Free Village Fortunes (Turnham Malpas 17) by Rebecca Shaw

‘He’s done such fantastic things. He nearly got killed in an avalanche, you know.’
    Harriet, ashamed of herself because at that moment she heartily wished he had, smiled. ‘He’s lived dangerously then.’
    ‘That’s what makes him so exciting. I wish I’d done dangerous things, I’ve done nothing at all really. Absolutely nothing.’
    ‘You could have gone to university, done some dangerous things there.’
    ‘Yes, but I’m doing what I want to do at the store.’
    ‘In that case you are very lucky. Loads of people your age haven’t even got a job, never mind one they like.’
    ‘You’ll like him, I know you will.’ Fran stared into the far distance, lost in her thoughts, and briefly Harriet envied her.
    Then Fran said, ‘He’s just delicious .’
    Harriet knew from the way she said ‘ delicious ’ that Fran had been far closer to Chris than she would have wished, and Harriet hated him for this. He wasn’t such a fool as not to know how inexperienced Fran was. She’d kill him with one of her own kitchen knives. She would. Ten years in prison would be a small price to pay. With her qualifications she’d inveigle herself into the prison kitchens, transform the food, write a recipe book and be thanked for her sterling work in the interests of the prison population. In fact they might even find there was a sudden desire on the part of the prison population to turn over a new leaf, entirely due to the improvement in their diet, and they’d all strive to become first-class citizens. She glanced at Fran and was tempted to let her in on the secret just for a joke, but decided no. Not right now.
    ‘Mum!’
    ‘Mmm?’
    ‘Chris isn’t keen on shellfish, or curries. Just thought I’d tell you.’
    ‘Right. Thanks. More fruit salad?’
    ‘No, thanks. I won’t be in tonight, by the way.’
    ‘OK. Going somewhere nice?’ But Harriet didn’t get an answer.
     
    Sunday came round all too quickly, for both Harriet and Jimbo, and also for Fran who, although delighted that Chris was coming to lunch, had unexpectedly now got serious misgivings about it. She was sure it wasn’t, but could it possibly be a ploy on her mother’s part to let Chris know how much her parents disliked the idea of the two of them together? But he was wonderful, absolutely wonderful, and the idea of going to Brazil to live with him was monstrously tempting to someone like herself who’d led such a sheltered life. Chris had never said those exact words, but how else could they continue their relationship if she didn’t go back with him to Brazil? Chris had mentioned several times about ‘when he went back to Brazil’, as though getting her to warm to the idea. He did have a flat of his own, though he didn’t seem to spend much time in it because he was always talking about the meals he ate at his mother’s, and how his laundry was done by a maid who worked for his mother.
    At twelve exactly the doorbell rang, the door opened and a voice called out, ‘It’s me, Chris Templeton, shall I come in?’
    He looked completely and absolutely perfect. It was a winter’s day, but even so, the sun was shining brightly on his fair hair. He wore a kind of tweed suit that looked superb, a far cry from the ones Sir Ronald Bissett wore for Sheila’s sake. It was both very smart and casual at the same time, and Harriet and Jimbo knew for certain it would have cost the earth. Harriet liked his strong grip as they shook hands. Jimbo shook his hand too, but Fran got a discreet kiss on her cheek nearer her ear than her mouth, as though Chris was trying to impress on them that Fran and he were not intimate, although Harriet knew differently.
    Jimbo, being the suave host that he was, wandered off with Chris to the drinks cabinet so he could choose what he would prefer. ‘Take your pick. Fran has gin with whatever, and so does Harriet.’
    ‘I’ll have whisky, neat, if that’s all right with you.’
    Jimbo chose the same purposely.