Читать книгу Their Secret Royal Baby - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 11
ОглавлениеIT HAD ALL gone perfectly.
George and Voula Costas had just celebrated their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary on the Greek island where they had grown up and married.
The surprise party had been organised by Beth.
Months of preparation had come together and as Beth walked into her villa and closed the door behind her she was smiling as she kicked off her sandals.
The waiter had sent her home with a large cocktail in a plastic glass and she was looking forward to simply unwinding after an exhausting couple of days.
It was a hot night and she turned the fan on above her bed. She peeled off the smart linen shift dress she had worn tonight and let down her hair, shaking it loose, happy with how the night had gone.
She was just about to lie down when the phone rang.
She had known that it would soon ring.
It would be her father, calling to check how the night had gone. Or rather he would use that as an excuse to check she was safely home.
For a moment Beth had considered not answering it.
She was twenty-two years old after all.
England was two hours behind Greece and she could imagine her father pacing and waiting to make the call. If she didn’t answer, he and her mother would stress and try again. It was easier all round to answer, and, she told herself, it was no big deal, so she picked up the receiver.
‘Hi, Dad,’ Beth said.
‘How did you know it was me?’ Donald sounded surprised.
She could have answered that it had to be him because it was too late for Housekeeping and anyone else would have called her on her mobile!
Of course her father would say it was too expensive to make an international call on the mobile but Beth knew he had called her on the landline to check she was safely in for the night.
‘Just a good guess,’ Beth answered as she rolled her eyes.
She tried not to be cross. After all, it was her first time overseas and she had recently broken up with her long-term boyfriend, Rory, which had caused a lot of upset all around.
‘Your mother and I just wanted to know how the night went. Was Voula surprised?’
‘She certainly was.’
‘You don’t think she’d guessed what George was planning?’
‘No.’ Beth shook her head and found she was smiling. ‘She really didn’t have a clue.’
They chatted for a few moments and Beth actually enjoyed doing so.
Her father knew the Costases and many of the people who had attended tonight. While he might not be happy that his daughter was overseas, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested in how things had gone.
The call ended very amicably and Beth lay on the bed but the happy buzz that had followed her into the villa had dispersed.
She loved her parents a lot but she felt stifled by them.
Her father was a minister and, growing up, it had never proven much of a problem for Beth.
She’d had a wonderful childhood.
Seriously wonderful.
She was an only child and had been a late arrival into her parents’ lives. The manse where they lived was a happy home and had a constant flow of visitors. They often had guests from overseas stay with them, which Beth especially loved. Holidays had been spent exploring rugged beaches or camping, and her father’s position in the village hadn’t been an issue then.
Oh, she’d been warned, many times, that her actions reflected on her father and that she was to always behave. But, even during teenage years, her strict upbringing hadn’t been much of an encumbrance. Beth had enjoyed school and there had always been something to do in the evenings and at weekends.
She’d loved to read and her friends occasionally slipped her books that would have caused the most terrible row had they been found.
They hadn’t been found, though.
She’d had a close circle of friends and as for boys, possibly had she been taken with anyone there might have been a clash, but she hadn’t been particularly attracted to anyone.
Oh, there had been the occasional stand-off between her and her parents. Beth was stubborn and her temper matched her hair colour, and as a little girl she had fired up easily but she had learnt to choose her battles.
It was as she’d entered adulthood that the problems had started and small whispers of discontent had made themselves known.
In her final year of school her parents had steered her towards nursing or maybe teaching.
Beth had been excited at the prospect of studying in Edinburgh and had been hoping to share a flat with her great friend Shona.
Her father had had other ideas.
There was a close colleague of his who had been more than happy to offer her board, and naturally she would come home during the holidays and on weekends and days off.
A big row had ensued when Beth had stated she wanted to share a flat with her friend. But in the months that had followed Beth had realised that it wasn’t nursing or teaching she really wanted.
They had been a chance to leave home and that didn’t seem a very sensible reason to make a career choice.
And so she had fought to pursue the career she now loved but she still lived at home.
It was nice to get away.
Beth climbed off the bed and walked to the window, but before she pulled back one of the shutters she wrapped herself in a sarong she had bought at a market.
