Kitabı oku: «The Cornish Café Series», sayfa 3
We all stare at him for this totally random statement.
‘An owl? You mean an actual feathered owl delivering the wedding rings?’ Ben repeats.
‘That’s a very original idea …’ I manage.
‘It’s barking mad,’ says Ben.
‘Oh. But no …’ Lily trills. ‘No, it’s not because I’ve actually seen something like that before in a magazine. Oh, yes. That would be amazing. Imagine a real owl flying down the grove here and landing on Ben’s arm.’
‘No way. I’m not having a bird land on me, with its talons and beaky thing.’ Ben shudders.
‘Oh, Ben, you’d love it if you tried it. Please let us have an owl, for me?’ Lily grabs Ben’s arm. ‘Please. It would be so perfect.’
I catch Cal’s eye and glare at him and he mouths back ‘sorry’ and shrugs.
Lily kisses Ben and he forces a fleeting smile. ‘I’ll see. Like I say, anything for you, babe.’
‘Come back ’ere, you horror!’
The owl is forgotten as we’re all distracted by the sight of Polly hurrying down the slope towards us, shouting. Mitch lopes ahead of her and, oh my God, he’s making a beeline for Ben and Lily.
‘Mitch! Heel!’
I dash forward, hoping to intercept him before he leaps up and slobbers over Ben’s designer clothes. Drool is not a good look on anyone. Fortunately, Mitch changes course at the last minute and screeches to a halt at my feet, tongue lolling.
‘Good boy. Good boy,’ I tell him, giving him a cuddle while keeping a firm hold on his collar.
‘What a lovely boy he is,’ Lily walks towards Mitch. ‘He is friendly?’
‘Yes, he’s the biggest softy you can imagine.’
‘I have a dog called Louie. He’s the sweetest little French bulldog. He’s such an angel but I can’t always bring him away with me so my mum takes care of him for me.’ Lily crouches down and fusses Mitch who is immediately smitten. He rolls over and invites a belly rub, a sure sign he likes someone.
Polly isn’t so delighted, judging by the grim line of her mouth. She huffs towards us, waving a lead in the air. ‘He ran off. I tried to keep him in but the moment I opened that door, he shot out like a bullet from a gun. You terror!’ she calls to Mitch, who is snickering in pleasure as Lily tickles his tum.
‘I adore Louie,’ Lily says to Cal. ‘Ben’s not a doggy person but he makes an exception for Louie, don’t you, Ben?’
‘Anything to make you happy, baby.’
Harry bends down to ruffle Mitch’s ears and Mitch licks his hand. ‘You’re a very fine fellow, aren’t you?’ he says in a way that reminds me of some of the quirkier contestants on University Challenge, not that I watch it much but Polly’s a fan and it’s often on in the background.
‘I’m sorry he’s escaped,’ Polly says to me.
‘It’s fine. He’s not doing any harm. Lily has a dog of her own.’
Polly’s face is red. ‘That doesn’t mean she wants that one leaping all over her.’
‘We wouldn’t have minded, would we, Ben?’
‘It wouldn’t make any difference to me,’ he says, pointing to his muddy jeans.
Polly stares at his trousers. ‘What on earth happened to you?’
‘Some kids knocked me over,’ Ben says.
‘Kids? Not that terror who keeps tormenting my chickens? Max? Short for Maximum Trouble, I say.’
‘It was Max, and his sister, Laura,’ Cal cuts in. ‘And we’ve apologised but Ben is OK now, aren’t you? Polly, this is Lily Craig and Ben … our very special wedding guests.’
Polly’s brow creases then her mouth forms an ‘o’ as she belatedly realises who she’s been talking to. ‘Oh … er. Right. Pleased to meet you … um … I just wanted a word with Cal and Demi. Excuse me.’
However, instead of asking for permission to take a selfie, she turns her back on them and pulls me aside. Cal talks to Ben while Lily plays tug-of-war with Mitch and a stick. Harry stands a few yards away by a granite monument.
Polly takes me out of earshot. ‘We’ve got a visitor,’ she says, lowering her voice.
‘Right …’ So Polly must have needed an excuse to interrupt our meeting with Ben and Lily. She needn’t have worried, I would have introduced her anyway. ‘Can you deal with them? We’re a bit tied up showing Bonnie and— I mean our guests around at the moment.’
‘Well, I can if you want me to, but you won’t want me to,’ she says.
‘Why not? Who’s so important that they can’t speak to you?’
‘Her.’ Polly turns round and points to the top of the slope where a small but very determined figure has appeared on the ridgeline, silhouetted against the sky. ‘I told the cheeky little minx to wait in reception but you know what she’s like. Thinks she owns the place. Almost did.’
I follow Polly’s gaze to the woman making her way down the muddy track in leopard print boots and a black leather mini. My stomach turns somersaults.
Why, why, why does she have to turn up now? After all our troubles over the past ten months, I’d hoped we were done with Mawgan Cade once and for all.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘What does she want?’ I whisper to Polly while the others are distracted by Mitch’s wild barks. ‘Did you tell her Ben and Lily were here?’
‘What do you take me for?’ Polly adds in a not-very-whispery whisper that has me sneaking a look at our guests to see if they’ve heard. Fortunately Cal has distracted them, although I don’t think he’s noticed Mawgan himself yet. Gulp.
‘OK. Sorry but I don’t think it can be a coincidence that she’s turned up at this precise moment when she hasn’t been near the place for months.’
‘I haven’t breathed a word to a living soul and I’ve no idea what the little cat wants. She said she had business with you and Cal and when I said you were tied up and she should make an appointment, the cheeky madam plonked herself down in reception and said she’d wait. I had no idea she’d dare start wandering about but I thought I should come and find you myself as I couldn’t get you on your mobiles. The nerve of her!’
‘Nothing surprises me about Mawgan any more,’ I murmur, though I’m amazed at her turning up at Kilhallon at this particular moment. I’m struggling to believe it’s a coincidence that our VIPs are here but there is also no way that Mawgan knew they were coming. Then again, it must just be a horrible coincidence … Maybe one of the cafe staff has let it slip that they are here today. I hope not, but I’m going to have to find out. Harry said we’ll need to look at security for the event and it doesn’t look great that we’ve made yet another cock-up this early in the process.
Cal glances at me. His jaw drops and he mouths ‘what?’ as he finally spots Mawgan too.
Mawgan wobbles her way towards us, waving.
Just what is going on?
‘Can you take Mitch back to the house?’ I ask Polly. ‘I don’t want the day to get any more complicated than it already has.’
Too late. Mitch has seen Mawgan too and lets out a low throaty growl.
‘Oh dear,’ says Lily. ‘Have we upset him?’
Ben takes a large step back from Mitch.
Cal grabs Mitch’s collar. ‘That’s a growl of excitement,’ he says, fastening Mitch’s lead to his collar.
‘Maybe you could take him to the house the back way so he doesn’t get too boisterous?’ I tell Polly in desperation.
With a grim nod, she practically has to drag Mitch over the field away from Mawgan. He doesn’t want to let go of the chance to ‘welcome’ Mawgan but he’s also scared of Polly and, in the end, has no choice but to do as he’s told.
Cal smiles at Lily and Ben. ‘Looks like one of our visitors has taken a wrong turn and got lost. I’ll go and help her find her way back to reception. Why don’t you let Demi show you the views of the engine house and then go back to the cafe along the coast path for some lunch?’
Lily huddles into her coat. ‘Sounds fab.’
‘Good idea,’ says Ben, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.
‘Is the path safe?’ Harry asks.
‘It’s fine,’ I say, aware that Mawgan is only twenty metres away. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Woo hoo! Ben!’
Ben turns round. Mawgan has broken into a trot, almost tripping over in her desperation to reach us. Surely she can’t be a fan of Ben?
‘Hellooo!’ Mawgan shouts, waving wildly as she totters across the muddy grass. There’s no chance of us avoiding her. ‘Is it a fan? She seems very enthusiastic,’ Lily says as Harry moves discreetly between Mawgan, Ben and Lily.
‘I hope not,’ says Ben.
‘I’ll deal with this,’ says Harry.
‘It’s fine. I know exactly who it is,’ I cut in. ‘Cal will look after her.’
Cal reaches Mawgan at the same time as Ben suddenly breaks into a grin. She is only yards away from him now.
‘Mawgan? Mawgan Cade? It is you.’
Ben jogs the remaining few steps to meet Mawgan and throws his arms around her. I don’t know who’s more amazed, Cal, me or Lily. Although I think ‘horrified’ is probably more accurate for me and Cal.
Ben lets her go. Mawgan’s perma-tanned face is even brighter than normal. Her leopard-print pony-skin boots are thick with mud and she’s puffing like mad but she’s also grinning from ear to ear.
Ben shakes his head and laughs out loud. ‘Jesus. What are you doing all the way out here, Mawgs?’
Mawgan gives him a playful slap on the arm. ‘I heard you were here and I was passing on my way to a business meeting, so I had to drop in. I couldn’t possibly miss the opportunity of seeing my old mate, Ben, now, could I?’
Cal manages to slide me a look of despair before Lily speaks. ‘So you’re a friend of Ben’s? Awesome. Aren’t you going to introduce us, Ben?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What a small world,’ I say through gritted teeth.
‘It is. Mawgan’s a good mate of mine, or used to be until we lost touch.’
Mawgan’s ponytail has come undone, but she’s grinning from ear to ear.
Ignoring Cal, Harry and me, Mawgan lets go of Ben and gives Lily a dazzling smile. ‘Hello, how amazing to meet you,’ she says to Lily.
‘Her Auntie Georgina used to live next door to us in Penzance. She used to come and visit. Good times, eh, Mawgan?’ Ben says.
Mawgan winks. ‘The best. Auntie Georgie still lives in Penzance, Ben. She sees your mum every day and says your mum never stops talking about you. I’ve been following your career, obviously, and I think you should have won an Oscar for Knife Edge. You were robbed, not even being nominated.’
‘You always liked action movies, Mawgan,’ Ben snorts. ‘Mawgan always wanted to play the villain: Catwoman, Poison Ivy.’ Ben roars with laughter and Mawgan smiles with the closest I’ve ever seen to genuine happiness. Weirdly, Ben’s accent has also changed to pure Cornish, without the transatlantic edge. It suits him a lot better even if Mawgan has inspired it.
‘In fact, it was your mum who told Auntie Georgie you were visiting Kilhallon to check it out for your wedding venue.’
‘Handfasting venue,’ I say. ‘And what a coincidence that you were just passing, Mawgan?’
‘Yes, isn’t it? Though I must say I was very surprised to hear that such huge stars as Ben Trevone and Lily Craig wanted to hold their ceremony here. It’s so out of the way.’
‘That’s one reason why we chose it,’ Lily says, ‘It’s easier to keep people away.’
Mawgan throws her a cheesy smile. ‘Of course. I only thought it was a bit wild and remote.’
‘We love that too. We don’t want the glitzy OTT party that everyone expects. Ben and I are homebodies at heart and we wanted to come back to our roots and give back something to the community. We want to be able to say, hand on heart, that it’s a thoroughly Cornish wedding. And if we use local people, it will look far more authentic, which is sooo important. Ben and I are known for our authenticity. Aren’t we, Ben?’
‘What? Yeah. We’re totally authentic.’
‘So when Isla told us about Kilhallon, we couldn’t resist.’
‘Ah ha. Isla suggested Kilhallon? That makes more sense than you actually choosing this place by yourselves,’ Mawgan says.
‘You know Isla?’ Lily asks.
‘We went to school together. Me, Isla and her fiancé, Luke – and Cal of course. I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned me?’
‘How could I ever have forgotten,’ says Cal. ‘And Kilhallon may be wild and remote but it will make a wonderful setting for the ceremony.’
Mawgan laughs. ‘If it doesn’t rain and blow a howling gale. Don’t you remember when that storm almost destroyed Kilhallon house and nearly ruined Isla’s engagement party last summer?’
‘Oh my God! Did it?’ Lily cries.
‘It was nothing more than a damaged window, which we’ve repaired,’ Cal says, slightly downplaying the incident where an oak tree smashed through the wall and almost squashed us both.
‘And Isla and Luke had a wonderful party,’ I say. ‘No one would ever have known there had been a storm the night before. I’m sure it won’t happen again.’
Ben snorts. ‘I hope not, but you know what the weather’s like down here. We ought to have a plan in case the weather goes tits up.’
‘We’re already working on that,’ says Cal, causing me to break out in goosebumps of panic. We definitely don’t have a plan yet.
‘Yes, there are a number of options we can explore,’ I say. ‘But I’m sure the weather will be kind to us.’
Lily seems reassured and Ben is still grinning about meeting up with his old mate again.
‘We should all go out for a drink together, shouldn’t we, babe?’ he says to Lily.
‘Oh yes. And dinner. Our treat.’
Mawgan’s eyes gleam with delight. ‘That would be fantastic.’
‘Bring Mr Cade,’ Ben says. ‘If there is one.’
Mawgan keeps smiling. I’m amazed her jaw hasn’t broken. ‘There’s no Mr Cade, apart from my dad. Yet.’
‘No? Is there anyone else you want to invite?’ Lily says, slipping her arm around Ben.
‘What about your sister?’ Ben asks, ‘How is she? Still doing all that arty farty stuff?’ Ben asks with a snort.
‘Yes.’ Mawgan forces a smile. ‘She lives with her partner in one of our properties near Truro.’
‘So she’s shacked up with a bloke while you’re still young, free and single, eh? Can’t think why, Mawgs.’
Part of me enjoys seeing Mawgan cringe at Ben’s awkward questions but I have a horrible feeling about what’s coming next.
Mawgan forces a smile. ‘Andi’s partner is a girl, actually.’
‘Andi lives with my cousin, Robyn,’ Cal says, cutting in with a smile even more strained than Mawgan’s. Even though Mawgan went with Robyn and Andi to see their mother in Australia at Christmas, she is obviously still not comfortable with the idea of her sister living with another woman, and a Penwith too.
Mawgan hates Cal for all kinds of reasons but mainly because Cal’s father had an affair with Mawgan’s mum. In Mawgan’s eyes, that caused the break-up of her parents’ marriage and led to Mrs Cade emigrating to Australia. Then there’s the small matter of Cal rejecting Mawgan when they were both young. OK. I get it that Mawgan was devastated by the split and misses her mum, but Cal and I both lost our mothers when we were young. We all have regrets and loss to cope with, but only Mawgan is on a mission to make everyone else’s lives a misery. I wonder how much of this story Ben knows … He seems in awe of Mawgan.
‘Did you say that Andi and Robyn have moved into one of your properties?’ he says, sounding well impressed.
Mawgan smirks. ‘Yes, Cade Developments is quite a big concern these days as I’m sure Demi and Cal will tell you.’ She’s obviously far happier to boast about her business empire than talk about her sister’s girlfriend.
Ben blows out a breath. ‘I always knew you’d get on in life, Mawgs. You never let anyone get one over on you when we were little.’
‘And I always knew you’d be a big star,’ Mawgan simpers. ‘Auntie Georgie used to take us to see him in the local theatre productions during the school holidays,’ she tells Lily.
‘Oh, I’d have loved to have seen him but he’s always been talented. I saw an advert he did for a chocolate bar when he was only around ten. It popped up on a Before They Were Famous show and he looked soooo cute. I bet you could tell me so much about him when he was little.’
Mawgan smiles. ‘I may know a few snippets.’
Ben groans. ‘Don’t start that, Mawgan. We both have a few secrets we’d rather keep hidden.’
‘I’m sure Mawgan is the soul of discretion,’ Cal says smoothly.
Mawgan smirks. ‘As you’ve found out, Cal.’ She turns back to Ben and Lily. ‘We can talk about the old days when we go out for dinner. I can’t wait to catch up with all the gossip, though I’m not sure it’s my dad’s thing to hang out with celebs.’
Lily laughs in delight. ‘What a shame, but the five of us can still have a lovely time: I had no idea that you were all so close and you have to come to the wedding, of course. How cool that you know Cal and Demi too! And I’ll make sure I bring Louie along next time. This whole wedding thing is going to be just awesome.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Two weeks later – second week of March
Cal
‘I can’t believe that we are going to have to play happy families with Mawgan Cade and Lily and Ben,’ Demi tells me in the kitchen at Kilhallon House. It’s been over two weeks since Ben and Lily descended on us and she’s obviously still fuming about them inviting our arch-enemy to be part of a lunch party. I can’t say I blame her but I’ve other things to lose sleep over.
Demi slaps a piece of dough onto the farmhouse worktop and starts kneading it like it might come to life and attack her at any moment. Puffs of flour fly into the air as she beats it into submission.
She catches me smiling at her. ‘What?’
‘Nothing. Only that I’m mighty glad I’m not that dough.’
‘Well,’ she says, crushing her knuckles into the sticky mass, ‘I wish it was Mawgan Cade. I can’t believe she knows Ben Trevone. And to dare come here to muscle in when she knew they were paying a visit. I wish we could ban her from the wedding.’
‘Handfasting …’
‘Handfasting then. Whatever, I don’t want Mawgan sticking her six-inch leopard-skin boots into it.’
‘I can’t dictate to our guests who they can invite – unless that person is a psychopathic nutcase, of course … which Mawgan does qualify as.’
‘Yes.’ Bash. ‘She.’ Thump. ‘Does.’ Whack.
Wow, she really is giving that dough a working over. It reminds me of my mum. She used to use bread making as therapy when my dad had upset her. Yet at the same time, watching Demi knock seven bells out of that dough is strangely soothing. I never stopped being amazed at how Mum turned a bag of flour, some water and a bit of yeast into light and fluffy loaves. The smell of bread baking makes my mouth water even now. We’d toast it and slather it in butter and homemade raspberry jam from her kitchen garden, or we’d eat blackberry crumble made with berries I’d pick from the hedgerows all around Kilhallon. Me, Luke, Isla … it was a happy, simpler time.
We once studied a book at school where someone said the past is another country, or something like it. It feels so true, especially when I think about what happened in Syria with Soraya and Esme. I wonder where she is, or if she still exists at all in this realm. I shake away my thoughts, returning to the present before I turn maudlin.
‘Maybe you can arrange for the owl to be a huge eagle that will swoop down and carry off Mawgan again instead of the ring …’ I say, trying to lighten the mood for myself as much as Demi.
‘Don’t mention the bloody owl. Where am I going to get an owl from?’ she asks, pummelling the dough even harder.
‘An owl centre?’
She glances up and blows a strand of hair that’s escaped her ponytail out of her eyes. ‘Ha ha! Then again, it’s an idea … hmm. There is a birds of prey centre outside St Ives. I could ask them. Why did you have to mention it? I’ve enough trouble trying to create this “totally natural and thrown-together-at-the-last-minute” wedding arch and flower decoration. The truth is that Lily only wants it to look natural and what she really wants is a fashion shoot recreation of her fantasies! Mind you …’ Her voice takes on a mischievous edge. ‘Since it was your idea to have an owl and you’re the one with the DIY skills, I think you should take charge of caring for the wildlife and the arch construction.’
‘Thanks a lot.’
‘You’re welcome.’ With a smirk, she goes back to kneading with renewed vigour and complaining about Mawgan and owls. If she glanced up from the tabletop, she’d catch me smiling at her. I love the way she tackles any task with a fierce enthusiasm that’s almost comical and yet touching too. I love the way her breasts push together in that old long-sleeved T-shirt. God, I’m shallow but I’m also a man and I’d love to interrupt her bread making now and drag her upstairs to bed.
With that thought, I turn back to my laptop, intending to close the browser, but my eye is drawn to a recent email in my inbox. There among the messages about liability insurance, gas safety checks (yawn) for the cottages and a rogue item asking me if I’d like a much larger erection (I don’t think I could improve on the one I have now, but …) is one that leaps out at me. Its subject line is written in capitals and stops me in my tracks.
PLEASE DON’T GET YOUR HOPES UP …
It comes from someone I rarely hear from nowadays; a good friend who knows that any email from her risks stirring up memories I should have left behind by now. A kind, brave friend who would never send me an email with the word ‘hope’ in it unless that hope was also preceded by a ‘no’.
So to receive an email with the subject line ‘Please Don’t Get Your Hopes Up’ makes my heart rate speed up, my mouth go dry and my hopes soar higher than a gull above the Kilhallon cliffs.
The slap of the dough and the thuds of it being beaten into submission recede when I open the email and read the words from Carolyn, my former boss and a senior manager of the overseas aid charity for whom I used to work.
Hi Cal,
How are you? Still wrestling with rebuilding Kilhallon or is it all up and running now? I hope so. I thought you looked well on it when we saw you in London last autumn, if that’s not too patronising. OK. I guess, by now, the title of this email has you gnashing your teeth and scrolling down for the thing you’re hoping to hear.
But, Cal, I’m going to preface this nugget of news with the same warning as in the subject line, because I know you too well.
So: *PLEASE* don’t get your hopes up.
Promise me?
No, I mouth silently. No, I can’t promise anything where Esme is concerned.
OK. Now that I’ve got the warning over with, even though I know it’s useless to expect you to heed it, I’ll get to the nitty gritty. This is only a glimmer and it may be nothing but as you may have heard, we’ve been able to move back closer to the town where Soraya was killed and Esme was last seen. The refugee camp is as big as ever with new influxes of people daily from other areas but also some of the people who were here when we pulled out. One of my new colleagues was treating a young guy for shrapnel injuries, and called me to give a second opinion. I thought I recognised the guy and when I spoke to him, I realised it was one of Soraya’s extended family, Jaz. You might remember him, because he had a long scar down the side of his face from a shrapnel wound.
He was very grateful and he mentioned you and asked after you. I know you blame yourself for what happened to Soraya but apparently that’s not how her extended family see it. Jaz said they’d been grateful to you for trying to help them. To them Soraya will be considered a martyr and a heroine, which, I know, may not be any comfort to you but …
My stomach turns over. Soraya was a friend of mine, a Syrian nurse who helped me and my colleagues in our work in a refugee camp near the front line. Then I got her involved in smuggling medical supplies and arms to local rebels. As a result of my actions, she ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time and lost her life. I ended up in the hands of insurgents and Soraya’s little girl, Esme, vanished in the chaos of the falling town. Sweat breaks out on my back now and I have to clasp my hands together under the table to stop them from shaking. At Christmas, I finally trusted Demi with the story of what happened to me but since then I’ve tried hard to move on and focus on my life at Kilhallon. I think we both know that I can never move on completely, not until I know what happened to Esme.
I return to Carolyn’s email, feeling sick to my stomach with a mixture of guilt, hope and fear.
I took the opportunity to ask if he had seen Esme, and Jaz said no. He also said that her grandparents hadn’t seen her since that day and that everyone in the immediate family thought she might have died. But then Jaz said that he had heard from friends of his parents who knew the family, and he also said that Esme *might* have been taken in by some of their neighbours and they were headed for Turkey and hoping to reach Greece.
I’m sure you’ve been scouring social media and online tracing services for her. I’ve had a quick look but I’m so busy and I haven’t spotted her or anyone I recognise on there.
Carolyn is right, I have been scouring the sites in every moment of my spare time but I haven’t wanted to let Demi know. She’d only worry about me and it seems selfish to still be focusing on a lost girl when I should have my mind one hundred per cent on the business and on her. But I can’t help myself. If there’s even a chance of finding Esme, I’ll grab it with both hands.
Demi is still kneading the dough into submission and humming along to Radio St Trenyan. I scan the rest of the email.
Cal, I know you will by now be packing your bags to rush to London or even further afield but please, please don’t. Let me try to make some further enquiries and I promise I will send any news – good or bad – the moment I get it. IF I ever hear anything, because this could be another false trail and not have a good outcome. There are thousands – millions – of people displaced and there is still ongoing chaos. Finding Esme could be like finding a needle in a thousand haystacks … but I thought you deserved to hear that there is still a glimmer of hope.
I have to go. It’s been good to have a few moments to write to you and think of home. I think that when my tour here is over, I might be coming back myself.
Until then, take care,
Love, Carolyn x
It’s a minute or so before I can tear my eyes from the email. I let the words sink in before, finally, Demi’s voice brings me back into the room.
‘Of course, they’ve left things way too late and I didn’t expect them to want everything to be organised locally. I thought they’d bring their own wedding planner and a whole pack of stylists …’
‘Sorry?’
Demi stares at me. I feel guilty for not listening. This wedding may seem trivial compared to what I’ve read but it means a lot to her – to Kilhallon – and so it means a lot to me, but I can’t summon up the proper level of enthusiasm at the moment.
Demi puts the dough into a bowl, picks up a tea cloth to wipe some of the scraps off her fingers.
‘You weren’t listening, were you?’ She covers the dough with a tea towel. Her hands are sticky with dough and there’s a floury speck on the end of her pretty nose. She sighs. ‘I don’t blame you. I was having a rant.’
I long to scour the email for any scrap I might have missed but I close the lid of the laptop. I push a strand of her chestnut hair out of her eyes and look down into her eyes. She gazes back at me with a mix of exasperation and lust. At least I hope it’s lust and not fury that I wasn’t listening.
‘You have flour on your nose,’ I tell her.
‘Do I?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t do anything until I’ve cleaned my hands. I’m helpless.’
‘Hold on.’ I rub the tip of her nose. ‘And you, Demi Jones, are never helpless and never will be.’
‘Sometimes it suits me to be so.’
‘Yeah. Maybe. It’s me that’s helpless.’
I cradle her chin in my hand like a delicate porcelain cup. She is so fragile yet so strong. Her doughy hands hang by her side. I kiss her, trying to obliterate all thoughts of the email and the memories it stirs in the taste of her mouth. I pull her against me, hoping to crush unhappy memories. Demi deserves better than a man whose mind is on anything but her.
‘Whoa. I can barely breathe.’
She breaks the kiss, though her eyes are shining with pleasure.
‘Sorry.’
I release her but feel her hands on my bum, pulling me back to her, just not quite so tightly.
Her expression changes to one of concern. ‘Everything OK? You didn’t seem to want to let me go.’
‘Do I need a reason to feel like that?’
Although I promised to share my worries with Demi in future, I’m not going to drop this latest news onto her when it may amount to nothing. She has enough on her plate with running the cafe and planning the wedding and helping to write and produce her cookbook with Eva Spero – not to mention she has had a big change in her own family. It’s still early days in her reconciliation with her dad, his partner, her brother and their new baby who arrived at Christmas.
I kiss her again. ‘I don’t need a reason to keep you close to me.’
Demi lets out a giggle. ‘Your bum is all floury.’
Realising what’s happened, I twist around and a puff of flour dust flies into the air. I brush the back of my jeans, and find tiny pieces of sticky dough clinging to the denim and my fingers.
‘You minx!’
She smirks. ‘That’ll teach you to be more interested in your laptop than me.’
‘Believe me, I’d far rather concentrate on you,’ I say. ‘But the park accounts won’t wait. The accountant read me the riot act about getting the figures in early and the family finances have been in such a mess for so many years that I don’t want to let her down again. Polly did her best but we really need to keep a tight rein on the money. We might have to get a bit of help with the admin. Polly has enough to do as it is, managing the bookings and helping with changeovers and guests’ needs. We can cope in the low season, but when Easter comes, we’ll need more help on the camping side and the cafe.’
