Page 26 of Lipstick Kiss

“Then you can pull your weight and charm Gilbert into telling us when he made the headstones and why he didn’t carve any names onto them.”

“Fine,” Freya said with a beaming smile.

Gilbert had turned their way again and frowned. Had he heard what Luke had asked Freya? She ignored the worry inching up her spine and dropped her head back to focus on the bowl. Luke lifted his hands, taking hers with him and sat up straight. One of his hands went back to her belly and rested there, keeping her in place. Did he think she was going to run off? The other rested on his leg, the clay already drying in patches on the back of his hand. Freya felt lost in what she could do. Now that she was aware of Luke rather than him simply existing, she was self-conscious about where to put her hands, body and mind.

“I’ll clean up here. You go do your thing with Mr Philbott,” Luke said.

Luke didn’t move a muscle, his palm flat against her stomach. He squeezed once and then stood, leaving her sitting. She felt the draught on her back as Luke moved away. Freya couldn’t explain her instant sadness that he was no longer cocooning her.

There was no time for her to dilly dally about Luke running hot and cold. She had a mission to complete. Freya walked over to where Mr Philbott was stacking utensils into a plastic bowl that looked set to go for washing. Then, straightening her apron without knowing what she would ask, she cleared her throat.

“Hi, Mr Philbott. I wonder if I can ask you a few questions?”

“Sure, Freya. What do you want to know?”

“Have you always made the headstones for the Turner family?”

“I’ve done a few, thankfully not many.”

“How many in total, would you say?”

“Now let’s see,” he said, tapping his finger from one hand onto his other hand.

He was muttering too low for her to hear the words he was saying. Finally, after a solid minute of counting and recounting, he looked up and made his declaration.

“Four.”

Freya wanted to burst out laughing. The man was in his seventies but sharp as a tack. Why it took him two minutes to come up with four was beyond her.

“I’m doing a project about his ancestors for Luke and his siblings. As a few families who served them attached to the Turner family for generations, I’d like to thread in their stories too. Can you tell me which of Luke’s family you made headstones for?”

“His dad. A sad time that was, I can tell you. Didn’t think I’d be making his father’s headstone in my lifetime. I thought my son would have that privilege. I did Luke’s grandfather and grandmother and Luke’s great-grandfather.”

“And are you the only business that makes and erects the headstones?”

“Yes, love. Miss Turner only uses our business as she knows we keep all the information confidential.”

Freya wondered if he was giving her a clue.

“One last question, and then I’ll let you get on with whatyou were doing. Which headstone did your father work on last?”

“I’m not sure, as I’d have to check the records. His memory is not what it used to be. He’s ninety-one now. He started as a stonemason as soon as he could at fourteen, which means he would have been working from 1946. Too late for Emma Turner. I know he worked on something for Miss Turner, but I can’t think who. I can check and come back to you.”

“That would be super helpful. Thank you, Mr Philbott. I’ll let you get on. I loved today’s lesson. I think I’m going to need a lot of practice. Luke helped me with most of it.”

“Ah, you two are a good pairing, always have been.”

Mr Philbott patted her arm and turned to work on the rest of the utensils. Strolling away, Gilbert Philbott had given her much to think about. There were no straight answers and more questions than before she started talking with him. Moving back to where Luke was packing up, she watched as he admired the bowl they’d made. He placed the jug he’d made over the bowl without touching it. He nodded and placed it back on the pedestal.

“Did you get any answers?” Luke asked when he noticed her standing and gazing.

“Kind of. We might need a debrief over a pint.”

“All right, sounds good. Let me have a quick word with Mr Philbott.”

“I’ll meet you outside.”

Luke nodded and left her to speak with Gilbert. She shouldered her handbag, left the classroom and walked down the corridor of the small barn that housed the pottery classes. She headed for the golf buggy and hopped in to wait for Luke.

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