she started on the one for dinner, but stopped abruptly as an idea occurred to her. Tonight, she and Winston, Paula and Shane, would drive over to Beaulieu and have dinner at La Reserve. Just the four of them. Without the tribe. That would be much more peaceful. Not to mention romantic. Winston will approve, she thought, and smiled a small secret smile.
Chapter 6
‘You clot! You unbelievably stupid clot! Look what you’ve done! You’ve splashed my beautiful painting and ruined it!’ Tessa Fairley yelled at the top of her lungs, glaring at Lorne, adopting an angry stance, waving the paintbrush in the air.
‘The side of the swimming pool is hardly the proper place to set up an easel and start painting,’ Lorne rejoined loftily, returning her glare. ‘Especially when everyone’s leaping in and out of the pool. It’s your own fault the watercolour’s been splashed, not mine. And one more thing – I’m not a stupid clot.’
‘No, you’re a stupid CRETIN,’ his twelve-year-old twin shot back, then sucked in her breath with a horrified gasp. ‘Don’t do that, Lorne Fairley! Don’t shake yourself like that! Oh! Oh! you rotten thing. You’ve spoiled my other pictures. Oh, God, you’ve made them all trickly.’ She had the sudden murderous urge to bash her brother in the head, to do him some kind of bodily harm, but instantly suppressed it because of her mother’s presence this morning. ‘Mummy… Mummy …tell Lorne to stay away from my paintings drying on the grass,’ she wailed.
‘I want this hat,’ Linnet announced matter-of-factly and snatched Tessa’s large yellow sun hat from the chaise near the easel, placed it on top of her bright red curls and happily marched off, dragging a rubber duck on a string behind her and pushing the hat up as it kept sliding down over her eyes.
‘Bring my hat back at once, you naughty girl!’
When her five-year-old sister paid not a blind bit of notice, Tessa exclaimed to no one in particular, ‘Did you see that? She took my hat without my permission. Well! Her behaviour certainly leaves a lot to be desired. Mummy … Mummy …that child’s spoiled rotten. You and Daddy have ruined her. There’s no hope – ’
‘Pompous, pompous, Tessa’s being pompous, just like Lornie, she’s parroting Forlornie,’ Gideon Harte taunted in a sing-song tone from the relative safety of the pool.
‘I won’t dignify that ridiculous remark,’ Lorne sniffed with hauteur and lowered himself onto a mattress, picked up his copy of Homer’s Iliad and buried his face in the book.
‘Bring my hat back!’ Tessa screamed, stamping her foot.
‘Oh for God’s sake, leave her alone,’ a faintly disembodied voice admonished from the pool, and Toby Harte’s reddish-gold head bobbed up over the side. The ten-year-old grinned at Tessa, who was his favourite girl cousin, and then hauled himself out of the water, being careful not to splash her or her paintings, having no wish to incur her wrath. Reaching for a towel, he added, ‘After all, she’s only a little itty bitty baby, and how could she – ’
‘Not a baby,’ a
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