by Kate Hewitt
“I’m ashamed to admit I cannot say the same.”
“You do enough in the kitchen, with all your baking. I can certainly understand why you’d be reluctant to make a big meal at the end of the day.”
“I suppose I couldn’t see the point, when it was just for me.”
“True. I got over that by having people around for a meal as often as I could. I’m better with people around me.”
“So you’re not an introvert?” Olivia teased.
“Oh, I am, undoubtedly, too much so. I need people to bring me out of myself.”
“Hmm.” She took a sip of wine, mulling that over. “I wouldn’t have thought you were an introvert. You seem so…sociable, I suppose. Friendly and interested in everything.”
“I try to be. Life is short. I want to enjoy as much of it as I can.” A bleak note had entered his voice, making Olivia wonder.
“That’s true enough,” she said after a moment. “And a good motto to live by.”
“I try. I don’t always succeed.”
“I don’t suppose anyone does.” This had all become rather deep, but she didn’t mind. She was enjoying simply sitting in her own kitchen, watching Simon cook. His long, lean fingers flew dextrously as he chopped vegetables and then sautéed them in a pan, the mouth-watering aromas of garlic and mushrooms soon wafting through the air and filling the space.
Outside night had fallen like a velvet curtain, pierced only by the twinkle of the fairy lights that spangled the high street. Even Dr Jekyll was contributing to the feel-good factor, twining about Olivia’s legs before leaping into her lap and settling there with a loud, rattling purr. She stroked his fur and sipped her wine, nearly completely content. Like Simon had just said, she wanted to enjoy this moment for what it was, without looking back or wishing for more. Olivia leaned her head back and closed her eyes, revelling in the easy pleasure of simply being.
“Here. Try this.”
She opened her eyes, startled, to see Simon placing a small plate of bruschetta in front of her, heaped with chopped tomatoes and flecked with basil.
“When did you make this!” Olivia exclaimed. “I didn’t even notice…”
“You had some leftover baguette that was going stale. It was easy.”
“And delicious.” She took a bite, enjoying the explosion of flavour. This man was a keeper. He could cook, he was kind and funny and thoughtful, and she was, Olivia could not deny, rather desperately attracted to him. She hoped he felt the same, but sometimes Simon could be so hard to read.
As she took another bite of bruschetta she watched him stir the pasta, his tall, lanky form somehow seeming right in her tiny kitchen. His jumper, she noticed, had holes in the elbows and was coming unravelled at the hem. His jeans were faded, his hair still a little long, and he’d taken off his boots and was wearing mismatched socks. He looked a little bit like a hobo—a handsome, lovable hobo, because Simon’s quirkiness was all part of his undeniable appeal.
But what was her appeal? What did he see in her? Olivia knew she could stand to lose ten pounds or even a stone, her hair went frizzy at the least provocation, and while she could bake a host of goodies, so far Simon didn’t seem to particularly like cupcakes. She was kind enough, she supposed, and she had a decent sense of humour, but really…what might Simon see in her?
Why was she even doing this? Romance wasn’t a pros and cons list, surely. You didn’t tot up all your good qualities and hope they were enough to make the grade. But what was it then? It amazed Olivia that at her age she still needed to ask this question; she hadn’t figured out the answer. What made a person worth the risk? What made you fall in love?
“What are you thinking about?” Simon asked, glancing over his shoulder as he drained the pasta. “You have a very serious look on your face.”
“Do I?” Olivia was not about to admit she’d been thinking about love. “Just…this and that, really.” And then she blushed, which gave the game away.
“And what was this?” Simon asked with a teasing smile. “Or that?”
“Oh…” She could feel her face going positively scarlet, which was really not a good look for her. She had a comfortably round face to match her figure and when she flushed she tended to look like a tomato. “Well, if you want to know the truth,” she said recklessly, her heart pounding at the thought of her daring, “I was thinking about romance.”
Simon’s eyebrows rose as he put two plates of pasta on the table and then sat down opposite her. “That sounds intriguing.”
“I just wondered what made a person fancy another. Or fall in love, for that matter.” Had she gone too far? Time to get this conversation under control. “You mentioned you were engaged a while back. What made you fall in love with your fiancée?”
“I don’t know if I could pinpoint it exactly,” Simon answered after a moment. “We had fun together, we liked the same things, we shared the same values. Or I thought we did, until she moved on.” He shrugged. “Can you boil it down to a formula or an equation? I suppose scientists and philosophers have been trying to figure that one out for eons.”
“Yes, I suppose they have.” Olivia thought of Rob, her most serious boyfriend from a decade ago. What had made them a good couple, if they even had been a good couple? She wasn’t sure anymore that they had been; she had been the one to cool things off, at any rate, because she hadn’t been able to see a long-term future together. Rob had been nice enough, but he’d been ambitious and impatient about it, and Olivia had known she wouldn’t fit into his lifestyle in the long run.
“I think it’s more of a feeling rather than a formula,” Simon said, his chin propped in her hand. “One of rightness, that this fits, that you can be yourself, your true self, with a person. You can’t pinpoint why, although I suppose sometimes you can pinpoint why not.”
“Yes…” Olivia half-wished she hadn’t started this conversation. It felt like too much, too soon, but at her age, how long did she really want to wait to tackle the big stuff? “So, is it just you and your sister?” she asked in a rather obvious bid to change the subject. “Or do you have other siblings?”
Simon’s alert, interested expression—the crinkled eyes, the ready smile, suddenly shut down. It was odd, like watching a curtain come down, something being wiped completely clean. He took a bite of pasta, chewed and swallowed before answering carefully, “It’s just the two of us now. My younger brother died eighteen months ago.”
“Oh.” She’d really put her foot in it, that much was obvious. “I’m so sorry, Simon.” She hesitated, unsure whether to probe, yet it felt insensitive to simply change the subject. “I can’t even imagine how hard that must be.”
He nodded slowly. “Very hard. It’s why I moved to Wychwood, actually.”
“Is it…?” She gazed at him encouragingly, waiting for more. She’d never seen Simon look so bleak, his face drawn into stark, serious lines. It made her ache for him; she wanted to go around the table and put her arms around him, but their relationship wasn’t there yet and in any case he seemed a bit distant, retreating into himself before her very eyes.
“You know your friend who had heard rumours about me?”
Olivia swallowed and nodded. Was he going to tell her whatever the dark secret that had been lurking in the shadows was? Did she want to hear it? “Yes, I remember.”
“Of course you do.” He gave a twisted smile. “I suppose I should have told you before. I know things have been swirling about, whispers in the school playground and so forth.”
“Well, I’m never in the playground, but I know what you mean.” She took a quick, steadying breath. “But, Simon, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I mean…we’re getting to know each other on our own terms, aren’t we? That’s enough for me.”
“I’m glad we’re getting to know each other, but this is part of it, isn’t it? To tell the truth of who we are, where we’ve been.” He propped his elbows on the table, giving her a direct, resolute look, the shadows s
till visible in his eyes. “It’s not easy to talk about, and I fully admit I made a pretty big mistake.” Now she was feeling really nervous. “But…after my brother died, I was in a bad place. He died in a rock climbing accident… We were climbing together, in Switzerland. Andrew was all about extreme sports, and he wanted to go climbing for his thirty-fifth birthday. I wasn’t as into it, but I agreed.” He paused, his gaze distant, and then released a long, low breath. “So we went, and we were rappelling…both of us on ropes with fixed anchors, right next to each other.”
Olivia nearly shivered at his flatly delivered description, knowing what had to come next.
“His anchor came loose,” Simon explained in that same, flat voice. “And for a few seconds he dangled there, knowing it was coming out and that he could fall hundreds of feet, most certainly to his death.” He swallowed hard. “I was close enough to grab on to him, and I did. But my anchor couldn’t hold both of us, and Andrew realised that. As I held him he let go. I watched him fall.”
Tears rose to Olivia’s eyes and she furiously blinked them back. “Oh, Simon, I can’t even imagine how…” She couldn’t continue; any sentiment seemed trite, falling far too short of the grief he’d experienced. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Simon nodded, accepting. “It was the hardest and most horrible thing that has ever happened to me. And afterwards I had…” He paused, choosing his words with care. “I had trouble coping,” he finally said. “I was teaching A level music at an independent school in London and the kids were so entitled, so ridiculously privileged without any sense of how much they had—the opportunities, the possibilities, life just stretching in front of them and they always acted so bored by it all, as if they couldn’t even be bothered.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, I know of course that they had no bearing on my brother, two completely separate things. I knew that then, but it happened one day in one of my lessons that I…well, I sort of flipped, I suppose.” He shook his head. “I lost my temper because some poor kid hadn’t done his homework, wasn’t even trying. He had a lot of raw talent that he just wasted, because he was so busy watching YouTube or Snapchatting or whatever it was that sucked all his time. And it made me so angry, because my brother had so much potential—only thirty-five, a criminal psychologist, doing amazing, important work.” Simon managed a sad, wry smile that nearly broke Olivia’s heart. “So when I saw this kid acting so indifferent, rolling his eyes, refusing to try, it flipped some switch in me and I completely lost my temper. Shouted, flipped a desk over, broke someone’s violin.”
Shock rippled through Olivia at this admission. She could understand it, of course she could, but it was still hard to take in—Simon, this gentle, sensitive, quirky man, displaying such a frightening loss of control when in a position of authority.
“I was dismissed immediately, of course, and thankfully no charges were brought against me. I even managed to keep my teaching certification, although I’ve got a black mark on my record. I had to take an anger management course and for the first few months here, there had to be another staff member in the music lessons with me, which I understand but I also know I’d never do something like that again. It was a one-off, something that broke inside me, but won’t again.” He sighed heavily and leaned back. “Anyway, word got around here, and I’ve noticed some parents in the playground giving me looks. I don’t blame them, really. But I also know I’m completely trustworthy with the pupils in my care.” He raked a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “So now you know.”
“Oh, Simon.” Olivia shook her head, still near tears. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Does it change anything?” he asked starkly. “Between us?”
“No, of course not,” she answered, and then wondered if she’d been too quick to reply. Did it change things, knowing Simon had this difficult past? People were complicated, Olivia knew that, of course, but Simon was particularly so. And being with someone like that—loving someone like that—meant getting tangled up in their grief, wrestling with their issues…and that was hard. But just because something was hard didn’t mean it was not worth pursuing.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she said at last, because ultimately it didn’t. She still liked him. Still wanted to find out more about him, spend time with him. It just meant he had a history, just like she did. Like everyone did.
“Good.” Simon smiled and twirled a forkful of pasta. “Sorry to offload all that on you. I didn’t want to say it before because it feels like too much to process when you’re just starting to get to know someone. You don’t want to offload all your baggage at the first opportunity.”
“I understand.”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything tonight.”
“No, I’m glad you did. After all, I offloaded on you, didn’t I? About my mum.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“And I don’t either.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back, and it felt as if they’d reached an agreement of some kind. They’d taken a big step forward, even if they hadn’t said as much. This relationship was going somewhere.
The rest of the evening passed amicably; they chatted about inconsequential matters as they finished their dinner and then Simon lit a fire and Olivia poured them both brandies, which they savoured in front of the crackling flames.
“You haven’t got a Christmas tree,” Simon remarked. “With everything decorated so marvellously downstairs, I would have thought you might have had one up here.”
“I haven’t had time,” Olivia answered. She was curled up on one end of the sofa, her feet tucked under her, and Simon was sprawled on the other, his long legs stretched out so if she put her feet down they’d touch his. Not that she’d been obsessing about that, or anything.
“Are you going to decorate?”
“I suppose. Mum is still insisting that she’s going to have her Christmas dinner at the retirement community in Witney, and it seems pointless to do it if I’m on my own.”
“She might come round, still.”
“I hope so. We’ve spent every Christmas of my life together.” She blinked rapidly, embarrassed at how quickly she seemed to come to tears. “Sorry…”
“You don’t ever need to be sorry for feeling something, Olivia,” Simon said quietly, his tone so heartfelt that he nearly set her off again.
“So what are you going to do for Christmas, really?” she asked as she dabbed at her eyes. “Surely not just moving in, like you said?”
“I think so.”
“That’s no way to spend Christmas.” He shrugged, and Olivia took a deep breath. Should she…? And then—why not? “Why don’t you spend Christmas with me?” she blurted.
Simon’s eyebrows rose. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes…but only if you want to. If you’d rather be alone, I’ll understand.” Although she’d be a bit hurt.
“No, I wouldn’t, it’s just…” He hesitated, and Olivia bit her lip.
“What is it?”
Simon looked torn, his mouth turning down apologetically. “I’m not always good with the big holidays,” he said at last. “Since…since Andrew died.”
“Oh, Simon, of course.” She should have realised it might be a hard time for him. “I understand that. But…but that’s okay, isn’t it? I mean we could still…” She trailed off, unsure where she was going.
“Yes, we still could,” Simon said, smiling, and Olivia sat back against the sofa cushions with a feeling of relief—and excitement. Because he’d said it all, really, hadn’t he?
Chapter Eleven
“Those look amazing. Far too good to eat.”
Olivia let out a laugh as she gazed at the platter of red velvet cupcakes, the buttercream icing whipped into silky swirls, decorated with holly leaves cut from royal icing and dusted with edible gold glitter.
“I think they might be my best yet.” She placed one on top, holding her breath as she made sure they wouldn’t come toppling down.
“Everything looks fab. H
ow many people do you think will be coming?”
It was three o’clock on Wednesday afternoon, and Olivia’s Christmas Carols & Quiz Evening—Harriet’s suggestion to give it that name—was due to start in a couple of hours. She’d spent the whole week getting ready, from perfecting her mulled wine recipe (more cloves) to baking enormous amounts of shortbread, mince pies, and of course, cupcakes.
“I really don’t know.” She wiped her hands down the sides of her jeans, nerves fluttering in her tummy for all sorts of reasons. She’d put a lot into this evening, and she hoped it might put Tea on the Lea on the map for many villagers who had simply walked by it in the past. She would also be seeing Simon again; he’d come in for his cupcake for the last two days, but both visits had been quick, little more than a chat over the till as she gave him his change. She was looking forward to seeing him properly tonight; things had shifted between them since Sunday, had become both more intense and more comfortable, an intimacy growing between them that both thrilled and scared her when she thought about it, which she did pretty much constantly.
“So how are things with Simon?” Ellie asked. All four of her friends had texted her after her ice-skating date, but Olivia had been a bit reluctant to impart any details. She’d simply said she’d had a good time, and they would be seeing each other again.
“They’re good, I think,” she said now as she put the platter of cupcakes to the side and turned to stir the simmering mulled wine. She still needed to shower and change before driving to Witney to pick up her mum, and then coming back here to commence the festivities.
“You think?” Ellie prompted with a gentle smile. “Or you know?”
“Well, it’s still very new.”
“Of course…”
“And it’s a bit…” Olivia hesitated “…complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“Just…” She struggled to voice the feelings she’d been dealing with over the last few days. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a serious relationship—not that this is serious, yet. But it could be, and since neither of us is getting any younger, it’s kind of on the table from the beginning, you know? It feels like there’s more at stake.”