moment, one where she could definitely cause friction and offence. Or she could forge a better understanding.
‘The Carlysle Estate has belonged to my family for years,’ Christopher began icily.
Hannah took the opening. ‘Mrs Carlysle explained that when she said you’d asked her to deal with Carlysle Courtyard and she engaged my services.’
It was Christopher’s turn to pause, probably absorbing the fact that contradicting Cassie’s instructions might rebound on him. ‘Obviously, as my wife—’ He halted again.
‘I’d hate to upset her,’ Hannah said, musingly, not exactly telling Christopher that it wasn’t appropriate to talk to him without Cassie’s say-so … but not exactly not saying it either.
Another silence. Then he said, grimly, ‘I’ll call in at the site tomorrow or the next day. See you then.’
‘I look forward to it,’ Hannah agreed, relieved to have hopped a hurdle without crashing into a dirty great ditch on the other side. She returned to work. And when she checked her bank account she saw that a thousand pounds had been deposited from Carlysle Estate. Yesssss!
By five, she took a break and realised they’d almost run out of teabags. Nan drank gallons of the stuff. ‘I’ll pop to Booze & News,’ Hannah said, pulling on her coat. She skipped out, head full of Carlysle Courtyard’s potential to provide a challenge – and income – with a mixture of on-site and remote working, exactly suited to the Nan situation.
At the shop she found not Melanie behind the counter but Jodie Jones, who’d been a year above Hannah at school. ‘I’m only supposed to be covering a few hours,’ Jodie grumbled, scanning the barcode on Nan’s favourite PG Tips pyramid teabags. ‘I’m supposed to be dropping an order at the garage before they close at five-thirty but Melanie isn’t back.’
The mention of the garage made Hannah realise she owed Ratty a big thank you for introducing her to Cassie Carlysle and giving her something to do other than resent Albin and mourn Hannah Anna Butik. ‘I can take it. I’d like a bottle of wine too, please. That Merlot with the black label looks good.’
When she’d paid, she cradled the box a grateful Jodie passed over the counter and, clutching the wine bottle by its neck, crossed Main Road to the garage, passing cars lined up on the forecourt in the light spilling through the open doors. Only one guy was still working, Pete, the blond one, hair hooked behind his ears as he curled over the engine of a vintage sports car. He grinned and took the box of coffee, sugar, milk, plastic bags and paper towels from her. ‘Has Melanie got a new delivery girl?’
Hannah retrieved Nan’s teabags off the top. ‘She’s off somewhere and Jodie’s stuck in the shop. Is Ratty around?’ She gestured with the wine. ‘I got him a thank you because he helped me out.’
‘He’s at Honeybun Cottage sorting the water out for their new tenant. You could pop down or leave it with me.’ Pete carried the shopping to the back of the garage where a kettle stood. ‘Do you know Honeybun? First on the left down Ladies Lane.’
‘I’ll deliver it personally, thanks.’ After saying bye to Pete, Hannah stepped back into the darkness of the late afternoon, swinging the bottle as she strolled past trimmed hedges towards Ladies Lane, which, further down, would touch the edge of the Carlysle Estate near the wood and lake.
Two men were putting up the tailgate of a removal van in the lane as she neared Honeybun Cottage. She looked up the drive and saw Ratty, hands in pockets, talking through the open doorway to whoever was inside. ‘The water should be OK now,’ he said, ‘but I’ll get someone out if not.’ He noticed Hannah hovering. ‘Hi. Are you here to see me? Or to meet our new villagers?’
‘I brought you something.’ She ventured closer, stepping over cushions of thyme growing between paving slabs in the light from the windows. She handed him the bottle. ‘Thanks for introducing me to Cassie.’
Ratty began to say something but then a man stepped into the lighted cottage doorway. ‘Hannah? Are you back in England?’
Her heart somersaulted. ‘Nico?’
The light shadowed his face. His hair was messy and he needed to shave but he looked a lot less bleak than when she’d seen him last at Hörnan in Gamla Stan.
Then Josie popped out beneath his arm, her face shining. ‘Hello, Hannah! We met you at the wedding, didn’t we? We’ve come to live here. It’s called Middledip.’
Maria,