Page 19 of One Bed

‘Yes, I know you were made to drink wine while you watch people cook for you. But come.’ Reena didn’t release her grip on her hand and Golly had no option but to start walking. Bea was reminded of a carthorse leading a Shetland pony.

When they were gone, she shook her head and looked at Gib. ‘How are you doing? Are you OK or do you want to run back to the cottage, desperate to get out of the madhouse? You can, it’s a perfectly reasonable response.’

‘Your godmother is…’ Gib stopped, looking for the word. He finally settled on ‘entertaining’.

‘She’s batshit eccentric,’ Bea retorted. ‘She has no filter, at all. I’m sorry about the sex talk. She doesn’t respect other people’s boundaries.’

Gib didn’t reply, thank God. ‘Can I take a look around?’ he asked. ‘Reacquaint myself?’

She appreciated him changing the subject. ‘Sure, I’ll give you a quick tour.’

Bea led him down the passage that ran at ninety degrees to the one Reena and Golly had disappeared down, except that this one had rooms to one side – the huge reception and dining rooms, and a study – and glass walls on the other. Beyond the glass wall was an extensive courtyard, large enough to seat all the guests for the party. Lemon trees in expensive pots lined the edge of the courtyard and Bea heard Gib whistle. He looked impressed.

As he should be, it was an extraordinary space.

Bea pushed open one of the many glass doors and walked outside, Gib on her heels. He stopped and slid his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

‘It was smaller, and darker when we were kids,’ he commented.

‘Golly did a huge renovation about fifteen years ago. She put in the glass doors and revamped the courtyard to make this enormous entertainment space.’

‘It’s amazing.’

Bea’d written the bulk of book number four here, the book she loved the most. ‘Isn’t it? Golly’s Folly is my happy place. I feel so inspired here.’

‘And what do you need inspiration for?’ Gib asked.

He was sharper than a spear and she had to watch her words around him. She couldn’t run her mouth and risk outing herself as Parker Kane. She shrugged. ‘Doesn’t everyone need inspiration occasionally?’

His piercing look cut through the layers of bullshit and pulled her apart, leaving her feeling exposed. Wanting to move on, she gestured to the arches and the shadowed veranda beyond them. She’d spent many afternoons lying on the couches and loungers, keeping her fair skin out of the strong Greek sun.

‘On Saturday night the bar will be on the left side, the food on the other,’ she said. ‘The starters will be finger food, the pudding as well. The main meal will be served, with guests sitting at long tables.’

She was gabbling because she was nervous, not because she thought Gib had any interest in Saturday night’s set-up.

‘Sometimes Golly hires this place out to friends and friends of friends for an event, sometimes for a ridiculous amount of money, sometimes for free.’

‘I can’t figure her out,’ he said. ‘She acts like she’s ditsy, but then she does or says something, and I think she’s as sharp as a scalpel blade. I think she’s deliberately outrageous because she gets a reaction that way. Or she does it to test boundaries.’

It had taken Bea years and therapy to work out that much, yet Gib already had Golly sussed. But she didn’t want him to think Golly was only self-absorbed and attention-seeking. Well, she was, but she could also be sweet, kind and funny.

‘Golly is complicated, a curious mix of wild and contemplative, funny and ferocious. She…’ Bea bit her lip, wondering if he’d get what she was about to say next, or whether he’d dismiss her words without thought.

‘Go on,’ he said, curious.

Oh, well. If he dismissed her, it would be so much easier to dismisshim. If he didn’t, then she’d sink deeper into…

Into whatever madness this was.

‘Golly is glamorous, self-involved, and selfish, but she’s also generous and interested and concerned. She frequently does things and gives things – advice, time and money, her interest – with no expectation of repayment. She runs into a situation, sprinkles her magic, and retreats again.’ Bea looked at him, suddenly serious. ‘That Heppel painting? What Golly didn’t tell you is that she spent a month at Heppel’s bedside when he was dying of AIDS in the eighties. He left her that painting in his will, but Golly sold it and donated the money to AIDS research. She then bought it again when it came back on the market. And when Reena was in danger of losing her house and, more importantly, her stables, Golly stepped in and paid off her mortgage.’

‘My Uncle Hugh and cousin Navy are the same. They’re both quietly involved in foundations and philanthropic work,’ he replied softly, and Bea was surprised he’d said that much.

‘And you?’

He looked at her. ‘What about me?’

‘Are you open and accepting, or suspicious and cynical?’ He didn’t need to answer her question, it was written all over his face. ‘Don’t bother to answer that. You have a layer of charm, but you don’t give anything away. Also, there’s lots happening under the surface.’

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