The Heir’s Chosen Bride

CHAPTER SEVEN

WHAT followed were a couple of very strained days. Susie and Hamish skirted each other with extreme caution.

They spent the mornings at the beach-well, why wouldn’t they as the beach was there and gorgeous? Taffy loved it. Rose loved it. Hamish loved it. He admitted that to himself but, hell, it was a strain. Susie was a small indignant puff of offence and she treated the beach as if they’d put a fence down the middle, with strictly segregated His and Hers zones. When he offered to take care of Rose to give her time to swim she accepted graciously-as if she was granting him a favour-but she flounced out to sea and flounced back, and ignored him in the interim.

‘I didn’t mean to offend you,’ he told her.

‘You didn’t offend me. You merely implied I saw you as husband material. As nothing could be further from the truth, I believe we need to keep things formal.’

Right. Formal.

By the time Marcia arrived on Monday evening he was almost relieved. Anything to break the formality.

Marcia arrived with Jake. Jake had gone up to Sydney for a one-day pain management conference, and as the times fitted perfectly, he’d offered to collect Marcia from the airport and bring her down. So at eight on Monday night Hamish strolled out to the castle forecourt to greet his fiancée.

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he said as she emerged from Jake’s truck. He hugged her elegantly suited body close and kissed her-so deeply that he caught her by surprise. When the kiss ended she pulled back and looked astonished.

‘Wow,’ she said, touching her lips like they were bruised. ‘It’s only been a few days.’

‘I’ve missed you.’

‘Is the widow watching?’

The widow. It took him a minute to catch that but realised, of course, Marcia would think he was playing for an audience. Since he’d implied…

‘Have you warned Marcia about our Susie?’ Jake asked, sounding interested, and Hamish grimaced.

‘I haven’t told Marcia anything.’

‘Only that the whole place is expecting you to marry her,’ Marcia said smoothly. ‘You might as well say it like it is, sweetheart. Keep things out in the open so there’s no misunderstanding.’

‘No misunderstanding,’ Jake said blankly. ‘Right.’

‘Um…good trip?’ Hamish said, feeling desperate. ‘Have you two found lots to talk about?’

‘I slept all the way,’ Marcia said. She turned to Jake and gave him her loveliest smile, which was only slightly patronising. ‘Thank you so much. I’m afraid I was very boring.’

‘Not at all,’ Jake told her politely. ‘I’ll leave you to your Hamish, then, shall I?’

‘That would be kind.’ Peasantry dismissed.

‘Right, then,’ Jake said, and with a wry grin he folded his long body back into the driver’s seat of his battered Land Cruiser, gave a salute of acknowledgement and left.

‘That was a bit brusque,’ Hamish said, frowning as Jake backed out of the forecourt. ‘Did you two not find anything to talk about at all?’

‘Honestly, darling, he’s a family doctor. I don’t even have any bunions to talk about.’

‘I guess not.’

Marcia was out of her territory, he thought, suppressing irritation. She wasn’t normally this brittle. Maybe she was just better among her own kind.

He was her kind, he remembered. This was the woman he intended marrying. He loved her cool, sophisticated humour. She was so intelligent…

‘So where’s the widow?’ she asked.

‘Inside. I’ll take you to meet her.’

But she hung back, taking a moment to absorb the whole moonlit scene, the fairy-tale castle, the mountains behind, the fabulous coastline.

‘This will sell for a mint,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, Hamish, imagine this in Vogue Traveller. Your own little Scottish castle without all those horrid fogs and bogs and midges of Scotland.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with Scotland,’ he said, and startled himself by how fervent he sounded.

‘You’ve never been to Scotland.’

‘No, but I’m a direct descendant…’

She gave a peal of laughter and tucked her hand into his arm. ‘You’ve become the Lord of Loganaich,’ she said affectionately. ‘My very own earl, defending the land of his forebears. Any minute now you’ll be up on the turrets playing your bagpipes.’

He grinned, relaxing a little. ‘I do wear a mean kilt.’

‘This I have to see.’

‘You need to meet Susie first.’

‘The widow. OK, let’s get the scary part over and then get down to the fun part. This place sounded good on paper but in reality… Wow! Let’s figure what this pile is really worth!’

The meeting between Susie and Marcia was not an unqualified success. Susie was in the kitchen, cleaning up. She greeted Marcia with cautious courtesy. Marcia responded in kind-while clinging to Hamish’s arm with proprietorial affection-and then Susie excused herself.

‘There’s steak in the fridge, Hamish, if Marcia’s hungry. I’d cook it but-’

‘But I do a better steak than you do,’ Hamish told her, smiling encouragingly. Wishing she didn’t look so tense. Wishing he hadn’t told Marcia there was a problem.

Wishing Marcia wasn’t clinging quite so close.

‘I’ll go to bed, then,’ Susie said, and Marcia glanced at her watch, astonished.

‘It’s only eight.’

‘Susie’s recovering from injuries,’ Hamish said, and then wished he hadn’t said that as well, as Susie flashed him a look of anger.

‘I’m not recovering from injuries. I’m recovered from injuries.’

‘You limp,’ Marcia pointed out, and Susie glowered a bit and limped her way past them.

‘So I do,’ she agreed. ‘It’s my own little idiosyncrasy. But I like it. I’m going to bed to read a good romance novel and I don’t intend to recover at all. Hamish, you need to show Marcia through the castle. I’ll bet she’s interested in your inventory. And when you’ve finished… Marcia, could you let me know when this hotel assessor’s expected, as I need to organise myself to leave? Good night.’

Taffy was snoozing by the stove. Susie scooped her up, glared at the pair of them and left.

‘Have I offended her?’ Marcia asked, and Hamish sighed.

‘I guess…I mean, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to imply there was a problem.’

‘What do you mean? Her limp? It’s obvious. She can’t expect me not to notice.’

That wasn’t the problem he’d been talking about. ‘Never mind. Are you hungry?’

‘Actually, I ate on the way here and I’m very tired. Maybe the widow has a good idea with early bed.’ She snuggled back against him. ‘Where are we sleeping?’

‘I’ve put you in the bedroom next to mine. Come and I’ll show you.’

‘Not yours?’

‘Um, no. It just seems…’

‘A bit mean?’ Marcia was struggling to understand. ‘Honey, if she really wants you, then the faster she comes to terms with reality the better.’

‘It’s not like that. It just… Marcia, it seems like this is Susie’s home and I’d like it to stay that way until we leave. I think…separate bedrooms.’

She raised a cool eyebrow. ‘Well, that’s fine with me. I have a date with my laptop. I’ve missed so much, trying to get here. There won’t be a romance novel for me in bed tonight.’

Hamish slept late. Hours late by his standards. He always woke early in New York to find the latest on the Hang Seng before he went to work. As he was always behind his desk by seven, that meant he went to bed in the small hours and he woke in the small hours. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d fallen into bed at ten and slept for more than eight hours.

But here… It was the silence of the place, he thought, or that there was no desk waiting and Jodie had cancelled his imperatives.

He woke and it was already seven-thirty. He lay lazily back on his mound of satin pillows and watched the early morning sunbeams flicker through the floating dreamcatcher Deirdre had hung at the window. Jodie had hung a dreamcatcher on the window of his outer office back in Manhattan. He’d asked her what it was and she’d explained the ludicrous concept in detail.

Susie might not think it ludicrous, he thought. Jodie hadn’t. Deirdre obviously hadn’t.

He needed Marcia to set him right. She’d be up by now. He should go find her.

But his thoughts kept wandering, snagging different ideas like the dreamcatcher was designed to do.

Where was Jodie was right now? he wondered. Was she making choir stalls with her beloved Nick? He’d miss his secretary when he went back.

When he went back. When he left here.

When he left Susie.

Susie was leaving first.

Maybe he could keep in touch with Susie, he thought. Just to check that she was OK. He’d tell Kirsty and Jake that he’d keep an eye on her.

She’d throw such an offer back in his face, he decided. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her.

But he rejected that, too. Of course she needed someone. She thought she was strong enough to care for a baby and a dog and a career. She was planning on working as a landscape gardener again, but anyone could see she had physical problems. Her legs would never hold her up.

He could… He could…

He could do nothing. It was none of his business.

More lying on his satin pillows and thinking. He was head of the clan, he thought. Lord of Loganaich. Laird. It behoved him to care for…

For the relic?

The thought of Susie as a relic was so crazy he laughed and threw off his covers and headed for the shower. He was being dumb. He’d go and find Marcia and show her this crazy castle from stem to stern. They’d smile about how ridiculous it was, they’d talk about practicalities and then she’d bring him up to speed on how the office was coping without him. Marcia was just what he needed.

Right.

Marcia was already in the kitchen. As were Susie and Rose and Taffy. Quite a party. Hamish opened the door and they all turned toward him and glared.

Uh-oh.

A more cowardly man would have retreated. There were obviously issues abroad here. Women’s issues?

‘We have,’ Susie said cautiously, as if she wasn’t sure she could trust her voice, ‘no soy milk. We have a case of bananas but they’re the wrong sort of fruit. Cumquats make the wrong sort of juice and the oranges aren’t ripe yet. And Marcia doesn’t like the idea of eating strawberries that have been lying on mulch. If you’d warned me Marcia was on a low-carb diet I could have got things in.’

‘Low carb’s easy,’ he said, cautious as Susie and with a wary look at his beloved. ‘I mean, steak’s low carb.’

‘Steak for breakfast?’ Marcia shook her head in disbelief. ‘Honestly, Hamish, just lend me your car keys and I’ll go fetch what I need from the supermarket.’

‘It’s five miles down the road and it doesn’t open until nine,’ Hamish said. ‘Can’t you have toast?’

‘The locals eat porridge,’ Susie said, lifting a pot onto the range. ‘I can recommend it.’

‘It’s hardly low carb,’ Marcia retorted.

‘Hey, Marcia, it’s hardly a hotel yet,’ Hamish said uneasily. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to break your diet for a morning.’

‘I’d prefer not to break my diet,’ Marcia said, but she smiled, ready to be accommodating. ‘It’s OK, guys. I’m not hungry.’

‘You’re too thin,’ Susie muttered.

‘A woman can never be too thin.’

‘Yeah, you’d know,’ Susie muttered, and banged her pan on the range. Then she took a grip. ‘Sorry. That sort of just came out. I was too thin for a while and it’s scary.’

‘I have no intention of heading down the eating disorder road,’ Marcia said. ‘I have too much control.’

‘I’m sure you have,’ Susie said, but the eyes she turned on Hamish were suddenly bleak. ‘I’ve made a big pot of porridge. Do you want some?’

‘Yes, please.’ It was the least a man could do in the circumstances, he thought, but then he saw the sudden gleam behind Susie’s eyes and thought, Uh-oh.

‘A porridge-eating laird,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Finally.’

‘I’m back on toast tomorrow.’

‘I’m sure you are.’ There was definitely laughter there now. She was like a chameleon, he thought. Swinging from happy to sad and back again.

He didn’t want her to be sad. Had she been too thin? When? After Rory’s death? Hell, he hated to think of what she’d been through.

‘Have you been working up in your bedroom?’ Marcia asked, and he blinked.

‘Um…yeah.’

‘Did you see the Euro dropped almost two cents against the greenback overnight?’

‘And Taffy slept till dawn without howling once,’ Susie added. ‘It has indeed been a busy night.’

He couldn’t keep up with this conversation. He gave up and sat, and Susie placed a bowl of porridge in front of him. He ladled honey on top, and cream, and he sprinkled it with cinnamon, as he’d seen Susie do with hers every morning, while Marcia looked on with distaste.

‘Don’t look,’ he told her. ‘Have a coffee.’

‘At least there’s a decent coffee-maker,’ she conceded. ‘Though where you get good beans…you know, that’ll drive down the price of this place as a hotel. You won’t be able to source reasonable foodstuffs.’

‘I’m eating my porridge out in the garden,’ Susie announced, a little too loudly. She lifted Rose’s high chair-with Rose in it-and hoisted it toward the door.

‘Let me help,’ Hamish said, getting to his feet, but Susie was already outside.

‘Thanks, but I’m fine on my own.’

‘You will let me help you down to the beach later on?’

She hesitated, and he could see her reluctance to accept help warring with her huge desire to swim.

‘Thank you,’ she muttered. ‘That would be…nice.’ She carried Rose further out, then dived back for her porridge.

‘Susie…’ Marcia started, but Susie was back out the door.

‘I can’t leave Rose in her high chair alone.’

‘I just thought you might be interested…’

‘In what?’

‘I’ve been in touch with the hotel assessors,’ she said. ‘They’ll arrive tomorrow. Can you make yourself available?’

Susie hardly paused. She was carrying her bowl of porridge, walking out the door with Taffy following loyally behind.

‘Of course,’ she said with dignity over her shoulder. ‘I promised. And after that I’ll go home.’

Marcia took her Blackberry to the beach. ‘Hey, there’s a signal here,’ she announced, and was content. She lay in her gorgeous bikini and communed with her other world.

As he should, too, Hamish thought, but he was busy watching Susie. He’d swum less than usual this morning, coming back to the towels to keep Marcia company-but Marcia didn’t need company. She never did. She was going to make an excellent partner, he decided as he sat next to her beautifully salon-tanned body. She was gorgeous, she was clever and she was totally independent.

She was just what he needed.

Susie was at the other end of the beach-of course. She was sitting in the shallows with Rose. Rose was perched on her mother’s knees, kicking out at each approaching wave, as if by kicking it she could stop it coming.

Taffy was barking hysterically at incoming waves, barking until the wave was almost on her then putting her tail between her legs and scooting up the beach just in front of the white water. Then she barked in triumph as the wave retreated-only to have it all happen again.

Hamish discovered he was grinning as he watched them.

But they weren’t perfect.

Marcia was perfect.

What was he about, making comparisons?

‘I’ll go over and give Susie a break from childminding so she can have a swim,’ he told Marcia, and she raised her eyebrows in amused query.

‘You? Look after a baby?’

‘I can change a diaper,’ he said, almost defiantly, and her smile widened.

‘If I were you I’d never put that on your curriculum vitae. It’s not the sort of ability that’ll get you a job in our world.’

Our world. He looked down at her Blackberry. Right.

‘Do you want help childminding?’ she asked, and it was time for his brows to hike.

‘You’re kidding.’

She smiled. ‘You’re right. I’m kidding. But if it’s something I need to do for a smooth transition…’

She’d do whatever it took to build a solid financial future, he thought. Wise woman.

‘Go back to your wheeling and dealing,’ he told her. ‘Babysitting’s not an occupation I plan on doing any more in my life, but you’re right. By doing it now I’m making things smoother for Susie.’

‘Not for you?’

‘Only in that…’ He paused. Only in that it made Susie happier? Only in that it let Susie have one of her last swims in this place? He couldn’t think how to finish his sentence.

‘Go do it, Nanny Douglas,’ Marcia told him, deciding to be amused. ‘And be careful when you stand up. I don’t want sand in my keypad.’

Then it was his turn to sit in the shallows and entertain Rose while Taffy barked and Susie swam. Not that Rose needed to be entertained. She’d happily kick waves for the rest of her life, he thought.

Were there waves where she was going?

He didn’t know.

He couldn’t care.

Susie disappeared as soon as they got back from the beach, retreating to the bedroom with a couple of vast suitcases she’d retrieved from the box room and a carton of garbage bags. They hardly saw her for the rest of the day.

‘I’m so pleased she’s being sensible,’ Marcia told him. ‘There was hardly any need for me to come. I don’t think she’s the least bit interested in you.’

‘No.’

‘You know, it really is the most beautiful place,’ she said. They’d finished a fairly strained dinner-fish and chips that Hamish had gone into Dolphin Bay to fetch, and a bowl of steamed vegetables for Marcia-and now they were sitting on the balcony, looking out at the bay in the fading light. ‘It seems a shame to sell it straight away.’

‘What else would I do with it?’ Hamish said shortly. He’d thought this through. Sure, this was a financial windfall, and realistically he didn’t need the interest that he’d get from its sale. He’d thought that maybe he could leave Susie here as indefinite caretaker but he’d known instinctively that she’d refuse such an offer. It was a dumb idea anyway. It’d leave her in limbo, his indefinite pensioner. She needed to move on. ‘You surely aren’t suggesting we live here?’

‘No, but I’ve been thinking that doing some capital improvements before we put it on the market might get us a better price,’ Marcia told him. ‘I’ll need to talk to the assessor tomorrow but… Come and see what I mean.’

‘What-?’

‘Just come and see. Why no one’s thought of this before this is beyond me.’

She led the way downstairs out to Susie’s vegetable garden, with Hamish following feeling bemused. Marcia had only been here for twenty-four hours, yet she already seemed proprietorial. She was leading him though his very own castle.

He shouldn’t mind. He didn’t. It was just…

It was just that this was Susie’s place, he thought, but that was dumb. But when he emerged to the twilight and saw Susie’s garden he stopped thinking his idea was dumb and decided that it was right. It certainly seemed Susie’s place. Her garden was fabulous.

He had no illusions as to who’d done the work here. For the last twelve months, as Angus’s health had slowly deteriorated, Susie must have thrown her heart and soul into caring for this place. Her vegetable garden could feed a small army. If this was turned into a hotel the chef would never have to go near a greengrocer.

But Marcia wasn’t interested in the garden. She was striding purposefully toward the conservatory. She pushed open the doors and flicked the light, then swore as the light didn’t work. It was dusk and the place was still lovely-smelling of ripening oranges and overripe cumquats and the rich loam that Susie had been using to pot seedlings. The lack of light made it seem more beautiful.

‘This is what I brought you to see,’ Marcia said, in the same voice she used when she produced a contract that was hugely advantageous to the firm-and to her. ‘It’s fabulous.’

‘It is,’ Hamish said, walking forward and touching the same branch of hanging cumquats Susie had touched the first day he’d met her. Was it his imagination or could he sense her here? This place seemed almost an extension of her.

‘We need to take the end wall out so we can get machinery in,’ Marcia was saying, and he blinked.

‘Pardon?’

‘It’s great. Can’t you see it?’

‘See what?’

‘The view from the end wall is right down to the sea. The tourists this place will attract will spend most of their time right here.’

‘Why?’

‘A swimming pool,’ she said with exaggerated impatience. ‘I thought about it this morning while I was at the beach. The beach is lovely but most tourists don’t want to spend much time there.’

‘Why not?’

‘The sand gets into your Blackberry, for one thing,’ she said, getting even more exasperated. ‘Hamish, when we went to Bermuda last year, did we spend any time at the beach?’

‘We were there at a conference.’

‘Exactly. We had things to do. There was a beach but did we use it?’

There had been a beach, Hamish remembered. He thought back to an intense four days of business dealings. He remembered watching the sun rise from his hotel room, watching the view, watching people stroll on the beach…and then fitting in a fast fifteen minutes in the hotel pool before breakfast.

‘We’re the clientele we’ll attract,’ Marcia said. ‘People who appreciate what luxury really is. Anyway, I’m thinking we need to heave out every bit of kitsch before we put this place on the market. And I’m also thinking that we should dig a pool into this building. Honestly, Hamish, buyers have no imagination. Did you see the potential of this place as a swimming pool?’

‘No.’

‘There you go, then,’ she said triumphantly. ‘I’ll talk it through with the assessor tomorrow but I think you should hold selling off a little longer while we transform this place.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t suppose we could persuade the widow to stay as a transitional caretaker.’

‘I suspect we don’t have a hope.’

She shrugged. ‘Well, there’s others. Maybe we need someone a bit more level-headed anyway.’ There was a beep from her belt and she lifted her Blackberry and peered at the lit screen. ‘Charles,’ she said in satisfaction. ‘He has some figures I need. If you’ll excuse me, darling… Walk through to the end and see if I’m right. A swimming pool and a bar with a view to die for. Our tourists wouldn’t have to move. I suspect the pool could double our price.’

And she was off, leaving him to his thoughts.

His thoughts…

He didn’t have any thoughts, he decided. He was a blank. He fingered his cumquat some more and thought it was a great smell. It was a great place.

A luxury swimming pool? Maybe they’d have a few of these orange trees in tubs round the side…

‘You’d really chop down all Angus’s orange trees?’

Susie’s muted voice was so unexpected that his heart forgot to take a beat. He stilled, trying to think what to say, and she came out of the shadows and stood right before him. Still in the plain faded shorts and T-shirt he was starting to get to know. Still with bare feet. Her hair was tousled and there was a smudge of dirt on her forehead.

‘I didn’t know you were here,’ he managed, when he got his breath back.

‘I’ve been planting out seedlings into bigger pots. I was intending to plant them straight into the vegetable garden but now I’m leaving I’ll need to find other homes for them. Am I supposed to apologise?’

He was still discomfited. ‘You could have told us you were here.’

‘I could have come out of the dark and said I heard every word? That’s what I’m doing now. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but what Marcia was saying…it made me feel…’ She paused. ‘But, of course, it’s none of my business.’

‘No.’ There was no way to dress this up, he decided, shoving his sense of disquiet aside. If he was going to sell this place he couldn’t be looking over his shoulder all the time, wondering what Susie was thinking.

‘Angus was so proud of his oranges,’ she said wistfully, and he braced himself.

‘Someone else will be proud of a swimming pool.’

‘It sounds like Marcia will be proud.’

‘That’s right. Though it’s a business proposition. She’ll be pleased if it means we get a good price for this place.’

‘But…’ She paused. ‘If you sell the castle, doesn’t the money go into trust?’

‘It does.’ He’d looked into this. It was a complex inheritance, where the castle was a part of the entailed estate to be handed down to the inheriting earl. Generation after generation. It had been made complex by the burning of the original castle, meaning the capital had been moved here. The trustees would allow sale, but the proceeds would return to the trust.

But he’d earn interest on a very sizeable sum.

‘Will you and Marcia have children?’ she asked. ‘To inherit?’

‘I…’ How to answer that? He thought about it and decided he didn’t have to. ‘I have no idea.’

‘It’s just…would your son prefer to inherit a castle or a heap of depreciating money?’

‘Hell, Susie…’

‘But that’s easy, isn’t it?’ she said sadly. ‘That’s the choice you made and you’ve made it really fast.’

‘What would I do with this place if I kept it?’

‘You could think laterally,’ she said with sudden asperity. ‘Instead of thinking what’s the best way to make money from this place. You’re not exactly needy.’

‘No, but-’

‘But you’ll chop down these gorgeous orange trees. Do you know, it’s five hundred miles to the nearest place you can grow oranges from here? The locals here eat Angus’s oranges all winter. We have the best vitamin C intake per capita of any place in the country.’

‘Gee,’ he said blankly, and she glared at him in the dusk. He couldn’t see the glare, he thought, but he could feel it.

‘You don’t care.’

‘Susie, we both need to move on.’

‘I am moving on,’ she said with irritation. ‘You’re not moving anywhere, as far as I can see. You’re taking your money and bolting back to your safe hole in Manhattan. What is it with you and money? Why is it so important?’

‘Money’s important to everyone.’

‘To provide necessities, yes,’ she snapped. ‘Even enough to buy the odd luxury when you feel inclined. But Marcia says what you earn is way out of that league.’

‘Marcia has no right-’

‘And neither do I.’ She turned her back on him, lifting a branch of cumquats, heavy with fruit. She started plucking the fruit from the loaded branch, making a pile on the bench beside her. ‘OK. I’ll butt out of what’s not my business.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m picking your cumquats,’ she snapped again. ‘What does it look like?’

‘What for?’ They were hardly edible. He’d tried one yesterday. They looked fabulous, like tiny mandarins, lush and filled with juice, but the first bite had seen him recoil.

‘They’re great for marmalade.’

‘You can’t cook.’

‘I intend to learn,’ she said with dignity. ‘I’m leaving here the day after tomorrow and I’m taking some of Angus’s cumquat marmalade with me.’

‘So you’ll learn and do it tomorrow.’

‘Why not?’

She was fearless, he thought. A vision of Susie down in the cove was suddenly in his head, a scarred, limping woman, diving full on into the white water and heading for the outer reaches of the cove. Her body strong and sure and determined.

She’d succeed in her landscaping business, he thought. Clients would be lucky to get her. She was so…

So…

He picked a couple cumquats to add to her pile and her body grew stiffer. She had her back to him-he was of no importance to her.

‘Thanks, but I can do this myself.’

‘You just said you can’t cook marmalade.’

‘Neither can you.’

‘But I have a connection to the Internet. I bet we could find a recipe.’

‘So you’ll find a recipe,’ she said, and then decided maybe she was being a bit grumpy. ‘Thank you. I’ll do them tomorrow.’

‘The assessor’s coming tomorrow.’

‘I’ll do it after I’ve talked to him. Or he can talk to me while I stir the marmalade.’

‘You need to pack tomorrow.’

‘I’m almost packed.’

‘You need to swim.’

That made her pause. She hesitated. ‘I…’

‘You do want to swim on your last day?’

‘Of course, but-’

‘But you also want to make marmalade. So let’s make it now.’

The stiffness of her back had lessened and she turned cautiously around. ‘Could we?’

‘I’d imagine we need lots of sugar and lots of jars.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Well, the jars are a given,’ he said. ‘I’d guess we can’t eat more than half a pint of marmalade tonight.’

‘I suppose not. We will need jars.’

‘And my Aunty Molly used to make jam,’ he added. ‘So I know we need almost as much sugar as fruit.’

‘You used to watch your Aunt Molly cook?’

‘I did.’ He sounded uncomfortable-he knew he did-and he saw her hesitate as if she’d ask more. She stared at him, searching his face in the dim light, looking for…

He didn’t know what she was looking for. And, whatever it was, he knew he didn’t want her to find it.

Or he thought he didn’t want her to find it.

This conversation was too deep for him. Way too deep. His thoughts were starting to become knotted, and untangling them was impossible. Chop them off and get on with it, he thought, suddenly savage, and he tugged a cumquat branch toward him and started plucking.

‘If we’re to finish before midnight, then we start now,’ he said, and she waited-and watched-for a moment longer before deciding to play along.

‘Rose didn’t have an afternoon nap so she’s out for the count,’ she said. ‘So’s Taffy. I guess if I go to bed, all I’ll do is dream of uprooted orange trees, so I might as well make marmalade.’

‘Susie…’

‘I know. There’s nothing either of us can do about it.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m being unfair. It’s a very nice offer to teach me to make marmalade. I accept with pleasure. Do you think Marcia would like to help?’