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Oh, yes, there had been sparks, but they had definitely fizzled. Then a new fear gripped her. ‘What do you mean “the village grapevine”?’
‘Syb, everyone knows. I’ve had three phone calls and Sarah was banging on Mum’s back door at seven o’clock this morning wanting to know if it was true you were having sex up against a SUV in the car park at Edbury Hall last night. With a man.’
‘Well, of course I’d be having sex with a man,’ Sybella huffed impatiently, even as she recoiled from the idea her mother-in-law knew. ‘Not that I was, mind, I was just…holding onto him—and Sarah’s been cutting my hair for five years. She should know me better.’
‘You’re missing the point. To half the village this morning you’re just an exhibitionist floozy—Sarah’s on board with that, by the way—but everyone else thinks you’re legitimately on together. They think he’s your boyfriend.’
‘What?’
‘It explains why you were able to get the Hall opened again with so little fuss.’
Sybella’s mouth fell open.
‘Now’s not the time to panic,’ advised Meg. ‘This guy owes you—after everything you’ve done for his grandfather, and now he’s compromised your reputation.’
‘I doubt he sees it that way,’ Sybella said, gripping the steering wheel and wondering how floozy was going to translate at the pony club and how she would navigate that with Fleur. Her friends were too little, but their mothers were not.
‘He’s closing down the house to the public, Meg. He came over and told me this morning. He warned me off ever going near the place again.’
‘He came to your house?’
‘He was very angry with me.’ Sybella took a breath and swallowed to avoid sounding as vulnerable as she felt. ‘Up until then I thought I could persuade him to keep the place open, appeal to his better nature.’
‘Good luck with that.’ But Meg was oddly quiet for a moment and Sybella got the impression she’d given something away. ‘You like him, don’t you?’
‘No, don’t be silly. He’s not my type at all. He’s—he’s bearish.’
‘Well, remember what Goldilocks did in the original fairy tale? She jumped out of a window never to be seen again.’
By the time she reached the Hall, parked and made her way across the crunching gravel, Sybella wished she could leap out of that proverbial window. She was also praying she’d find Mr Voronov alone. What if Nik had heard the boyfriend gossip? She wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye after that. Although she guessed, when it came to the court case, it would be his barrister who was asking the questions…
So much depended on Nik Voronov being reasonable. Reasonable! She was so sunk.
Sybella was shown inside and as she reached the open sitting-room door she could hear male voices. Her knees gave out a little and she wondered if she could just leave the box of letters here and run…
‘She has a kid. You could have mentioned it, Deda.’
‘How was I to know you would take this much interest?’ Mr Voronov sounded amused, his rich accent rolling the ‘r’s.
Sybella ventured a little closer.
‘Nor did you mention the husband.’
‘She’s a widow. She was barely married when the poor boy’s van was hit by an oncoming car. It’s a sad story.’
‘One you fell for hook, line and sinker.’
Sybella stiffened.
But Mr Voronov still sounded amused. ‘Your cynicism will not win her over, my boy.’
Win her over?
‘I’m realistic, and you, old man, need to stay still or this is going to hurt.’
Sybella didn’t know what she expected to find as she came abruptly into the room but it more than niggled that if his eldest grandson was overprotective when it came to his legal rights, it wasn’t translating into the kind of care the elderly man deserved.
What confronted her wasn’t an angry Nik Voronov bullying his grandfather, but the younger man hunkered down in front of his grandfather’s chair, deftly applying ointment to the abscess above his ankle.
‘Sybella, moy rebenok, this is a surprise. Come and sit down. My grandson is looking after me today.’
