Read Online Move Over Darling by Christine Stovell - Free Book Online Page B

making Coralie feel she was seventeen years older rather than seven. ‘You can’t keep shutting yourself away. We’ve seen enough incomers who want to escape to the country and then don’t like the reality. Besides, you know how pleased Mam would be to see you there. She needs a bit of cheering up.’
    Coralie gave a shrug of resignation. The last thing she wanted was for the people who had accepted her into their community thinking she was too proud to join in. As for Alys? She could think of many reasons for a certain amount of tension in the Bowen home, one of which was right in front of her. Or rather, right in front of Kitty. Going to the twmpath wasn’t going to ease that particular difficulty.

Chapter Six
    In the garden centre, a few days later when the bitter weather had given way to a milder spell, Alys moved over to water another display and brushed some soil from a label. Their plant of the month was Hebe, chosen for its range of varieties and because it was such an accommodating shrub happy to grow in a patio pot or in open borders. She particularly liked the stunning pink foliage of ‘Heartbreaker’ although the name was a painful reminder that, like frost under hedges, some cold spots took longer to thaw.
    ‘Alys?’
    A tentative hand touched her shoulder, sending a jet of water from the hosepipe in her hand arcing over the raised bed. A small stream, bubbling down the concrete path, revealed how long she’d been standing there.
    ‘You were in another world,’ said Gethin, scrutinising her. ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘Gethin!’ she said, putting her private sadness away and pasting on a smile as she went to turn the tap off, ‘any luck with finding a builder yet?’
    He shook his head. ‘They must all be millionaires round here, no one seems to want to quote.’
    Alys wondered if there was more to it than that. Penmorfa hadn’t exactly rushed to kill the fatted calf for this prodigal son, although his reappearance in the village had certainly attracted attention. With those looks he was impossible to miss. She watched as he put his hands in the pockets of his old leather jacket and shifted his glance to where the spangled frosty fields tumbled down to the cliffs and ivory foam fringed the turquoise waves.
    ‘There’s no rush with the holiday cottage, you know that,’ she said. ‘You can stay for as long as you need.’
    He shook his head. ‘If I don’t get back to New York for my next exhibition soon my reputation will be in shreds.’
    Alys opened her mouth and he grinned.
    ‘Yeah, I know – home from home.’
    She reached out and touched his arm. ‘It’s not really like that, Gethin. Believe me. Most people are very proud of what you’ve achieved and anyone else isn’t worth bothering about. Look at how you’ve made a name for yourself in the big wide world. Next thing you know everyone’ll be clamouring for a permanent exhibition here to celebrate your achievements.’
    ‘Achievements!’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I don’t think so, Alys. As far as Penmorfa’s concerned, people are still waiting for me to get my come-uppance for daring to believe there was a bigger world for me than the family farm.’
    ‘Life moves on, even in Penmorfa, Gethin. Attitudes change.’
    He laughed as he reached past her to pull up a weed that was interloping in one of the pots.
    ‘No, really,’ said Alys. ‘There are all kinds of initiatives springing up in the village: Neighbourhood Watch—’
    ‘That’s not new,’ said Gethin.
    Alys pressed on. ‘Keep Penmorfa Tidy, Welsh classes, the Quilting Group—’
    ‘Stitch and bitch,’ muttered Gethin, shaking his head.
    Alys glared at him. ‘And following the success of last year’s Valentine’s Twmpath , there’s even a demand for dance classes.’
    Gethin grimaced. ‘Nice try, Alys, but you’re not tempting me to move back.’
    She flicked a toe at the hosepipe curled up at her feet, in frustration, dodging a tongue of water as