Sunshine Over Bluebell Cliff Page 9

  Her eyes sparkled in amusement and suddenly they were both laughing.

  ‘I have missed you, Gran,’ Clara said. ‘Have you heard from Grandad lately?’

  ‘I may have done,’ she said in her most deadpan voice.

  ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘Eric is perfectly fine. Don’t you go worrying yourself about him.’ She touched her hearing aid. ‘One more word about him and I’m taking this out.’

  Clara nodded. She knew better than to push the subject of Grandad. If she wasn’t careful, Gran would clam up completely. Stubbornness and an intense dislike of being told what to do was something else they had in common. That must also have skipped a generation because both her parents were much more laid-back.

  ‘So, tell me some more about this matchmaking agency. Is it online?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. What do I know about computers? No, it’s one of those old-fashioned ones. It’s run by this very nice woman who looks more like a beautician than anything else. Done up to the nines she was when she called on me.’

  ‘Sounds OK,’ Clara said, pulling her knees up onto the settee, not surprised that Gran approved. Standards were another thing she was always banging on about.

  ‘One must have standards,’ her grandmother said on cue. ‘There’s not enough importance attached to them, these days. But I liked Anastasia, I have to say.’

  Clara sat bolt upright in her chair. ‘Did you say Anastasia? Hang on a minute.’ Seconds later, she was rummaging in her bag. ‘Did she have a card like this?’ She must have done. There couldn’t be two Anastasias surely. Mind you, there had been three Sids, so anything was possible. She pulled it out triumphantly and handed it over to her grandmother, who had to get her reading glasses on before she could see it properly.

  ‘Yes, that’s her. That’s the woman. Happy Ever After. That’s her company. Not that there is such a thing – er hem – as we all know.’ Her old eyes clouded fleetingly. ‘That’s just in fairy tales.’ She pursed her lips.

  ‘I thought she was a reporter.’

  ‘With a company name like that?’

  ‘I didn’t know that was her company name. I was hiding behind my shed at the time.’

  ‘You’re surely not talking about that shed at the bungalow. There isn’t room to get a broomstick behind there.’

  ‘I know,’ said Clara, remembering when she’d first moved in and had given Gran a guided tour. ‘I was hiding from her because I thought she was a reporter and I had my T-shirt on inside out. Not to mention back to front – oh, it’s a long story. Anyway, never mind that now. Clearly she isn’t a reporter at all. Unless she’d got a sideline.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought she had.’

  ‘I was joking, Gran.’

  ‘I know you were. And sarcasm doesn’t suit you, angel.’

  ‘The thing is though… what was the owner of a matchmaking company doing at Kate’s bungalow?’ Clara asked, bemused.

  ‘Maybe she was looking for Kate.’

  ‘She wasn’t. She asked for me by name.’

  ‘And you’re quite sure you didn’t invite her?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t invite her. I don’t want to end up with three Sids.’

  Gran chortled. ‘Touché.’

  There was a little pause while they both looked at each other in a silence that was only disturbed by the ticking of the old-fashioned clock above the little fireplace.

  ‘In that case,’ Gran said, taking off her glasses and polishing them thoughtfully. ‘There’s only one other person who could have invited her.’

  ‘And who’s that?’

  She perched her glasses back on her nose and looked at Clara.

  ‘The same person who invited her to come and see me. Your sister, Rosanna.’

  10

  Clara had wanted to phone Rosanna up straight away and have it out with her, but her grandmother had stopped her.

  ‘Don’t be too hard on her. You know her heart’s in the right place. She just wants you to be as happy as she and Ed are. She liked that Will chappie, didn’t she, although I could see why you didn’t keep him on – he was too wishy-washy and clingy for you. You need someone strong. A proper partner, not a piece of climbing ivy.’

  She had hugged Clara then and Clara had smelled the face powder on her cheek and felt the bony fragility of her shoulders. ‘Thanks, Gran. You always put things in perspective.’

  If she hadn’t been so tired, she may have driven over to Rosanna’s, but that would probably have been a bad idea. As Gran had also pointed out, ‘Haven’t you already upset someone today by saying something controversial? You’re tired out, my angel. What with all the dramas you’ve had lately, it isn’t surprising. Go and have a nice hot bath and a glass of that disgusting fizzy wine you youngsters like so much. Nothing matters half as much as you think it does.’

  ‘How did you get so wise?’

  Gran tapped her pointy nose. ‘You don’t get to seventy-seven without learning a thing or two.’

  ‘You’re seventy-six.’

  ‘Only for another three weeks! Now, be off with you!’

  So, for once in her life, Clara decided to do exactly what she was told. When she got home, she had a hot bath, followed by a glass of Prosecco, followed by a cuddle in her dressing gown with Foxy – dogs were always understanding – and then she went to bed.

  In the morning, feeling refreshed and in a good mood, Clara decided she would spend her weekend off doing what her mother called, ‘getting your ducks in a row’. Well, actually her mother called it ‘getting your dogs in a show’, which Clara preferred, being a fan of canines, and which worked nearly as well, as it still meant you were organising and making preparations – one of her favourite activities.

  She would phone Will and, unlike yesterday’s debacle with Adam, this time she would be ultra-diplomatic and tactful. Never let it be said that she didn’t learn from her mistakes. She should probably phone Adam too and apologise again. See if she could get him back on an even keel. It couldn’t be easy having a sick brother to worry about.

  She would buy Gran a seventy-seventh birthday present.

  She would buy Rosanna a thirty-ninth birthday present – it was hers a week after Gran’s.

  She would also phone Rosanna and practise being diplomatic and tactful some more, although she would make it obvious she was still slightly cross about Anastasia Williams.

  Maybe she would phone Rosanna before she did the present shopping, as it may affect her decision on what to buy. No, that was mean. Gran was right. Her sister’s heart was usually in the right place. She just had a habit of being a meddler when it came to other people’s love lives.

  If it wasn’t for Rosanna, Gran may have got back with Grandad too and not have gone on dates with all those Sids. No, she probably wouldn’t. Gran was the last person you could coerce into doing anything against her will, that was for sure.

  Clara had a feeling that Gran might very well take Grandad back once she had finished proving that she could manage perfectly well without him, thank you very much. She was sure that’s what the Sids had really been about. Gran wasn’t the kind of woman who had ever been defined by a man. She loved the bones of Grandad, but she had never been the needy, helpless type.

  Grandad had come out of all this in a lot worse position, emotionally, than Gran and he certainly still loved her. ‘I’ve been such a fool,’ he had said to Clara last time they had chatted. ‘It was one of those stupid old man moments. There was this attractive woman making eyes at me. I let it go to my head. I lost sight of what was important.’

  Clara had hugged him tightly and sympathised and murmured appropriate responses, which was what she knew their whole family was doing, but she also knew that neither she, nor Rosanna, nor Mum and Dad would make things any better by interfering, however tempting it was.

  She decided to phone Adam first before she lost her nerve. She was half relieved and half disappointed when his voicemail kicked in. She put on he
r most professional voice. ‘Hello, this is Clara King, manager of the Bluebell Cliff. Thank you so much for coming by yesterday. It was much appreciated. I just wanted to reiterate that I did not mean to cause offence or to in any way imply that you had anything to do with what happened at the Bluebell. I do apologise if I implied otherwise.’

  That should do it. She hung up feeling a lot lighter.

  Then, leaving a disappointed Foxy behind, she went into Poole to do her shopping. Swanage was closer, but there was less choice and today she was in the mood to get lost amongst crowds of anonymous shoppers. Poole had a big undercover shopping centre as well as a department store on several floors where they had perfume counters and lots of different retail outlets and quite often seventy-per-cent sales. It was worth keeping an eye on what designer bags actually cost when they were new. Not that she was thinking of buying any more at the moment.

  She bought Gran some Clarins face cream and a rather beautiful half-price cashmere cardigan in the perfect shade of plum. She would love it. And who knew how many more birthdays you would have when you got to seventy-seven, even though her gran was amazing for her age. She bought Rosanna a teal scarf and then decided to splash out on some Jimmy Choo perfume too. However annoying Rosanna could be sometimes, she was still her sister and, as Gran had said, her heart was in the right place.

  Feeling in good spirits and warmed by her own generosity, Clara decided to call on Will on the way home. She could phone Rosanna later. Tonight she had an appointment with a box set and a pizza. The diet could start again tomorrow and, according to her FunFit, she had walked 9,500 steps today. That was without Foxy’s second walk. She had decided to overlook the fact that it wasn’t entirely trustworthy.

  When she got to Will’s, she could see that his car wasn’t in the drive again, but she parked outside anyway. That was odd. He was almost always in on a Saturday teatime. He was a creature of routine and didn’t like missing meals. He usually watched an episode of Doctor Who with a tray on his lap.

  Mind you, it was still only just five. Maybe he was on his way back. She got out her phone and called him. To her surprise, the phone didn’t ring. Instead, she got a tinny voice saying, ‘It has not been possible to connect your call. Please check and try again.’

  Frustrated, she got out of her car and went up to the front door. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for. He clearly wasn’t there. She moved along to the bay windows on her right. The net curtains were long, but it was possible to see through if you stood close enough. With one foot in the flower beds, she leaned across the lavender, its distinctive scent in her nostrils, and peered through. Her heart thumped in surprise. The furniture was familiar, but there was nothing out of place. Not a single thing. That wasn’t like Will. He was perpetually messy. It was another thing they didn’t have in common.

  Had he moved house and left all his furniture behind? She went back to the front door and stared through the frosted glass and then, finally, feeling slightly guilty, she bent to look through the letter box. On the mat was a pile of mail, some of it with his name on. She hoped nothing had happened to him. She may not have wanted a relationship with the guy, but she did still care about him.

  As she was straightening up, a middle-aged woman came out of the house next door. ‘Are you all right there, love? Who are you looking for?’

  ‘Will Lightfoot,’ Clara said, not recognising her.

  ‘He’s gone away.’ The woman, who was clearly on her way out, buttoned up her jacket. ‘Some round-the-world trip, lucky beggar. I’m looking after the house for him.’

  ‘I see. Right. Thanks.’ So he’d gone alone then! Blimey! ‘Do you know when he’s coming back?’

  ‘No, to be honest, I don’t. It was all a bit of a rush job. Poor chap had a bad break-up with his girlfriend. Heartbroken he was. I think he just wanted to get away and sort himself out. She was a real witch, from what I can gather.’ She rested her elbows on the fence between the two houses and looked at Clara properly. ‘Oh, ’eck, that wasn’t you, was it?’

  ‘No,’ Clara lied swiftly. ‘I’m just a friend. Thanks for your help though.’

  She got back into her car. That was that then. There was no way on earth she was going to find out if Will had anything to do with that video now.

  ‘I think it makes it more likely that he did have something to do with it,’ Rosanna said when Clara filled her in on the phone. ‘Hell hath no fury like a man scorned – it’s not just women. I think men can be worse. They tend to have bigger egos, and you dumped him. Twice effectively. It was a parting shot.’

  ‘It could have been, I suppose.’

  ‘Why else would he change his phone number?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I guess it’s immaterial now.’ She hadn’t thought he would be that vindictive, but he’d been upset enough to tell his neighbour she was a witch.

  ‘On the bright side,’ Rosanna continued relentlessly, ‘he probably isn’t going to do anything else. He’ll be too busy on his world trip. Travelling changes your perspective.’

  ‘Yes,’ Clara said. ‘So I hear.’ She took a deep breath and settled herself more comfortably on her sofa. ‘I want to talk to you about Anastasia Williams.’

  ‘Ah,’ Rosanna said. ‘She called you then. She was quick off the mark. I only mentioned it a couple of weeks ago in passing.’

  ‘She didn’t phone me. She turned up at Kate’s bungalow. Twice. I thought she was a flaming reporter.’

  ‘She doesn’t look anything like a reporter,’ Rosanna said in amazement. ‘So how did it go? You didn’t mind, did you? I thought it would be a good diversion for you. What with everything that’s been going on. She’s ever so nice. She’s one of the mums at school. She’s also on the board of governors. She’s one of the most organised people I’ve ever met. She reminded me of you actually. A proper career woman, but a supermum as well. Did you click with her?’

  ‘No. We got off on completely the wrong foot.’

  ‘What? But why?’ There was a note of panic in Rosanna’s voice now. ‘You can’t have done. She’s lovely. You didn’t upset her, did you? She said she’d fit you in as a big favour to me before she went on holiday.’

  ‘Well, maybe you should have warned me that she was coming,’ Clara said, feeling gratified at the sound of Rosanna’s agitation and wondering if that made her a bad person. ‘Then I would have answered the door instead of hiding behind the shed.’

  ‘I assumed she would phone first— What do you mean you hid behind the shed?’

  Clara told her what had happened. The silence got cooler, even down the phone line, especially when she got to the point about pretending to be a haughty gardener.

  ‘Oh my God. Well, I suppose that’s one saving grace. She didn’t know it was you.’

  ‘She will do though, won’t she, when I phone her back and say I want to be signed up to her dating agency. She’ll most likely think I’m a raving lunatic. Not to mention a compulsive liar.’ Clara was starting to enjoy herself.

  ‘You can’t phone her back. No. Please don’t. I’ll get in touch with her. I’ll cancel it.’

  ‘But won’t she think it’s odd?’

  ‘No. I’ll tell her you’ve changed your mind. I’ll tell her you’ve got back with your ex or left the country or something.’

  ‘That’s a shame. Now I’ve had a chance to consider it, I think you’re right. I ‘d like to join a proper dating agency. One where they interview you about your ideal mate. It’s got to have a better chance of working than just meeting someone randomly. And if this Anastasia is as good as you say she is…’

  Foxy had wandered across to say hello and Clara stroked her soft ears.

  ‘I’ll pay for you to join another one,’ Rosanna was saying. ‘There are loads. You don’t have to join Anastasia’s.’

  Clara left it a beat. She had no intention of joining any kind of dating agency: online, offline, speed dating, singles nights, supper clubs, but she hadn’t heard Rosanna so
rattled for ages and maybe this would stop her interfering.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said, deciding it was time she let her off the hook. ‘I don’t want another man in my life. And I’m not so sure Gran does either.’

  ‘Did she say that?’

  ‘No, she didn’t, but you know it’s true. She’s going to get back with Grandad when she’s ready. Throwing all those Sids at her is just muddying the waters.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right.’ There was another little pause. ‘I’ve mucked up, haven’t I? I’m really sorry, Sis. I know I can get carried away sometimes. I didn’t mean to make things any more complicated for you. Or for Gran.’

  That was something else that Clara admired about her sister. She might have bull-in-a-china-shop tendencies, but she always apologised unreservedly if she thought she was wrong.

  ‘You’re forgiven,’ she said softly. ‘There’s no harm done.’

  ‘No. I guess you’re right. I’ll stop interfering. I’ll have a word with Gran. And I’ll cancel Anastasia as far as you’re concerned.’

  ‘Thanks. Have a lovely, rest of the weekend.’

  ‘I will. You too, Sis.’

  As Clara put the phone down, it beeped and she realised someone had called and left a message while she’d been talking to Rosanna.

  It was Adam. The signal wasn’t very good and she could hear plates clattering in the background. He must be at work then, but she did make out the words, ‘Thanks for ringing. Your apology is accepted.’

  That was a good result. In fact, quite a lot of good had come out of today.

  Will was well and truly out of the picture.

  Gran wouldn’t have to date any more Sids.

  Rosanna wouldn’t interfere with her love life again.