Page 35 of A Change of Location
Gran’s cheeriness was a temporary antidote to despair, and her delight at Hannah’s visit provided some solace. A fast-forward version of Mum, she possessed an identical smile and boundless energy undiminished by age. Widowhood had prompted her return to her native Montgomery and this house within strolling distance of her brother and sister-in-law.
“Barbara wants to show me the present bought for George’s birthday. Coming with me?”
Hannah shook her head. “I haven’t finished these.” She jabbed her vegetable peeler at the mound of potatoes on the oak tabletop.
She continued her scraping, half-hearing the radio news bulletin. It concluded with a recap of headlines from around the world and, inevitably, an update on the Sterling Scandal. A Parliamentary inquiry would determine whether the honorable member had funded his re-election with dirty money from his mistress’s brother, awaiting trial for the alleged murder of a “business associate.”
The afternoon play, much to Hannah’s relief, was a comedy. Out of habit, she visualized its setting, placing the characters and the action in West Country locations.
Her phone buzzed—she’d temporarily silenced Big Ben. Confident that this was Liz’s long-awaited call, she didn’t glance at the number before answering.
“Hey there!”
“Hannah.” Martin’s disembodied voice filled her ear. “Where are you?”
Startled, she replied, “My grandmother’s kitchen. In Wales. You?”
“Stanwell. Yesterday a gigantic Scot turned up to prowl my house and grounds, claiming to be the location manager. That’s odd, thought I. You don’t look anything like the diminutive young lady who’s been telling me the same thing for the past month. He never mentioned you.”
“I’m not surprised. Alistair stole my job. The fix was in from the start.”
“Why didn’t you let me know? When will you be back in Somerset?”
“Looks like never. I was booted off the film.”
After a quiet moment, he said, “Please tell me you’re all right.”
“Half the time my head feels like it’s about to explode with questions like ‘What if?’ and ‘Why me?’ and ‘How dare they?’” She picked up potato peelings and arranged them artistically on the wooden surface. “Sir Owen offered an alternative, but I refused. After being Alistair’s superior, no way could I continue as his subordinate.”
“I should think not.”
“I told Gran I’m having a break from work. True enough.”
“I’m really sorry. And very disappointed. I looked forward to watching you manage this location.”
He had no idea how those well-meaning words stung. She’d spent several wakeful nights imagining herself embedded in Milver Vale. “If I’d stayed on the film, I would’ve been busy for up to sixteen hours at a stretch. No time for socializing.”
“What are your plans?”
Her laugh emerged as a mirthless huff. “Flying back to Boston. Looking for my next gig. Living down this disaster.”
“Here’s a better idea. I detect the hint of a Welsh accent, evidence that you need to depart quite soon. You belong in Zummerzet, as our locals say. At Stanwell.”
“That’s the last place I want to be.”
“Harsh.”
“I can’t help feeling bitter. And jealous. I’m no longer connected to Forsaken Fortune. You are.”
“If not for you, I wouldn’t be. I’m still in your debt.”
“You gave me a memorable night in London. The Ritz. All those lords and ladies. Even a prince. Your grandmother.”
He groaned. “Making amends for that excruciating episode requires a major effort. As you know, this place is a veritable resort. Tennis, swimming pool, horses, dogs. Delicious dinners. Healthful country rambles. Your choice of bedroom. I’ve got twenty of them.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“I’m not propositioning you. Honestly.”
