Free A Village Deception (Turnham Malpas 15) by Rebecca Shaw Page A

life-giving cup of Earl Grey.
    Paddy served the tea in such a gentle, considerate manner that Tamsin almost felt revived just watching him. His attention was heaven-sent and yet the man seated beside her on the sofa was not the kind of man she should have been attracted to. She’d grown up in a house where music was prized above rubies. All of them, which included her parents and two sisters, had been more than proficient in at least two instruments, and their greatest joy was to get together to play. They played till the moon shone through the windows, till the clock struck midnight. Passing music exams with distinction was the norm and she’d revelled in it.
    Until tragedy struck one bright summer’s day. Tamsin was nineteen when her parents and one of her sisters were killed in a horrifying train crash. Happiness fled from her life, for ever, it seemed. Tamsin had won a place at the Manchester School of Music, to begin in the autumn. It gave her a sense of purpose, but her sister, Penny, eighteen months older than her, dug out a rucksack from the loft, filled it with everything she needed for along adventure, and disappeared to South America. Occasionally, over the next fifteen years, Tamsin got a postcard from her, each place appearing more remote than the last. She kept every one of them in a drawer in her bedroom. About three years ago, a postcard came that gave her an email address and since then it had been emails, not cards, that outlined the latest venture Penny had decided to take up. As for herself …
    ‘More tea, Tamsin?’
    Paddy brought her back to now and, all things considered, she preferred now. ‘I don’t know why it is I can practise for hours when I’m by myself, but as soon as I have people listening to me, I’m exhausted after an hour.’
    ‘It’s because you want to do your best for them, which you do. Your playing is perfect.’ Paddy’s eyes glistened with approval.
    ‘Thank you. You’re a very restful person to be with, you know, and yet they tell me that in the pub you’re full of jokes and laughter.’
    ‘It must be you who makes me restful.’ Paddy smiled at her and those Irish eyes of his, almost midnight blue with their black lashes, stopped her in her tracks. In all her thirty-four years, Tamsin had never met a man who’d touched her emotions so quickly. One smile, one laugh, and she was captivated. But it wouldn’t do. She wasn’t the marrying type and neither, she felt sure, was Paddy. Maybe they could be friends and give marriage a kick into touch?
    Paddy put down his empty cup. He hated Earl Grey; he only drank it for Tamsin’s sake. He said, ‘Can I tell you something?’
    ‘Of course.’ Tamsin hoped he wasn’t going to say anything at all about his feelings. Now wasn’t the time, and it never would be.
    ‘I had a very different upbringing from you, sure I did.’
    ‘How different?’
    ‘How long have you got?’
    ‘How old are you, Paddy?’
    ‘Forty last birthday.’
    ‘Which is when?’
    ‘November 20th.’
    ‘Is your name really Patrick?’
    ‘No. I was christened Paddy. How much more Irish can you get?’
    ‘You don’t sound very Irish.’
    ‘Once I’d left Ireland, I tried to make sure that I didn’t sound like an archetypal idiot Irishman.’
    Paddy was silent then. It seemed to Tamsin that he had something more to say and suddenly she couldn’t bear it another minute. ‘I’m all ears if you’ve something to tell me.’
    ‘I was number three, and the first boy of eight children, not one of whom my parents could afford to have. We were dirt poor. My father never worked, as far as I know. Any money he got to before my mother got her hands on it went on drink. We were frequent visitors to the local convent, begging for food. I felt so ashamed. Everyone knew us for what we were; unclean, ill-mannered, shabby and at the bottom of every pile.’
    ‘I’m sorry.’ Tamsin spoke with compassion in every timbre of her voice.
    Paddy smiled at her.