Secrets of Cavendon by Barbara Taylor Bradford

Author:Barbara Taylor Bradford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Twenty-five

Although it was October, it was a beautiful day. The sky was blue, with puffy white clouds, the sun was shining, and the weather was relatively mild. To Victoria it was what Aunt Alice called an Indian summer day.

She and Christopher had now come out to the terrace, which overlooked the vast garden. Beyond the tall walls was Hampstead Heath.

She could see how cleverly the garden had been landscaped, designed by Christopher; she knew that from Melinda.

The editor in chief had also told her that Christopher’s mother had owned Plumptons, the grocery chain, and that he had inherited it after her death two years ago. His great-grandfather Alfred Plumpton had founded it and it was famous for its jams and bottled fruit. Hence Christopher’s wealth. He owned the company but did not run it.

Toward the end of the garden, near the wall, a number of trees were turning color. In a few days they would be scarlet, gold, and the honey tones of autumn. He was right. That area of the garden would be a perfect spot to have a few pictures taken.

Turning to Christopher, she mentioned this, and he agreed. Then she asked, “How far is it to Biggin Hill?”

“It takes about an hour and a half, perhaps a bit less, depending on the traffic. It’s not that far from London. Think in terms of heading toward Beachy Head and the coast.”

A moment later Rory Delaney came back to the terrace and announced, “I’ve spoken to Biggin Hill and you can go whenever you wish, Christopher. This week, next week.”

“Oh, I had hoped we could go there on Friday,” Victoria exclaimed, looking at Christopher. “There’s a bit of a rush on this shoot, because Melinda wants to get it into the magazine as soon as possible. To help your charity. We have a two-month lead time.”

“Friday is all right for me, isn’t it, Rory? Do we have anything special?” Christopher asked.

“A lunch with your accountant, which can be canceled.” Rory chuckled. “It’s yours to command, as far as Biggin Hill is concerned. The fellow I spoke to, a squadron leader, sounded really chuffed that you’re going to be photographed down there. You’re their … well … sort of their … legend.”

“You didn’t speak to the base commander?” Christopher wondered out loud.

“No, he wasn’t there. But I can promise you, on my scout’s honor, that they will welcome you with open arms.”

Christopher turned to Victoria. “I’m afraid our Irish friend here has kissed the Blarney Stone far too many times. He also has a tendency to exaggerate. On the other hand, he’s the best wing man I have these days.”

Rory sat down next to Victoria and winked. “They said a lot more laudatory things, Chris, but I’ll skip those. Might go to your head.”

Victoria laughed. “I’m sure they did sing your praises, Christopher.”

Over lunch he had told her that Rory had been based at Biggin Hill during the war, one of the aides to Christopher’s wing commander, and not in combat.

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