Dancing Butterfly

His Grandfathers Will had been read yesterday in Aunt Dolly’s sitting room. He and Mary were to inherit along with Aunt Dolly the proceeds of Grandfather’s Will. His head full of plans, Greville strolled through the village, it would soon be time to leave for Yorkshire. Just past the garage the young man stopped. The hardware shop was closed. Eagerly Greville Grimsdale stepped nearer to the shop, he gazed in the windows which were still clean, and so the shop had not been closed for very long. Excitement filled him, he could see himself in old Mr Hargreaves shop, and he remembered the owner so long ago. He pressed his face close to the glass, there was still stock on the shelves and there at the front of the window was a notice – Nesbitt & Sons, Estate Agents. Greville’s heartbeat quickened, was the shop for sale or rent? Disappointed he knew their office would not be open today – Sunday. He took several steps backwards to look up at the two dormer windows and at that moment a young girl came pedalling her bike around the corner, in a hurry as usual and jammed on her brakes to avoid the man walking backwards towards her. She tumbled off her bike and the startled Greville turned to see a girl’s long legs entangled in her bike. Hastily he helped her to her feet, asking. “Are thee al-reet?” Her hazel eyes flashed as she brushed her hand down her shorts. There was a hint of moisture in her eyes as she bravely tried to say “Sorry.” Greville picked up the bicycle and the girl said. “What the hell were you doing walking backwards, you silly fool.” Embarrassed, Greville stammered. “I, I was looking at shop.” Then seeing the graze on the young girl’s knee, he drew a snowy white hanky from his pocket, saying. “Thee best wrap this round they knee to stop the blood staining thee socks.” Shyly she let him tie the hanky to her knee, then smiling, asked, “Why were you looking at the shop?” “I was wondering if I could find out if it is to be let or sold, but agents won’t be open for business today.” Daisy for the first time took a good look at the young man. Gosh, he was handsome and she softened towards him. “Mr Masters, up at Thorney Hill House owns the shop, why don’t you go up and see him?” “But would he see me today do you think?” “No harm in trying, but why don’t you see the Agents in morning?” Greville was explaining that he had to travel back to Yorkshire that evening, when tripping along in her high heels, swinging her handbag came a young woman dressed in a pretty blue outfit. At the sight of her young sister talking to a handsome stranger, she said, ignoring the man. “What on earth are you doing Daisy?” As she surveyed her sister’s bandaged knee and tousled appearance. Defiantly Daisy said. “I was just telling the gentleman where Mr Master’s lives.” “But why?” Her sister Felicity turned to the young gentleman, as her sister had referred to him. His dark brown eyes smiled apologetically. “I was asking about the shop.” “Oh, I doubt if Mr Masters will see you today.” Felicity said, with a disapproving tilt of her chin and started to walk on. With a wicked grin, Daisy retrieved her bike, saying. “Mr Masters is her boss. You go and see him.” Pointing in the direction of Thorney Hill. “Thank you, I will.” And he watched Daisy pedal away to catch up with her sister. For a long moment, Greville watched the sisters as they made their way homewards. A faint smile touched his lips as he recalled the girl named Daisy calling him a silly fool. Was he a fool he wondered, as he looked through the shop window again. There was no harm in walking up to Thorney Hill House to ask Mr Masters about the shop, he thought. As he made his way up the hill, Greville remembered how much warmer it was here in the South, no north-easterly winds blasting the chill into your bones. Nervously he climbed the wide, deep steps to the front door of Thorney Hill House and pulled the ornate bell pull which hung beside the huge oak front door and waited.