‘Do you want me to tell them what happened before we go?’
‘No!’
‘Okay,’ Luke said, amazed that she was even considering his suggestion.
‘One single question – or one odd look – and I’ll leave,’ Orla vowed.
‘Understood.’
Orla glared at him from across the room. ‘I don’t know how I let you talk me into these things, I really don’t.’
‘It must have something to do with my innate charm,’ Luke said with a grin.
Orla shook her head slowly and sighed out a huge sigh. ‘If it all goes horribly wrong, I’m locking you in the dungeon.’
‘Fair enough,’ Luke said. ‘I’m actually growing quite fond of it.’
Chapter 13
Orla didn’t quite know how she was feeling as they arrived at Oyster Cottage. She was nervous, of course, and could feel a whole meadow of butterflies fluttering inside her, but it was more than that – she felt like she was on the edge of a panic attack and that she was only just keeping it in check because of the calming presence of Luke by her side.
They’d walked through the village together, which was a feat in itself as Orla had never actually done that before. As always, she’d popped a big hat on her head and wore a pair of oversized sunglasses, looking like a fifties movie star who was trying to hide from the press. The outfit might well have masked her scars but, in a little English village, she soon realised that it only really succeeded in drawing attention to her, which was the very thing she was trying to avoid.
‘I rang ahead,’ Luke told her. ‘Bill’s delighted you’re coming and he’s promised to brief everybody before they arrive, so there won’t be any questions or undue attention.’
‘How can I be sure of that?’ Orla asked.
‘He’s a man of his word is Bill, isn’t he?’
‘But the others . . .’
‘I’m sure they’re all good people. There’s nothing to worry about.’
Orla wasn’t so sure and was beginning to regret her decision to come along with Luke, however well meaning it all was and no matter how many promises and assurances had been made.
It was Bill who greeted them at the door of Oyster Cottage, with Bosun by his side.
‘What a pleasure to see you, Miss Kendrick,’ he said.
Orla nodded. ‘Hello. Thank you for letting me come.’ She might be nervous, but she wasn’t going to forget her manners.
‘Our pleasure. Come and meet Margy.’
They were shown through to the kitchen, where Margy was hastily getting the tea things together.
‘Margy – this is Miss Kendrick.’
Margy put her polka-dot teapot down and her hands flew to her face. ‘My dear!’ she said, her face quite flushed now. ‘It’s so lovely to meet you. May I take your hat for you?’
Orla saw Luke visibly blanch and then look surprised as her hands reached up to remove the hat and smooth her dark hair around her face.
‘I’ll pop it on this hook by the door,’ Margy said, taking the hat and glancing only briefly at Orla’s face. ‘Why don’t you go through and meet everyone and make yourself comfortable?’
Orla almost laughed. The last thing she would feel tonight was comfortable.
‘Bill?’ Margy said as they were about to leave the room. ‘Take this up to Beth, will you? I promised her one.’ She passed her husband a plate with a large chocolate chip and raisin cookie on it, warm from the oven.
‘We have our granddaughter staying with us,’ he explained to them, ‘and she’s being spoilt rotten.’
‘Tell her to brush her teeth afterwards and to get straight into bed,’ Margy added.
Bill nodded. ‘I’ll just take these two through first.’
He led Orla and Luke through to the living room, where six other members were already seated. All looked up and smiled as they walked in.
‘Everybody, this is Miss Kendrick,’ Bill announced.
Orla, who was still wearing her sunglasses, turned to Bill. ‘I think you can call me Orla now.’
He nodded and smiled. There was a chorus of hellos from the room and she and Luke sat down on the sofa. Margy came through with tea and cookies for everyone and then sat down, picking up her knitting which, that evening, was sky blue and yellow. Introductions were made. Unsurprisingly, Orla had never seen any of these people before, but they all seemed friendly and polite and, thankfully, nobody stared at her. There was none of the awkwardness or fear in people’s eyes that she had been expecting and dreading and, for that, she was truly grateful.
Luke threw her a smile.
‘Okay?’ he whispered, and she nodded. So far, she was fine.
Once Bill rejoined them, the meeting started. Orla soon learned that it wasn’t a themed meeting, as Luke had told her the earlier one had been; it was more of an informal discussion about what people were growing in their gardens – the successes, the failures and what could be done even better. If there was one thing Orla soon picked up on from her neighbours, it was that gardeners were great optimists and, in spite of beasts, bugs and other natural disasters, they always planned ahead, with their hope and joy undiminished. She liked that and, much to her astonishment, she found she was smiling as the talk went on around her.
They talked about whether it was best to grow tomatoes in a greenhouse or outside, their favourite flowers to use when companion planting, the best way to keep pots hydrated when away from home during the summer and whose seed catalogues were the most beautiful and the best-value product – the two not often going hand in hand, it seemed – and Orla couldn’t help but make a few mental notes and determine to spend even more time in her own garden.
One of the older members of the group, George, sat forward on his chair. ‘So then, Luke – what are you growing in your garden?’
Luke wasn’t one to blush, but Orla could definitely see his face heating up at the question.
‘I’m ashamed to say that I couldn’t tell you. You see, that was my wife’s department.’
‘Plenty of time to learn,’ George told him.
Luke nodded. ‘I think there’s some lavender somewhere.’
There was a pause after he said this because nobody knew whether it was meant to be funny or not, and then Bill gave a chuckle and everybody joined in – including Luke, who was obviously able to see the humour in his ignorance.
‘Lavender’s a very good place to start,’ Margy said, and Luke seemed to relax a little. Orla smiled at him as he turned to look at her, then she did something that took her completely by surprise because she really hadn’t planned on doing it at all: she removed her sunglasses. There were a few quick glances, she noted, but more because of her sudden movement than because of what it revealed. Orla looked down into her lap, aware that she was causing a little ripple of sensation.
‘Any more tea, anyone?’ Margy asked, getting up and taking the attention away from her.
‘Oh, do let me help you,’ one of the other women said, and the two of them left for the kitchen.
Bill cleared his throat. ‘Talking of lavender,’ he said, ‘I’ve been thinking of growing Hidcote Pink. Any thoughts?’