Linda Mitchelmore - The Little B & B at Cove End

Mae sighed heavily.

‘Is this a lecture?’ she asked.

‘No, but a lot’s happened here tonight, and I wouldn’t want you to make a rash decision because of it.’

‘I haven’t. Okay?’ Mae’s eyebrows were practically meeting in the middle in indignation. And then she smiled at Cara, a broad beaming smile that lit up her face. ‘Why would I not want to see him again? You saw him. He’s like, lush!’

Cara couldn’t think of a thing to say about that. Yes, Josh Maynard was a looker. And the word lush could mean more than drop-dead desirable – not that Cara was going to mention that right now.

‘Okay,’ Cara said. ‘You’ve got school in the morning. Up the wooden hill?’

‘When I’ve dried my hair.’ Mae roughly rubbed the towel over her hair. ‘And, Mum … can I, like, sleep in your room tonight?’

‘Of course,’ Cara said, relieved that she wouldn’t now need to ask that same question of Mae and get, perhaps, a flat refusal for the asking. Tonight had brought mother and daughter a little closer together. An ill wind and all that …

‘Just tonight, you understand?’

‘Of course,’ Cara said again. Even the fact that the Hines had violated her space by searching through drawers and wardrobes, and even under the bed, couldn’t take away her joy that she would have Mae lying close to her and could reach and give her reassurance in the night if she needed it.

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