Read Online The Real Katie Lavender by Erica James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Erica James
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promise to do more next time. Always quick to quash these offers of assistance, Gina would reassure her sister-in-law that she wasn’t to give it a moment’s thought, that Pen had enough on her plate as it was.
Armed now with her A4-sized Filofax, she put a tick against Floral Arrangements. The florist had left no more than a few minutes ago and the house was already fragrant with the heady perfume of old English roses, freesias and early sweet peas – Cecily’s favourite flowers. The arrangements had been placed in the hallway, the sitting room and the conservatory. Later, when it was dark, candles and flaming torches would be lit on the terrace.
This surprise party for Cecily was to be held in the garden, but once the temperature dropped, the older guests would very likely be drawn inside the house. Sadly for Cecily, many of her contemporaries were long since dead, but – and behind her back – her newly made friends from South Lodge had been invited. Taxis would be fetching them thirty minutes after Stirling had collected his mother, the plan being that she would think she was coming here for a quiet family dinner to celebrate her birthday. Gina hoped that the South Lodge crowd, with their memories and faculties not quite as sharp as they had once been, wouldn’t give the game away.
It was hard to imagine there ever being a time when Cecily wouldn’t be around; she was very much a key member of the family, and still most assuredly had plenty to say on what went on. In the early years of her marriage, Gina had been convinced that her mother-in-law didn’t approve of her. When she had voiced this concern to Stirling, he had laughed and said she was being ridiculous. All these years on, Gina still got the feeling that Cecily had to force herself to like her. Their conversations were superficial and stiffly polite, as if they’d only just met and couldn’t get beyond making small talk. In contrast, Cecily and Pen were completely natural around each other. Gina had repeatedly told herself that the effortlessness of their relationship was down to their shared love of gardening. But she wasn’t so sure. She was convinced it went deeper.
She wasn’t so bothered about being treated differently herself, but she did object to partiality when it came to the grandchildren. It irked her that Lloyd was so clearly his grandmother’s favourite. But then Lloyd, as they all knew, was a special case. Not that anyone was supposed to talk about that. Heaven forbid. Like Pen, he had the same laid-back and affable temperament, but beneath it there was a core of steel. If he didn’t want to do something, you couldn’t make him do it, not for anything. Gina frequently wondered if Neil wasn’t just a little disappointed in him. He must have expected more of his only son and occasionally he surely must have wondered why Lloyd hadn’t turned out more like Rosco; after all, as cousins, they’d had the exact same advantages and opportunities.
With only a couple of months separating them in age, the two boys had attended the same schools and had both gained places at Cambridge. Rosco had read law and graduated with a 2.1 and Lloyd had opted for philosophy and graduated with a first. It had seemed horribly unfair to Gina, knowing just how hard Rosco had worked, that he hadn’t been rewarded with a first, especially when Lloyd downplayed his own achievement, claiming it was a fluke.
Whereas Rosco had always had a very clear idea about his future – Cambridge followed by business school before joining Nightingale Ridgeway – Lloyd hadn’t had a clue what he wanted to do. After Cambridge, he had messed about for a few years doing voluntary work in some godforsaken eastern European country, and when he returned to England he’d helped his mother with the initial transformation of the garden at The Meadows and then announced his intention to start up a business making bespoke garden furniture. All that expensive education and he
Armed now with her A4-sized Filofax, she put a tick against Floral Arrangements. The florist had left no more than a few minutes ago and the house was already fragrant with the heady perfume of old English roses, freesias and early sweet peas – Cecily’s favourite flowers. The arrangements had been placed in the hallway, the sitting room and the conservatory. Later, when it was dark, candles and flaming torches would be lit on the terrace.
This surprise party for Cecily was to be held in the garden, but once the temperature dropped, the older guests would very likely be drawn inside the house. Sadly for Cecily, many of her contemporaries were long since dead, but – and behind her back – her newly made friends from South Lodge had been invited. Taxis would be fetching them thirty minutes after Stirling had collected his mother, the plan being that she would think she was coming here for a quiet family dinner to celebrate her birthday. Gina hoped that the South Lodge crowd, with their memories and faculties not quite as sharp as they had once been, wouldn’t give the game away.
It was hard to imagine there ever being a time when Cecily wouldn’t be around; she was very much a key member of the family, and still most assuredly had plenty to say on what went on. In the early years of her marriage, Gina had been convinced that her mother-in-law didn’t approve of her. When she had voiced this concern to Stirling, he had laughed and said she was being ridiculous. All these years on, Gina still got the feeling that Cecily had to force herself to like her. Their conversations were superficial and stiffly polite, as if they’d only just met and couldn’t get beyond making small talk. In contrast, Cecily and Pen were completely natural around each other. Gina had repeatedly told herself that the effortlessness of their relationship was down to their shared love of gardening. But she wasn’t so sure. She was convinced it went deeper.
She wasn’t so bothered about being treated differently herself, but she did object to partiality when it came to the grandchildren. It irked her that Lloyd was so clearly his grandmother’s favourite. But then Lloyd, as they all knew, was a special case. Not that anyone was supposed to talk about that. Heaven forbid. Like Pen, he had the same laid-back and affable temperament, but beneath it there was a core of steel. If he didn’t want to do something, you couldn’t make him do it, not for anything. Gina frequently wondered if Neil wasn’t just a little disappointed in him. He must have expected more of his only son and occasionally he surely must have wondered why Lloyd hadn’t turned out more like Rosco; after all, as cousins, they’d had the exact same advantages and opportunities.
With only a couple of months separating them in age, the two boys had attended the same schools and had both gained places at Cambridge. Rosco had read law and graduated with a 2.1 and Lloyd had opted for philosophy and graduated with a first. It had seemed horribly unfair to Gina, knowing just how hard Rosco had worked, that he hadn’t been rewarded with a first, especially when Lloyd downplayed his own achievement, claiming it was a fluke.
Whereas Rosco had always had a very clear idea about his future – Cambridge followed by business school before joining Nightingale Ridgeway – Lloyd hadn’t had a clue what he wanted to do. After Cambridge, he had messed about for a few years doing voluntary work in some godforsaken eastern European country, and when he returned to England he’d helped his mother with the initial transformation of the garden at The Meadows and then announced his intention to start up a business making bespoke garden furniture. All that expensive education and he
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