Murder in Bloom

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Authors: Lesley Cookman
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could see his cream chinos and brown shoes and felt a shaft of pure desire which pooled somewhere below her middle. This, she felt, closing her eyes once more, was a surprise too far. You just do not go weak at the knees over a pair of legs. Not when you are in your mid-fifties.
    ‘Lib?’ Fran’s voice brought her back to reality. She opened her eyes to see Fran handing her the glass she had left beside the sofa.
    ‘Thanks,’ she said, taking a grateful sip and trying not to empty the glass in one go.
    Eventually, without Libby taking in a word of the conversation, Guy and Fran left. Libby saw them off, then came slowly back into the sitting room. Sidney had taken her place on the armchair and Ben was sitting on the sofa. She sat down gingerly on the chair vacated by Ben. He looked at her quizzically.
    ‘Why are you sitting over there?’
    ‘Er –’ Libby cleared her throat.
    ‘Are you scared to sit next to me?’ Ben’s voice was soft. Insinuating, even. Libby cleared her throat again.
    ‘And something was wrong earlier, wasn’t it?’ he continued. ‘When you went to get the coffee.’
    She swallowed and took yet another deep breath.
    ‘I can’t do this,’ she managed, and it came out strangled. ‘I really can’t.’
    ‘Can’t do what?’ Ben stood up, came and took her hand and led her back to the sofa, where he handed her a new glass of red wine. She held it up and watched the ruby light glowing through it.
    ‘Can’t go back to how we were at the beginning.’ Libby’s throat felt raw and she took a healthy sip of wine.
    Ben smiled wryly. ‘We haven’t. When we first got together we couldn’t keep our hands off one another.’
    ‘That was because of – because someone had been killed.’
    ‘Life affirmation.’ Ben nodded. ‘Yes, we agreed. Then we drifted a bit –’
    ‘Because of my doubts,’ Libby said.
    ‘It’s always been your doubts, hasn’t it?’ said Ben gently. Libby nodded. ‘And now?’ he asked.
    That lump was back. Libby didn’t dare look at him. ‘Erm,’ she said.
    Ben’s arm slipped round her and he gave a
    squeeze. ‘That’s not much of an answer.’ ‘I love you,’ said Libby, so quietly that he had to
    lean in to hear her. ‘And I – ah – I –’ ‘Will marry me?’ Libby’s jaw went slack. That wasn’t what she
    intended to say. Ben smiled his wry smile again. ‘OK; what, then?’ ‘I want you,’ she whispered. There was a short silence. ‘Well, it’s a start,’ said Ben, gathering her into his
    arms.
    Chapter Eight
    A FRAGILE PEACE HELD the following morning. Libby wasn’t stupid enough to believe that things were back to normal, even though for her, at least, it had been a magical night. Ben went back to The Manor without making any arrangements to see her later that day, and she felt more confused than ever.
    She pottered about, trying to paint and failing. At last, she called Adam.
    ‘Are you at Creekmarsh?’ she asked.
    ‘No.’ Adam sounded resigned. ‘Lewis is with the police, apparently, and Mog isn’t sure that we’ll even be paid for the work we’ve done already, so we’re waiting to see.’
    ‘So you’ve got no work?’
    ‘Mog’s got a couple of design jobs he can be getting on with, but I haven’t.’
    ‘Are you still staying with him?’
    ‘Yes.’ Adam was obviously uncomfortable. ‘I gave up the flat in London. It didn’t seem worth keeping it on. If I need to, I can always stay with Bel for the odd night.’
    As Adam’s older sister Belinda tended to be scathing about his lack of commitment to either girlfriends or career plans, Libby wasn’t too sure about this.
    ‘You’d better come home, Ad,’ she said now. ‘You can’t stay with Mog indefinitely. His wife will get thoroughly fed up.’
    ‘You sure, Ma? You haven’t got much room – and what about Ben?’
    Libby was getting sick of being asked about Ben.
    ‘You can store stuff in the shed if necessary,’ she said, ‘and Ben’s not here all the

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