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“Titus,” I scold, “honestly.”
Alan laughs and shakes my hand. “It’s great to meet you, Heidi. I’m Alan, and my wife’s name is Vicky.” He turns and calls over his shoulder. “Vic? They’re here.”
A woman comes to the door, medium height, as slender as her husband, with hair that’s part blonde and part gray caught up in a clip that lets wavy strands frame her face. She’s wearing navy-blue capri trousers like mine, maybe not quite so tight, and a white sleeveless top.
“Hello.” Also beaming, she comes out and shakes Titus’s and then my hand. “So lovely to meet you both.”
“Come in,” Alan says. “The sun’s over the yardarm—must be time for a drink.”
Chapter Eleven
Titus
I’ve been in some fancy places in my time—lots of top hotels and exclusive resorts—but hand on my heart, I’ve never been anywhere like this.
“It’s so light,” Heidi says as we walk into the reception hall, “like a cathedral.”
“It’s the high ceilings,” Vicky says, “and it’s south-facing, too.”
“It sounds so strange,” I reply, “because in New Zealand, all the best properties are north facing.”
“Oh, of course,” she says, “how weird that sounds!”
Beautiful oak paneling and polished granite tiles give way to a set of steps leading up to the next floor. Alan leads us all the way through to the rear of the house. I catch a glimpse of the kitchen—more English oak in the cupboards and tables, a huge AGA, a central island with a granite pillar as the centerpiece, and a breakfast area surrounded by exposed stonework with a glass roof above. Several people wearing white aprons are working at the counters, preparing platters for this evening.
“Come through to the sitting room,” Vicky says, taking us into an elegant room with a wood burner set into an arched bay, more oak paneling, and oil paintings of old-fashioned hunting scenes.
“Champagne?” Alan asks, extracting a bottle from the bucket by the table.
“Ooh, yes please,” Heidi says.
I nod, too, and he proceeds to open it and pour it into four narrow glasses.
Heidi accepts one of the glasses. “Your house is absolutely gorgeous.”
Vicky looks pleased at her compliment. “Thank you, I love it so much. We’ll show you around in a while, but feel free to come and go as you please this weekend. There’s a pool and a gym that you must come up and use whenever you want.”
Come up and use? The phrasing strikes me as odd. Where are we staying, then?
“We can’t wait to introduce you to the rest of the family,” she continues. “They all want to meet the couple from New Zealand. We didn’t want to overwhelm you on your first night here with an intimate dinner party with everyone, though. We thought a cocktail party would be more informal, you know, drinks and nibbles so you can mingle.”
Heidi glances at me. Assuming she’s alarmed by the thought of a cocktail party, I wink at her.
“So how long have you two known each other?” Vicky asks.
“About eight years,” I reply as Alan passes me a glass. “Heidi was sixteen. I kissed her at a party, and she turned the color of a tomato.”
Heidi’s eyes widen comically as the two of them chuckle. I grin and sip the champagne.
“But you didn’t get together then?” Vicky asks.
“No,” I say. “Her brother was one of my best mates and he’d warned us not to go near his sisters.”
“It’s understandable, I suppose,” Vicky says. “Sixteen is quite young. I guess he doesn’t mind so much now, though?”
“Yes,” I reply. “I mean no.” I’m not quite sure what she’s asking.
“We’ve put you in the gatekeeper’s cottage,” Alan says, passing me a glass. “It’s smallish, just the one bedroom, but nice and private. There are great views over the river.”
