“You seem like the sort of man who is in possession of a cotton handkerchief,” she’d teased him as she’d brought out the tea, and he’d given her a blankly uncomprehending look before replying, “I would prefer to be a man with a cotton handkerchief than one without.”
Again Lindy had wondered if this was his deadpan humour, but she had a feeling he was just being serious. Very serious.
“There must be some gossip,” Harriet insisted as they all sat down and Olivia came from behind the counter to take their orders.
“Well, there are two lovebirds in my class,” Lindy said in the voice of someone telling a secret. She grinned at Olivia who smiled and blushed. “They’re completely smitten.”
Harriet rolled her eyes. “You must mean Simon and Olivia, and we all know that. How could we not?” She gave Olivia an affectionate look. “The wedding is only three months away now.”
“Three and a half,” Olivia corrected with a smile. “Don’t panic me, Harriet! I’ve still got so much to do, but it’s not until after Christmas. Now what is everyone having?”
“Cream teas all around, I think,” Harriet said with an enquiring glance for everyone at the table. “Clotted cream and jam, please, and two scones each.”
“Two!” Ava exclaimed in mock horror. “Harriet, are you trying to fatten us all up?”
“One simply isn’t enough,” Harriet declared in the tone of someone stating a universal truth. Lindy decided not to contest the point. She could put away two scones easily, even if her waistline wouldn’t thank her for it.
As Olivia bustled away to prepare their cream teas and everyone settled more comfortably into their seats, Lindy glanced covertly at the group of women she was only just coming to call friends. There was Harriet, clearly a leader both of this little tribe as well as in the village; Lindy had already heard of the organisations she was running and the PR business she’d started.
Ava was another leader, in her own, understated way—oozing confidence and sex appeal in equal measure, voluptuous in the fourth month of her pregnancy.
Then there was Alice, who seemed younger than the others, with a fragile, blonde beauty and an ethereal air. She seemed to be growing into her role as lady of the manor, possessing a shy confidence that only occasionally wilted. Lastly there was Emily, the other resident of Willoughby Close; she’d moved in just a few months before Lindy. Like Alice, Emily was younger, quieter, possessing a sense of containment that bordered on wariness, although from all the snippets Lindy had heard, she seemed to have relaxed since coming to Wychwood-on-Lea and starting to date Owen Jones, the former owner of the village’s ‘rougher’ pub, which was now a pop-up pub in a van.
They all, Lindy suspected, had grown into themselves since moving to Wychwood-on-Lea, something Olivia had confirmed when Lindy had mentioned it.
“Willoughby Close seems to have that effect on people,” she’d said with a laugh. “At least it did on me.”
Which had, of course, made Lindy wonder if her new home would have a similar, magical effect on her. Would she grow in confidence? Gain a sense of serenity? Or maybe find true love?
She was smiling rather wryly to herself at the thought of any of those, but especially the last one, when Harriet once again broke in with a request for gossip. “So who is taking the ballroom dancing class?” she asked. “Besides Olivia and Simon?”
“Only a few other people.” Lindy took in all the avid expressions and wondered at divulging any personal details. “A variety of beginners,” she said in a tone that suggested she was done with the conversation, but Harriet didn’t seem to take the hint.
“Anyone interesting?” she asked with an over-the-top waggle of her eyebrows. “Anyone single?” For some stupid reason Lindy thought of Roger Wentworth and started to blush. “There is someone!” Harriet crowed gleefully and everyone leaned forward in expectant interest. Even worse, Lindy started to laugh. It tended to be her default in a lot of situations in life, which was sometimes good and sometimes—not.
“Who is it?” Ava asked with a throaty gurgle of laughter. “Because your face is on fire.”
“No, honestly, there’s no one,” Lindy managed when she’d got her gasps of laughter under control. “Absolutely no one. There’s one single man in the class and he’s—” She stopped abruptly, not wanting to gossip, and even more importantly, not wanting to say anything blatantly unkind about Roger Wentworth.
“He’s what?” Harriet asked and Lindy shook her head firmly.
“He’s not suitable.”
“That makes him all the more interesting,” Ava protested with a wicked glint in her eye and Lindy decided she needed to nip this one in the bud.
“No, really, he isn’t anyone I’d ever think that way about at all. Which is good, really, because he’s a pupil of mine and it would be inappropriate. So.” She let out a huff of breath, hoping she’d convinced everyone. They were looking somewhat sceptical.
“Olivia?” Harriet called finally, towards the counter where Olivia was assembling the pots of cream and jam. “What do you think? Who is this oh-so-unsuitable man in your dancing class?”
“There’s no one unsuitable, per se,” Olivia returned with a sympathetic look for Lindy, “although we’re all beginners.”
Laughingly Harriet threw up her hands. “I’m looking forward to meeting this guy. He sounds intriguing.”
Thankfully, and helpfully, Alice moved the conversation on, with an effort akin to pushing a very large boulder up a very steep hill. “You’re doing a children’s class too, aren’t you, Lindy?”
Lindy threw her a grateful look. “Yes, it starts next week.”
“Any other classes?” Harriet asked, and regretfully Lindy shook her head.
“No, sadly not. I was hoping for an intermediate class but there haven’t been any takers yet.”
“How did you get interested in ballroom dancing?” Ava interjected. “It’s such a cool hobby.”
“My dad, actually,” Lindy said. “He was a great dancer, and he taught me pretty much everything I know.” She smiled in memory. “When I got a bit older, I started taking lessons on my own, and I joined a ballroom dancing club up in Manchester.”
“Your dad must be so proud then,” Emily told her with a warm smile, and Lindy hesitated for a fraction of a second before surrendering to the inevitable.
“I know he would be,” she said in the firm, upbeat tone she’d learned to adopt for moments like these. “Unfortunately he died a long time ago. My mum, too.” Might as well get it over with in one fell swoop. Lindy was half-amazed this conversation hadn’t happened earlier; she’d been living here for two months, after all, but somehow the subject of her orphan status hadn’t come up. It didn’t always, when you hit your midthirties. Often she discovered she wasn’t the only one, which was a sight different from when she’d been nineteen and completely alone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Emily blurted, looking horrified by her seeming faux pas, and Lindy smiled at her in reassurance.
“Like I said, it was a long time ago.” She registered the usual spectrum of expressions, from stricken to sympathetic with a hefty dose of awkward thrown in. She was used to it. She was also used to the unabashed relief that washed everyone’s expressions clean when she told them it was a long time ago, implying she was completely over it. She certainly tried to be.