‘He is still grumpy, and he still doesn’t like Christmas,’ she replied, trying to keep her voice casual. ‘To tell the truth, I’ve hardly seen him this week. He either goes out as soon as I arrive at Belthorn, or he shuts himself in the library to work.’
‘What does he work on?’
‘A training guide for helicopter pilots, I believe.’
The man was avoiding her, no doubt because of that awkward moment at Patterdale Farm when she had gawked at him like an enamoured teenager. She cringed every time she recalled it, which was often, and yet she still could do nothing to stop her heart from racing or stop her face from burning when she bumped into him at Belthorn.
‘Don’t worry, love, your hard work and lovely smile will win him round in the end,’ her mother said, ‘and Granddad’s jokes are sure to improve his mood. It can’t be pleasant for him being alone at Belthorn.’
Cassie nodded. ‘I made lots of new cushions, rearranged the furniture a bit, and bought a few new things to cheer the place up, and I even started sketching a few ideas.’
‘Darling, please don’t get carried away,’ her mother interrupted. ‘Remember what happened last time… and even if your drawings are good – which I’m sure they are,’ she added quickly, ‘you know very well that what Piers told you is true. If ever Charles and Gabrielle want to update the place, they will ask a proper designer, not—’
‘Not the local cleaning lady, is that what you mean?’ She couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice.
Her mother had the grace to look embarrassed on the screen. ‘Don’t say it like that. There’s nothing wrong with being a cleaner. I was a cleaner all my life and built up a nice little business that I passed onto you.’
‘I know, Mum, and I’m very grateful. I love running Bluebell Cleaning and I love helping people out.’ There was no point telling her mother that she would love being an interior designer even more.
After saying goodbye and switching off her laptop, Cassie warmed up some soup, cut a piece of bread, and sat down to eat whilst flicking through her notebook and the menus she had planned for Stefan. She was no great cook, and devising varied and tasty meals stretched her imagination to the limit. Perhaps she shouldn’t bother. It wasn’t as if Lambert had commented about her food over the last week, or about her cleaning, or any of the changes she had made to Belthorn for that matter…
She finished her tea and glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Only half past seven. The prospect of another evening alone made her want to cry. On an impulse, she reached out for her mobile and texted Salomé.
Fancy a drink at the pub? The answer came back almost immediately.
Good idea! I’ll text Cecilia. See you there. xxx
Feeling considerably more cheerful, she washed up, took the bin out through the back door, muttering when her key got jammed in the new lock Darren had fitted. Was the man actually able to fix anything at all?
She managed to pull her key free, and ran upstairs to shower and change into her new top and a pair of black jeans.
Her mobile rang as she was going out.
‘Cassie, you just have to help us!’ Rachel cried out.
‘What happened? Is it the boys… or Granddad?’
‘No, it’s our Kerry.’
Cassie drew in breath. ‘What has she done now?’
‘She saw photos of a Tarzan and Jane wedding in a bridal magazine at the dentist’s this morning, and now she wants one,’ Rachel said.
Cassie burst out laughing. ‘Are you kidding me?’
‘I wish I was. She wants to turn the campsite clubhouse into a jungle, with drum beats and fake monkeys.’
‘Why doesn’t she fly to that orangutan sanctuary she is sponsoring? There’ll be plenty of real monkeys there.’
‘You know she’s only keen on that charity because she thinks it will make her look good with Alastair’s trendy friends. She doesn’t really like monkeys. In fact, she would probably complain they look horrid and smell disgusting!’ Rachel paused. ‘Oh and by the way, she wants vines too.’
‘Whatever for? Alastair never wears anything but smart suits. I can’t imagine him swinging from the trees with nothing else but a loincloth. What’s more, it’s the middle of winter. Couldn’t Kerry pick a Narnia- or Frozen-themed wedding instead?’ Or an Alice in Wonderland wedding, she carried on silently, so that with a bit of luck she and her stuffy fiancé could disappear down the rabbit hole forever.
‘Stop laughing. It’s not funny. So, are you going to help? You’ll know what to do. After all, you’re an interior designer.’
‘No, I’m a cleaner.’
‘But you have your diploma, and you’ve done bit of decorating for people – Mason, Salomé, even Cecilia at The Studio. If someone can turn the clubhouse into a pretend jungle, it’s you. And before you ask, we did try to tell Kerry it was too late, but she threatened to cancel the wedding. Mum keeps crying and my dad locked himself in the barn with a bottle of whisky and is refusing to come out.’
That sounded like Rachel’s sister all right. The girl had a gift for creating havoc… and getting her own way in the end.
She sighed. It looked like she had no choice. ‘What’s your budget?’
Rachel stated a ridiculously low sum.
‘You must be joking. I couldn’t even buy paper napkins with that!’
‘I wish I was. Mum and Dad have already paid for the catering, the flowers, the dress and most of the honeymoon in Barbados, as well as a six-month sponsorship of the orangutan sanctuary. That’s all they can spare. So are you going to help?’
Cassie took a deep breath. However annoying Kerry could be, she was, in a roundabout way, family. ‘I’m not promising any miracles, or even any monkeys – real or fake – but I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thank you. You’re the best!’ Rachel screeched. Cassie could almost imagine her jumping up and down.
‘Don’t get too excited. I said I wasn’t promising any miracles. By the way, how do you find my granddad?’
She hadn’t told anyone, not even Rachel, about her grandfather’s increasingly frequent memory lapses.
‘He’s great, as usual.’
‘Does he seem distracted and forgetful to you?’
‘Not that I’ve noticed. He’s been helping Louis with his history homework, and Ollie with his maths, and there was nothing wrong with his dates or his timetables. Why do you ask?’
Cassie blew a relieved breath. ‘No particular reason. I’m glad he’s having a good time with the boys.’
‘Actually, we would like him to stay over until after the wedding. Tim and I haven’t had a night out alone together in ages and he offered to babysit. Would you mind?’
Although she didn’t relish the prospect of being alone for another week or so, Cassie could find no reason to object.
‘Great. So I’ll see you tomorrow night at the pub for our Kerry’s hen do at six o’clock sharp. I booked the taxi for eight, which will leave us plenty of time for a few drinks before we go to the restaurant. Remember to wear dungarees, a stripy top, and a bandana in your hair. The Bandanamama girls are back!’