I may have to ask you to keep them outside.’
‘And I may have to remind you that this is my home.’
‘ Your home?’ Only Cato could lace two words with such a potent mix of spite and incredulity. ‘I rather think you’re just looking after it for me, old bean.’
It was a good job Barbara came in when she did, or Charlie would have floored him. ‘How many for supper?’ she asked.
‘We’re heading out this evening,’ mused Cato, pouting out a smoke ring, ‘it’s arranged. I suppose I ought to show Susanna what this backwater’s got to offer.’
‘Very well,’ said Charlie. ‘It’ll just be me, then, Mrs B-T.’
‘Oh, no, it won’t. You’re coming with us and you’re bringing that girl with you. I’d say an evening out was the very least you could do.’
‘Olivia?’
‘Of course Olivia—whom else would I be talking about?’
Beyond Susanna’s elegant pose Charlie spotted his new planter’s distant shape in the Sundial Garden, crouched over the foxglove bulbs. He had recognised Olivia the moment she’d shown up—the girl who used to hang around the Towerfield gates on her bike, bare legs smeared with mud from where she’d charged through a puddle or fallen out of a tree. It had been years, but he remembered. Charlie had observed her some days, sitting in the shade while she waited for the school bell, scribbling in a book or making a chain out of daisies. He’d wanted to go and talk to her but he hadn’t known what to say. She’d had a thing for the pretty boy—all the girls had, though he couldn’t see why. Adrian Gold didn’t play rugby in case it messed his hair up. He couldn’t put up a tent. He didn’t read books, or play music, or know how to tie a reef knot. He didn’t get jokes the first time and once during a test he couldn’t arrange the vowels in ‘beautiful’, which had struck Charlie as unfortunate because there was enough prettiness in the world but beauty was rarer to come by, and if Adrian was friends with Olivia Lark then he ought at least to know how to spell it.
‘Do you really want her running to the papers,’ Cato rampaged on, ‘saying Charles Lomax all but finished her off with whatever health and safety transgression the pedants’ contingent are creaming their frillies over these days? She might act like butter wouldn’t melt, but believe me: they’ve all got an eye for the main chance. If you don’t keep her happy it’ll be your name on the line.’
‘I would’ve thought that might have been yours.’
‘Don’t flaunt your ignorance, Charles.’
‘I hired her. That’s a line I don’t wish to cross.’
‘You might have hired her, but you very nearly did away with her.’
‘Wasn’t it you behind the wheel?’ His temper swelled, bright and lethal. ‘Forgive me if I’m sensing a pattern developing here—’
‘If I could interrupt.’ Barbara stepped between them, compelled to make the peace as she had done for the last twenty years. ‘I spoke with Olivia this morning and she’s adamant that no one’s to blame. She’d like us to forget the episode, if possible.’
‘Go away, Baps,’ said Cato.
The housekeeper dutifully retreated.
‘Do you get a kick out of being so vile all the damn time?’ demanded Charlie.
‘Ah, look at her.’ Cato came to stand next to him at the glass.
At first Charlie thought he was talking about Susanna. He wasn’t.
‘Such a pretty little thing,’ said Cato, ‘and so nice to have a bit of flesh to bite into. Susanna’s a minx but it’s all bone and sinew.’
‘Keep away from her, Cato. I mean it.’
Cato smirked. He puffed a bit more on the cigar.
‘Come on, Charles.’ He winked. ‘You know me better than that.’
Chapter Eight
S AFFRON ON THE Sea was the only restaurant in the British Isles to boast three coveted Gastronomy Stars. Despite this accolade it was entirely unpretentious, a simply festooned yacht moored in a quiet creek between two cliffs. In the summer it caught
‘And I may have to remind you that this is my home.’
‘ Your home?’ Only Cato could lace two words with such a potent mix of spite and incredulity. ‘I rather think you’re just looking after it for me, old bean.’
It was a good job Barbara came in when she did, or Charlie would have floored him. ‘How many for supper?’ she asked.
‘We’re heading out this evening,’ mused Cato, pouting out a smoke ring, ‘it’s arranged. I suppose I ought to show Susanna what this backwater’s got to offer.’
‘Very well,’ said Charlie. ‘It’ll just be me, then, Mrs B-T.’
‘Oh, no, it won’t. You’re coming with us and you’re bringing that girl with you. I’d say an evening out was the very least you could do.’
‘Olivia?’
‘Of course Olivia—whom else would I be talking about?’
Beyond Susanna’s elegant pose Charlie spotted his new planter’s distant shape in the Sundial Garden, crouched over the foxglove bulbs. He had recognised Olivia the moment she’d shown up—the girl who used to hang around the Towerfield gates on her bike, bare legs smeared with mud from where she’d charged through a puddle or fallen out of a tree. It had been years, but he remembered. Charlie had observed her some days, sitting in the shade while she waited for the school bell, scribbling in a book or making a chain out of daisies. He’d wanted to go and talk to her but he hadn’t known what to say. She’d had a thing for the pretty boy—all the girls had, though he couldn’t see why. Adrian Gold didn’t play rugby in case it messed his hair up. He couldn’t put up a tent. He didn’t read books, or play music, or know how to tie a reef knot. He didn’t get jokes the first time and once during a test he couldn’t arrange the vowels in ‘beautiful’, which had struck Charlie as unfortunate because there was enough prettiness in the world but beauty was rarer to come by, and if Adrian was friends with Olivia Lark then he ought at least to know how to spell it.
‘Do you really want her running to the papers,’ Cato rampaged on, ‘saying Charles Lomax all but finished her off with whatever health and safety transgression the pedants’ contingent are creaming their frillies over these days? She might act like butter wouldn’t melt, but believe me: they’ve all got an eye for the main chance. If you don’t keep her happy it’ll be your name on the line.’
‘I would’ve thought that might have been yours.’
‘Don’t flaunt your ignorance, Charles.’
‘I hired her. That’s a line I don’t wish to cross.’
‘You might have hired her, but you very nearly did away with her.’
‘Wasn’t it you behind the wheel?’ His temper swelled, bright and lethal. ‘Forgive me if I’m sensing a pattern developing here—’
‘If I could interrupt.’ Barbara stepped between them, compelled to make the peace as she had done for the last twenty years. ‘I spoke with Olivia this morning and she’s adamant that no one’s to blame. She’d like us to forget the episode, if possible.’
‘Go away, Baps,’ said Cato.
The housekeeper dutifully retreated.
‘Do you get a kick out of being so vile all the damn time?’ demanded Charlie.
‘Ah, look at her.’ Cato came to stand next to him at the glass.
At first Charlie thought he was talking about Susanna. He wasn’t.
‘Such a pretty little thing,’ said Cato, ‘and so nice to have a bit of flesh to bite into. Susanna’s a minx but it’s all bone and sinew.’
‘Keep away from her, Cato. I mean it.’
Cato smirked. He puffed a bit more on the cigar.
‘Come on, Charles.’ He winked. ‘You know me better than that.’
Chapter Eight
S AFFRON ON THE Sea was the only restaurant in the British Isles to boast three coveted Gastronomy Stars. Despite this accolade it was entirely unpretentious, a simply festooned yacht moored in a quiet creek between two cliffs. In the summer it caught
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