Free THE TRYSTING TREE by Linda Gillard Page B

It was surely best to let sleeping dogs lie. Connor had already roused the sleeping garden. He might wake Ann too…
    Phoebe heard laughter outside, then the scraping of boots. She ladled soup into three bowls, spilling some as her clumsy hands shook. Matters were beyond her control now. She could only hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
    Connor’s smiling ruddy face appeared at the door and as soon as he entered, the kitchen felt smaller. Phoebe noted he was a whole head taller than Ann – so like her handsome father, especially when she smiled and she was smiling now. Ann was happy. There was colour in her cheeks and she looked alive. Being outdoors had that effect on her. Or perhaps it was Connor. The man’s energy and good humour were infectious.
    ‘Lunch is served,’ Phoebe announced. ‘Tomato soup. Campbell’s best. Campbell is my cook,’ she added with a wink to Connor. ‘Help yourselves to cheese and ham. I’ve cut plenty of bread, but it’s doorsteps, I’m afraid. That’s all my gammy hands can manage these days.’
    ‘The only way to eat bread,’ Connor replied, removing his boots and leaving them on the doormat. He went over to the sink and began to wash his hands. ‘After this I’ll be ready to go another ten rounds with Sleeping Beauty out there. I do believe she’s beginning to stir…’
    On an impulse, Ann put an arm round her mother’s waist and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thanks for doing all this, Mum. I’m looking forward to it!’
    Thrown by the show of affection, Phoebe bent and grasped her stick. Moving cautiously through the kitchen, she called out over her shoulder, her voice slightly querulous, ‘Would one of you be kind enough to bring my soup through? Oh, and there’s beer and cider in the pantry. Just help yourselves. You’ve earned it.’

ANN
     
    When Connor had finished for the day, cleaned up and gone home, Phoebe and I collapsed for the evening in front of the stove. The wind had freshened and was whining now in the chimney. I must have been dozing when Phoebe suddenly announced, ‘Nice boy, Connor.’
    ‘Mmm?... Oh, yes, he’s very kind, isn’t he? I hope he manages to make a go of his garden business.’
    ‘I’m sure he will. All that energy, plus a capacity for hard work. He seems to know what he’s about.’
    ‘Yes, he trained at horticultural college.’
    ‘Is he married?’
    ‘I don’t know. He’s never mentioned a wife.’
    ‘Girlfriend?’
    ‘I’ve no idea. He’s got a flatmate. Male. Maybe he’s gay.’
    Phoebe shook her head. ‘Don’t think so. My antennae – which have never failed me yet, I’ll have you know – indicate he’s straight. There’s probably a girlfriend somewhere.’
    ‘Maybe. But when you’re setting up your own business, there’s not a lot of time left for socialising. And the older you get, the pickier you get.’
    ‘That sounds like the voice of bitter experience.’
    ‘Well, it’s not easy to find someone who’ll put up with you being married to a business. Jack and I worked really hard at separate careers and we were both very successful, but the marriage went to the wall. Isn’t that what happened with you and Dad?’
    Phoebe shrugged. ‘It just wasn’t in my nature to be domestic. Or faithful, I’m afraid. But you mustn’t give up looking, Ann. You’re too young and far too attractive.’
    ‘I haven’t given up,’ I replied, without much conviction.
    ‘After all, you’re only forty-three.’
    ‘Forty-four, actually.’
    ‘Really?’ Phoebe looked confused as she calculated. ‘Damn. You’ve had another birthday, haven’t you? Sorry, I lose track of time. I suppose I should get a calendar, but really, what for ? One day is much like another for me.’
    ‘Mum, you’ve remembered my birthday once in the last ten years,’ I said, laughing. ‘It’s really not an issue. I’ve got to the age where I prefer to forget about birthdays.’
    ‘Me too. Shall we have a birthday amnesty? No