by Kate Field
‘How’re you doing, Eve?’ he asked, and the warmth in his voice felt like putting on a cosy jumper on a cold day. ‘Short notice, I know, but I wondered if you had plans for the weekend?’
‘Which day?’ I asked, my heart close to racing as I wondered what this was about. ‘I’m busy on Sunday afternoon.’
‘Ah, visiting Phyllis. I wouldn’t dare get in the way of that. I’m easy, so what about tomorrow?’
‘Yes, I can manage that.’
‘Great. I’ll pick you up at ten. Wear your digging clothes, and bring your pack.’
‘We’re going on a dig?’
‘You don’t mind, do you? We’ve been analysing the finds from the test trenches up your way, and I want to go back and check something out before they’re covered over for winter. My assistant has just bailed, and I thought you’d be the perfect person for the job.’
The job. My heart slowed right down to a first-gear crawl. He wanted me to stand in for his assistant, that was all. What had I expected? That he was inviting me out on a date? Thank God I hadn’t let that idea slip …
Paddy’s car pulled up just before ten the next morning, and I was halfway down the drive before he’d stopped the car. This was work, I reminded myself, as I slipped into the passenger seat beside him. I was dressed for work, in my old jeans, boots and fleece, and with tinted moisturiser my only nod to personal grooming. Of course, Paddy still managed to look ready for a magazine spread even in his work clothes.
As he drove out of town, he told me more about what they had found on the bowl barrow site. It appeared that there might be a whole series of barrows, although not as well preserved as the one we had initially seen from our picnic on the hill. A few pieces of pottery and jewellery had been found, and a fragment of a bronze knife. There was enough to justify a full excavation, which would be filmed for Travels Through Time next year. It was great news for Inglebridge: the production itself would bring welcome business, and hopefully the publicity when the show was aired might tempt more tourists here too.
The dig site was in a field a couple of miles south of town, and three trenches, each approximately two metres long, had been dug in various parts of the field. Paddy allocated one trench to me and left me to it, with vague instructions to see what I could find, while he worked on the one furthest away. It wasn’t how I’d anticipated the day would go – he was too far away for conversation – but I was soon too engrossed in the task to notice what he was up to, and it was a surprise when a shadow fell across my trench and I looked up to find Paddy standing above me, the early autumn sun making a halo around his body.
‘Lunch break,’ he said, and held out his hands to hoist me out of the trench. My lower legs had gone numb with kneeling on them for so long, and I wobbled as I climbed back out into the field.
‘Are the old legs not what they were?’ he said, putting his hands on my shoulders to steady me. ‘Strange. They looked in pretty good shape in that dress the other night. You always did suit blue.’
‘I thought we were here to rake through more interesting history than ours,’ I said, shaking myself free; the warmth of his hands and his gaze were bringing back memories of Paris that I shouldn’t still be cherishing.
‘Quite right. I don’t want to dwell on our past either. Did you find much?’
‘A few bits of pottery and stone.’ I pointed at the plastic tray beside my trench. ‘Nothing of real interest. I don’t think we’ve gone far enough down yet.’
‘Try the other trench after lunch. You might have more luck there.’
He led the way back to the car, and we sat perched on the open boot, our legs dangling, while Paddy produced a proper old-fashioned wicker picnic basket.
‘Only the best for your assistants?’ I asked, as he lifted the lid and revealed the full set of wine glasses and china plates, along with various intriguing parcels and boxes of food.
‘Only the best for you,’ he said, and I sat in speechless wonder as he poured me a glass of sparkling elderflower pressé, and unwrapped a selection of healthy snacks that even in my most zealous mood I couldn’t possibly object to: individual pots of tomato and carrot salad, mini spinach and cottage cheese frittatas, salmon bagels, vegetables with a hummus dip … It was a feast, enough to feed at least a family of four.
‘What are you having?’ I asked. This wasn’t Paddy food. ‘Do you have a sausage sandwich hidden away somewhere?’
‘I thought I’d give all this a try,’ he said, with an unconvincing smile that made me laugh. ‘And if I do, I deserve this, right?’ He opened the final box to reveal two chocolate éclairs. My favourite cake. Had he remembered? Of course he had. This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. Warmth spread through me, from within, not just from the sun that was beating down on my legs. What was going on here? Was there more to this outing than I’d thought?
‘Two éclairs?’ I said. ‘Isn’t that greedy?’
‘I was kinda hoping you might want to join me …’
It was a perfectly innocent comment, but something about his smile, the twinkle in his brown eyes, brought Paris rushing straight back into my head. Not just my head. My whole body burned with the memory of it, of what Paddy had done to me, what we had done together, what he had made me feel. I turned my attention to a tortilla wrap.
‘Did Caitlyn get back to Paris okay?’ Paddy asked, as we finished our drinks before returning to the dig.
‘Yes. She’ll be there until Christmas now. Unless she chooses to stay with Luc over Christmas.’ That was a thought I’d prefer not to dwell on. Paddy squeezed my arm.
‘He’s a good kid.’ He grinned. ‘Reminds me of me.’
‘Exactly! As if I needed any more reason to worry …’
‘I wasn’t that bad, was I?’ He bumped his shoulder against mine.
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘Not all the time.’
Only at the end, in fact – until then, I had thought he was perfect.
‘We were good together, weren’t we?’ he asked. I jumped down from the boot and brushed the crumbs off my jeans.
‘I thought we weren’t talking about our past?’
‘I wasn’t. Not really. I was just establishing the groundwork. Like a construction worker. I need to make sure the foundations are solid before building up.’
I froze. ‘Building up to what?’
‘The question I want to ask you.’
‘Spit it out then,’ I said, sudden nerves flaring inside me. I had no idea where this was going. ‘We need to get digging again before the light goes.’
‘Jeez, can’t a man take his time about these things?’ Paddy laughed and jumped down to stand beside me. ‘Spending time with you this summer has reminded me what a great team we are. I think we could be a great team again.’
My breath caught. Did he mean …
‘So, what do you say? Will you come and work for me?’
‘You’re offering me a job?’ I hoped my voice was steadier than my pulse. After the picnic, the way he’d looked at me, all the build-up, I’d thought … Well, never mind what I’d thought. I’d been wrong – spectacularly wrong – and I could only hope that my face wasn’t displaying my feelings, because Paddy was watching me closely, waiting for his answer.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, testing out a smile that felt horribly like a grimace. ‘I can’t. I’ve already accepted a job with Northern Archaeology. I start next month.’
‘Fantastic! They’re a great crew. Ah well, my loss.’ And with that, he strode away across the field to return to his trench, while I stomped over to the new trench, trying not to fixate on how little he must have wanted me if he could move on from my rejection so easily.
My frustration may have made me less careful with my trowel than usual, because I hadn’t been working for long when I heard the unmistakeable scrape of metal against metal. Brushing aside the soil with my hands, I soon uncovered a rusting black tin. I prised it out carefully, placed it on the side of the trench, climbed out and called to
Paddy.
‘Paddy! Come and look. I’ve found something.’
With infuriating slowness, he put down his tools and sauntered over. He looked down at the tin.
‘You need to brush up on the Bronze Age,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I don’t think that’s what we’re looking for. It’s probably not even a hundred years old.’
He started to walk away.
‘Hey!’ I shouted after him. ‘It could be important. Has this site been excavated before?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Don’t you think we should open it?’
‘Sure. If you’re that bothered.’ He shrugged. ‘But don’t get your hopes up about finding another Lancaster Hoard. It doesn’t look that promising …’
I knelt down in front of the tin. It wasn’t locked, but the catch was distorted and covered in rust and I needed my trowel to gently prise it open. And there, inside …
I turned to Paddy. He was smiling at me, a smile of wary hope that melted my heart.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
He knelt down beside me. ‘Have a look in the tin,’ he said.
The first item in the tin was an envelope with my name scrawled on it, in Paddy’s handwriting. I picked it up and uncovered a square, velvet jewellery box, the sort of box that was inevitably associated with one particular thing. Ignoring that for a moment, I opened the envelope. There was a sheet of paper inside, covered with one of Paddy’s sketches – one I had seen before. It was a duplicate of the drawing I had found inside the notebook in my rucksack: a Viking warrior with Paddy’s face, kneeling down and offering his heart in his hands.
‘I’ve seen this before,’ I said. ‘I found it in my notebook a few months ago.’
‘Did you? You were meant to find it years ago. I had it all planned. The next time we went on a dig together, you were supposed to see the sketch, and then I’d drop down to my knees and give you this …’
He took the velvet ring box out of the tin and held it out to me. His hand shook but his smile was steady. I took the box and opened it. Inside lay what I immediately recognised as a Roman ring: chunky gold decorated with a garnet in the centre. I ran my finger over the ring; it was beautiful.
‘You’ve kept this since then?’
‘I have. And now don’t go thinking I’m soppy or anything, but I took it with me on my travels, and it felt like you were with me. And it became a sort of lucky talisman, so I’ve had it with me on every dig I’ve been on. I could never have got rid of it, because it was yours. Even when there seemed no prospect of ever seeing you again, it was always yours.’
Paddy took my hand.
‘It’s yours now, if you’ll have it. If you’ll have me. I know you value your independence. I know you don’t need me.’ He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand. ‘But I’m hoping you might want me. And hoping even more that you might love me, even a fraction of how much I love you.’
He looked at me then, and it was as though I could see through his eyes and right down to his heart. I’d doubted him many times, but I couldn’t doubt him now. He meant every word. As if he’d read my thoughts, he carried on.
‘I screwed up before, but that was the idiot Paddy – the kid. I wouldn’t do that now. And okay, maybe when I first saw you in March, I thought about Caitlyn, but it soon became more than that. Much more. I didn’t find a daughter, but I found the partner I want with me for the rest of my life. It’s all been about you, Eve. All my life, it was always you.’
He leant forward, eyes on mine, moving in for a kiss. I leant back.
‘You set all this up? Today … this dig … this tin …’
‘Yeah, and I was kinda hoping for a better response than you recoiling …’
‘But what’s this?’ I pointed back at the tin. There was one other item inside it: an envelope, with my name on it, written in what I would have sworn was Caitlyn’s writing. But how could she be involved in this?
‘Open it and have a look.’ Paddy grinned.
I did. There were two more ‘Be Kind to Yourself’ vouchers inside, but this time, they had already been completed.
BE KIND TO YOURSELF
VOUCHER THIRTEEN
I, Eve Roberts, have been kind to myself by forgiving Paddy!
I smiled, and read the next one.
BE KIND TO YOURSELF
VOUCHER FOURTEEN
I, Eve Roberts, have been kind to myself by agreeing to be Eve Friel …
My heart did a little skip. Was I really going to agree to that? There was a folded note in the envelope too, half a page of Caitlyn’s looping writing.
Dear Eve
That sounds weird, but it’s time, right? I know I said always mum, but I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and I was saying it for me, not you. You did an amazing thing for me, and you’ve been the best mum I could have asked for. But I think I have to let you go now – so you can be Eve, and perhaps a wife (if Paddy is persuasive enough!) and maybe, one day, someone else’s mum. You’re brave enough, and talented enough, and loved enough to do this – and not just by me now. You deserve it – no argument. Love you!
Your adoring niece,
Caitlyn
Paddy took me in his arms, and I sobbed on his shoulder. If I needed any more proof of a life well spent, it was there in that note. Daughter, niece – it didn’t matter. It would be impossible to love Caitlyn more.
‘Did you plot this with her?’ I asked, when my tears subsided. I lifted my head from Paddy’s shoulder, but his arms stayed round me. ‘And did you speak to Mum too? I thought it was weird when she started talking about you.’
‘Now I don’t like the word plot …’ He smiled. ‘I wanted to apologise to Caitlyn, for running out on you both. I didn’t mention any of the father stuff. But if there was going to be a chance of anything between you and me, I couldn’t let there be any secrets or pretence.’
‘And she really forgave you?’
‘Of course she did. Don’t underestimate the old Irish charm,’ he said, putting on his thickest Irish accent. I laughed, and he tightened his arms. His hands ran circles across my back, circles that seemed to join my memories of the past with my hopes for the future. ‘And I hope you’ll forgive me too.’
‘It appears that I already have done. Voucher thirteen says so.’ And I wasn’t going to argue with it. Being here in his arms, I was as happy as I could ever wish to be. I loved him. That was all that mattered. He wasn’t perfect, but neither was I. Like the unguentarium he had bought me for my birthday, our flaws made us what we were now; made us perfect for each other now. What was the point of holding on to grudges, or of dwelling on the rights and wrongs of the past, when each day might be all we had? And what kinder thing could I do for myself than let myself be happy? I wrote out another voucher in my head, one just for me.
BE KIND TO YOURSELF
VOUCHER FIFTEEN
I, Eve Roberts, have been kind to myself by choosing happiness!
‘I suppose I should be glad that you didn’t involve Gran in your plotting,’ I said. ‘But she would never have been able to keep your secret.’
‘Ah, you underestimate the power of Phyllis …’ Paddy withdrew one of his hands, and pulled something from the pocket of his jeans. ‘This has all been proper and above board. I asked permission from the head of the family.’ He grinned. ‘If she’d had her way, she’d have been sitting over there watching, ready to prod you with her stick until you gave the right answer. It took even more of the Irish charm to convince her to make do with a note.’
He handed me another envelope. This one contained a page ripped from a magazine, showing an elaborate wedding outfit in fuchsia pink, with matching wide-brimmed hat. Gran had scribbled on a Post-it Note stuck to the page.
You can have my blessing gladly, if he buys me this outfit. He’s been on the telly – he can afford it. How about a Christmas wedding? We’ve all been waiting long enough. He’s your gold. I could have told you that.
; Laughing, I showed Paddy the note. He roared with laughter, and the vibrations of his body echoed deliciously through mine.
‘I’ll drive her to the shops myself,’ he said. He pulled me to my feet, and looked down at me with so much tenderness that I was irresistibly drawn towards him, leaning in to his chest. It was my favourite place to be; it always had been; it always would be. ‘So it all depends on you. Will you say yes, and make Phyllis the happiest grandmother in the world?’
It was the easiest question I’d ever been asked.
‘I will.’
THE END
If you enjoyed A Dozen Second Chances, then you will love The Man I Fell In Love With, another uplifting and feel-good novel from Kate Field. Get your copy here.
And why not try Just As You Are by Kate Mathieson, a wonderfully warm-hearted and laugh-out-loud romantic comedy set in the bustling heart of Sydney.
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks to all at Avon and One More Chapter, and especially to Katie Loughnane, an amazing editor who has the miraculous ability to make a small suggestion and transform a whole book. It’s been a total pleasure to work with Katie on the last two books. Thanks also to Helena Newton for vigilant copy editing!
One of the greatest pleasures in writing this book was the chance to learn more about archaeology, something I’ve been interested in for years. I’ve browsed too many websites and flicked through too many books to be able to list them all, but particularly acknowledge: futurelearn.com, romanobritain.org, A Practical Handbook of Archaeology by Christopher Catling and Hidden Histories: A Spotter’s Guide to the British Landscape by Mary-Ann Ochota. I also enjoyed a fascinating tour of the dig site at Ribchester Revisited – well worth a visit if you’re in Lancashire over summer. I’ve barely scratched the surface of the subject, and any mistakes are mine.
My writing friends have been invaluable in helping me through this book, so I’m sending lots of love and thanks to the Beta Buddies and to the Authors on the Edge; I’ll never stop thinking how lucky I am to be part of these groups. Special thanks go to: Catherine Bowdler, for not letting me give up; Julie Stock, for inspiring me to write a ‘second time around’ story; Liz Taylorson for sharing details about tennis leg; and Marie Laval, for answering questions about school life and providing Luc’s words.