Chapters (27)
- Cover
- Susan ScarlettSummer Pudding
- INTRODUCTION
- Section 1
- Section 2
- Section 3
- Section 4
- Section 5
- Section 6
- Section 7
- Section 8
- Section 9
- Section 10
- Section 11
- Section 12
- Section 13
- Section 14
- Section 15
- Section 16
- Section 17
- Section 18
- Section 19
- Section 20
- Section 21
- About The Author
- Adult Fiction by Noel Streatfeild
- FURROWED MIDDLEBROW
“That’s how I think of him. Dick is short, and not so dignified. Richard Trent sounds lovely, like Clark Gable.” The telephone bell rang. Gladys shut her oven door. “Drat the thing! I only hope it’s Mr. Broadstairs to say he can’t lunch.” She was gone some time; she came back and gave Sheila a mysterious smile. “You’re in luck.” Sheila, who was sprawling in a chair, jumped up.
“He’s here?”
“Better than that. It was the colonel. He says that Dick will be here this afternoon, and he can’t get hold of Barbara to tell her because she’s gone to a troops do.” Sheila looked a different person, all her lethargy gone. “How’s he coming?”
“By car; he’s borrowed a friend’s.”
“Well, that’s a lot of use. He’ll drive straight to the Haines’.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry, I haven’t told you the best bit. There’s a tea-garden called ‘The Old Tudor’. It’s up that turning to the left where the holly bushes are, halfway to the town. You know, where the bus stops.” Sheila nodded. “Well, it seems it’s a haunt of his and Barbara’s, and he told Miller, who took the message, he’d be there about half-past three, and that he’d wait there until four on the chance they could let Barbara know. The colonel says Miller’s a damn fool not to have told him to come straight on, as there’s not a chance of getting hold of Barbara. He doesn’t even know exactly where she’s gone, and she’s not expected back until about six. They’ve tried to telephone The Old Tudor, but the line’s out of order.”
“Why’d he tell you all this?”
“Just talking, you know the way he does. He rang up to tell us, of course, so that we can get his room ready.” Sheila’s eyes were shining.
“How simply marvellous! I shall wear white. I think all men like young girls in white, don’t you?”
“I don’t know, I was never the type for white.”
“I must go. There’s a lot to plan. I shall use that new flower scent. I think I’ll carry my hat; film people always do in a garden.” She widened her eyes. “Everything’s turning out gloriously. You know, I think things do, if only one has faith and courage, and is willing to try.”