The Summer of Second Chances: The laugh-out-loud romantic comedy. Maddie PleaseЧитать онлайн книгу.
said.
Bonnie frowned rather attractively. ‘Sorry?’
‘Look I think there has been some misunderstanding.’
She blinked a couple of times and looked at me, waiting for me to explain.
‘I was hoping to see Bryn. Is he around?’
‘Well no, not until tonight, who are you then?’ Her tone was suddenly rather frosty.
‘I’m Charlotte – Lottie from next door.’ I pointed in the direction of my cottage.
And who are you? And why are you throwing a surprise party?
She suddenly looked very annoyed. It was as though someone had flicked a switch. ‘You’re not the caterer? Not from Delicioso?’
‘No.’
Bonnie gave an extravagant sigh and rolled her large, hazel eyes.
‘Next door? Oh I see. Jeez. Why didn’t you say? I didn’t realise…I knew…oh never mind. She was supposed to be here half an hour ago.’
Bonnie did what anyone would have done when they found themselves in this situation and checked her phone.
‘Hmm I’ve missed a call. Bloody crap reception here.’
She listened to a message and sighed.
‘Not coming?’
‘No.’ Her pretty mouth tightened in annoyance. ‘Are you sure you’re not a caterer?’
‘Positive.’
She gnawed at a manicured thumbnail. ‘It’s Bryn’s birthday soon; I thought I’d throw him a surprise party.’
‘Does he like surprise parties?’
I’d bet a month’s non-existent salary he didn’t.
‘No, he hates them, but I think they’re fun.’ Bonnie waved her phone again. ‘They can’t get here until after the weekend, and that’s no good.’
I thought hard about what I could say to get her to tell me what her relationship was to Bryn but I couldn’t think of anything that didn’t make me sound like a stalker.
‘You don’t know anyone I could ring do you?’
I shook my head. ‘Sorry, I’ve haven’t lived here long.’
Bonnie pouted. ‘Delicioso were my last hope. It’s frigging impossible round here; it’s like the bloody dark ages. I keep telling him to move.’
‘Have you tried the Internet?’
Bonnie shot me a withering look. ‘Or extra-super-slow-narrow-band as we prefer to call it? You must be joking.’
‘Well you could try ringing around.’ I made a move to the door. ‘I just called to see if Bryn’s arm was OK. He had a nasty cut…’ I hesitated as I saw her eyes glaze over.
‘I’ve no idea, he has a silly thing with blood, I never take much notice. It just encourages him.’
‘Ah, well it was some time ago. OK. I just…well perhaps I’ll catch up with Bryn later.’
‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you. He doesn’t like visitors. As a rule. He’s a very private person. We both are.’
I had the feeling she was delivering some subliminal message but I didn’t quite get it.
Bonnie picked up a battered copy of the Yellow Pages with the tips of her fingers and looked at the cover as though it was written in Swahili.
‘Not after all the trouble with Mrs Webster next door,’ she continued, her voice casually silky. She fired me a sharp look filled with meaning and I shrugged.
‘Mrs Webster had a…thing for Bryn, I’m afraid. She seemed to think there was something between them. Obviously not, but a lot of women…well let’s just say she was punching way above her not inconsiderable weight.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you understand.’
Open brackets he’s mine so keep your paws off close brackets.
There didn’t seem much to say after that so I made my way back to Holly Cottage, noticing again with a twinge of envy how beautifully kept Ivy Cottage’s gardens were in comparison to my own.
There were drifts of new colour along the borders as the first of the spring flowers began to bloom; I could glimpse regimented rows of bamboo canes and a trellis laden with burgeoning something. I wished for a moment that I could sneak in and take a proper look. Perhaps if Bonnie hadn’t been there I might have risked it.
I went to the end of the garden and leaned over the fence and was startled when my mobile rang. It was Jess. I had received some texts and a couple of emails but this was the first phone call I’d had for a while.
‘At last! How’s it going, Lottie? Are you OK?’ She sounded just as scatty as ever. I could almost imagine her twirling her hair around her fingers and looking in the mirror for non-existent wrinkles as she spoke to me.
‘I’ve been trying to ring you for days. The signal down there is pants.’
‘Yes, fine, I’ve just been cleaning. I was wondering what to do with the junk in the garden?’
‘Greg will take it away. He’s on his way over in the van. That’s why I’m ringing. He’ll drop off your stuff and load up.’
Her voice sounded odd, as though she was putting on mascara as she was talking.
‘I don’t even know where the tip is. And there’s a stinking wet carpet…’
‘Oh, Lottie! Stop panicking. Greg will sort it out. He’s got that paint for you too. The chalky stuff you wanted. Mouse’s Bum and Coco something. Greg says they are grey and beige and I’m round the bend; thirty pounds for a tin when he can get big tubs of trade white for a fiver. His idea of cutting-edge design is woodchip and magnolia. I told him to beak out of it. I know you’re going to make the place look fab. I hope you’re still up for it?’
‘Yes, of course I am. Bring it on. I’m having a great time. ’
‘Greg might measure up for the new carpets when he gets there. He knows a bloke who will do him a deal. For God’s sake don’t let him buy brown, he doesn’t think there’s any other colour. What did you have in your old hallway? With the stripy wallpaper? Do you remember?’
‘Can’t remember, it was called Pumice, I think.’
I thought back. But all I could remember was that New Year’s Eve party.
Greg and Jess Palmer had been the last to arrive that night, bringing with them their own style and dress code. Their arrival almost caused Ian to trample on his other guests, he was so eager to get to them. Greg stood out in a smooth and expensive-looking dark suit and Jess looked like a high-end stripper in red sequins and studded stilettos. Ian wasn’t actually drooling but it was a pretty close thing.
‘I love this house,’ she purred as she slipped off her (at least I think it was fake) fur, revealing gleaming bronzed shoulders and most of her bosom. ‘Greg and I viewed a place just up the road when we was looking to move here. We always hoped this one would come on the market, if I’m honest. How long did you say you’d lived here?’
‘Nearly eight years, although Ian has been here about ten,’ I said.
We were becoming good friends by this point and now Ian had managed to get his hooks into Greg I had the feeling we might progress from just seeing the Palmers occasionally in the paper shop, the gym and the golf club to seeing a lot of them over the next few months as Ian and Greg blue-sky-thought together as to how best to invest Greg’s money.
‘I love this,’