Free Close Encounter with a Crumpet by Fleeta Cunningham Page B

time.”
    Simon leaned back in his chair and finished his pint. “Sure to be a man in your life to make your time away from the boys worthwhile.”
    Pushing her empty bowl away, Gill shook her head. “No, no man, not now. Not for six years and a little more.” She shifted the wet straw hat to the other side of the table. “Afghanistan.”
    “Like that, is it? Your husband?”
    She heard a softer note in his tone and hastened to explain. “No, we weren’t married. Planned to be, as soon as he came home. But he didn’t come, not in the way we’d expected. A military escort and a flag, but not Gary himself.”
    “Sorry for your loss.”
    The words were commonplace, but Gill was certain he meant them. “Thank you, but you didn’t know, and I mustn’t complain. I had more in my year with him than a lot of women ever have. And my life is pretty good.” She looked up at the television mounted on the wall, what little of it wasn’t blocked by the crowd around the bar. “It appears the festivities are over, and the sun may be trying to come out. Perhaps I can get back to the hotel and change into something dry. I think the group is planning to meet for tea in the dining room later in the afternoon. I should join them, I suppose.” She reached for her bag and hat, preparing to end what had turned out to be a very pleasant chance meeting.
    Simon caught her hand in mid reach. “And why ever would you be doin’ that? From what I’ve seen from the front of the coach, they wouldn’t be handing out a warm welcome, would they now? Some of that leftover mutton you were talking about, more like.”
    A small sigh escaped before Gill could stop it. “More cold shoulder, you mean? No, the ladies and I don’t seem to share a lot of warm moments. I think they’ve been traveling together, making tours and visits over here, for several years. They know each other well, and oh, I think they see me as a bit of an upstart.”
    He laughed aloud and a devilish dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Upstart, are you? And how do they arrive at that?”
    Disregarding his amusement, Gill gave him a serious answer. “They’re wealthy, retired, and mostly live in a style I can’t begin to match. Their children and grandchildren attended the school where I work. Two of the ladies have husbands who serve on the Board of Trustees. In some way that makes me, in their minds, an employee. I’m trying to stay in their good graces.”
    “Don’t see you as the sort to curry favor.”
    His words held a sting, but she wondered if they had an element of truth. “I don’t think of it that way, but maybe I am.”
    Simon planted both elbows on the table and challenged her. “Then change things. Ditch the old birds for the afternoon. Come out with me.”
    “With you? Where?”
    Simon grinned and, finding his amusement contagious, she found herself smiling back.
    “Well, first of all, I’d say, to a shop over in Mayfair where you can find a dry bit or two to wear.” His sharp glance made her more conscious of her loose sweater and damp skirt. “Something suitable for spending a Saturday with a man who’d like to show you the city isn’t limited to cold churches and tea with the vicar.”
    Somehow, with Simon’s urging, Gill found herself in the maze of shops that lined the streets of the Mayfair district. She couldn’t bring herself to return to the hotel where her travel companions would delight in comparing notes on the Queen’s parade, and where she’d become an unwilling audience for the older women, reminding her of all she’d missed. Simon’s appraisal of her blue skirt and sagging sweater convinced her that a change was mandatory. And so, an hour after her unexpected encounter with the engaging coach driver, Gill enjoyed the guilty pleasure of comparing the merits of a wisp of a skirt to a slinky pair of skinny jeans.
    “The skirt is a flirty thing and would make a man look twice,” the voice behind her