He held the back door open for me, and we went out into the sunlight, Iain walking ahead with his easy, athletic stride, and me squelching after him in the oversize boots. It took us well over an hour to circumnavigate the property, and by the time we made our way back to the cottage there was a faintly scorched smell in the vicinity of the back shed, and my clothes were completely dry.
'If you want to get changed, I can give you a lift into town,' Iain offered. 'It's quicker by car, and you shouldn't be walking on the road in your bare feet.'
'I don't want to be a bother,' I began, but he brushed my protestations aside.
'It's no bother. I have to stop by the Lion for a few minutes, anyway. I can run you home afterward.'
It took Iain a few tries to get his aged car started, and I accurately guessed that he hardly used the vehicle, since every time I saw him, he seemed to be on foot. It was, as he said, a very short run to Exbury, scarcely worth the bother of starting the car. The fields and hedges flew by us, and before I had time to really register them, they had been replaced by houses and gardens, and we were pulling into the parking lot of the Red Lion.
Vivien was outside washing windows, and she came over to greet us, folding her arms across her chest as we climbed out of the car.
'I've just had your brother on the phone,' she informed me.
'Tommy?' I raised my eyebrows in surprise. 'What was he doing calling you?'
'He was trying to hunt you down, from the sound of it,' she said, smiling brightly. 'He's up at your house, eating his way through your refrigerator and waiting for you to come home.'
"This would be your brother the vicar, I take it?' Iain checked, and I nodded.
'You didn't meet him last time he was here, did you, Iain?' Vivien looked at him. 'You were in Marlborough that day, I think. He's quite a lark. I say,' she turned to me with a sudden thought. 'Why don't you ring him up and tell him to come and meet you here? I don't have to open up for two hours yet; we can sit in the bar and make a party of it.'
Iain looked over at her. 'It's a little early for drinking, don't you think?'
'You don't know Julia's brother,' was her reply. 'Come on around to the back, Julia, you can ring him from there.'
My brother restrained his curiosity admirably when I talked to him on the telephone, showing no surprise when I rather cryptically asked him to fetch a pair of shoes from my closet and drive in to meet us at the Red Lion.
'Dress or casual?' was his only question.
'I beg your pardon?'
"The shoes,' he elaborated. 'Dress or casual?'
'Oh. Casual.'
'Right. I'll be there in five minutes.'
I relayed the message to Vivien, who smiled like a child getting a present. 'Wonderful,' she said. 'Come on through to the bar, you two, and I'll open a bottle of wine.'
Iain followed us through the connecting door from Vivien's rooms to the front of the pub, his eyebrows lifting. 'A vicar who drinks wine at ten o'clock in the morning,' he mused, speculatively. 'This I have to see.'
He got his opportunity when, true to his word, Tom pulled into the car park five minutes later. When Vivien opened the door to him, he was standing on the step balancing one of my tennis shoes on his upraised fingertips as though it were the glass slipper.
'I have brought you a tennis shoe,' he said dramatically. 'Does that qualify me to enter these premises?' 'Idiot,' I greeted him. 'Come on in.' I took the shoe from his hand. 'What, you only brought the one?'
'I could only find the one,' he responded dryly. 'Your cupboard is a disaster.'
'You can borrow a pair of my shoes,' Vivien assured me, laughing. 'I've got dozens.'
She found me a pair of well-worn loafers, and we spent a mirthful couple of hours sitting at the bar, watching the level of the wine bottle sink. I was pleased to see how well Tom and Iain got on together, after they had been introduced. One stray comment about politics, and the two men were soon deep in animated conversation, moving from subject to subject at the speed of light, while Vivien and I sat back on our stools and drank our wine at a leisured pace.
'I quite like Iain Sumner,' Tom told me later, when we had tottered out of the Red Lion and strapped ourselves into the car.
'I'm glad,' I said. 'Should you be driving?'
My brother sent me a superior glance. 'I only had one glass. Unlike some people.'
I attempted a dignified expression. 'Are you implying I'm drunk, or something?'
'Plastered.' He nodded. 'And before noon, at that.' He clucked his tongue reprovingly. 'I'm shocked.'
'Get over it,' I retorted good-naturedly, rolling my head sideways against the seat to look at him. 'It's good to see you, Tom. I don't think you ever visited me this much when I lived in London. You'll be wearing grooves in the motorway.'
He smiled. 'It's just a flying visit, this one. I'm on my way to a conference in Bristol. I just thought I'd stop and say hello, while I was in the neighborhood.'
I studied his face. 'Mother sent you to check up on me, didn't she?'
'Bingo.'
'Well, you can tell her I'm fine,' I said, looking back at the windshield. We were on the road now, just leaving the village, the hedgerows closing in on either side of us.
'You can't really blame her for worrying,' Tom commented. 'That's what mothers are supposed to do. You had me rather worried myself, this morning, when I turned up and found you missing.'