She meant Ruby Sweetman, of course.
‘Yes, he’s quite a looker,’ replied Marnie. In fact, Herv Gunnarsen was too bloody handsome for his own good, even if he was far from her usual slim, suited, dark-haired, executive, dickhead type. Not every handsome man was a git, she knew, but – without exception so far – the ones who made her own pupils dilate seemed to be. She certainly wasn’t going to hop from a Justin frying pan into a Herv fire.
Herv had stopped the strimmer to rotate his shoulder. A very muscular shoulder, it had to be said. Marnie wondered if he was aware he had an audience and was doing his best Diet Coke-break-man impression.
‘He’s our newest addition,’ said Lilian. ‘We need more of them. Half of the properties in this village are empty. He’s from Norway.’
Ah, she was right then with her Scandinavia guess. ‘Did you find him on a cheesecake site too?’ asked Marnie, her own eyes twinkling now.
‘Actually, yes,’ replied Lilian.
‘No way.’
‘Of course I didn’t, you silly girl. He was a teacher. On an exchange visit at the school where Ruby Sweetman works. A very unhappy teacher, to boot. Herv’s heart wasn’t in it at all. Channelled into a career that was a bad fit for him, anyone could see that. He’s an outdoor boy, a fixer, a doer. Ruby brought him to the Wych Arms, I met him, we talked, I needed a groundsman. You can guess the rest.’
Marnie could imagine that meeting. Within five minutes of conversation starting up, Lilian would have winkled his life story out of him.
‘He’s a good man, Marnie. You could do much worse.’
Marnie turned her head around to Lilian to see if she was she joking and when she found her expression serious, she let loose a bark of laughter.
‘Lilian. As if I want to go down that road again.’
‘Oh, of course you will, you must,’ said Lilian with unveiled impatience. ‘Love is the reason God gave us hearts.’
‘And to pump blood around our bodies to keep us alive.’
‘A secondary function,’ Lilian pooh-poohed Marnie’s sensible notion. ‘Herv is one of those rare souls whose contents are as wonderful as the package they come in. As are you.’
Marnie gave another hard chuckle which infuriated Lilian. ‘Don’t you dare scoff at me, young lady. In some things I’m not as batty as I’m painted. I know a proper match when I see one. You’d be good for each other. He’s a gentle man and patient, kind, he’d court you, put you on a pedestal. And you’d have terrific sex.’
‘Lilian!’
‘Darling girl, of course you would. It’s the best thing ever when there is parity in a relationship. Not that you’d know with your past choices. You’re too content with crumbs from the table. As was Herv with that tramp of a wife of his. She left him for his best friend, can you believe? Smashed his heart. Then came crawling back. Luckily, by then, he didn’t want her and that broke hers.’
‘Yes, well, Cupid is a bit of an arse, Lilian. He fires his golden arrows into some and his lead ones into others for the hell of it. Given a choice I think we’d all fall for the good ones, the nice guys, but life isn’t like that.’
‘I know, and unrequited love is the cruellest of things,’ Lilian paused then to pop a raspberry into her mouth before continuing. ‘Ruby Sweetman would marry Herv tomorrow, yet he has no feelings for her. But he took an instant shine to you. Asked me all sorts of questions about you after the crowning of the May Queen.’
Marnie didn’t tell Lilian that her first impression of Herv was that he was the village numpty, but she held her hand up to stop Lilian saying more.
‘I don’t want to know. I’m taking a break from men for a very long time.’
She would have to be careful though if what Lilian said was true because she didn’t want to lead anyone on. She knew how being on the begging, ever-hopeful end of a relationship felt only too well. She had a PhD in the subject. She would avoid Lilian’s gardener like the plague until any misguided affections withered and died on his vine. ‘I’m sure your Herv is wonderful, Lilian, but I’m not interested.’
Lilian thought about that for a second and then conceded. ‘You’re right of course. You need time to recalibrate your gauges. They’re very off track. Now, eat your meringue,’ she commanded. ‘No more talk of unhappiness or of love one cannot have. This, as they say, is the first day of the rest of your life.’
‘Precisely.’ Dear, well-meaning Lilian, thought Marnie. How could she really know the nature of love, having spent her whole sixty-six years in this quaint Wychwell prison? How could she really know anything of life?
Chapter 15
It didn’t take Marnie long to unpack the car and move into Little Raspberries. By teatime her new kitchen cupboards were full of her baking equipment, her clothes were hanging in the wardrobe and her sheets were on the bed. The bedroom was at the back of the cottage and two deep bay windows afforded a view of the newly clipped lawn and the stream. It would be nice to be able to pull back the curtains in the mornings and not worry about seeing Suranna Fox standing on the street with a chainsaw.
She made herself a coffee and settled down with her new book: Country Manors Part One – Buyers and Cellars, which was nothing like as innocent as it sounded. ‘Makes Fifty Shades of Grey look like one shade of beige’, was its tagline. The author, Penelope Black, wrote about the comings – literally – and goings of a small English village, complete with a devastatingly handsome lord of the manor and what he liked to get up to in his specially adapted cellar with the local women, whose stupid husbands were blissfully unaware of what was going on under their noses. It was riveting stuff and the series had taken the world by storm.
She felt truly relaxed until someone knocked on the front door and she almost shot out of her skin and she knew she wasn’t out of the stress and anxiety woods yet. She opened it up to find Lionel Temple there, dog collar in place at his throat, bottle of wine in his hand.
‘Hello, Lion . . . Mr Lion . . . I mean Mr Temple,’ she stuttered, not quite sure what best to call him.
He chuckled. ‘You can call me Lionel, Mr Lion if you prefer. I don’t want to disturb you, but—’
‘Come in, do, please,’ said Marnie.
Lionel stepped over the threshold and wiped his feet on the doormat.
‘My, it feels lived in already. And smells like it too.’ He took a long sniff upwards.
‘I’ve not long since put a pot of coffee through, would you like one?’ asked Marnie.
‘I would, thank you. That’s no ordinary coffee smell.’ He followed her into the kitchen where Marnie took a mug from the cupboard and filled it from her trusty old machine.
‘It’s caramel coffee. Is that okay?’
‘Sounds wonderful.’ He handed her the bottle. It had a rustic label on it, the writing calligraphic. ‘Last season’s bilberry,’ he explained. ‘It trounced David’s rhubarb and ginger in the Christmas taste session.’
Marnie laughed. ‘Thank you. I can open it if you’d rather.’
Lionel declined the offer. ‘No, that’s for you. A welcome to your new home present.’