A Year of New Adventures: The hilarious romantic comedy that is perfect for the summer holidays. Maddie Please

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       Chapter Three

      At one o’clock on the dot everyone appeared in the kitchen. Well everyone except Oliver Forest of course, whose bedroom door remained closed. I swear I could sense the chill of his disapproval seeping underneath it.

      Nancy and Vivienne fussed for a few minutes about where to sit while Helena went to fetch a glass jug of iced water and a pile of paper napkins. Nick Fitzgerald came downstairs and sat at a non-contentious place halfway along the table, trying to watch Helena without appearing too obvious.

      He half stood up as she came across the room towards him, his long legs still under the table so he was trapped in an odd crouch.

      ‘Can I help?’

      ‘No not at all, we’re all under control here,’ Helena said with a bright laugh. I swear if she’d had a spare hand she would have twirled her auburn hair.

      ‘I’d better go and check on Elaine. She’s not very good with stairs,’ I added a shade louder.

      As I reached the hallway I saw Elaine was well on her way down.

      ‘Lovely house,’ she said. ‘Very inspiring. I’d like to work in the little space under the staircase. But only if no one else wants it? Comfy-looking chair, very pretty lamp.’

      ‘Consider it yours,’ I said. ‘Now come and have some lunch and meet the others.’

      ‘Even Mr Forest?’ she said with a wicked twinkle.

      ‘Well who knows,’ I said.

      Elaine went to sit next to Nick, who gallantly stood to pull her chair out for her.

      ‘Perhaps we could start by introducing ourselves?’ I said. ‘Just to fill in the gaps? I’m Billie Summers. I love to cook and I work part time in my Uncle Peter’s bookshop. I’ve been trying to write a book for most of my adult life. This could be the week when I suddenly gain the necessary inspiration! Helena?’

      Helena coloured prettily and sat up a bit straighter in her chair.

      ‘Helena Fairchild. I write children’s and YA. I’m a librarian. I sold a short story once, about a million years ago. It was about Bonfire Night. I’m not exactly setting the literary world alight just yet but I’m going to keep on trying. Nancy?’

      Nancy was cutting a slice of cheddar and she paused, her knife halfway through the block.

      ‘Nancy Gregory, retired RE teacher. I write murder mysteries. The latest one has taken three years and I haven’t the faintest idea what I’m doing with it. I get so muddled I am quite capable of making the detective in charge of the case commit the murder.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps that’s not such a bad idea!’

      Vivienne sniffed; her aquiline nose a beak of disapproval.

      ‘I’m Vivienne Noble. I’m a retired chemistry teacher. I’ve self-published a couple of novels on Amazon to mixed reviews. I write contemporary erotica. Nothing too outré, just a bit of S&M, some bondage, and some role-play.’

      ‘Really?’ Nick said.

      Vivienne loved it when this sort of surprise was voiced and was inclined to play up to the audience and show off.

      ‘Well I may not have been married but it doesn’t mean I haven’t lived. And I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what does and doesn’t work.’

      The table fell silent at this point until Helena cleared her throat and we all jumped.

      ‘Nick?’ she said. ‘Your turn I think?’

      I kicked Helena under the table. She sent me a cross-eyed look in return.

      Nick fidgeted a little and pulled his chunk of bread in half.

      ‘Blimey, I don’t quite know how to follow that. OK, I’m Nick Fitzgerald. I’m a contractor specializing in IT. I’m trying to write thrillers with a sort of international edge. Dan Brown, Ross Black, John Grisham – that sort of thing. I’ve had some technical papers published on subjects too dreary to go into, but as yet I don’t have an agent or any sign of one.’

      He seemed to run out of steam at this point and he looked down and started buttering his bread.

      We all turned to Elaine.

      ‘I’m Elaine Weston. I’m a partly retired doctor and I write paranormal romance. Not very successfully I’m afraid. There doesn’t seem to be the market for it these days. Unless there is, and I just don’t write it very well. I had an agent but unfortunately she retired. I’d love another one, but well, we’ll see.’ She hunched her shoulders and gave a little excited smile. ‘I can’t wait to get going! Lovely soup by the way. What’s happened to Mr Forest? Isn’t he joining us?’

      Oh God, I’d almost forgotten about him. Should I make up a tray of stuff for his lunch?

      ‘He always eats at one-thirty apparently,’ I said.

      ‘Well he’d better hurry up or we’ll have eaten everything,’ Nancy said tartly, taking another piece of bread. ‘That’ll teach him.’

      I looked wildly around gauging how much food was left and what I would do if he came out to find nothing left but a few crumbs and some Stilton.

      We all looked towards the closed bedroom door and waited for a second in case Oliver was about to come crashing out, snarling and looking for food. Nothing happened so we all took some more cheese and grapes and carried on chatting.

      ‘Well have a good look around the house. There’s an interesting book about its history on the desk in the hall. Find yourselves a nice spot to settle down and write this afternoon,’ I said. ‘There are plenty of armchairs in the sitting room, and a dining room if anyone prefers a table. I’ll be making cake for tea and sorting out this evening’s meal if anyone needs anything.’

      ‘And СКАЧАТЬ