Addressing Ben she asked pointedly, ‘Are you offended by my questions?’
Ben shook his head. ‘I was married and now I’m divorced,’ he said quietly. ‘Not the most pleasant experience of my life, I have to admit.’
‘And have you children?’
‘A daughter … Abbie.’
‘And where is she?’
‘Abbie lives in London, where she shares a flat with other young working people. I miss her, but she is due to come down to Far Crest Farm next week to spend a few days with me.’
‘That’s enough, Mother!’ Stepping forward as though to protect Ben, Mary told him, ‘You’re welcome to stay to supper, but you can leave right now if you want to, and I wouldn’t blame you. You see, Mother won’t stop asking questions until she knows everything about you.’ Mary so much wanted him to stay, but it had to be his choice.
‘That’s OK. I might even ask a few questions of my own, later,’ he said.
Lucy laughed out loud. ‘Now then, young man. Will you stay or will you run?’
‘I’ll stay.’ His mind was already made up. ‘Thank you very much. Should I go home and change for the occasion?’ He had an idea that Lucy Davidson might be a stickler for protocol.
He was wrong. ‘You look decent enough to me, so you can put that silly idea out of your head,’ she said. ‘It won’t take Mary long to rustle up a meal for the three of us. Meanwhile, just make yourself at home.’
‘If you say so.’ It was a strange thing, but her brisk, authoritative manner was not off-putting to him. His instincts told him it was all an act on her part. ‘I’m grateful to you both.’ When he and Mary exchanged smiles, Lucy was thrilled. The more she saw of Ben, the more she liked and trusted him. He was the one for her daughter; she was sure of it.
So it was settled.
Ben considered himself fortunate to be sharing an evening with Mary and her mother. He liked Lucy, she was a rare character. Though it was Mary at the forefront of his thoughts. For some inexplicable reason, the young woman had captured his imagination – and possibly his heart, though it was much too early to tell, he thought warily.
He had been in love before, and it had turned out to be a heartache.
After that crippling experience with Pauline, he was not ready to throw himself in at the deep end with anyone.
MARY PEERED OUT into the garden from the big bay window. Its light spilled out onto the lawn, where Ben was carefully picking his way along the path, looking at her handiwork.
‘You don’t need to send for Elsie,’ she told her mother. ‘I’m a poor thing if I can’t organise a simple dinner for three.’
‘I know that,’ Lucy retorted. ‘It’s just that I want you and Ben to get to know each other, and you can’t do that if you’re in the kitchen cooking, can you?’
‘Oh Mam, you’re a devil, you are!’ Mary couldn’t help but smile. ‘I know what you’re up to, and I think you’ve embarrassed him enough, without trying to throw us together. If he likes me and I like him, then things might happen naturally, and if they don’t, they don’t.’ Though she hoped they would, for she had not met a man like Ben before. He seemed so mature beside her former boyfriends.
‘And do you?’
‘Do I what?’
Lucy groaned. ‘BEN! Do you like him?’
‘I’d be a fool to tell you if I did.’ Mary shook her head. ‘Think whatever you want,’ she said casually. ‘You will anyway.’ Her mother was the rarest and most wonderful of characters. She never missed a trick. When Lucy Davidson was around, there was no use trying to keep secrets.
‘Where is he now?’ Curious, Lucy stretched her neck to see out of the window. ‘He’s not escaped, has he? You’ve not frightened him off, I hope.’
Mary laughed at that. ‘No! He wanted to see what I’d been doing to the garden, that’s all.’
Lucy tutted. ‘Silly girl! Don’t you know anything?’ Sometimes she despaired of her, and at other times she was proud of Mary – and proud of herself – because it meant that she had raised an intelligent, trusting girl who saw the good in everyone.
‘What are you getting at, Mother?’
‘It’s fairly obvious, isn’t it? He wanted you to go with him. Oh, dearie me!’
Mary would not admit it to her mother, but she had been sorely tempted to join Ben in the garden. However, there wasn’t enough time. If the women had been on their own, a bowl of soup and slice of cold apple-pie would have done them proud for supper, but having invited Ben to join them, they had to do better than that. Mary was planning to cook some pork chops, and serve them with mashed potatoes and homemade pickle.
‘You forget, I’ve a dinner to cook,’ she answered. ‘There’ll be time enough later for us all to get to know each other.’
A familiar tap on the living-room door curtailed their conversation. Hurrying to the door, Mary drew it open. ‘Hello, Adam,’ she said, and hugged him. These past years, the small man had been like a father to her although, like the gent he was, Adam had always kept his distance.
Lucy’s face lit up. ‘Adam, come in. Come in!’ Dismissing Mary with a wave of her hand, she reminded her, ‘I thought you were away to start supper?’
‘I was … I am.’ Looking from Adam to her mother, the girl couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. Whenever her mother wanted her out of the way like this, there was usually something brewing. But then she was always involved in some scheme or another, bless her heart. It was what kept her going.
‘Go on then,’ Lucy reprimanded her. ‘Adam and I have business to discuss, so be off with you.’ She had been unable to speak to him privately earlier, when he’d driven her and Mary to the churchyard, and now she wanted a quiet word with him.
‘She doesn’t change, does she, Adam?’ Mary groaned light-heartedly. ‘Same old bully as ever.
Adam’s fond gaze bathed the older woman. ‘She’ll never change,’ he said softly. ‘Thank God.’ The same age as Lucy, he had stayed with her through thick and thin, and every inch of the way he had loved and adored her from afar. Lucy knew it, yet she never said. She felt a lot of affection for him too. But it was not the same deep, driving passion she’d had for Barney. That kind of love happened only once in a lifetime.
And yet in her deepest heart, though he had taken good care of her and showed her nothing but kindness, she knew that Barney had not loved her back in the same way. How could he, when his own dearest love was thousands of miles away, probably still yearning for her darling Barney and suffering bitter-sweet thoughts of this wonderful man, whom she had adored more than any other, and who for reasons she might never know, had broken her heart and her life.
It had been a tragedy; a cruel and sorry business that only the gods could have prevented – at least, that was what Barney always claimed.
‘I’m sorry I had to use the key to let myself in,’ Adam explained. ‘I did knock a few times, but no one answered. You obviously didn’t hear me.’
‘No need to apologise,’ Lucy chided. ‘The key was given so you could use it whenever necessary. It was necessary on this occasion, so we’ll