The Beekeeper's Daughter by Santa Montefiore Read Free Book Online
Authors: Santa Montefiore
learning curve? Surely it’s my choice if I want to run the risk of being broken-hearted?’
He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You don’t even know him,’ she mumbled.
‘I know his sort.’
‘I don’t think you do, Daddy. You just know the stereotype.’
He took a swig of gin and tonic from the crystal glass on his desk. ‘I don’t want you seeing him,’ he said, but there was a weakness in his voice that Trixie seized upon hopefully.
‘But you’re not going to stop me.’
‘You’re a young woman. Your mother was married at your age.’
‘Why don’t you meet him?’
‘Yes, I think that would be a sensible idea.’
‘I know you’ll like him.’
‘Let me be the judge of that, Trixie.’
She smiled, encouraged by the fact that he was now calling her Trixie. ‘He’s a nice man, I promise you, and he’s gallant.’
‘I suppose there’s every chance he’ll ditch his plans and go into business.’
‘That would be a terrible waste of talent, Daddy.’
‘But a better prospect for you.’
Trixie hurried upstairs to change. There was a party at Captain Jack’s beach club that evening and she was going to meet Jasper there with the boys. Perhaps they would even play, then everyone would see how talented they were. Barely able to contain her excitement, she showered then slipped into a miniskirt and white camisole top embroidered with flowers. She left her hair loose but picked a rose from the front of the house and clipped it behind her ear. She found her mother in the kitchen in a cooking apron. ‘I’m off to the party,’ she said.
‘Don’t be too late back,’ Grace replied, glancing at the short skirt and biting her tongue. Trixie’s legs were too long for a skirt so tiny. She imagined Evelyn Durlacher would have a lot to say about that. ‘Have a good time,’ she said instead.
‘I will, Mom. Are you sure you don’t want to come? It’s a party for everyone.’
‘I know, darling. But your father’s tired. He’s worked all weekend. I’m going to stay here and give him a good dinner.’
Trixie shrugged. ‘All right, but it’s going to be fun.’
‘You enjoy yourself, and be good. ’ Grace attempted to inject a little firmness into her voice, but if she’d succeeded, Trixie hadn’t heard her.
‘How do I look?’ She swivelled round like a dancer. ‘Like it?’
Grace couldn’t help but smile at her daughter’s exuberance. ‘You look lovely, darling, though you’d look just as pretty in a longer skirt.’
‘Oh, Mother, you are so old-fashioned! Don’t worry about me,’ she laughed. ‘I’ll be exemplary!’ She grinned mischievously and skipped out of the house, leaving the screen door to bang behind her.
Grace put the chicken pie in the oven then took off her apron and hung it on the back of the door. She poured a glass of wine and went out onto the veranda to watch the sunset.
It was a golden evening and the light was soft and dusty, except when it caught the waves and gleamed a brilliant white. She took a deep breath and savoured the fresh sea air that never ceased to give her pleasure, even after all these years living by a beach.
She sipped her wine and felt herself relax. Freddie was in his study and likely to remain there until supper. She had time to sit on the swing chair and enjoy the solitude. She watched the bees humming about the pots of hydrangeas beside her, and slowly, but with the greatest pleasure, she allowed their gentle buzzing to transport her back to the past.
Chapter 4
Walbridge, England, 1933
A fat bumblebee crawled up Grace’s arm. She lay on the grass in the churchyard, dressed in her best Sunday frock, white ankle socks and freshly polished brown shoes, and watched the bee in fascination. It had a large bottom and its stripes were bright and furry. She wanted to run her finger down its abdomen but thought it might take exception and fly off, so she remained perfectly still as the summer sunshine warmed her back and bare legs,
He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You don’t even know him,’ she mumbled.
‘I know his sort.’
‘I don’t think you do, Daddy. You just know the stereotype.’
He took a swig of gin and tonic from the crystal glass on his desk. ‘I don’t want you seeing him,’ he said, but there was a weakness in his voice that Trixie seized upon hopefully.
‘But you’re not going to stop me.’
‘You’re a young woman. Your mother was married at your age.’
‘Why don’t you meet him?’
‘Yes, I think that would be a sensible idea.’
‘I know you’ll like him.’
‘Let me be the judge of that, Trixie.’
She smiled, encouraged by the fact that he was now calling her Trixie. ‘He’s a nice man, I promise you, and he’s gallant.’
‘I suppose there’s every chance he’ll ditch his plans and go into business.’
‘That would be a terrible waste of talent, Daddy.’
‘But a better prospect for you.’
Trixie hurried upstairs to change. There was a party at Captain Jack’s beach club that evening and she was going to meet Jasper there with the boys. Perhaps they would even play, then everyone would see how talented they were. Barely able to contain her excitement, she showered then slipped into a miniskirt and white camisole top embroidered with flowers. She left her hair loose but picked a rose from the front of the house and clipped it behind her ear. She found her mother in the kitchen in a cooking apron. ‘I’m off to the party,’ she said.
‘Don’t be too late back,’ Grace replied, glancing at the short skirt and biting her tongue. Trixie’s legs were too long for a skirt so tiny. She imagined Evelyn Durlacher would have a lot to say about that. ‘Have a good time,’ she said instead.
‘I will, Mom. Are you sure you don’t want to come? It’s a party for everyone.’
‘I know, darling. But your father’s tired. He’s worked all weekend. I’m going to stay here and give him a good dinner.’
Trixie shrugged. ‘All right, but it’s going to be fun.’
‘You enjoy yourself, and be good. ’ Grace attempted to inject a little firmness into her voice, but if she’d succeeded, Trixie hadn’t heard her.
‘How do I look?’ She swivelled round like a dancer. ‘Like it?’
Grace couldn’t help but smile at her daughter’s exuberance. ‘You look lovely, darling, though you’d look just as pretty in a longer skirt.’
‘Oh, Mother, you are so old-fashioned! Don’t worry about me,’ she laughed. ‘I’ll be exemplary!’ She grinned mischievously and skipped out of the house, leaving the screen door to bang behind her.
Grace put the chicken pie in the oven then took off her apron and hung it on the back of the door. She poured a glass of wine and went out onto the veranda to watch the sunset.
It was a golden evening and the light was soft and dusty, except when it caught the waves and gleamed a brilliant white. She took a deep breath and savoured the fresh sea air that never ceased to give her pleasure, even after all these years living by a beach.
She sipped her wine and felt herself relax. Freddie was in his study and likely to remain there until supper. She had time to sit on the swing chair and enjoy the solitude. She watched the bees humming about the pots of hydrangeas beside her, and slowly, but with the greatest pleasure, she allowed their gentle buzzing to transport her back to the past.
Chapter 4
Walbridge, England, 1933
A fat bumblebee crawled up Grace’s arm. She lay on the grass in the churchyard, dressed in her best Sunday frock, white ankle socks and freshly polished brown shoes, and watched the bee in fascination. It had a large bottom and its stripes were bright and furry. She wanted to run her finger down its abdomen but thought it might take exception and fly off, so she remained perfectly still as the summer sunshine warmed her back and bare legs,