Stately Pursuits by Katie Fforde

Author:Katie Fforde [Fforde, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781446428344
Publisher: Arrow
Published: 1997-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

*

When Phyllis finally went, Connor got out some very strong farmhouse Cheddar, some Stilton, so ripe you could spread it, both bought from the village shop, some crusty bread, a bottle of red wine and some salami. He loaded it all on to a tray with a bowl of farm butter and some cherry tomatoes. Seeing it, Hetty realized why the Brewsters in the shop, while supportive of the efforts to save the house, were the only people in the village who spoke well of Connor.

‘Do you fancy taking this lot through and trying out the piano?' he asked. 'Or is it too chilly in there?'

‘I'll put on another jumper. Have you got any music?' 'Don't need music. Do it all by ear.’

Hetty, following him down the passage carrying the glasses, was at once both impressed and terrified. How was he going to accompany her if he couldn't read her music? Hetty curled up on a historically correct, but rather uncomfortable, chair and pulled a rug over herself. She sipped her wine, ate her bread and cheese, and listened to Connor.

He played beautifully. He started with some Dave Brubeck numbers, went on to his own version of Jacques Loussier and Keith Jarrett, and then the show tunes of the twenties and thirties.

‘Come on,' he said eventually, without stopping. 'I know you know this one.’

Hetty got up and joined him at the piano, starting softly, but becoming bolder as the wine relaxed her and all her forgotten skills came back. They operated instinctively as a pair and, in spite of the sound-deadening tapestries, filled the great hall with music.

‘You're good,' said Hetty, when at last Connor paused, giving her a chance to draw breath.

‘Good yourself. We'll have to get rid of those wall-hangings, they kill the acoustics.'

‘We can't! What would Phyllis say?'

‘Blast Phyllis. They're not old tapestries anyway. Samuel got them in the fifties. He told me.'

‘That's quite old enough for me. And Phyllis.' 'Nonsense. Phyllis's Golden Age was in the twenties. She'd think the fifties modern.’

Hetty was about to continue arguing - after all, Phyllis must know they weren't old - but Connor put his hand on the back of Hetty's neck and propelled her towards the door. 'Come on, I'm cold. Let's see if we can resurrect the fire and eat the rest of this in comfort.’

It took quite a lot of bellowing and extra kindling to get the fire to blaze up, but at last Connor felt able to sit back on his heels and leave his creation. He stood up, stretched, and saw Hetty curled up on the sofa, her wine glass to hand, a piece of bread and cheese on its way to her mouth.

She thought he was going to sit next to her on the sofa, and prepared to curl her legs tighter to give him room, but after a moment's hesitation, he pulled a small armchair nearer to the fire and sat on that.

Hetty considered it, but decided not to feel offended. She was happy enough.

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