Free Hidden Cottage by Erica James

were hiding from us.’
    Daisy slowed her step. ‘You’re right, but come on, who’d have thought he’d get involved with someone who’s got a child? He’s not exactly the fatherly type, is he? I’d have had money on him running in the opposite direction the second he knew she came with that kind of baggage.’
    ‘People change,’ Eliza said. ‘Besides, we all have baggage.’
    Daisy let out a short, bitter laugh. ‘You’re not wrong there and, as we both know, I have enough baggage to warrant my own baggage handler. So what’s your big secret, then? What are you hiding from us?’
    Wrong-footed by the swerve of her question, Eliza said, ‘What makes you think I have a secret?’
    ‘You just said we’re all as bad as one another for hiding things, I assumed you were including yourself in that.’
    Eliza hesitated. Could she tell Daisy? Why not? Hadn’t she wanted to bring Greg here this weekend to show him off to the family? She steeled herself. ‘Actually,’ she said nervously, ‘I’ve met someone. His name’s Greg and—’ She broke off and laughed, suddenly bashful at her own daring. ‘Oh God, I sound like someone from Alcoholics Anonymous!’
    Daisy looked serious. ‘How long have you been keeping Greg under your hat, so to speak?’
    ‘Um . . . it’s been about four months now.’
    Daisy’s expression intensified. ‘And don’t tell me, you’ve kept quiet about him because of Dad?’
    ‘No, not just because of Dad. More a matter of not wanting to jinx things before they’d had a chance to become really established.’
    ‘And things are established now?’
    ‘I . . . I think so.’
    ‘Well, good luck to you, Eliza. You got yourself fast-tracked to boring old adulthood at far too young an age; I reckon you deserve some fun. And if Greg is fun, you make the most of him. But what a family we are for keeping quiet about anything that’s important! What the hell’s wrong with us? And you know what, my going to Australia is only half the story.’
    ‘There’s something else?’
    ‘Oh yeah, there’s a lot of something else to come out yet. Hey, I haven’t seen this car round here before.’
    They were now outside Parr’s where a green sports car was parked. Eliza looked at the number plate: OWEI. ‘Probably someone just passing through or maybe visiting,’ she said, pushing open the shop door and setting off the tinkling bell.
    There was only one other customer inside the shop – almost certainly the owner of the car – and with a big grin on his face, Bob Parr was merrily cashing up a sizeable order. His wife, Wendy – aka, Windoline Wendy, owing to her fondness for lurid pink lipstick – was packing everything into a large cardboard box and she also was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat, albeit with very pink lips.
    While searching the chilled cabinet for the packet of pancetta that Mum had asked them to get for the carbonara she was making for lunch, Eliza covertly scrutinized the stranger. Tall. Slim. Dark-haired – short and well cut. Sunglasses artfully placed on the top of his head. Shirt: fitted and pale blue and tucked into jeans. Next to her, Daisy whispered, ‘Not bad-looking, wouldn’t you say?’
    ‘Ssh,’ Eliza whispered back.
    ‘He can’t hear us, not with Bob and Wendy gushing all over him.’
    ‘Hello, girls,’ Bob said, after he’d helpfully opened the door for the good-looking man and told him not to hesitate to get in touch if there was anything he needed. ‘You two home for the weekend, then?’
    Before either of them had a chance to answer, Wendy said, ‘I bet you’re wondering who that man was, aren’t you?’
    ‘What man?’ asked Daisy, all wide-eyed and looking about the shop.
    Bob laughed. ‘ That man,’ he said, as from outside came the throaty rumble of a very powerful engine, which had them all turning to stare unsubtly out of the window.
    When the car had gone, Eliza put their purchase on the counter to be rung up. ‘Go on