The Summer House of Happiness: A delightfully feel-good romantic comedy perfect for holiday!. Daisy James
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the entire conversation.
‘Ah, yes, sorry. Max, this is Gabriella Andrews – she’s a famous agriculturist.’
Gabbie couldn’t prevent a burst of laughter from erupting at the look of surprise on Max’s face.
‘I think what Wil meant to say was aromatherapist. But I’m not famous, and I’m not an aromatherapist! In fact, I’m not even…’ She had been about to spill all the intricate details of her spontaneous resignation but managed to haul in her urge to divulge the story just in time.
‘Pleased to meet you, Gabbie. Sorry I didn’t recognise you earlier. Jeff didn’t mention he was expecting you.’
‘Oh, no, I’m, well…’
For a fleeting moment, Gabbie had the sensation that Max knew exactly why she had arrived in Oakley unannounced. His eyes, the colour of espresso coffee, held hers for slightly longer than necessary, causing her to feel flustered and self-conscious. How did he do that?
‘It’s actually a surprise. Where is Dad?’
‘Ahh, it’s my favourite girl!’
Gabbie’s father appeared on the forecourt, his arms outstretched, a grin splitting his cheeks. She rushed into his embrace, leaning her head on his chest as he stroked her hair, like she’d done a thousand times before, listening to his heart beating. As she pulled back to meet his eyes, she struggled to conceal her shock.
It had only been eight weeks since she had seen him last and, while his hair was as luxuriously silver and bouffant as it had always been, his blue eyes just as bright and clear, what she hadn’t been prepared for was the expanded waistline and hint of a double chin. A kernel of concern sprouted in her chest as she also detected a rasp of breathlessness caused by the exertion of launching himself across the forecourt upon spotting her arrival.
Max and Wil were watching their reunion with diverse reactions; Wil’s face was swathed in pleasure and excitement at her unexpected visit, while Max’s expression held curiosity and a soupcon of suspicion.
‘Boys! Doesn’t she look amazing? Something good must be happening in all that sunshine they get in the South of France. Ah, Gabbie, it’s so good to see you, baby, but why didn’t you call? I would have driven over to collect you from the train station!’
‘Just wanted to surprise you, Dad,’ she said lightly as she snaked her arm around his waist and noticed again the few extra pounds he’d gained since their last meet-up. ‘I could murder a cup of decent coffee.’
Gabbie raised her nose in the air and sniffed, but, for the first time ever, the aroma she had expected to be floating from the direction of the kitchen was absent.
‘Come on!’ Jeff laughed, his joy at the unexpected arrival of his daughter clear for anyone to see. ‘Let’s put the kettle on.’
‘I want you to fill me in on all the village gossip – leave nothing out!’
Gabbie steered him towards the door that led from the garage forecourt into the kitchen of the house next door, which had been her home until she’d left for Grasse two years ago, not only to pursue her dream career, but to put as much distance between her and the place where her heart had been broken as she could.
She had expected to be enveloped with a familiar blanket of comfort when she entered the kitchen, but other, more pressing, emotions invaded her body. Her first reaction was shock at the chaos that met her eyes. Everywhere she looked there were discarded cardboard boxes, brown-paper packages for the garage, used milk cartons, old newspapers. There was even a motorbike carburettor on the table, next to a plate of leftover crusts – which her father never ate – not to mention the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.
It took her a few moments to locate the kettle and, as she filled it, her back to her father to conceal her shock, she noticed a pile of paperwork on the draining board. She inhaled a couple of steadying breaths, trying to formulate the right words to ask her father what was going on. Her mother, like Gabbie herself, had loved orderliness and her attitude to cleanliness had bordered on the obsessive at times, not to mention the fact that she insisted on the necessity, even in a car-maintenance business, of having a pleasant aroma at all times.
What stopped Gabbie from blurting out her alarm at the state of the room was that, when she turned back round to face her father, she noticed an unexpected tinge of grey in his skin and decided to shelve her concerns until later. She watched as he slumped down heavily into a chair at the scarred pine table and heave a long, tired sigh, shoving the breakfast detritus away so he could prop his elbow on the table and rest his chin in the palm of his hand.
‘Dad, I can’t find the coffee. Don’t you usually keep it in this cupboard?’
‘Probably ran out. There’s a box of teabags over there in that carrier bag, I think.’
Gabbie located the bag and the tea, failed to find the teapot and so put two chipped mugs down on the table, dislodging an old pizza box that had been balanced on top of a parcel waiting to go to the post office.
‘Dad? Are you okay?’
‘Never better, sweetheart. Oh, I’m a little tired, and perhaps it’s a bit more difficult to get under the engines these days, but now I have Max I can start to concentrate on some of the other things I may have let… well, let slide.’
Her father shot a quick glance around the kitchen, once so pristine and tidy but now looking as though a paper bomb had exploded.
‘So, anyway, enough about me. To what do I owe the pleasure of an impromptu visit from my globe-trotting daughter? Don’t get me wrong, it’s great to have you home…’ Jeff reached across to squeeze her hand. ‘…But I wasn’t expecting to see you until I flew out to France in October.’
‘I just wanted…’
On the plane, Gabbie had rehearsed what she was going to say to her father when he asked this question. She knew he would be upset about her quitting what he thought was her dream job without having a plan in place for what she was going to do next. She’d intended to tell him the truth because she had no idea how long she would be staying in Oakley, how long it would take her to work out where she was going, or to find a new position. However, seeing the extent to which his grip on housekeeping and administration had deteriorated, and the way he was grasping his mug as though it held the elixir of life, she suddenly didn’t want to burden him with her problems.
‘…I was due a couple of weeks off from House of Gasnier and wanted to spend the time with you.’
‘Ah, that’s music to an old man’s ears!’
Oh, God! Gabbie felt tears prickling at her lashes. Why was he saying that? Sixty wasn’t that old! Something was definitely going on and she was relieved that fate had seen fit to step in and send her home.
‘Dad, is everything okay? What are you not telling me?’
Suddenly an explosion of pain erupted in her chest, shooting its arrows of fire down her veins like red-hot pokers. Of course – his pale complexion, his weight gain, his tiredness… no, no, no, please God, no, she couldn’t bear it. Surely life couldn’t be that cruel?
‘Dad?’ she whispered.
‘Oh, no, darling, sorry, no, it’s nothing like that!’ Jeff grabbed Gabbie’s hand between his rough, calloused palms and forced a smile onto his lips. ‘It’s just a few problems with the business that need a bit of attention, that’s all. We’ve got loads of work on, but the bank has started hassling me about turnover and whatnot. Nothing for you to worry about. Now, how about I take your suitcase upstairs and you can get settled in before I treat you to dinner at The Pear Tree?’
‘Dad, I can help you with the business stuff, you know that.’
‘No, I won’t hear of it. You work really hard in that laboratory of yours and this is your holiday. Why don’t you link up with Clara while you’re here? I know she’ll be excited about seeing you. How