A Brambleberry Manor Christmas - Rosie Green Page 0,18

only one who can get away with it, mind you.’

Does that mean Constance likes Noah, then? If he’s allowed to call her by a nickname she supposedly hates?

My hand slips, depositing a blob of compote where it shouldn’t be. I quickly take a clean cloth and wipe it away.

‘Which university did you all meet at?’ I ask Melanie.

‘York. But we all went our separate ways after that, and we’ve only managed to meet up once or twice over the years since then. I’ve been working as a holiday rep in Spain for the past six years. Fergus is in London, and Noah has a recruitment agency, based in Guildford.

So he has his own business near here…

‘What about Constance?’ asks Katja.

‘She’s an estate agent in London. Doing really well last time I spoke to her, if her brand new Range Rover was anything to go by.’

‘Is Constance with Noah or Fergus?’ I ask, trying to sound casual.

Melanie laughs. ‘God, no. Constance’s taste in men is rather more – um – sophisticated, shall we say? She goes for the older man. And the more successful, the better.’ She holds up her hands. ‘And that’s not me being bitchy, honestly. Constance would be the first to admit all of that herself.’

‘Didn’t she split up with someone recently?’ asks Fen.

Melanie’s face falls. ‘Yes. She’s had a really bad year, apparently. I’ve only spoken to her briefly on the phone since I got back from Spain. But she sounded dreadful. Normally, it’s Constance who ends relationships, but I get the impression that this time, her heart has been well and truly broken.’

I feel a twinge of empathy.

That makes two of us.

I wasn’t particularly liking the sound of Constance, but the idea of her suffering from a bad case of heartache makes me soften towards her…

The girls go back into the dining room, and Flo and I take out the dessert together. Then we start on the task of tidying up the kitchen. I check my phone for the hundredth time, hoping Tavie has texted me. There’s nothing from her, but I tell myself she’ll be fine. She’s just having too good a time to remember to text me. But a weight settles inside nonetheless.

‘She’ll be fine,’ says Flo with a sympathetic smile.

I grin at her. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘You’ve been checking your phone every ten minutes for the past hour. So unless you’re expecting a call from a delicious man, I guess I’m safe to assume it’s Tavie you’re worried about.’

I laugh bitterly. ‘A delicious man? I don’t think so.’ An image of Noah in his dinner suit flashes into my mind, but I push it away. My life is complicated enough. And anyway, why would he be interested in me? He already has the lovely Melanie and the mysterious Constance to laugh with…

‘So what are you doing after this?’ I ask Flo, glancing at my watch. It’s just after nine-thirty.

‘Oh, just straight home tonight. I’m knackered after last night. I’ll probably just crash out.’

‘I’m not surprised. I honestly don’t know how you do it.’

She sighs, turning away to start packing empty containers into a box. ‘Neither do I, to be honest. But I prefer to be out, rather than rattling around that empty house all on my own.’

I pause for a moment, thinking about how Flo’s house must have felt so different when her daughters still lived at home. And now she’s lost Ed as well…no wonder she likes to socialise.

She turns. ‘Cheer up. I bet she’s at home already,’ she says, mistaking my sad expression for worry about Tavie.

‘I’m sure you’re right.’ I hold the door open as she carries the box out, and I follow her with one of my own.

‘Oh, girls?’ We turn at the back door and Marjery is standing by the Christmas tree. ‘That black cherry compote with the dessert was utterly inspired. It cut through the sweetness of the white chocolate to perfection. See you tomorrow.’

Flo grins at me as we walk out into the courtyard, which now has a dusting of snow. ‘I think that’s congratulations. Ooh, look! Maybe we really will have a white Christmas.’

I nod as we crunch over to the car. ‘Tavie will be pleased.’

‘That was a good first day,’ points out Flo, as we get into the car.

‘Marjery liked the cherry sauce and we didn’t kill anyone,’ I murmur. ‘It’s definitely a promising start.’

I feel lighter in spirit, driving home. Perhaps everything will work out, after all.

‘Say hello to Tavie for me,’ says