Read Online A Close Connection by Patricia Fawcett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patricia Fawcett
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considered to be overbearing and too outspoken for some and she just hoped that she was doing this, being charitable, for the right reasons and not because, in some devious way, she was trying to undermine Paula.
Wearing a bright-blue fascinator atop her blonde hair at the wedding, Paula had looked very nice, her mother said, although she did add that it must be so difficult for somebody as tiny as that to find anything to fit properly. The Walker side of the family, determined not to let the side down, had done Matthew proud, the ladies mostly wearing over-the-top hats and a selection of frilly and floral frocks, seemingly unfazed by the Nightingale contingent whose hats were a little more restrained, their dresses elegant in their simplicity although there was a fair sprinkling of outrageous Jimmy Choos. Her funny cousin Philly was wearing a strapless frock that showed off the tattoo that snaked down her arm. Oddly enough it had been Philly who had happily, glass of champagne in hand, surged towards the Walker side of the room at the reception, her raucous laugh livening up proceedings.
‘Really …’ She remembered her mother’s dismay. ‘I can’t think what your aunt Andrea is thinking of. In the old days, Philly would have been tucked away and not allowed within sight of anybody of any significance. As for the tattoo, well, words fail me.’
Nicola agreed the tattoo was a bit off, but she half regretted the easy way Philly got on with everybody, leaving everybody smiling, Matthew included. Surely every family is allowed one black sheep.
Matthew won those snooty Nightingale ladies over, his speech both funny and sincere. He was in a profession they thoroughly approved of and had been to Oxford at that, the proper university that is, so his former attendance at a comprehensive, an inner-city one, could be glossed over. Snobbery among the Nightingale clan was still a force to be reckoned with, proud as they were of a thin trace of blue blood in their ancestry, but she and Matthew were able to laugh it off, although she knew that Paula was painfully aware of it too and could not shake it off quite as easily.
She still recalled that first meeting at home where Paula had seemed overwhelmed by the house and grounds, as well she might be, saying to Matthew later that there was no way she could ever invite them to their home. Her mother had played the part of gracious hostess to a tee, alarmingly regal with the best china on show, the delicate cup looking quite ridiculous in Alan’s hands.
‘We normally use mugs,’ her father had said with a grin, trying to put them at ease but rewarded for that remark with a glare from her mother.
After the wedding, Nicola hoped that the two families would continue to see each other from time to time, but there was no need for intimacy and this holiday together worried her a lot. Being in close proximity for two whole weeks did seem to be a recipe for disaster and she just knew that, sooner or later, somebody would blow a fuse.
Her father-in-law Alan was a lovely quiet man but he was very protective of his wife. It was nauseatingly sweet in fact that the two of them were obviously so devoted to each other. If Paula was threatened or upset in any way, Alan would speak his mind because his little wife could not possibly defend herself. He could see right through Eleanor, Nicola could see that, and she wondered if her mother was aware of that. She had seen the surprise in her mother’s eyes when she first met Alan. He was so unlike Matthew, whose fetching personality made him both likeable and charming, the rougher edges of his West Country accent worn away by the years at university. Alan was a man of the old school, suspicious of strangers and particularly suspicious of strangers with money, and you could almost see the brain ticking away under the calm exterior. He was every bit as handsome as Matthew, though, with warm brown eyes, a man of few words compared with her mother’s
Wearing a bright-blue fascinator atop her blonde hair at the wedding, Paula had looked very nice, her mother said, although she did add that it must be so difficult for somebody as tiny as that to find anything to fit properly. The Walker side of the family, determined not to let the side down, had done Matthew proud, the ladies mostly wearing over-the-top hats and a selection of frilly and floral frocks, seemingly unfazed by the Nightingale contingent whose hats were a little more restrained, their dresses elegant in their simplicity although there was a fair sprinkling of outrageous Jimmy Choos. Her funny cousin Philly was wearing a strapless frock that showed off the tattoo that snaked down her arm. Oddly enough it had been Philly who had happily, glass of champagne in hand, surged towards the Walker side of the room at the reception, her raucous laugh livening up proceedings.
‘Really …’ She remembered her mother’s dismay. ‘I can’t think what your aunt Andrea is thinking of. In the old days, Philly would have been tucked away and not allowed within sight of anybody of any significance. As for the tattoo, well, words fail me.’
Nicola agreed the tattoo was a bit off, but she half regretted the easy way Philly got on with everybody, leaving everybody smiling, Matthew included. Surely every family is allowed one black sheep.
Matthew won those snooty Nightingale ladies over, his speech both funny and sincere. He was in a profession they thoroughly approved of and had been to Oxford at that, the proper university that is, so his former attendance at a comprehensive, an inner-city one, could be glossed over. Snobbery among the Nightingale clan was still a force to be reckoned with, proud as they were of a thin trace of blue blood in their ancestry, but she and Matthew were able to laugh it off, although she knew that Paula was painfully aware of it too and could not shake it off quite as easily.
She still recalled that first meeting at home where Paula had seemed overwhelmed by the house and grounds, as well she might be, saying to Matthew later that there was no way she could ever invite them to their home. Her mother had played the part of gracious hostess to a tee, alarmingly regal with the best china on show, the delicate cup looking quite ridiculous in Alan’s hands.
‘We normally use mugs,’ her father had said with a grin, trying to put them at ease but rewarded for that remark with a glare from her mother.
After the wedding, Nicola hoped that the two families would continue to see each other from time to time, but there was no need for intimacy and this holiday together worried her a lot. Being in close proximity for two whole weeks did seem to be a recipe for disaster and she just knew that, sooner or later, somebody would blow a fuse.
Her father-in-law Alan was a lovely quiet man but he was very protective of his wife. It was nauseatingly sweet in fact that the two of them were obviously so devoted to each other. If Paula was threatened or upset in any way, Alan would speak his mind because his little wife could not possibly defend herself. He could see right through Eleanor, Nicola could see that, and she wondered if her mother was aware of that. She had seen the surprise in her mother’s eyes when she first met Alan. He was so unlike Matthew, whose fetching personality made him both likeable and charming, the rougher edges of his West Country accent worn away by the years at university. Alan was a man of the old school, suspicious of strangers and particularly suspicious of strangers with money, and you could almost see the brain ticking away under the calm exterior. He was every bit as handsome as Matthew, though, with warm brown eyes, a man of few words compared with her mother’s
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