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

‘Phew,’ I said. ‘That’s all right then.’

‘God,’ he said, fixing me with a stare that was suddenly serious, ‘you really are a breath of fresh air.’

Grandad had said that too, but he hadn’t meant it in the same way Anthony did.

‘You’re nothing like the girls I usually go out with,’ he carried on.

‘Lots of them, are there?’

‘You know what I mean.’

He was nothing like the guys I usually went out with either, not that there had been many, and I felt rather bad that I was out with him with an ulterior motive. I would have to tread carefully now he had showed his hand. I didn’t want him feeling that I had used him, even if that was in part, what I was doing. Suddenly, I didn’t feel quite so good about myself.

‘And is that a compliment?’ I swallowed.

‘Oh yes,’ he said, his gaze shifting to my lips, ‘it is. A glowing commendation. Shall we have some champagne?’

‘But you’ve got to drive back,’ I reminded him.

‘We’ll get a taxi,’ he shrugged.

I was about to say it would cost a fortune, but checked myself. Anthony didn’t strike me as the type of guy who worried all that much about money.

‘Champagne would be wonderful,’ I therefore said instead.

The food was delicious, but there was nothing local and the portions were tiny. I didn’t say as much obviously, because it was high-end fine dining, not a pie in the pub, but even so, I knew I would be making a sandwich before I went to bed.

‘So,’ I said, as Anthony refilled my glass from our second bottle of champagne. ‘That’s green for me, red for you. Dogs for you because cats are too independent and both for me. What about ghosts?’

‘Bugger ghosts.’

‘Excuse me.’

‘I want to know more about you, Fliss.’

‘Isn’t that the whole point of this rapid-fire Q and A?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘I thought your sources back in Wynbridge had already filled you in.’

‘They don’t know everything, obviously.’

‘We haven’t got time for everything,’ I batted back, feeling a little dizzy from the conversational back and forth as well as the bubbles.

‘Give me the potted history then. The bits you consider most important.’

I drank some more champagne and gave him a very brief lowdown on my childhood, life with Mum in Italy, her death and my subsequent arrival in Wynbridge. I stuck to the facts, which perhaps came across as a little cold in bullet point format, but with a belly full of fizz, I wasn’t going to risk taking the emotional, and potentially tearful, route.

‘Finding out about Fenview must have been a dream come true, considering your passion for fruit farming,’ Anthony shrewdly said.

‘It really was.’

‘So, tell me more about that,’ he sounded genuinely interested. ‘Your eyes light up whenever you mention the place. What’s going on there? Have you got plans for it?’

My fingers reached for the ruby earrings and my mind tracked back to the idea I’d had for the barn and the exciting future I envisaged for it.

I might have been feeling tipsy but my inhibitions weren’t so lowered that my big idea was up for discussion. Grandad would be the first person to hear it, because he was the only person whose opinion mattered when it came to farm business.

‘I have got plans,’ I confirmed, ‘but I’m not ready to talk about them yet.’

‘Fair enough,’ Anthony shrugged. ‘I just hope they don’t involve that big barn.’

It was the first time my heart had raced all evening.

‘The barn?’

‘Um,’ he said. ‘I noticed it when I called in before. The roof looks a little dipped, which made me wonder if the structure’s sound.’

‘Oh,’ I swallowed.

It had seemed fine to me, but I’d have to check it out properly now.

‘But never mind about that,’ Anthony carried on. ‘Tell me about Eliot Randall. Have you factored him into your grand scheme?’

‘Eliot?’ I asked, puzzled. I hadn’t even realised he would know who Eliot was. ‘No, should I have done?’

Anthony sat back in his chair and let out a long breath, then sat forward again and steepled his hands. His change of demeanour didn’t strike confidence and I wondered what on earth he was going to say.

‘Given the circumstances,’ he said, ‘I think you probably should.’

‘What circumstances?’ I frowned.

I hoped he wasn’t someone else who had got wind of mine and Eliot’s mutual attraction. Surely, he would have realised that if I felt something for Eliot then I wouldn’t be sitting opposite him in the swankiest restaurant in the county. That said, that was exactly what I was doing, wasn’t it? However, that wasn’t what he was getting at. At all.

‘You have heard the rumours about him, haven’t you?’ Anthony asked, with something akin to relish, and I felt the colour drain out of my world.

Chapter 17

Seeing the look on my face, Anthony apologised immediately and said it really wasn’t his place to say anything, but I couldn’t possibly let him get away with that.

‘It’s probably all bullshit,’ he backtracked, looking flustered. ‘Idle town gossip.’

‘That’s as maybe,’ I said, sitting up straighter, ‘but tell me what it is, and then I can decide for myself.’

The abundance of bubbles was suddenly making me feel nauseous rather than relaxed and I set my glass down and pushed it away. As far as I was concerned, Eliot Randall was the perfect man, and I knew Grandad felt the same way too. Not for the same reasons, obviously, but he was the best friend and closest confidant my grandfather had.

‘All right,’ Anthony eventually caved. He didn’t look anything like as happy as he had before. ‘I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to remember that this is all hearsay, okay. Promise?’

‘I promise,’ I said, remembering one of Nonna’s favourite maxims - There’s no smoke without fire.

That saying was never far from her lips, usually when word had reached her that Marco had been up to mischief with the neighbouring farmer’s daughter in the olive grove (again) and