The Girl in the Scrapbook Carolyn Ruffles (read an ebook week txt) 📖

Jennifer fumbled for an excuse. ‘Er…. let me check my diary.’ She turned away from him and leafed through the pages. Frustratingly, Saturday night was completely blank but there was no way she was going on a date with this man. She simply could not stand him. He was everything that irritated her in a man: brash, arrogant, opinionated and he was never ever wrong. ‘Oh,’ she feigned disappointment. ‘I’ve got a visit from my friend, Heather, pencilled in. Sorry.’

‘No problem. You could bring her along,’ he replied smoothly.

‘Yes … well … I’m not sure what time she will be arriving. It’s probably best to leave it.’ God, she hated lying. She was really bad at it too and was very conscious of the tell-tale flags of colour on her cheeks.

He shrugged. ‘No problem. Jill from the pub asked me to ask you. She’s organising a table and thought you might like an opportunity to meet some of Chalkham’s finest. Still, if you’re busy, she’ll understand. Maybe next time.’ He put down his mug. ‘Right, I’ll be off. Thanks for the coffee.’

‘Ok.’ She followed him to the door. ‘Thanks for the thought. Bye.’

He gave her a friendly wave and took off with long-legged strides back up the lane.

Damn, she thought as she returned to her kitchen. Not a date at all, and it would have been good to meet some new people. She had always had an active social life in the past and was aware that she had not been out in Chalkham since she moved into the village a month ago. How infuriating that David had not made that clear from the start! Instead she'd been forced into a lie to spare his feelings and she may well need to lie again when Heather, currently living in Australia, failed to show up.

She mentally chalked up another notch of irritation against David Brewer. He was her nearest neighbour and lived at the top of her lane in a converted barn. He was also the builder who had supervised the renovation of Horseshoes Cottage, as she had renamed it when she took possession. There was no doubt that he'd done an excellent job. His advice and ideas for refurbishment were very much in tune with her own and his team of workers had been unfailingly prompt, polite and tidy whenever she had made a site visit. The modern kitchen and new ensuite bathrooms had been installed with the minimum of fuss and without spoiling the rustic charm of the cottage with which she had fallen in love in the first place. It was just his manner that constantly set her teeth on edge. He was so high-handed and patronising! As a headteacher of a large village primary school for the past ten years, she was used to dealing with all sorts of people but never before had she been so often wrong-footed by someone. In school, even parents with a grievance who had angrily demanded redress for some imagined wrongdoing were soon soothed by her calm, professional manner and she always felt in charge of the situation. It was disconcerting now at the age of fifty-six, having taken early retirement and embarking on a new challenge, to find herself so frequently in the company of someone who always managed to put her on the back foot.

She had told everyone that buying a cottage in the country and running a B & B had been a dream for her retirement from teaching for some time. This statement was not entirely honest but it had enough truth in it to convince people when she said it. She'd always loved cooking for people. Her food was a bit like her, she always thought, plain and straightforward, but her friends insisted that whatever she cooked always tasted amazing. Having sampled her breakfast on the first morning of their stay, the Fowlers had promptly requested dinner too, and then told her that they would recommend her to all their friends.

Jennifer also enjoyed meeting new people. She had a wide circle of friends but always had room for more. Certainly, she did not mind living alone and was happy in her own company but she also appreciated lively debate and interesting conversation. At different times in her life she had become romantically involved with a number of very charming men but these relationships had never lasted long enough to threaten her independent, single, career-minded lifestyle. She just wasn’t the marrying type, she told herself ruefully.

Jennifer’s other passion was the countryside. She loved nothing better than long walks or cycle rides, soaking up the beauty of the scenery and finding joy in the patterns of nature. As a busy headteacher, there had been so little spare time to indulge these simple pastimes and she felt fortunate that she was fit and healthy enough to enjoy them in her retirement. Earlier that year, her closest friend had died from cancer and it had hit her hard. It was a wakeup call, she finally decided. Life was too short to spend so much of it working and she needed to ‘seize the day’ while she had the chance. She spoke to a pensions advisor and realised that she could easily afford to retire so what was she waiting for? She was still debating the issue though when tragedy had struck her school and her future was determined. Overwhelmed with grief and guilt, she had handed in her resignation, sold her house in Norwich and, with the proceeds, bought her dream cottage in the picturesque, ‘chocolate box’ village of Great Chalkham.

So far so good. Now the cottage was up and running but there were, as yet, no more bookings on her online diary.  Jennifer knew that she would need to advertise more widely to publicise it and to attract customers. The Fowlers had been friends of a friend but they had assured her that they would be returning and eventually she hoped that repeat business might be enough to keep