‘Hello, my lovelies.’ Daisy undid Evie’s cardigan and buttoned it up correctly. ‘Have you had a nice day?’
‘Mummy! We did the play practice again today and I got to hold the moon prop and Evie nearly tripped over someone’s chair and my sandwich was squashed, but I still ate it and Miss Pilkington said my reading is getting better and?—’
‘Breathe, Margot.’
Evie tucked her hand into Daisy’s. ‘Miss Pilkington said my pictures were lovely.’
Daisy brushed a crumb off Margot’s collar. ‘Sounds like you’ve done well.’
Margot looked up with wide eyes. ‘Are we staying at Aunty Annabelle’s?’
‘Do you still want to?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, well, yes, then. Your overnight bag is packed, toothbrushes included and Piers is bringing home that pie you like from that place near his office, so let’s get moving before it rains.’
Evie looked up at the sky. ‘Is it going to rain?’
Daisy sniffed and gestured to the coast. ‘You know I can smell a storm in Pretty Beach. Yep, I think it’s going to rain.’
‘Are we allowed pudding at Aunty Annabelle’s?’ Margot asked, eyes wide with hope.
‘That’s up to Annabelle but if I know your aunt, there’ll be something chocolate-y involved.’
They walked hand in hand past the school railings, the girls bouncing ahead slightly as they talked over each other. Daisy adjusted the strap of the overnight bag on her shoulder and smiled to herself. She’d made it through another busy day, the girls were happy, and she was more than looking forward to an evening with Miles.
The walk from the school to Annabelle’s took them through the older part of Pretty Beach where Daisy just about swooned at everything she looked at. A jumble of narrow lanes full of twisty old cottages and moss-covered garden walls popped up around every corner. Cobbled pavements, crumbly old terracotta plant pots spilling with flowers and hanging baskets swaying in the breeze. On a small winding lane tiny front doors with polished knockers lined one side of the street and window boxes dripped with ivy. The old established road and its houses felt like the sort of place that had always existed and always would.
Once they were away from the busier roads, the girls skipped ahead, arms linked, giggling about something Daisy couldn’t quite hear and chattering ten to the dozen. Evie turned back atone point and called, ‘Look, Mummy! That’s the cat we always see on the way here, the one with the grumpy face.’
Daisy glanced up at a large tabby crouched on a windowsill, one paw tucked under and a definite scowl in its eyes. ‘He does look a bit fed up. He’s probably been disturbed from a very important nap.’
Margot laughed. ‘He always looks like that. Evie says he’s called Mr Cross.’
Daisy chuckled. ‘Well, yes, I think Mr Cross suits him.’
As they reached the final bend, Daisy smiled at Annabelle’s house. The old Victorian villa stood slightly back from the road, framed by two slim silver birches and a tall camellia. The house, painted white with black trim, had that lovely way of looking both grand and homely at the same time. A winding gravel path curved up from the front gate to a little stone terrace, where a Lutyens bench sat beneath a climbing rose that had done its best all summer and was now beginning to fade. The front garden was full of late summer colour; floppy-headed hydrangeas, daisies, and a smattering of snapdragons that the girls always tried to make talk with their fingers. Upstairs, a narrow balcony with black-painted railings jutted from a central window, where Annabelle had planted little boxes of flowers and lots of trailing ivy. A French door stood ajar, gauzy curtains fluttering in the breeze.
Margot let out a delighted squeal. ‘I can see Auntie Annabelle’s bench! That’s my favourite bench in the world!’
‘Mine too!’ Evie skipped ahead. ‘It’s where we sit and eat cheesy crackers and Annabelle makes up stories about the postman.’
Daisy smiled as the girls clattered up the gravel path, bags bumping behind them.
Annabelle opened the door before they could knock. She looked entirely like the day off version of herself in a gorgeouslinen dress with a cropped cardigan over the top, bare feet, toenails painted coral, a glass of cordial in one hand and her sunglasses perched on top of her head.
‘There they are!’ My two favourite nieces. Come in, you little whirlwinds. I’ve got drinks and ice lollies with your names on them.’
The twins raced up the path, dropped their rucksacks on the doorstep and launched themselves into Annabelle’s hallway.
Daisy followed more slowly, smiling at the scene. Annabelle ushered her inside. ‘You’re a star and I owe you big time.’
‘You owe me nothing. I get to steal my nieces for the evening, feed them too much sugar, and hand them back tomorrow full of stories. It’s the best bit of my week.’
They stood in the hallway for a moment while the girls chattered in the background, their voices bouncing off the walls as they recounted their entire school day.
‘You off on a hot date this evening then?’
