‘Of course he got the girl. Basil is gay, Elle.’
‘Gay?’ she repeated blankly.
‘Could that be the reason his family disowned him?’ Sean asked.
‘No!’ It was too horrible to imagine. ‘They wouldn’t.’
‘People do. Even now.’
‘They weren’t like that,’ she protested.
Were they?
Sean was right. Forty years was a lifetime ago. She had no idea how her great-grandparents would have reacted to the news that one of their sons was gay. Or maybe she did. Basil had mentioned his mother in the letter. If she’d still been alive, he’d said …
You could change the law but attitudes took longer, especially among the older generation.
As for her grandfather, Bernard, he’d been a slightly scary stranger, someone who’d arrived out of the blue every six months or so, who everyone had to tiptoe around. Breathing a collective sigh of relief when he disappeared overseas to do whatever he did in Africa and the Middle East.
‘Whatever happened, Gran can’t be bothered with this. She’s not strong, Sean.’
As always, it was down to her. And the first thing she’d have to do was go through the diary and cancel whatever arrangements Basil had made. If she could work out what they were.
‘What does this mean?’ she asked, flicking through the notebook again.
Sean didn’t answer and she looked up, then wished she hadn’t because he was looking straight at her and those blue eyes made her a little giddy. She wanted to smile, grab him and dance. Climb aboard Rosie and ring her bell.
She took a deep breath to steady herself.
‘It says “Sylvie. PRC” Next Saturday'?’ she prompted, forcing herself to look away.
‘PRC? That’ll be the Pink Ribbon Club. It’s a charity supporting cancer patients and—’ He paused as he tightened the final screw in the plug.
‘And their families,’ she finished for him, the words catching in her throat. ‘I know.’
‘It’s their annual garden party on Saturday. They’re holding it at Tom and Sylvie MacFarlane’s place this year.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Longbourne Court.’
‘Oh, yes, of course. I’d heard it was occupied at last.’
‘I saw the signs advertising the garden party when I passed the gates. Basil mentioned it when he asked me to change Rosie’s oil. I got the feeling he’d volunteered to help because it meant something special to him.’
‘He should have thought of that before he bet the farm on the turn of a card,’ she said, suddenly angry with this man who appeared to have absolutely no sense of responsibility. Worse. Didn’t have the courage to face them and ask for help, but left someone else to do his dirty work. ‘But then, from his letter, he appears to have made a life’s work of letting people down.’
‘You’re assuming that it’s a gambling problem.’
‘You were the one who mentioned it as a possibility,’ she reminded him.
‘Grasping at straws? Maybe that was the problem with his family,’ he suggested. ‘Maybe he’d flogged the family silver to pay his creditors.’
‘Not guilty,’ she said, earning herself a sharp look. ‘And I thought you said it was a recent problem?’
‘He’s been living on the estate for less than a year, so what do I know? Maybe he only gambles when he’s unhappy. A form of self-harming?’
No, no, no … She wasn’t listening.
‘I can’t have Gran involved in anything like this, Sean.’
‘All he’s asking is that she—or, rather, you—keeps Rosie’s business ticking over.’
‘Is it?’
‘That’s what he put in the note he left me.’ He looked again at the letter to her grandmother. ‘This does make it sound rather more permanent, I have to admit.’
‘Well, whatever he wants, it’s impossible. I have a job that keeps me fully occupied and Gran doesn’t have a driving licence,’ she protested, clutching at straws. ‘Besides, her concentration isn’t that great. She’d think it was all a wonderful treat and give all the ice cream away. Or just wander off when she got bored.’
‘Is it Alzheimer’s?’ he asked point-blank.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘She always had a bit of a reputation for giddiness but she’s had a lot to deal with over the years. She blamed herself for Grandpa’s death, which is ridiculous,’ she added, before he could start adding two and two and making five. ‘He was killed in a road accident. In Nigeria. And then my mother died. She hasn’t been quite focused since then. Her doctor thinks she simply blocks out what she can’t cope with.’
‘We all have days when we’d like to do that,’ he murmured sympathetically.
‘Yes …’ Then, afraid that she was revealing more than she should, ‘You can see why I won’t have her put under any stress.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘But there’s absolutely nothing wrong with your focus, Lovage. Maybe, since you’ve taken charge of the letter meant for her, you could at least stand in for your grandmother on Saturday.’
CHAPTER FOUR
There’s nothing wrong with life that a little ice cream won’t fix.
—Rosie’s Diary
ELLE should have seen that coming.
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ she said. ‘I work on Saturdays.’
‘Not until the evening and the garden party will be over by six. There’s going to be a concert in the grounds in the evening,’ he added, in case she needed convincing. ‘I promise you it’ll be more fun than waiting tables.’
‘Really? On my feet all day dishing out ice cream to fractious children? Irritable adults. Nobody with the right change. Can you positively guarantee that?’
He grinned without warning. ‘You’re weakening, I can tell.’
It was hard not to grin right back at his cheek, but she made an effort.
‘I’m not, but even if I was beginning to crack, we have another problem. I haven’t a clue how to work one of those ice cream machines.’
‘It’s not rocket science. I’ll show you.’
‘You?’
Her heart gave a little flutter. She hadn’t anticipated that he would stick around to help and she was almost tempted.
‘Who do you think was filling the cones at my niece’s party while Basil was chatting up all the yummy mummies?’
She rather suspected that the yummy mummies were lining up to flirt with Sean, and she was equally sure that he would have been flirting back.
‘Well, there you are,’ she said, trying not to care about the fact that she was simply one in a long, meaningless line of women who had been suckered by that smile. Reminding herself that he was already spoken for by the cool blonde from the restaurant. ‘Problem solved.’ He knew how the equipment worked and a smile, a body like that, would be very good for business. ‘If you think it’s such fun, then Rosie is all yours.’ She offered him the diary and the keys. ‘Have a lovely day.’
He