Winds of Change by Anna Jacobs Page B

could say I was busy.’
    He chuckled. ‘Rebelling, eh? That’s good. Yes, do come round. My niece has left me a healthy meal. We’ll inspect it and if we don’t fancy it, we’ll get some Chinese food sent in.’
    Miranda hummed as she got ready to leave. She particularly enjoyed writing a note to her brother. It was so much easier to face him in writing than to confront him in person.
    Sorry I can’t be here, Sebastian. I already had an engagement. You should have waited to find out if I was free before you put down the phone.
    Miranda
    She wished she could see his face when he read the note, but on second thoughts was glad she’d not be there. She left it on the hall table, knowing he had a key to the house and would come in if he found the door locked. She’d had a new lock fitted to her bedroom door the year before and hadn’t given him a key, so felt her personal possessions would be safe from his prying.
    She should have taken her jewellery to the bank today. She had to pull herself together and do that, if nothing else, tomorrow. If the worst came to the worst and she needed money to tide her over, she could probably sell some of the pieces. Her father had always said it was quite good stuff.
    Lou got out two of his best wine glasses, feeling happier than he had for a while. Having a friend made such a difference and he’d been travelling a lot till the heart attack, so his friends were mostly scattered round the world. Most of the people he knew in Perth were up to their eyeballs in deals and business, a world he could no longer keep up with.
    He studied the contents of the casserole dish: chicken and some strips of vegetables. He tasted it and found it totally bland, like all Hilary’s dishes. He’d told her there was nothing wrong with his digestive system, but she still kept providing food for invalids.
    He smiled when he heard the doorbell and pressed the button that opened the outer door without checking who it was. Who else could it be but his new friend?
    Miranda stopped in the doorway. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind me inviting myself round?’
    â€˜I’m delighted. I get lonely on my own.’
    â€˜So do I.’
    She was looking better, he decided, had some colour in her cheeks. If she wore prettier clothes and had her hair restyled instead of tying it back in an untidy bunch, she’d be quite good-looking for a woman of her age. He’d always found fair-haired, blue-eyed women attractive. ‘How old are you?’
    â€˜Forty-seven.’
    â€˜You’re wearing well. You don’t look more than forty, if that.’
    â€˜How old are you, Lou?’
    â€˜Sixty-eight physically, and it varies between ten and twenty-five mentally. Now, before you sit down and try this lovely wine, come and give me your opinion of this sad-looking casserole.’
    They stared at the beige concoction together.
    â€˜It’s not very attractive,’ she said. ‘Can I have a taste?’
    â€˜If you can face it.’
    She took a small amount of the sauce and shook her head as she swallowed it. ‘Your niece could easily have made this more interesting. If you have some herbs and spices, I could tiddle with it. It’s a shame to waste good food.’
    â€˜Go for your life. I usually dump her offerings in the rubbish bin and order a takeaway.’
    â€˜I like cooking, though Father only ever wanted plain, old-fashioned meat and two veggies. Can I look in your kitchen cupboards?’
    â€˜Be my guest. I’ll pour the wine.’
    Half an hour later they sat down to a much-enhanced casserole with a curry sauce, served with rice fried with onions and shreds of this and that.
    â€˜Politically incorrect, so much fried stuff,’ he teased.
    â€˜I know. But I love spicy food and Father hated it, wouldn’t have it in the house.’
    â€˜I love it, too.’
    When they’d finished, he raised his