A Taste of Home by Heidi Swain (the beginning after the end read novel TXT) 📕

‘There,’ said Grandad, looking from one ear to the other. ‘Just the ticket.’

I leant forward and looked in the dressing table mirror. He was right, they did look wonderful.

‘What if I lose them?’ I nervously asked.

‘You won’t lose them,’ Grandad tutted.

‘Well, what about you?’ I asked. ‘Are you going to wear that watch?’

‘Not today,’ he said, turning it over. ‘But at some point, I certainly intend to.’

‘Is it a Rolex?’ I asked.

It looked very old but in wonderful condition.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Passed down from Brown father to son and worth a pretty penny, so I’ve been told. I know I just said we shouldn’t save things for best, but you wouldn’t catch me picking fruit with this on my wrist.’

‘In that case, don’t you think it should be somewhere a bit more secure than your dressing table drawer?’

‘This is where it has always been kept,’ he said. ‘Now, look lively or you’ll be late.’

‘Are you not coming down?’ I asked, picking up my bag. ‘What time’s Eliot getting here?’

‘He’ll be a little while yet.’

It was a shame he wasn’t going to arrive in time to see me leave. Seeing me step out, as Nonna always said, with another man, would show him that I was every bit as capable as him at keeping my feelings in check.

‘You have a lovely evening and I’ll see you later,’ Grandad kindly said. ‘I’m going to get showered, so lock the door and put the key back through the letterbox for me would you, there’s a love?’

I kissed him lightly on the cheek so as not to leave a lipstick mark.

‘Thank you,’ I said, touching the rubies again.

‘Don’t keep fiddling with them,’ he scolded. ‘Otherwise you will lose them.’

I locked the farmhouse door and posted the key back through as Grandad had requested and then checked my phone. There was a voicemail message from Anthony apologising that he might be a few minutes late.

I sat under the apple tree, wondering if Eliot might actually arrive first, but it was Anthony’s Audi which swung into the yard. When he spotted me, he yanked off his sunglasses and jumped out of the car. For a second, he didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face more than justified the amount of money I’d spent on my outfit. It was a shame he was the only guy who was going to see it.

‘Wow,’ he said, sounding a little dazed, before walking over and kissing my cheek. He smelt divine, but there were no fluttery tummy fireworks, like when Eliot was in such close proximity. ‘You look absolutely beautiful, Fliss.’

‘You don’t scrub up so bad yourself,’ I smiled, although of course he always looked smart so his transformation was nowhere near as surprising as mine.

‘What this old thing,’ he joked as we walked over to the car.

He opened the passenger door and I sat on the edge of the seat before swinging my legs in. It felt completely alien, trying to embrace a touch of elegance. I had no hope of keeping it up all evening.

‘So,’ I said, discreetly touching the rubies, just to make sure they were still there, ‘where exactly are we going?’

The restaurant was over an hour’s drive away, but Anthony promised it would be worth the journey, and the warm reception he received when we arrived suggested that he was a regular guest.

The conversation between us in the car had flowed easily – mostly small talk – but it became a little stilted once we were seated and had listened to the waiter running through the elaborate and, to my mind, extortionately expensive, menu. I knew it was expensive because my menu didn’t have any prices on.

‘Is this all right?’ Anthony asked, looking at me in concern, once the waiter had gone. ‘It was the best place I could think of. I’ve always got on well here before.’

He’d obviously gone to a lot of trouble to make an impression, so I could hardly tell him the restaurant felt out of my league and I was worried about using the wrong fork. I was completely out of my comfort zone but then I remembered why I had accepted his invitation, as well as the conversation we had had in the farm kitchen.

He’d promised to tell me all about himself and I knew I was up to listening to that, even if I couldn’t order half the dishes because I couldn’t pronounce them. I took a deep breath, phased out the upmarket ambience and focused solely on him.

‘It’s wonderful,’ I smiled, taking a sip of the water that had been poured during the waiter’s lengthy monologue. ‘I’m just feeling a little impatient, that’s all.’

‘Impatient?’

‘Yes,’ I said, looking straight at him. ‘We’ve been in each other’s company for a couple of hours now and I still don’t know if you’re a cat or dog person, if you believe in ghosts or what your favourite colour is.’

Anthony’s shoulders relaxed and he shook his head.

‘Oh god,’ he grinned. ‘It’s a disaster, isn’t it?’

‘Total tragedy,’ I said, playing along.

‘I should have at least told you what I’d like to change about myself by now, shouldn’t I?’

‘At the very least,’ I pouted.

‘Well, it’s your fault,’ he shot back. ‘Had you not looked so beautiful against the backdrop of that shabby old farm, then I would have been able to stay on track, wouldn’t I?’

‘Hey,’ I said, more than half meaning it. ‘Less of the shabby, thank you very much. That’s my heritage you’re talking about.’

He held up his hands, half apology, half surrender.

‘But I suppose you’re right,’ I cheekily agreed. ‘I am a total vision, so it’s only natural that the backdrop didn’t look its best. Or,’ I frowned, ‘do I mean that I looked my best because the backdrop was a bit rough around the edges. That’s unsettling.’

We both laughed and I felt heaps better. I wasn’t even bothered by the looks our laughter attracted from the other diners.

‘You were right first time,’ Anthony