‘Good morning! Headache better, dear?’ Harriet lifts her face to receive Kester’s kiss. She folds her newspaper and removes her reading glasses, laying both next to her empty cup on the small table beside her armchair.
‘Headache?’ He looks confused
‘Oh, my mistake perhaps, I was led to believe to had a ‘terrybull meeegrane’
‘Oh, God!’ Kester groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. ‘She didn’t?’
‘Mmmm. Not up to your usual standard, I have to say.’
'Not the brightest of specimens maybe but when it came down to it, she was really quite a nice girl.' he defends. 'I felt bloody shabby afterwards, finding an excuse to get her to go home.’
Harriet arches her eyebrows. ‘Have you had breakfast, darling? I’m waiting on my guests’ return. They’ve gorn orf for a bit of jolly old country air’ she mimics.
Kester grins. ‘I’m fine. I’ll have coffee with you though if that’s okay.’ He stands with his hands in his trouser pockets looking discomfited. ‘How did you come to meet….?’
‘Your young lady?’ Harriet gives a little shudder as she stands up. ‘I was saying my goodbyes to Helen when I was accosted. Yes, accosted is the only word for what happened. Being greeted by a complete stranger with a shriek of ‘You gotta be Jester’s wrinkly’ made my evening complete.’
‘Oh God!’ he groans again ‘Sorry, Harriet. I don’t know what else to say.'
‘I think these beer goggles of yours must have built in earplugs, that’s all I can say. Yes, I know what those goggles are now; I looked it up on my computer’ she says with a touch of pride in her voice.
‘Helen was here?’ Kester swiftly changes the subject as he follows her across the hallway to the kitchen.
‘She was.’ Harriet confirms as she checks the contents of the warming cupboard. ‘I do hope they are not going to be too much longer.’ She peers hopefully through the glass panel in the back door.
‘But she never goes anywhere.’
‘One wonders how you would know that to be true.’
‘Word gets around’ He pours coffee from the jug into a cup and a mug.
‘A conquest not made?’ Harriet asks as she fetches cream and a carton of eggs from the refrigerator.
‘Not my type’
‘If last night was some indication of what your type might be, I am not surprised she declined your advances.’ She pours cream into her coffee and offers the jug to Kester. At his shake of the head she puts it down on the breakfast bar.
Kester grimaces and gives a low chuckle. ‘I don’t think anybody makes advances as far as she’s concerned. A defensive position is more like it.’
‘Oh dear.’ Harriet says with exaggerated sympathy. ‘Your usual charm not work?’
‘Wasn’t a matter of charm. I was only trying to be friendly.’ He sits on one of the tall stools, sipping at his coffee. ‘You know, new to the village, didn’t know anyone. The shutters came down and that was it. I didn’t bother again. I’ve got better things to do with my time.’
‘Perhaps it was the idea of the better things you had in mind that she found off-putting.’ She dips her chin and looks at him reproachfully
‘At a social in the Village Hall?’ Kester protests. ‘ I thought it might help her find her feet, meet people. I didn’t have anything else in mind. Like I said, not my type. And the entertainment wasn’t exactly me either.’
‘It was a very difficult time for her.’
‘And I should have known that? Why, what happened?’
‘Oh…you know.’ Harriets starts to crack eggs into a bowl.
‘I don’t, that’s why I’m asking.’
‘Let’s just say that the male of the species were not in favour at that time.’ Her mouth tightens as she breaks up the eggs with a fork.
‘And that’s an excuse for being rude? A smile and a ‘Thank you but’ might have been nice. All I got was an abrupt ‘No’’
‘Give her time, Kester, darling.’
‘Time? Time for what? You think I’m interested? She’s not my type.’ He emphasises.
‘Just what IS your type?’
‘Not his for a start.’ Through the window behind her, he catches sight of a figure striding jauntily down the garden path. ‘Hide me!’ He dribbles coffee as he laughs.
The back door is flung open. ‘Kester! My daaarling boy. Missed you last evening. How the devil are you? You’re looking as delightful as ever. Still keeping those ladies’ pipes clear?’
Tawny House, Manor Road.
Chapter One
