Island of Intrigue by Julie Coffin

Author:Julie Coffin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AudioGO
Published: 2012-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tamzin was very quiet during the meal, conscious that Ben’s head turned many times in her direction as though he was studying her.

Or is it that he’s testing me to see my reaction to his disfigurement, she wondered.

Lydia Trevorgan chattered on in her harsh voice, commenting on the preparations she must make for the forthcoming fayre.

As they neared the end of their dessert, Ben finally growled in exasperation, ‘Lydia! Do stop going on. You know only too well that you don’t have to do anything. There’s a committee which deals with every last detail and has done very successfully for the past umpteen years.’

‘Of course I have to prepare for it, Ben,’ she replied sharply. ‘It’s my house and my garden that’s being taken over.’

He grinned lopsidedly at her.

‘I was forgetting, it’s your house and your garden, Lydia. One thing you must make sure of, though, is that there are signs warning people where the path has fallen away. Matt says the cliff has been badly eroded by the winter storms—and we don’t want any accidents.’

Lydia flapped her serviette in the air.

‘Oh, tell Tom Pendeen to see to all that. Where is Matthew anyway? He should be here dealing with everything.’

‘Matthew, my dear step-mother, is a law unto himself. When Matthew decides to do something, he does it—and to pot with anything or anyone else. You’ve lived with him long enough to understand that, surely?’

‘Well, he should be here,’ she said petulantly, ‘not leaving me with all this worry.’

Raising his crooked eyebrow, Ben leaned towards Tamzin.

‘Shall we take our coffee out in the garden?’

‘Not me, not me!’ Lydia protested. ‘I’ve far too much to do even to think about coffee.’

‘Just you and me then, Tamzin.’ His mouth curved sideways. ‘Will you carry the tray, or shall I?’

Surprised at his unexpected humour, Tamzin picked it up and carried it through the french windows on to a lawn that overlooked a view of the sea. With his head turned towards the sound of rattling cups, Ben followed more slowly.

‘It’s a beautiful evening,’ he said, feeling for the arm of the seat, then lowering himself on to it.

‘Beautiful,’ she agreed, and poured the coffee, adding cream to both cups.

‘You don’t take sugar, do you?’

‘No,’ he said, and laughed wryly.

‘What is so funny?’ she asked.

‘You reminded me of the standard phrase when dealing with anyone disabled—“Does he take sugar?”—not directed at the person concerned but to whoever is accompanying them, as if they can’t speak for themselves. It’s been done to me many times.’

‘People just don’t think,’ she said. ‘Or are embarrassed.’

With a rustle of dry leaves, the Siamese cat slid its way out from under a rhododendron bush, stalked over the grass towards them, then leaped lightly on to Ben’s lap.

His fingers smoothed along the dark chocolate of its back and Tamzin saw the slanted blue eyes half-close in contentment as it arched its neck against Ben’s hand.

‘What is it called?’ Tamzin asked.

‘Her pedigree shows some very regal name, I believe, but we call her Anna—much to Lydia’s annoyance.

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