by Katie Ginger
Without his apron she could see him properly and it was like she hadn’t looked at him in ages. As Ben regarded her from under his eyelashes, leaning against the doorframe with his hands behind his back – a familiar yet striking stance – Hetty’s heart gave a double beat.
‘Hey, you,’ Ben said. ‘I just thought I’d drop by and see how you are.’
‘Ben.’ She shook her head and the confused thoughts inside all smashed into one another, clamouring to be heard. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘This food festival of yours has got everyone talking.’
‘Well, that’s as maybe but you can’t just turn up on my doorstep. You haven’t bothered for the last four months. Why now?’ Anger and bitterness were creeping into her tone and she hadn’t even opened the box of feelings she’d kept shut for so long. Her already tired muscles tensed.
‘I deserve that, I know.’ He gave a slight nod of the head. ‘And you’re right. I’ve been a coward staying away. But you stayed away too. You haven’t come near my shop and I know how much you like my olive and sundried tomato bread.’ Ben smiled to show he didn’t mean anything by it, and from behind his back he produced a bag full of treats. A wine bottle poked out the top, as did some of his olive and sundried tomato bread. It had been her favourite when they were together.
Damn that man!
‘It’s a peace offering.’
She was still tempted to say no and slam the door in his face. He’d hurt her and couldn’t just walk back into her life like nothing had happened.
‘It’s a can-we-be-grown-ups-and-maybe-even-friends offering.’ From his reaction, the softening in her heart was reflected in her face. ‘Come on, Hetty. I know what a crazy little dynamo you are, and how wrapped up in your work you get, I thought I’d bring you some supper. On your own all you’d have managed is shoving a chicken breast in a pot with a tin of tomatoes.’
Hetty tried hard to keep a stern expression but found herself smiling. He was right. She was so tired with how crazy everything had been organising the food festival, and stressed with her mum and dad’s crazy situation, the one-pot meal was ready in the kitchen waiting to go into the oven. That he knew her so well was comforting and though her mind hesitated, her body moved to one side to let him in. Ben walked past and into her house, and the familiarity of it hit Hetty with both pain and longing. He knew his way around the cottage and sauntered through to the kitchen. By the time Hetty had closed the front door, her brain telling her body to stop doing things without checking with it first, he was already lifting out plates from the cupboard and cutting the bread. He’d also brought some cherry tomatoes, celery and a jar of piccalilli – her other favourite – and it was the most natural thing in the world that he should be there. She went to the kitchen doorway and watched him for a moment as he talked over his shoulder like they’d never left each other.
‘So, how’s it going? I heard on the grapevine this is going to be the biggest thing Swallowtail Bay has ever seen. And you’ he turned and gazed at her – ‘are the talk of the town.’
Hetty crossed her arms over her chest. ‘That’s not exactly a compliment. It doesn’t take much to be the talk of this town.’
‘No, but no one’s been this excited since that the crazy man who lives in his allotment tried to marry his dog.’ Hetty giggled. Ben had always been able to make her laugh. When she’d been sad, stressed or tired, he’d be there cracking jokes and it would act like a release. The effects were immediate. She found herself wondering again if he was seeing anyone. ‘You look good, Hetty,’ he said simply and clearly. ‘How’s that for a compliment?’
His words hung in the air, loaded with so much more than a simple nicety. They seemed to contain the essence of their relationship, their attraction to one another, the love that was always there but never quite made it to the finishing line. A gentle breeze from the window blew across her neck, taking her back to reality. She couldn’t kick him back out now, and taking the olive branch – or olive bread – he was holding out to her was the adult thing to do. ‘Let’s eat,’ she said, making her way into the kitchen to help serve up.
Ben handed her a plate then grabbed himself a wine glass. He placed the bottle he’d brought into the fridge and picked up her open one. ‘Top-up?’
‘Not yet, thanks, but help yourself.’ He poured a hefty measure. The room suddenly felt hotter and Hetty felt the need for air. ‘Shall we eat in the garden?’
‘Sure.’ Taking his glass and plate with him, he led the way outside.
The cool air calmed her a little. Not much of a gardener, the few pots she had managed to plant were wilting in the sun where it shone into her little garden, her little patch of paradise. The honeysuckle popping over the fence from next door where they were thankfully more green-fingered, brought with it a gentle, floral scent. Stanley landed and began hoping about for food.
‘Stan’s still here then,’ Ben said, tossing him a small piece of bread.
‘Yeah. I couldn’t get rid of him if I tried.’
They happily munched, sharing the spread Ben had brought. It was nice to have company. It was nice to have Ben’s company and they talked about anything and everything. Ben’s business was doing so well he was thinking about starting a second shop in a nearby town and Hetty was happy for him. Perhaps one day she’d get to expand her own business but that was a long way off yet. And that was if she got back the money she’d invested in the food festival and made a profit on top. He didn’t mention if he was seeing anyone and Hetty chose not to ask. She didn’t want to seem that interested and was finding it hard enough to keep her confused feelings for Ben in check.
‘Are you still sure you don’t want a pitch at the festival?’ she asked, wiping up the piccalilli sauce with a scrap of bread and popping it in her mouth.
‘What, with lord of the manor watching over us all?’
Hetty ignored him. ‘If you’re looking at opening another shop it could be great for spreading the word and gauging possible business.’ Not to mention his reputation would bring more people to the festival.
Ben pushed his plate away and lay back against the sofa. ‘I’ve got enough work on my plate without making even more for myself. And we’re talking what? Three weeks?’
Hetty nodded as a rush of nerves swept over her. Three weeks really wasn’t long to finish all the things she had to do. Was she crazy to do this? If she was, it was too late now. ‘Okay, but it’s your loss,’ she teased.
By the time they’d finished eating, the sun was setting and through the open window Hetty could see a sky dotted with white clouds some of them underlined with bright dashes of pink and lilac. It was the most beautiful sky she’d ever seen. She was just about to clear the plates when Ben suddenly sat forward and leaned in towards her. His hand reached out and brushed the corner of her mouth. The feel of his thumb against her lip made her mouth tingle and her breath hitch.
‘What did you do that for?’ she asked, almost breathlessly.
‘You had some piccalilli on your lip.’ Hetty went to move her head and look away but Ben’s hand remained cupping her cheek. ‘Plus, it was a good excuse,’ he added, his voice low and loaded. ‘Because what I really wanted to do was this—’
Before she could stop him, he kissed her, and a bolt of exhilaration shot through Hetty. A heady feeling of things being oh-so-right but also dangerously wrong. When he drew back, she took a deep breath to control her unsteady heart. It was beating at three times its normal speed making everything seem like a dream.
‘I’ve missed you, Hetty.’ She’d missed him too but didn’t yet know what exactly that meant for her. ‘I’d been missing you anyway, but when I saw you in the bakery on Friday – talking to you again – I don’t know, I …’ His sentence dissipated in the breeze and his thumb gently stroked her cheek. ‘It was like we’d never been apart, and I realised you don’t get that a lot. There’s something special between us, Hetty. Something a lot of people would kill for. Something worth hold
ing on to.’
‘Ben—’ Hetty’s normally clear mind was muddled and the result was that her senses were too.
‘I think we should get back together. That we should try again.’
A million thoughts ran through her head all at once. She couldn’t believe he’d just kissed her or the way it had made her feel. Her stupid heart had run straight back to him as if it had never left. But as her brain caught up with the last few minutes, it was telling her it was all too quick and sudden. If she hadn’t walked into the bakery would he be here now? And she was angry too. How could he think he could just walk back into her life and turn it upside down? She removed his hand from her cheek. ‘Ben—’
‘I know you never felt I really committed to you, Hetty, and in a way I didn’t. I don’t know why.’ He cast his hand out as if the words he could find weren’t enough but would have to do. ‘Because I’m an idiot probably. I didn’t want to feel trapped or tied down by a house or mortgage.’ He grabbed her hand again. ‘But I realise now I do want to be trapped – by you. Since the day you left, I’ve regretted it. I’ve thought about you non-stop. You’re always on my mind, Hetty, and I miss you more than I could ever put into words.’
As speeches went it wasn’t a bad one and it did go some way to abating her anger. Swallowing hard, a part of Hetty wanted him to stay, to hear him speak more about loving and missing her, and she wanted to tear his clothes off and take him to bed, but it was all moving too fast. Everything was moving too fast. She’d stupidly and impulsively taken on the food festival that was now turning her whole life upside down and now Ben was here doing the same. She had to slow down. She was risking everything with her business right now. She had to concentrate on that. If she lost focus – if she got distracted and made a mistake – she’d lose everything. She had to control her feelings and get them back in their little box. ‘It’s all too unexpected, Ben.’
He gave a nervous laugh. ‘I realise it might be for you, but it isn’t for me. For me, this has been brewing since we split.’
Brewing. It made her sound like a cup of tea and she resisted the urge to giggle. Hetty knew her brain was entering defensive mode, thinking of silly things because the real stuff was too scary. It meant she wasn’t ready to have this discussion. ‘Ben I … I can’t deal with this right now. I think you should go.’
He didn’t argue or even look disappointed as he gently edged away from her. ‘Don’t worry, I knew you’d say that.’
Did he know her so well that he’d expected this response already? Had he known she’d pull back until she found her bearings once more? Smiling, he stood up and made his way to the door. Hetty followed and in the doorway he paused, turning back to her. ‘See you, Hetty. Soon?’
She nodded but couldn’t give him an answer verbally. She couldn’t trust herself to say what her brain was telling her, and her heart wanted her to pull him back for more. As he strolled off, she closed the door on him, unsure what was happening inside her own body.
After she sat back on the sofa and drained the last of her wine, she started processing the last hour’s events. Her body wanted him back, but her analytical mind reminded her of the reason it all ended in the first place. Had he changed? Could he change?
As she stared down into her empty wine glass, Hetty knew there was only one thing to do in this confusing and terrifying situation – throw herself into work and forget all about it. If that was even possible.
Chapter 11
As it turned out, it was entirely possible because just over a week after agreeing to attend the Swallowtail Bay Food Festival, Mr Horrocks of Horrocks’ Travelling Carnival realised he had double-booked and pulled out.
Hetty signed off the call with a galloping pulse. ‘Of course, I understand, Mr Horrocks. No, please don’t worry, these things happen. I’m sure I’ll be able to sort something else out.’ But once she’d hung up she stared incredulously at her phone like it would hold the answer she needed. A stress headache began to pound in the back of her head, and she puffed out her cheeks. ‘Crap.’
She should have known her luck was about to run out. Everything had gone far too smoothly so far. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but why did it have to be something so big? An advertised stall holder pulling out she could handle, but she’d been marketing a funfair. A great big shiny, lots of attractions, beeps and noises funfair. Disaster. This was most certainly a catastrophic disaster.
The doorbell rang, signifying Macie’s timely arrival and Hetty ran to it and yanked it open. ‘Macie, we have a problem.’
‘Oh no. What?’ She followed Hetty into the kitchen where she began making emergency coffee.
‘The bloody funfair has only gone and pulled out, hasn’t it?’ Macie immediately stopped making the drinks and turned, her face frozen in panic. Hetty could see she was just as stressed as her cheeks grew pink.
Macie held a coffee pod in her hand. ‘Oh my gosh, Hetty. What are we going to do? I’m having palpitations. I’m panicking. Maybe I’m dying. Am I having a heart attack?’
‘I will slap you,’ Hetty said like a schoolmistress.
‘Will you?’
‘No, but do calm down.’ This was the first major thing that had gone wrong, and though she was certainly feeling the pressure, she would solve it. What other choice did she have? She pulled out a chair for Macie and pointed for her to sit on it. Macie did as she was told. ‘First thing, coffee; second thing, cake; third thing, calm down. Then we’ll figure out what to do.’
‘Do we have cake?’ Macie asked in a small voice.
‘Always, my young friend. Always.’ She got up and pulled a flowery tin from the side and opened the lid. A great big Victoria sandwich oozing jam sat in the middle. Hetty’s own heart rate began to slow as the news sunk in. She couldn’t change what had happened, all she could do was re-group.
‘Right,’ Hetty said, grabbing a notepad and pen. ‘I’m advertising a funfair and it’s key to getting people to stay for more than an hour or two and in attracting families. We need to have one.’
‘Why has he pulled out? He’s not ill, is he? I thought he looked a bit peaky when you showed me his picture last week. You can never tell with old people. He’s got the bulbous nose of a secret drinker. Or maybe it’s gout. He looked gouty.’
Hetty stared aghast. ‘He looked gouty,’ she repeated. ‘What on earth are you talking about? He’s perfectly fine – at least I hope he is. He said they just double-booked.’
‘Oh, right.’ Macie’s ears were turning red now.
‘Were you going to let me hire a secret drinker? Someone who controls rides that kids go on?’
‘No,’ said Macie, but the way she averted her eyes let Hetty know she hadn’t quite thought before she spoke.
‘Anyway, you’re completely wrong about Mr Horrocks. This is why you pick such bad boyfriends. You’re a terrible judge of character.’ Macie didn’t reply and Hetty gave her a sideways glance. ‘If we can’t replace the funfair with another funfair, we’ll have to think of something else. So, first things first, let’s find our original list of possible funfairs.’
Hetty retrieved the list and after ringing around to see who was still available, there were only two left. Hetty made appointments to see both. One was currently a good hour’s drive away and the other would be within travelling distance that afternoon when they pitched up at their latest stop. It was going to be a busy day of driving backwards and forwards all over the county for Hetty and Macie. But if the funfairs were a no-go, she’d have to expand the bouncy castle area, get a bigger one and maybe go ahead with the slip and slide. She could handle this. Problems were made to be overcome, she told herself.
Macie, who was perpetually good-natured, had a twinkle in her eye. ‘Road trip!’ she announced excitedly, jumping up. She knew where everything was in Hetty’s kitchen, so she began to gather supplies from the cupboards.
Before long they were loading a wicker basket containing more food than the two of them could possibl
y eat into the back of the car. Hetty programmed her phone with the address and they set off with the radio on full blast. After exhausting all essential discussion topics within half an hour (their mutual crushes on Aidan Turner, Love Island and how much they were looking forward to Strictly Come Dancing in the autumn), the smaller roads gave way to wide, busy motorways, and Macie raised the subject of Ben.
‘Sooo …’ She protracted the ‘o’ sound in a long, drawn out note. ‘What’s the deal with you and delicious baker Ben these days?’
‘Urgh.’
Macie nodded quizzically. ‘Interesting.’
Hetty swung a glance her way. ‘I haven’t told you this yet because I’ve been trying to get my head round it, but …’ She took a breath as her heart gave an unsettling flutter. ‘Ben came round the other night and he sort of kissed me.’
Macie’s head turned so quickly she might have injured herself. ‘Really? When?’
‘Last Tuesday.’
‘Oh my great goodness me. You’ve been sitting on this information for a week! How could you? And I thought I was your bestest bestie as well as your minion assistant.’
‘I just needed to—’
‘Process it. Yes, I know. So how was it?’
‘Urgh.’ Hetty sighed and Macie widened her eyes.
‘So it was gooood.’ She stretched the ‘oo’ sound again and wiggled her eyebrows.
‘It was very surprising and … powerful.’
‘And how do you feel now?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Come on, you can’t tell me that old feelings haven’t stirred since The Kiss. I can see it in your face.’
‘Don’t say “The Kiss” in that way. It makes it sound dramatic.’
‘From the way you’re acting, it was dramatic. A proper knee-trembler, as my old dad would say.’