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

Randalls to tidy away. I didn’t mention Anthony’s antics and as I watched him walk back to the house, I knew one of us was guaranteed sweet dreams.

‘So,’ said Bec, when we’d almost finished. ‘Have you talked to the Rossis yet? Eliot said you’ve finally got the broadband connected now.’

‘Yes,’ I smiled, ‘thanks to your brother we have and yes, I have talked to them.’

As we gathered the last few glasses and dishes together, I gave her a description of Marco, explaining how I thought she and him would be the perfect match and she was enthralled. Even more so when Eliot asked if he was the hunk he’d seen on the photo in the library. Bec was someone else who wouldn’t be having nightmares. I on the other hand…

I fell into bed feeling exhausted but I hardly slept. Earlier in the day, I had imagined I would be too excited to sleep and would lay until dawn mulling over how well things had gone, but instead I was wondering why Anthony had gone out of his way to try and sabotage everything.

First thing the following morning, I used the house phone to call him and made arrangements to meet.

‘This is a pleasant surprise,’ he said, when I arrived in town. ‘I thought you’d be too busy clearing up to even think of me.’ Given his interference, I’d thought of little else. ‘Does this mean you’ll have time for the wine bar later?’ he hopefully added.

‘We tidied and sorted last night,’ I brusquely told him, ‘but none the more for that, I won’t be going to the wine bar with you. Is there somewhere we can talk?’

It was bank holiday Sunday and still early, and as the town was having some sort of event in the park the next day, it looked like everyone was making the most of the day of rest. There was no sign of life anywhere other than the newsagents and that was hardly the spot to have the kind of conversation I had in mind.

‘Actually,’ I said, climbing back into the Land Rover, ‘we can talk here. At least saying it behind closed doors will keep it private.’

Anthony looked rather taken aback.

‘We could drive on to Peterborough,’ he suggested. ‘There’s bound to be a coffee shop open there.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I haven’t got time for that.’

‘Sit in my car, then,’ he tried. ‘I can put the air con on.’

‘No thanks,’ I said, wanting to keep the conversation on my turf. ‘We can open the windows. It’s not that hot and don’t worry, the seats are clean. You won’t mess up your trousers.’

Sensing that I meant business, he got in and I cracked the windows open a little further. His aftershave was rather overpowering for so early in the day but then he was always dressed for business and smelt ready for action whatever the hour. He never had a loose thread or a hair out of place, unlike Eliot who constantly had mussed up hair thanks to his bike helmet and clothes full of comfortable creases to match.

‘So,’ Anthony said, when I didn’t say anything.

‘So,’ I echoed back, pushing thoughts of Eliot’s hair and wardrobe aside.

I’d rehearsed what I was going to say a hundred times between asking him to meet me and arriving in the market square, but now it seemed rather dramatic. In the cold light of day and faced with the fact that he clearly had no idea why I had summoned him, I began to wonder if I’d got his words and actions a little out of proportion.

But then I reminded myself how he’d made a point of talking to everyone, including Eliot, and not only about the supper club, and I knew that if I didn’t have it out with him, I’d always wonder.

‘About last night,’ I began.

‘A roaring success,’ he beamed. ‘I don’t think it could have gone any better, could it?’

I turned to face him.

‘Or not?’ he questioned, taking me in. ‘Did something happen after I left? I’m sorry I had to duck out just as it was getting going and I know I messed up with the parking. That sort of thing really isn’t my forte, I’m afraid. I did try and tell your grandad. I hope it didn’t cause too much of a rumpus.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It didn’t.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ he sounded genuinely relieved. ‘So, what is it then? You don’t look like someone who’s just successfully unveiled a business idea, Fliss.’

‘The thing is,’ I said, launching before I lost the nerve, ‘when I went around, after you’d gone, and asked everyone about the venue and how they felt the evening was going, they all had a bit of a niggle.’

‘Right.’

‘Nothing major and all easily addressed.’

‘So that was good then, wasn’t it?’

‘Well, yes,’ I said. ‘But the thing was…’

‘The thing was what?’ he asked when I faltered.

‘The thing was,’ I said, taking a deep breath, ‘that all of the problems I had to address had been pointed out by you.’

He looked at me and blinked.

‘And what I want to know,’ I said, my voice getting louder, ‘is why? Why did you put those doubts in everyone’s heads, when you knew how desperately I wanted the evening to be a success? You know how much I want the supper club to work and yet you went around disrupting it.’

There, I’d said it.

‘I’m sorry, what?’ Anthony asked, shaking his head.

‘I want to know why you tried to mess it up?’

‘Mess it up,’ he repeated, sounding perplexed. ‘Fliss, you told me the evening was supposed to be a fact-finding event, didn’t you? Or have I misremembered that?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘you’re right. I did say that. That was the point of having a trial run.’

‘Okay, so the focus of the evening was to iron out and address any problems before you invested any money, right?’

‘Right,’ I swallowed.

‘You put the event on, not only with the intention of showing everyone how great your idea could be and what a good