of things and even flirting with him a little. When it was time to go, she still knew next to nothing about him except for the fact that she liked him a lot. She got the impression he liked her too, but he wasn’t very demonstrative and certainly not touchy feely, which was a pity because every time she looked at his long fingers she found herself wondering how they would feel against her skin. She decided to turn the subject to more mundane matters.
‘So how was your all-day breakfast?’
He finished his tea and sat back with a satisfied grin. ‘A culinary feast comparable to manna from heaven. It was sumptuous, delicious, outstanding and incredible. Ask the dog what he thinks. He’ll agree with me about the bacon rind.’
‘While on that topic, Mr Nelson – no feeding the dog at table, all right?’
‘Yes, Miss.’ He hung his head in mock shame.
They got home just after dark. Holly looked at her watch. Four-thirty. She climbed down from the Land Rover and went up to Jack. ‘Thank you for a lovely day.’ She stood opposite him and waited for him to give her a hug or a kiss or even a shake of the hand. Instead, to her surprise, he drew back, muttered something in a gruff voice and set about untying the surfboard from the roof. Holly took the hint. ‘I’d better be getting home now. Thanks again, Jack.’ He raised a hand and gave her a quick wave. She and Stirling went back round the side of his house to their front door.
Inside, it was warm and, thankfully, no longer smelt of wet dog. Fortunately, Stirling had resisted the temptation to follow Jack into the deeper water and his legs and belly had pretty much dried out in the café and on the ride home. Holly wondered what Jack’s car was going to smell like next morning. She went over to the kettle and dug out a teabag. The dog normally ate half his daily ration of food at lunchtime and half in the evening, so, knowing that he had only had a couple of biscuits and a piece of bacon rind for lunch, but conscious that he would be eating again in a few hours, Holly gave him a reduced portion and refilled his water bowl.
All the time she was turning over in her mind the unexpected reaction she had received from Jack. She had really got the impression he liked her a lot and she certainly felt the same way about him, but she couldn’t miss his reluctance to reveal anything about himself or to make any sort of physical contact. And there was no doubt in her mind that a little physical contact, or even a lot of physical contact, was exactly what she was starting to think she might really quite like from him. She harrumphed to herself as she added milk to her tea. Having a hunky neighbour could be a frustrating business.
Her mobile phone rang as she was sipping her tea. It was Julia. Holly set the mug down and proceeded to tell her the latest instalment of her adventures in Devon. Not having spoken to her since Sunday, she started by checking out how Julia’s love life was progressing. The answer was reassuring.
‘Scott’s coming round here tonight and I’m cooking him dinner. With all the trimmings.’
Holly didn’t ask the exact nature of the trimmings. She had a pretty good idea already. She launched into a report of her afternoon tea with Justin the previous day. She received a satisfying number of oohs and aahs as she described the Christmas tree and the elegant dining room in the Castle and, of course, the handsome man himself, although she sensed that Julia’s interest flagged when she mentioned that he was still hung up on his wife. Then Holly described the day she had had with Jack, not omitting his fit body. This drew another couple of oohs. However, when she got to the nature of their parting and his obvious reluctance, she got a response she hadn’t been expecting.
‘Maybe your Jack’s gay, Hol.’
‘Maybe he’s what?’ This thought hadn’t crossed Holly’s mind.
‘Friendly, helpful, lives alone, well-honed body, reads serious stuff. All the signs are there.’
Holly genuinely didn’t know what to say. ‘He can’t be… What about Dolores, the Spanish woman who kept calling him darling? If I hadn’t been there, I bet she’d have been all over him like a rash.’
‘But they’re all luvvies in the television world. She probably calls everybody darling. That doesn’t prove anything. You just think about it. Anyway, the gorgeous Justin has got to be straight, and every girl needs a nice gay friend. It seems to me you’ve got all the bases covered.’
Holly, her mind spinning, changed the subject to the box of letters she had found. Julia was enthusiastic.
‘Hol, this is just what you wanted! You’ll learn so much about your dad from the letters. It’ll be almost like talking to him. That’s awesome, just fantastic.’
Finally, they discussed arrangements for Christmas. Julia would take the train down to Exeter on Friday the twenty-third and Holly would pick her up from the station and bring her out to Brookford for a couple of nights. Then, on Christmas Day itself, they would drive into Exeter and Holly would stay for lunch with Julia’s family.
‘See you in four days’ time, Hol.’
Holly put the phone down. For the first time it dawned upon her properly that Christmas Day was this coming Sunday. She looked round the kitchen. The house really needed Christmas decorations, maybe a tree, and she needed to stock up on food for when Julia arrived. At least, with the bottles she had found in the cellar, wine would not be a problem. And then there was the question of presents.
She spent the next couple of hours clearing and cleaning the kitchen. As the dog was comatose, she took the opportunity to run a mop over the stone floor, particularly by the door where she had dried him the previous day. By the time she heard the pips on the radio telling her it was seven o’clock, the place looked really quite smart. To celebrate, she opened the fridge and took out the bottle of white Burgundy she had found in the cellar. The label read Bâtard-Montrachet Grand Cru 2011. That sounded like a very good wine, and it was a lovely golden colour. She grabbed a corkscrew and opened it. As she was looking for a decent wine glass and a packet of crisps to accompany the wine, the doorbell rang. The dog opened one eyelid, but clearly had neither the energy nor the desire to do anything more.
‘Fat lot of use as a guard dog you are.’ Holly went over and opened the door. On the doorstep was the white-haired old gentleman she had met in the pub the other night. Luckily, she remembered his name. ‘Good evening Mr Redgrave, do come in.’
He was wearing a very smart tweed jacket and a rollneck jumper and he looked as if he had just come out of the owner’s enclosure at Newmarket racecourse. He was carrying a bottle of champagne in one hand and a white envelope in the other.
‘Holly, good evening. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I’ll only stay a moment. I’m glad to see you looking so well. You’ve got some colour in your cheeks. That’s what I like to see.’ He laid the bottle and the envelope on the table. ‘I promised you an invitation to my Christmas Eve ball. And the champagne is a sort of housewarming present for you.’
‘Oh, how very kind.’ Holly looked across at the worktop. ‘Actually, I’ve just opened a bottle of white. Would you like to join me in a glass?’
‘If you’re sure I’m not stopping you doing something important.’ He gave her a smile and she told him to take a seat.
‘Just like your father. He always entertained in the kitchen. Many’s the evening I’ve spent with him here. He was a very good cook, you know.’
Holly fetched the bottle and poured two glasses of wine. As she passed one across to him, she saw him studying the label.
‘Erm, Holly.’ He sounded hesitant. ‘Could I ask you where you got this wine?’
Holly smiled back at him. ‘I found it in the cellar. There are a few cases of wine down there that my father left. Looks good, doesn’t it? Cheers.’ She held up her glass and they clinked them together. She took a mouthful and caught his eye. ‘Wow. That’s stunning. My dad really did know his wines.’
He also tried the wine and nodded his head in agreement. ‘Excellent, excellent. Tell me, Holly, does that mobile telephone of yours have a connection