Unforgettable (Gloria Cook) - By Gloria Cook Page 0,35
wandering ways, except for Verity, but it was unlikely she would still be here at the time of Aidan’s release. However, there was the naturally gorgeous Belle Lawry to think about. When the neighbour’s wife called here it was easy to see that Finn was infatuated with her. Fiona mustn’t allow any woman to outmatch her. She wouldn’t aim for her chic image of old but would work to acquire the healthy vivacious country kind of beauty.
She would soak herself in the bath and call on her old expertise to make the most of herself. She would get out her hair curlers. She would ask Verity if she had a little spare make-up and cold cream. It was a lovely mild sunny day and she would cuddle her baby as she relaxed. And she would ask Dorrie if she could make the luncheon, her special vegetable omelette. There was no shortage of eggs from Dorrie’s hens. She chuckled as she pictured Dorrie’s delight. What a dear little woman she was. And Finn would be thrilled when he got back from the cottage with Greg, both dusty and gritty and ravenous for an hour’s break.
Merrivale, our new home, Fiona thought optimistically, and this was going to be a good day, the best in ages, she just knew it. She would take a look at the curtain materials, a good choice thanks to Guy’s connections and generosity, brought over by the seamstress Jean Vercoe. The podgy mother was awaiting decisions, and Fiona would make them rather than leaving the responsibility to Dorrie. To top off this lovely day, when Guy returned with messages or even a letter from Aidan her new life would really begin. Aidan loved her, she had never doubted it no matter what he had done, and when he was reassured that she loved him as much as ever, he would reach out to her again.
Guy arrived at Sunny Corner late in the evening. Dorrie showed him into the sitting room. ‘You speak to Fiona and Finn alone, Mr Carthewy. The rest of us will clear out and bring in coffee when you’re ready. We have saved some dinner for you. I’m sure you must be hungry after your long drive.’
In the study-cum-library, Dorrie turned to Greg and Verity. ‘What do you make of his expression? It was a raft of emotions. Will Fiona be receiving the news she’s been longing for, I wonder?’
Guy stood awkward and stiffly on the Oriental rug, massaging the tiredness squeezing his eyes.
‘Do sit down next to me, Guy.’ Fiona patted the red and cream striped, squab-cushioned sofa. ‘You are quite worn out. Please don’t beat about the bush. Tell us what Aidan said. Have you brought anything from him?’ She glanced smugly at Finn. Her belief in her husband had been growing all day. After cuddling Eloise and tending to her all afternoon following cooking her much appreciated lunch, she was in no doubt Aidan would find his daughter as beautiful and as irresistible as she now did.
Guy sighed, working his shoulders to unravel some of the tension. He was also furious over Aidan Templeton-Barr’s blasé attitude towards him. After being bodily searched and his gifts for the criminal pulled apart, he had waited among some shady-looking male characters and foul-mouthed, or weeping, or downtrodden women for the afternoon visiting time to begin. The atmosphere was rank with sweat, disinfectant and despair, broken intermittently by an ironic joke. He had sat and waited again where he had been stationed across the iron grid to face Aidan. He had tapped his fingertips together and blew out his frustration as the minutes had ticked by and then some more. Bloody cheek of the man; he had agreed to see Guy, and at the very least he should have the decency to face him on time. Then he wondered if Aidan was well – perhaps he had been beaten up. That wasn’t unlikely; he had a big brash mouth on him.
Finally a warder came to him. ‘Templeton-Barr is refusing to come out of his cell. He says to give you this and that you might as well clear off. Sorry you had a waste of time, sir, but that’s what most of the inmates are, a waste of time.’
‘Aidan didn’t want to see me. All I’ve got for you, Fiona, is this.’ Guy put his hand into his inside breast pocket. He handed over a prison-issue envelope. It had been censored and resealed by the prison,