The Great Witchy Cake Off: Wonky Inn Book 7 by Jeannie Wycherley

Author:Jeannie Wycherley [Wycherley, Jeannie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bark at the Moon Books
Published: 2019-06-29T04:00:00+00:00

I waved goodbye to George and Stacey with some relief. We’d congregated outside Mr Bramble’s cottage as we tipped out of the pub at closing time. It had gone eleven and I needed to be up before five. If I hurried up the lane—leaving Silvan and Marissa to dawdle along behind me—then I could have a quick bath and still manage five hours sleep.

“Thanks, Alf. I’ve had a wonderful night and you have lovely friends. We must do it again,” Alex said, kissing me on the cheek and I smiled politely.

“Yes, yes, we must!” I hoped I sounded earnest enough and tried not to break into a run as I hot footed it out of the village, away from the muted streetlights, along the dark lane towards home. I’d obviously overdone the wine because I struggled to walk in a straight line, but it made no difference. At this time of night there was little if any traffic. I could have lain down and taken a nap and probably not been disturbed until the milkman rattled his bottles as he drove into Whittlecombe in his electric van just before daybreak.

It felt good to be free from the noise and stuffiness and sheer fakery of The Hay Loft. Free to enjoy the breeze, alone and unencumbered.

“Relationships are so complicated.” I tried to articulate my thoughts and feelings out loud as I went, ambling up the lane towards the drive of Whittle Inn, my voice sounding a little thick with the alcohol.

“I don’t know if George and Stacey are happy.” I shrugged dramatically into the shadows. “I can’t tell. Does George like Stacey? Does Stacey like George? Stacey likes Silvan.” This last thought grumbled out of my chest.

I hiccoughed and chortled. “She must be mad.”

For some reason that made me laugh out loud. Hysteria gripped me, until I was howling in mirth and doubled over at the side of the lane, leaning against one of the old oak trees sheltering the drive.

I heard footsteps behind me and straightened up quickly, trying to ascertain whether there was any danger, but the soft glow of Marissa’s pale shift lighting up the darkness, quelled my sudden fear.

“Are you alright, Alf?” Marissa’s gentle voice drifted out of the darkness.

“M’fine,” I said, and tried to stand up straight. Silvan’s low, knowing chuckle floated through the darkness.

“Do you need a hand?” Marissa asked, coming alongside me and reaching out, her cool touch landing on my wrist.

“M’noooo.” I shook my head, the vehement denial of the woman who has overdone it. “M’fine. Thanks though.”

Silvan joined us and nodded at Marissa. “You go on. I’ll see you in the bar for a nightcap.”

“A nightcap sounds good,” I said as Marissa drifted away, waiting for Silvan to tell me I’d had enough, but he didn’t, so I couldn’t argue with him.

“Let’s get some more air,” he said. “Walk with me.”

“I don’t want to walk.”

“Then don’t,” Silvan shrugged, easy either way. He moved off, heading away from the inn and towards the gardens and the marquee.

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