Falling for you

Entertained, he said, ‘You haven’t seen Sophie’s headmistress. Anne Robinson on a broomstick.’

‘Well, I’d better be going too.’ Kate gave Norris’s lead another tug, before Jake could start telling her all about the stunning girl he’d arranged to meet tonight. Across the road she saw that Oliver had finished settling up; if he and Will made their way over now, Will would be bound to say something excruciating.

‘So who is he?’ Clearly curious, Jake nodded over at Will. ‘He makes documentaries. He’s doing one on my dad. He’ll be filming around here too,’ said Kate.

‘Filming?’ Jake let out a low whistle. ‘Anyone with something to hide had better watch out then.’

‘Does that include you?’ Kate couldn’t resist the dig. ‘Not me.’ He flashed her a wicked grin.

‘Luckily, I’m not the secretive type.’

‘Who’s he?’ said Will.

Honestly, and women were supposed to be the nosy ones. ‘Local coffin-maker. Thinks he’s it. I’m taking Norris home,’ said Kate, because Norris was casting lovelorn looks over his burly shoulder at Bean and she didn’t trust him not to drag her back across the road.

‘We won’t be long,’ said Oliver. ‘Just a quick tour of the town then we’ll be back.’

Sophie and Tiff were playing with a cardboard box on the pavement outside the Peach Tree.

‘Takes me back a bit,’ Oliver said jovially as he and Will approached the delicatessen.

‘Playing with cardboard boxes because we couldn’t afford proper toys.’ He liked to exaggerate the circumstances of his childhood, play up the poverty aspect. ‘Hello there, you two, having fun? This is Sophie, by the way, our housekeeper’s granddaughter. And Tiff is the son of Juliet, who owns the deli.’

‘Hi,’ said Will, eyeing the box with its letterbox-sized slit in the top. ‘Playing postmen?’

Sophie shot him a pitying look. ‘It’s a toll booth.’

‘It costs fifty pence to get into the shop,’ said Tiff.

‘No it doesn’t,’ an exasperated female voice called out from inside the delicatessen. ‘Tiff, let them in.’

Tiff and Sophie gazed up at Oliver.

‘Outrageous opportunism,’ Oliver tut-tutted, pulling a handful of coins from his trouser pocket and slipping them into the box. Sophie and Tiff exchanged smug glances — Oliver Taylor-Trent was always a soft touch. Then their eyes swivelled in unison to fix upon his younger, scruffier companion.

‘Don’t look at me,’ Will protested. ‘I’m like the Queen, I never carry cash.’

‘Appalling children,’ sighed Juliet, appearing in the doorway and ushering in her potential customers. ‘You shouldn’t give them any money.’

‘Nonsense,’ Oliver said briskly. ‘Couple of young entrepreneurs in the making. Reminds me of myself when I was young.’

‘More like a couple of highway robbers.’ Juliet smiled apologetically at Will. ‘What must you think of us?’

It didn’t take a mind-reader to guess what Will was thinking. Juliet was wearing a white, peasant-style Indian cotton blouse and a swirling calf-length skirt strewn with poppies. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose glossy plait. Her eyes, darker still, were alight with gentle humour. Oliver, watching Will’s reaction to Juliet, wondered whether it was those eyes or her glorious hourglass figure that appealed to him most.

‘How’s business?’ Oliver said easily.

‘Oh, pretty good. We get by.’ Dimples appeared in Juliet’s cheeks. ‘I’m sure trade will pick up now that you’re back.’

‘Funny you should mention it. Estelle forgot to buy Parma ham this morning.’

‘Customers with expensive tastes and more money than sense,’ Juliet told Will cheerfully as she crossed to the chill cabinet, ‘are my favourite kind. Three packets or four?’

Oliver thought about it. ‘Better make it six.’

‘Gravlax?’

‘Go on then.’

‘How about those olives you like?’

‘You’ve twisted my arm.’

‘And we’ve got the most amazing Sevruga caviar.’

‘Now you’re pushing your luck,’ said Oliver.

‘Oh well, worth a try.’ Juliet laughed as she rang up his purchases on the till and expertly packed them into a Peach Tree brown paper carrier with string handles. ‘Thanks very much, I’ll put it on your account. And we look forward to seeing you again soon.’

‘Bye, Mr Taylor-Trent,’ chorused Tiff and Sophie as they left the shop.

‘Bye,’ said Oliver. ‘Don’t spend it all at once.’

‘It wasn’t that much money,’ Sophie told him. ‘Only three pounds twenty pee.’

‘Wow,’ breathed Will, when they were out of eavesdropping range of the children. ‘I mean ...

wow.’

‘ She has that effect on men,’ Oliver agreed. ‘I tell you, if I were twenty years younger, I’d be tempted myself.’

‘It’s not just her. This whole ... place.’ As Will Gifford spread his arms to encompass