A Vintage Summer by Cathy Bramley

Author:Cathy Bramley
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473542839
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2019-03-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

It was another ten days before I saw my other new friend again. It was Saturday afternoon and I’d just emerged from The Stables when Jensen pulled his car into the yard.

‘Wow, look at you.’ Jensen’s deep blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he greeted me with a kiss. ‘I didn’t realize blooming was an actual thing before. But you are definitely blooming.’

‘That’ll be my permanently red cheeks. Not to mention,’ I continued, waffling to cover up the fact that I was quite shocked with how pleased I was to see him again, ‘that blooming is another way of saying that I’m bursting out of my clothes.’

I didn’t know whether it was psychosomatic, but in the two weeks since I’d found out I was pregnant, I’d ballooned. My stomach didn’t look any different, but my face looked like a full moon, my waist had disappeared and all I could get into, bra-wise, were a couple of sporty crop tops I’d bought when I was going through a yoga phase. At this rate, there’d be no need to break the news to the rest of the team; they’d have to be blind not to notice there was a lot more of me than there’d been when I’d arrived at the vineyard eight weeks ago.

Jensen’s eyes flicked momentarily to my enormous bosom. I coughed.

‘Um. I hadn’t noticed,’ he said, running a hand through his floppy curls. ‘But you’re feeling okay?’

‘Well …’ I hesitated.

Physically I was fine, I’d stopped being sick and after weeks of needing early nights and having to drag myself out of bed in the morning, I had more energy than I knew what to do with. Mentally, however, I was still struggling: with a pregnancy I hadn’t planned and with worrying thoughts about Harvey and what he was going to say and do when he found out I was carrying his child. And then there was the rift between Evie and me. I’d phoned and sent numerous messages which she hadn’t returned; I’d even been to her house but if she’d been in she didn’t come to the door. I missed her so much; we’d always been there for each other and I didn’t know how to make things right.

‘Yes. Perfectly okay,’ I confirmed finally, opening the gate and waving him through to the terrace. ‘And the vineyard is in tip-top shape too. Come and see for yourself, everyone is waiting for us and we’ve got loads to show you.’

Around the patio table, sheltering from the fierce glare of the August sun under the shade of a parasol, sat my team plus Sidney. The table groaned with tea things: a luscious Victoria sponge, a plate of scones, dishes of jam and cream, and a bowl of fruit salad, all courtesy of Betsy, who had sent her apologies but she and Starsky had an important engagement with Marjorie that she couldn’t get out of. Alongside jugs of water there was an ice bucket containing two bottles of Butterworth sparkling wine and a tray of glasses.

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