Daisy Tate - We are the Glampions!

Please note, for future communications I will be available on my mobile telephone. I’d appreciate any written communication to be held until I am able to provide you with a new forwarding address. As mentioned, we are in the process of selling the house and have not yet bought a new property.

Yours sincerely,

Charlotte Bunce

27 June

TO: Devon Surf Co

FROM: Isabella Yeats

Aloha Kai!

Really really sorry, buddy. Things are ()@£%&£)( complicated. ’Fraid I’m going to have to leave you in the lurch. I can send word out on the surf web that there’s a kick-ass job going. Would still like to help out at some juncture. Good news is, I’m moving closer. Bristol! Any possibility of keeping me in mind for the autumn?

Aloha on the other end. x Izz

‘Darling, you wouldn’t mind doing us another, would you?’ Lady Venetia held her empty martini glass in front of her face and grinned through it. ‘Just to top me up before I head down to the kennels.’

Charlotte didn’t think Lady V needed another martini but, as their Sunday Sundowners would be drawing to a close …

‘You know, dear …’ Lady V accepted her fresh martini with a demi-bow of the head, as if it were she and not Charlotte who was the recipient of great largesse. ‘I think you’ve ruined me for ever.’

‘What do you mean?’ Charlotte hovered above her usual perch, a rather fetching eggshell blue courting chair, until it was indicated that she’d done nothing wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact.

‘I know the gehl will work out just fine, but it won’t be the same, will it?’

Charlotte tried to explain that Lucy was every bit as dab a hand at the cakes as she was, but Lady Venetia wasn’t having it.

‘She’s young and not terribly interesting.’ Lady V gave her fingers a bit of a flick as if the matter was settled. Poor Lucy. ‘She doesn’t seem to see things the way you do. It’s little wonder those Bristolians snapped you up for their new venture, precocious talent that you are.’ Lady V laughed, but there was no mistaking the strain it took her to do so.

Charlotte looked down at her lap, still shy of basking in the light of a well-deserved compliment. In all honesty, she was still in shock. And not a little terrified. She’d just signed a two-year contract with one of the country’s most prominent visual merchandizers. They were building seven brand-new motorway service stations, all modelled on the farm-to-fork aesthetic she’d developed at Sittingstone. Boutique rustique, they called her style . Loved it, apparently. Her new boss had been flexible about the start date, but the first shop would be opening in late September. In keeping with the harvest , said the man eating out-of-season raspberries at the morning meeting. Freya would’ve had him for breakfast.

Lady V tapped the side of her glass with an olive to draw Charlotte’s attention back to her. ‘I wanted you to know it’s been a comfort having you keeping an eye on things here. I shall miss our Sunday evening business chats. They save me from my increasingly tedious son.’

Charlotte smiled. Their ‘business chats’ were very rarely about business. Lady Venetia, she had long suspected, was actually just lonely.

Her mentor recrossed her legs and arched a solitary eyebrow. ‘Did you know the boy’s begun a campaign to put wolves on the farm?’ She cackled. ‘Mind you. With any luck it’ll put short shrift to Esmé. She is ri dic ulous, isn’t she? Side with me, won’t you? Isn’t my son’s wife a dreadful bore?’ She brightened, her face aglow with a fresh idea, then – just as quickly – whatever it was that had cheered her passed. ‘You won’t forget me, will you darling?’

The lump in Charlotte’s throat quadrupled. ‘Of course not. You’re my mentor, my inspiration …’ She debated for a nanosecond over whether to say the next word then threw caution to the wind, ‘You’re my friend. I will never forget you.’

Mollified, Venetia threw her the most heartfelt smile they’d ever shared. ‘Darling, come.’ She patted the sofa. ‘Sit by me.’

Charlotte joined her, surprised at how papery and soft Lady Venetia’s hands were. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes. Perfectly, it’s just that … saying goodbye to you is a bit like sending my favourite child out into the big wide world.’ She dropped Charlotte’s hand and drained her martini.

Charlotte couldn’t meet her eye. She didn’t know if she’d ever been paid such a high compliment.

Life, after all, had cornered her into choosing this new path.

Hazel the Lawyer had put it quite simply. Charlotte could either be entirely dependent upon Oliver until the children were eighteen (living in the house, bickering about which schools were right for which child, endlessly debating who cared for which child when), or she could take the reins of her own life right now and get on with things.

After a rather painful lunch with Oliver, she’d chosen the latter.

‘How’s your friend receiving the treatment getting on?’ Venetia’s tone suggested Izzy had been receiving weekly facials instead of chemotherapy. ‘And that fabulous child of hers?’

Charlotte didn’t take offence that Lady V never asked after her own children. Everyone had a child they adored, and in Lady V’s case it was most definitely Luna.

‘I think all of the skipping about with schools has been a bit much, but hopefully the move to Bristol for Izzy’s new treatment will be a good thing.’ It was strange to be breezily discussing an experimental treatment that could kill Izzy as easily as it could cure her. Then again, what choice did Izzy have? The first round of chemotherapy had had no impact on her tumour at all. It had taken some doing, but Emily had finally convinced her that moving to Bristol where they were trialling some intensive new treatments was the best course of action.

Lady V cut into her silent musings. ‘Did you know Izzy sold her surfing company to one of those child television stars? You know the one I mean. He played an adorable child prodigy lawyer but grew up to look like a thug and –’ she made a pinging noise – ‘career over.’

Charlotte did know that. She’d sold it to pay her hospital bills in Hawaii.

‘And her little one will be staying at your new place in Bristol?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Izzy says she has some sort of job lined up in Devon come autumn, but it all sounded rather vague. I thought I’d check into getting Luna registered at Poppy’s new school just in case.’

‘She’s always welcome to rattle round Sittingstone with me. Especially if she learns how to make martinis as well as you do.’

Before Charlotte could come up with an appropriate response, Lady V rose from the sofa. ‘Be careful how you tread, darling. Make sure Izzy has some proper plans in place – legal forms and such – in case things don’t pan out for her. Some friends,’ her tone turned ominous, ‘remain a mystery on purpose.’

True, but, everyone had a set of cards they played close to their chest.

Charlotte thought of Rocco. The kiss they’d shared. The warmth that still flared inside her when she thought of the moment when he had held her in his arms. The scant contact they’d had since then. She’d sent a thank you card. He’d sent one back. She’d not come up with a reason to thank him for his thank you card without sounding ridiculous, so it appeared that was that.

He’d be letting the cows out to pasture soon. At least according to Countryfile. She’d taken to watching it on catch-up after her talks with Lady V. It was terribly informative.

‘What is it, darling? You look wistful.’