The Girl in the Scrapbook by Carolyn Ruffles (reading women TXT) 📕

then, there it was; a recently renovated, thatched cottage with whitewashed walls, small, leaded windows and a column of horseshoes hanging beside the door.

She stared transfixed at the photograph. The cottage definitely looked the same but there was only one way to find out. She scurried upstairs to her bedroom and retrieved Norah’s scrapbook from her bedside table. Heart pounding, she took it downstairs and opened it at the final page of photographs. Then she placed the two pages side by side. Although the cottage in the magazine looked considerably larger and had obviously had some additional building work done, there could be no mistake. At last, she had found the cottage where Norah had lived with her husband and child.

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Chapter 14

Jennifer – December 2016

Jennifer spent a considerable amount of time getting ready for her evening out with David. She wanted to look her best – any woman would, she rationalised – but she also did not want to look as if she had made a real effort. It was a tricky thing to balance and she finally settled on a plain navy, long sleeved, fitted dress which she embellished with some chunky jewelleryand high heeled, navy shoes. Looking critically at herself in her bedroom mirror, she decided the overall effect was attractive but business-like. It was not an outfit to give a man any ideas.

She had no idea what to expect in any case. ‘Something to eat’ could turn out to be an informal gathering of friends down the pub. She was hoping that might be the case. The prospect of spending an entire evening alone with him made her feel curiously anxious and she couldn't understand why. She'd never felt like this about any other man. Over the course of the day, she wondered what it was about him that made her feel nervous and had eventually acknowledged to herself that she hated not feeling in control. He was so arrogant and high-handed that she found his company akin to being hit by a steamroller. As someone who was used to being in command of most situations, she resented the way he managed to outmanoeuvre her. She needed to up her game, she decided, if she were to get the better of him.

When he arrived, promptly at seven, she couldn't help the giddy skip of excitement tingling her spine at the sight of him. He really was very good looking for a man in his late fifties and Jennifer was suddenly all too aware of it. His brown eyes, crinkled in a smile, were framed by extraordinarily long lashes and yet his face was very masculine, lean and strong-jawed. He was dressed smartly but informally in dark brown jacket and trousers and a green, checked shirt and Jennifer mentally ticked her own choice of attire as she picked up her wrap and bag and locked her door behind them.

He took hold of her arm solicitously as they walked to his car, a silver Audi. ‘Watch your step! It’s pretty icy already.’

Jennifer shivered in response. ‘Yes, the forecast said it could well be minus five tonight.’

As they drove, David asked her about her tree. ‘All sorted,’ she replied. ‘It looks lovely in the corner of the sitting room, in that little alcove. It was a perfect fit. Thank you again for getting it for me. I’ll pay you for it when we get to … where are we going?’

‘Gino’s,’ David answered. ‘It’s a little Italian restaurant in Bury. I overheard you saying at the race night that you loved Italian food.’

Jennifer felt a warm glow at his effort to please her. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ she said and then added politely, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Me too. I’m starving.’

When they got to the restaurant, the proprietor, presumably Gino, greeted David warmly and kissed Jennifer effusively on each cheek. ‘Lovely to see you again,’ he said. ‘But ... this beautiful lady … I know we have not met. I would remember.’

After David had introduced her, Gino led them to a table set for two in a quiet corner of the restaurant. It was reasonably busy for a midweek night in December and humming with conversation. Jennifer looked around, absorbing her surroundings and feeling relaxed. The place had a charming, rustic feel, with a wooden floor, tables covered with checked tablecloths and casual arrangements of fresh flowers. It was the sort of restaurant she loved, comfortable and friendly.

‘Oh, how much do I owe you for the tree?’ she said, retrieving her purse from her navy clutch bag. He told her the amount and she counted out the cash. Seeing the couple on a nearby table watching her curiously, she stifled a giggle and leaned across the table to whisper to David. ‘They probably think you’re my escort and I’m paying you for your services!’ she said, nodding towards the couple who looked quickly away.

He laughed. ‘I’m willing to provide any services, as you put it, free of charge,’ he said with a wink.

Jennifer blushed. ‘I’m sure you are,’ she said drily and cast around quickly for a change of subject. She really should do better at keeping her guard up. Picking up the menu, she asked David what he would recommend.

He shrugged. ‘I’m not a great pasta lover myself so I usually have a steak - the Filleto Rossini,’ he said, struggling a little with the pronunciation, ‘and maybe some bruschetta or the seafood to start.’

She nodded. ‘Well, it all looks good. How about if we share some bruschetta to start and then, perhaps, I’ll have the pappardelle ragu d’anatra?’

‘What’s that?’ he asked, peering at his menu.

‘Pasta with a ragu of duck in a garlic, tomato, red wine and thyme sauce with parmesan shavings and truffle oil,’ she read aloud. ‘It sounds delicious.’

‘If you say so. I’ll take your word for it.’

A waiter appeared to take their order and then swiftly reappeared with a bottle of the house red wine and a large orange juice