Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
He smooths his hand over my arm. “Tell me how I can fix this—whatever this is.”
If he was planning to bulldoze the place and turn it into a theme park, it would be easier. I could hate him then. I could pin my misery on him.
But I don’t hate him.
Not even a little bit.
FIFTEEN
Kate
I transfer the tin of muesli onto my left hip, knock on Granny’s door and open the latch.
“Morning,” I call out. “I brought you some more muesli.”
Granny sounds like she’s upstairs, but I can still make out her moaning. She’s not a big fan of my muesli.
“It’s good for you. Fiber. Phosphorus. Plus the omegas and protein from the nuts and seeds.” I set the tin down, pull out two bowls from the cupboard and flick the switch on the kettle.
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
A pang of sadness hits me in the chest. How many weeks have I got left of having breakfast with Granny? To distract myself, I set about pouring out our breakfast and making us each a cup of tea. Granny takes hers like watery builders’ tea and I’m drinking green, which I hope to convert Granny to at some stage.
“I hope you haven’t given me any of that green rubbish,” she says as she comes into the kitchen in full gardening getup. “I want a normal cup of tea.”
“Tea is made. And your bowl of muesli is just there too. Do you want milk or Greek yogurt with it? You know the yogurt is better for the gut bacteria.”
She sighs. “I’ll take the yogurt if you give me a break from trying to control what I put into my body.”
“Not control. Inform. I’m trying to help. You need to look after yourself.” I grab a yogurt from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer and slide them across the table.
Granny takes a seat. “If I dared to say such a thing to you, I’d be interfering.”
“You absolutely would not. Have you read something? I read something yesterday that coffee is now good for you.” I like reading about the latest research on the healing and preventative benefits of certain foods and lifestyle choices. One of the reasons Granny’s so healthy at her age is all the gardening. People offer her seats wherever she goes, but usually she’s the least likely to need one. She’s an inspiration. I’m just trying to help her help herself even more.
“How was yesterday?” she asks.
I decide to pretend I didn’t hear the question. “I’ve added even more good stuff in this latest muesli. You’ll never guess what the secret ingredient is.”
“I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Mushroom powder.”
Granny freezes, her spoon hovering midair. “Psychedelic mushrooms?”
“No, lion’s mane mushrooms. You wouldn’t believe all the amazing things it can do—everything from reducing inflammation to protecting against dementia. It really is an all-purpose fungus.”
She puts her spoon down without sampling my new recipe. “Mushrooms in muesli doesn’t seem right to me. And you didn’t answer my question. How was yesterday? What did the plans look like?”
I sigh, partly because I’m disappointed she won’t try the new muesli but more because of the disastrous meeting. “You can’t even taste the mushroom.” The muesli is delicious and I take a spoonful to prove it.
“I’ll have a taste if you tell me about the plans for the hotel,” she says. I nod, then wait as she tastes the muesli. As predicted, she shrugs. “You’re right, I can’t taste anything.”
Hopefully, that means she’ll be eating it every day.
“I’m waiting,” Granny says. “Do you like this Vincent Cove?”
“It doesn’t matter if I like Vincent or not,” I say. Granny doesn’t know I slept with him. She doesn’t need to know. And it’s not like it’s any big deal, but I just don’t want her or anyone else to think I have something against him personally when quite the opposite is true. I’d like to have something extremely personal—namely me—against Vincent. Or at least I would have done if he hadn’t bought Crompton. Then again, if he hadn’t bought Crompton, he wouldn’t be here to feed my daydreams of seeing him naked again—which I’m definitely not doing.
“Okay, so what are the plans like?”
“They’re…impressive. Obviously the flower gardens have gone. There are vast extensions, but if I’m honest, it looks really wonderful.”
I glance up to find Granny beaming at me.
“This could be a new chapter for you,” she says. “You could meet new people if you were to move. You might even find yourself a boyfriend.”
“I don’t want a boyfriend. I’m happy with the way things are.”
She slides her hand over mine. “Things have been the same for a very long time now.”
“But if it’s not broken, why fix it?”
Granny rubs her thumb over mine in the same way she’s been doing for twenty-seven years. “Darling, it is broken.” I’m not sure what she’s referring to: me or Crompton. Her voice is gentle when she continues. “The earl should have sold the place years ago. He couldn’t afford to keep it up. I suppose he was holding onto something almost as tightly as you are.”