Sweet Surrender

Kate’s mouth compressed. ‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t make a habit of it.’

‘Is there someone else, then?’

She shrugged impatiently. ‘You know perfectly well I see Toby Anderson and Phil Dent when I’m home.’

Adam rolled his eyes. ‘The accountant and the sports master. Wild passionate affairs both, of course.’

‘How do you know what they’re like?’ said Kate indignantly.

‘Because you go out with both of them. I can’t see you leaping in and out of bed with two blokes, turn and turn about!’

Kate gave him a shove, laughing. ‘Not everyone wants wild, passionate affairs.’

‘How about marriage, then?’

‘One day, maybe,’ she said lightly. ‘At the moment I’m happy with my role of maiden aunt to the Dysart young.’

CHAPTER THREE

NEXT morning, Fenny knocked on Kate’s door and came in with two mugs of tea, then perched, yawning, on the end of the bed.

‘This is very good of you,’ said Kate, surprised. ‘Thanks, Fen.’

‘My pleasure. So how are things, schoolteacher?’ Fenny’s green eyes sparkled below a tangled mass of hair as dark as Kate’s. ‘Life in the sticks as scintillating as usual?’

‘A laugh a minute,’ agreed Kate, and sat up to drink her tea. ‘Who drove you home last night?’

‘Prue’s boyfriend. She came home for the weekend, too.’

‘But she lives in Marlborough.’

‘After he dropped her off he insisted on driving me all the way here, so who was I to refuse?’

‘You should have invited him in to supper.’

‘No way.’ Fenny grinned. ‘Time for that when it’s my boyfriend, not someone else’s.’

‘You’re incorrigible!’

‘But cute with it.’

‘Oh, yes,’ sighed Kate. ‘You’re cute, all right. But don’t push your luck, Fen.’

‘With blokes, you mean? Don’t worry. I’m quite sensible really. And I’m going to wear a skirt today.’

‘No! I suppose that means I have to as well, then.’

‘I bet you were anyway, Miss Sobersides.’

Kate gave her a sharp look. ‘Is that how you see me?’

‘Lately, yes,’ said Fenny candidly. ‘So for heaven’s sake let that gorgeous hair down today, Kate—literally, I mean—and wear something to knock the vicar’s eye out.’

‘Is that why you brought me the tea? So you could give me a pep talk about my looks?’

‘I brought the tea,’ said Fenny indignantly, ‘out of the goodness of my heart!’

Kate laughed. ‘Then thank you kindly.’

‘I wonder if Adam and Gabriel got any sleep last night? That baby has a powerful pair of lungs.’ Fenny slid off the bed and stretched. ‘I shall be back shortly with your breakfast.’

‘You will not! I’m getting up—’

‘Mother said you’re to stay where you are for a bit. Best place to be; it’s freezing outside. I hope you brought your thermals.’ Fenny paused in the doorway. ‘By the way, Gabriel and the grandmas are wearing hats—Leo, too.’

Kate groaned. ‘No one told me.’

‘Mother was discussing it downstairs with Dad just now. I think she has something in mind for you.’

‘Don’t tell me she’s bought me a hat?’

Fenny giggled. ‘If so you’ll just have to grin and wear it!’

But Frances Dysart, it transpired, had not gone shopping for a hat. She arrived a little later with a breakfast tray, and Fenny, eyes dancing, following behind with a large hat box.

‘The godmother really should wear a hat, Kate,’ said Frances the traditionalist, and laid the tray across her daughter’s knees. ‘I know you don’t have one, so I had a search on top of the cupboards in our dressing room. Open the box, Fenny.’

Rolling her eyes at Kate behind her mother’s back, Fenny removed several layers of silver paper from a striking hat in pale, dark-spotted fur.

‘Wow,’ said Kate faintly. ‘Please tell me that’s fake ocelot, Mother!’

‘Of course it is. Though the polite word is faux, darling.’

Kate eyed it doubtfully. ‘Do you really think it’s me?’

‘You’ll look great in it,’ said Fenny unexpectedly. ‘Lots of make-up on your eyes and the hat worn dead straight above them—very sexy!’

‘I’m not sure that was my intention,’ said Frances dryly. ‘But she’s right, Kate. You’ll look perfect. Now, eat your breakfast.’

‘I can’t remember you in anything like that, Mother.’

‘It was Grandma Dysart’s, bought for a winter wedding. She had a coat with matching cuffs—there’s a photograph somewhere.’ Frances shooed Fenny to the door. ‘Right, then, Kate, we’ll see you later.’

Kate ate her breakfast thoughtfully, her eyes on the hat on the dressing table. At last she could resist it no longer, and got out of bed, brushed her hair back behind her ears and pulled on the hat. Relieved to sniff lavender instead of camphor, she stood back, eyeing the result. Even with striped pyjamas, and without layers of eye make-up, the fur hat was dramatic. And surprisingly flattering.

When Kate got downstairs she found Mrs Briggs, her mother’s cleaner, dealing with potatoes in the kitchen sink while Frances carved slices from a ham. Kate greeted Mrs Briggs affectionately, put her breakfast things in the dishwasher, then demanded a job.

‘You can slice the turkey, if you like,’ said her mother.