Kate Hardy - To Tame the Playboy

When he’d gone, Fleur sat back, completely confused. What on earth was all that about? she asked herself. The man was a peculiar mixture, there was no doubt about that. Often kind and considerate…even beguiling…but today he was like a quarrelsome child. And, this morning, undeniably irritable. Perhaps he and his ‘friend’ had drunk too much last night. Perhaps that was it. There was no other reason that she could think of. Then she made a face to herself. Let him get on with it. This time tomorrow she’d be well out of here.

Pat returned later on in the morning and Fleur was really pleased to see her, to see her open, friendly, uncomplicated face. Sebastian’s attitude earlier had upset her more than she wanted to admit, and it was comforting to have the older woman around.

‘I’m roasting a little duckling for tonight, for you and Sebastian,’ Pat said. ‘He’s very partial to game, so that’ll please him.’

‘Hmm,’ Fleur said non-committally. The fact was, Sebastian Conway had always been a spoiled brat, she thought. Brought up to expect the best of everything, and getting it, thanks to his heritage.

‘Are you happy enough with bread and cheese and some soup, now, Fleur?’ Pat asked, ‘or do you fancy something else?’

‘Bread and cheese will be absolutely perfect, thanks, Pat,’ Fleur replied, smiling at the woman gratefully. She paused. ‘I’m going to miss you terribly when I go home tomorrow…’

‘Oh, but you’re not going until next week, are you?’ Pat said, turning to look at Fleur, her face crestfallen.

‘Sorry—no, I’ve got to go back early,’ Fleur replied. ‘Duty calls. But—’ she smiled ‘—I’ve had the most super time, and most of it is thanks to you. You’ve treated me like one of the family, like a queen in fact, and my own cooking is going to seem pretty ordinary after yours.’

‘Well, well, that’s a disappointment,’ Pat said. ‘It’s been lovely having you around, Fleur. Makes such a difference being with another woman, someone young to chat to.’ She sighed. ‘Mum and I do all right, and we love our lives here, but it can be lonely, and the best times are when the family are here, and bring their guests. Then the place comes alive. Still—’ she turned back to what she’d been doing ‘—we mustn’t grumble. We feel very privileged to work at Pengarroth Hall.’

Presently, they sat together at the kitchen table enjoying the lunch—a simple meal which, in Pat’s hands, seemed to turn into a banquet. Especially as it began with a piping hot bowl of homemade curried parsnip soup.

‘I hope I’ve left enough room for the duckling,’ Fleur said, sitting back.

‘Mum’s making some lovely saffron buns and a potato cake for our tea first!’ Pat exclaimed. ‘She’s so looking forward to you coming up to the cottage.’

Fleur groaned inwardly. She’d momentarily forgotten about the afternoon tea appointment! But, if it killed her, she’d eat some of Beryl’s home-made cakes!

At three o’clock, with Pat leading the way along the wooded paths, they went up to the cottage and Fleur was surprised at how soon they arrived. ‘It doesn’t take you too long then, Pat, to come down to the house?’ she asked. ‘Which is just as well, seeing you have to do it so frequently.’

‘Oh, my, no, dear,’ Pat said. ‘Doesn’t take any time at all, especially when you know the way, like I do. It takes Mum a bit longer, but then, she only comes to the house when I need a bit of extra help. There are other cottages on the estate, which are rented out, but ours is the nearest—for obvious reasons.’

As they pushed open the door, the smell of fresh baking greeted them and Fleur sniffed the air like a hungry child. ‘Oh…I wish I hadn’t eaten so much lunch, Pat!’

The woman grinned, calling up the narrow staircase, ‘Mum? We’ve arrived. Are you decent?’ She turned to Fleur. ‘Mum has a rest after lunch every day.’

‘Of course,’ Fleur said. ‘Is she really all right, Pat—to have me up here, I mean…Has she recovered?’

‘Perfectly,’ Pat assured her. ‘She gets these funny turns fairly regularly, but they soon pass. And she’s been looking forward to your visit—insisted on baking the cakes. I could have done it, but no, she’s the one in charge here.’

Just then Beryl appeared, wearing a pretty pink jumper and navy skirt, with her almost-white hair brushed up into a knot.

‘You look nice, Beryl,’ Fleur said.

‘Well, we don’t often have visitors,’ the woman replied. ‘Now, let me have your jacket and scarf and you sit there—kettle’s already boiled.’

The modest-sized room was simply furnished but cosy and immaculate, the small dining table laid with a white lace cloth and rose-patterned china. Fleur leaned back and looked around her admiringly. ‘This is the sort of room you’d see in a child’s picture book,’ she said, looking up at Beryl. ‘So…appealing…and lovely.’

‘Old fashioned, you mean,’ Pat said good-naturedly. ‘But it’s how we like it, don’t we, Mum?’

Beryl poured boiling water into the pot, then brought the plates of cakes over to the table. ‘Now, dear, have you ever tasted potato cake—the real thing, I mean? Like we make down this way?’

Fleur studied the plate she was being shown, on which was a rather flat-shaped cake, criss-crossed on the slightly browned top and dusted with sugar. ‘I don’t think so,’ she replied, her mouth already watering. ‘How’s it made, Beryl?’

‘Easy,’ Beryl said. ‘Cooked, mashed potatoes, big spoonful of fresh beef suet and the same of sugar, all mixed up by hand, add a few currants, shape it up on a baking sheet, mark it out so it’s easy to serve, and let it cook slowly for about an hour. Eat it hot. Like this.’ And, with the deft use of a sharp knife, she lifted a generous piece onto Fleur’s plate and stood back. ‘Try it,’ she said.

Fleur did—and it was delicious. Her obvious enjoyment naturally pleased Beryl, and for the next half an hour all three women tucked into it, their teacups being refilled regularly.

‘Now, how about a saffron bun—have you ever had saffron buns?’ Beryl said, really getting into entertainment mode, but Fleur shook her head regretfully.

‘Honestly, Beryl, I’ve had three slices of potato cake! I couldn’t eat another mouthful!’

‘Well, have a rest and come back in a minute,’ Beryl said happily. ‘I’ve looked out those two books we were talking about the other day, by the way.’

‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll be here long enough to read them,’ Fleur said. ‘I’m going home tomorrow, Beryl—a bit earlier than I originally thought.’

‘Well, take them with you, dear, and you can bring them back next time you’re here.’

There won’t be a next time, Fleur thought, but instead she said, ‘I can’t thank you both enough for all you’ve done to make me so welcome…I’ve never had a holiday like this, and I’ve loved every minute of it.’ Bending down, she reached for her bag and took out the tissue-wrapped bottle of sherry which Sebastian had left out for her. ‘This is just a little thank you, Beryl—and don’t drink it all at once!’

‘Oh, my goodness—thank you so much,’ the woman replied, ‘but you shouldn’t have, you know. You’ve been a rather special guest—it’s been a pleasure to look after you. Not that I’ve done much, but I know Pat’s enjoyed your company.’ She hesitated, then added rather slyly, ‘To say nothing of our lord and master.’

Fleur looked away at that, then reached for her gift for Pat. ‘And I hope you’ll find a use for this, Pat.’

Pat unwrapped the watering can, holding it up to admire it. ‘It…it’s beautiful, Fleur,’ she said. She paused. ‘Of course I’ll use it. And I shall always treasure it.’