Page 21 of Coming Home to Roseford Villas
‘If I hadn’t been so drunk, there’s no way I’d have got any shut-eye,’ Leo replied. ‘I can barely remember any of the night, apart from waking up the next morning with the most stonking hangover, and being freezing cold.’
Rory laughed. ‘I don’t think I was much better. I couldn’t do it now.’
‘I wonder what’s he’s up to, these days,’ Leo mused. ‘If there’s ever a school reunion, I’d be tempted to go.’
‘Not sure I would.’ Rory shuddered. ‘Or maybe I’ve just seen too much of schools, over the years.’
They’d walked most of the way down to the centre of Roseford while they were teasing each other, and Rory marvelled at how easy conversation now was between them. It felt lovely to be able to relax in each other’s company.
‘Did you want to grab a coffee before it starts?’ Leo asked. ‘I think we’ve got half an hour or so.’
‘That sounds great,’ Rory replied. They were walking down Roseford’s picturesque main street, which was a pleasing array of independent shops and houses. Roseford Reloved, the vintageclothing shop that Rory had noticed when she’d first arrived in the village, had an eye-catching display in its front window of pretty summer dresses in contrasting colours. The small art gallery a couple of doors down looked to be doing good business and the florist, Roseford Blooms, which was positively overflowing with buckets and stands of fresh, fragrant flowers, looked inviting on this warm summer’s day.
‘This place is so lovely.’ Rory breathed in the scents of the flowers as they passed Roseford Blooms. ‘I can’t imagine anyone wanting to leave, once they lived here.’
Leo gave her a brief smile. ‘I have to admit, it’s been growing on me since I came back to help out Uncle Bryan and Auntie Vi. I used to spend summers here when I was a kid, and I got bored silly, but as an adult, it feels like the kind of village that I could live in. If things were different, of course,’ he added quickly. ‘But job offers wait for no man, and London definitely won’t wait longer than September.’
Rory felt an unidentifiable pang of something as Leo said that. It felt so plain, so clear that he only saw this summer as a stop-gap. She was fooling herself if she thought he wanted anything longer term. All the same, it was lovely to be spending time with him while she could. And if things were different…
‘So, what would you like?’ Leo’s voice interrupted her thoughts as they stepped over the threshold of Roseford Café.
‘Oh, a latte to go would be great,’ Rory replied.
‘Two lattes it is,’ Leo replied. He spoke briefly to the attractive blonde woman behind the counter, and in very little time they were sipping their drinks and mooching towards Roseford Hall, where Shona Simmonds’s talk was scheduled to take place in the Great Hall.
‘I feel so nervous!’ Rory admitted as they walked through the wrought-iron gates towards the grand, imposing building thatwas Roseford Hall. ‘I’ve loved Shona Simmonds’s work for my whole life. What on earth am I going to ask her?’
‘I would have thought you’d have written down a million questions in your notebook,’ Leo replied. ‘I mean, there must be so much you want to know.’
‘Yeah, but so many of them just seem so daft. And I don’t want to come across as just another aspiring novelist who doesn’t know anything about anything.’
‘Rory.’ Leo stopped her in her tracks. ‘You don’t have to worry. Shona Simmonds will have seen and heard it all a thousand times. Just be yourself. She’ll love you.’
Rory blushed. ‘You’re sweet. And I almost believe you.’ She looked up into Leo’s open, sincere face, and if it hadn’t been for the coffee cups they were holding, she’d have given him a hug. He met her gaze, and something seemed to pass between them. Once again, as they both stood there for a fraction longer than they needed to, Rory found herself thinking,Careful.
24
Dropping their coffee cups into one of the many recycling stations that were placed at strategic points around the Roseford Hall site, Rory and Leo made their way to the already crowded Great Hall. Shona may have been a late addition to the programme, but she’d proved to be a popular one, and the chairs that had been arranged in the generous space of the Great Hall were already mostly occupied. Wondering where on earth they were going to sit, Rory was pleased to spot Stella near the front, with two empty seats beside her.
‘I heard through the grapevine that you might be showing up for this one,’ Stella said as they approached. ‘Thought I’d save you a couple of seats.’
‘Thanks,’ Rory said, sliding gratefully into one of them. ‘Have you, er, met Leo? He’s staying at Roseford Villas, helping out his aunt and uncle for the summer.’ She knew Stella had heard about Leo, but she wasn’t sure if they’d actually met.
‘Yes,’ Stella replied, smiling at Leo. ‘We’ve bumped into each other a couple of times.’ As she made polite small talk about running similar businesses for a few minutes, Rory was contentjust to listen. If Stella was surprised that she and Leo had turned up together, she wasn’t showing it.
‘Well, looks as though Simon gets to introduce this very special guest,’ Stella observed as the man himself took to the front of the Great Hall. ‘Bet he loved being told by the BHF he had to do that.’ She caught Rory’s eye and smirked good-naturedly. ‘He might not show it, but he hates speaking in public, even though he’s actually quite good at it.’
‘I should think he’s probably used to it, isn’t he, having been head of the family for quite a while.’ Rory again observed how much Simon resembled Edmund. It really was like looking at a living version of history, when she saw him.
‘Bless him,’ Stella said fondly as Simon cleared his throat. ‘He’s such a dork.’
Rory turned to her friend in surprise. ‘You know him well, then?’
‘Oh, yes – he’s a good mate. We spent some time together when I was Writer in Residence here, and he’s known Chris forever. He’s a sweetheart, but sometimes he forgets what century he’s living in.’
Stella paused as Simon began his introductory speech. He was a good speaker, with just the right amount of humour and interest, and Rory found herself enjoying listening to him. Then, she felt a frisson of excitement as Shona Simmonds herself appeared in the archway of the Great Hall, to thunderous applause.
It was if a rock star had entered the building as the audience rose to its feet. The diminutive woman, dressed in a simple but chic dark plum trouser suit, with a pastel-pink embroidered scarf wound elegantly around her shoulders, paused and smiled to acknowledge the welcome. Still spry and agile at eighty years old, she walked with a slow but confident step to the armchairthat had been provided for her at the front of the hall and waited for the applause to die down.
