Follow My Lead Episode 13
Lydia watched Danielle from the window until she’d driven off.
Just one brief phone call, yet it had changed her mood significantly. It was in the droop of her shoulders.
What was it she had said? Something about changed arrangements?
Lydia tapped her pursed lips with one finger.
A date called off, maybe? There had been that blush when she’d asked about a boyfriend.
But the girl had gone straight to her work diary, which was sitting on the window-sill.
She hesitated. She would never dream of looking at Danielle’s personal diary, but a work diary?
It was lying open at this week. If someone phoned again to leave a message, it would be natural for Lydia to make a note in it.
Satisfied that it wasn’t invading Danielle’s privacy, Lydia swivelled the book around.
The scorings-out told their own story. And so did the colourful leaflet tucked inside the back cover.
A rival, offering another dog-walking business. That could spell disaster.
She reached for her tablet and typed in the rival’s web address.
“Good-looking website. Social media channels. He knows what he’s doing,” she observed grudgingly.
But so did Danielle, Lydia thought, and no doubt she was already formulating a strategy to strike back.
Hopefully Danielle would take Lydia into her confidence later, but until then there was nothing she could do.
And nothing to do, she reminded herself, experiencing that horrible sense of uselessness again.
“That’s enough of that.” She gave herself a virtual shake. “There’s no use feeling sorry for yourself.”
She could at least tidy away the lunch things.
Lydia wrapped the remaining wedges of cheese in waxed paper.
Danielle had been so pleased with the surprises she’d sprung on Lydia. A coffee van – fancy that!
Another surprise had been the broadband.
“Of course we have broadband!” Danielle had exclaimed, laughing. “I’ll give you the password.”
Lydia had blushed scarlet with mortification.
She closed the fridge door and surveyed the pristine kitchen.
There it was again: that feeling of “What now?”
It was still bright outside. Perhaps another walk?
On impulse, she retraced the route she and Danielle had followed earlier, determined to take it all in.
She found the seat in the woods again and sat down, tipping her head back to gaze up at the fluttering tree canopy, sunlight glancing through it.
She took in the form of the branches, concealed by myriad shades of green.
When she emerged from her daydream, 30 minutes had passed. What’s more, she felt as refreshed as if she’d been asleep.
Even the usual tension in her shoulders had relaxed.
Reinvigorated, she stood up and strode on, circling back to the village, where she had met so many lovely people earlier.
This time she popped into the little grocery store.
“Hello.” She smiled at the woman behind the counter, and scanned the publications on the shelves to one side. “I’m looking for the local paper.”
The woman pointed.
“That’s the nearest we have to a local paper, but it covers four counties. Was it something in particular you were looking for?”
Lydia had picked it up to leaf through.
“I was just wondering . . . If I wanted to advertise to the local area, where do folks do that?”
The woman gestured at the shop window, almost completely obscured by the notices taped to it.
“Articles for sale, tutor or gardener wanted – all that gets posted there or on the community Facebook page. There’s lots of gossip and news on there.”
“If you’re not online . . .” Lydia began, and the woman was nodding.
“A lot of the older people in the village don’t follow any kind of social media,” she agreed.
“Church newsletter?” Lydia suggested, but the woman shook her head.
“There was one years ago, but the chap who produced it went to live in Spain. No-one took it over.”
“So how do people who aren’t online hear about what’s on?” Lydia asked.
The woman shrugged.
“They don’t. They miss out on it unless someone tells them. It’s a shame.”
Lydia’s mind was buzzing as she headed back to the house. She was beginning to form an idea.
As she walked, her phone vibrated in her pocket.
She took it out and saw a little red dot on one of the icons. A missed call.
That must have been while she was talking to Sylvia in the shop.
She opened the call list.
Basil. His office number. He’d rung three times. How had she missed them all?
The bigger question, though, was why was he calling?