My heart skips a beat. ‘I guess this is the point where you tell me you’ve broken your glasses. So you’re not faced with having to tell me it’s rubbish,’ I joke nervously.
‘I don’t wear glasses.’
‘Right.’
‘And I’d love to read it. I said so, didn’t I? You should have more confidence in yourself, Daisy.’
‘It’s just it’s a really big thing.’ I give a sheepish shrug. ‘Letting someone read what you’ve written.’
He nods. ‘I know the feeling. You shut yourself away for months creating this thing but not having any clue if it’s even worth the paper it’s written on.’
‘Do you write by hand, then?’ I ask, surprised.
He grins. ‘No way.’
‘Then shouldn’t you have said “worth the laptop it’s written on”?’ I smile pertly.
‘Yes but that’s not a saying, is it, clever clogs?’ He pokes me in the ribs teasingly.
‘No!’ I shriek and pull myself away from him, and we lock eyes, laughing.
My heart is suddenly beating really fast as we fall into step again. I sneak a glance at Jake’s profile. He’s staring at the ground, his jaw tense.
We walk in silence like this for a while, then Jake murmurs, ‘Emerging from the writing cave into a world full of critics can be very scary.’ He glances at me then he looks away. ‘Has … Toby read your book?’ He kicks at a fallen branch lying in our path and it flies into the undergrowth.
His question takes me by surprise. ‘Oh, erm, no. Not yet.’ I feel a flush rising to my cheeks. ‘He will, though. I’m sure he will … when he’s got the time.’
Jake nods thoughtfully.
‘So who gets the first look at your manuscripts? Is it your agent?’ I ask, suddenly keen to change the subject. ‘From what I can gather, most people seem to have a friend they trust to give their verdict before the book goes out into the big wide world. Is that what you …’ His face closes up and I trail off.
Bugger! Talk about putting your foot in it!
‘Did Laura used to read your manuscripts?’ I ask softly, feeling strangely conflicted. I really need to know the answer to this. But at the same time, I wish I could take my words back to restore the smile to Jake’s face.
‘She did, yes. And she was brilliant. I could always rely on her to give it to me straight.’ He smiles wistfully. ‘There were times, of course, when I wished she would be a little less brutal in her suggestions, but that’s what you need. An objective point of view from someone you really trust, who cares enough to tell you the truth.’
We walk along in silence again.
‘You must miss her so much,’ I murmur at last, my heart squeezing with emotion at the thought of what he’s going through.
‘I do.’
We lapse into a heavy silence.
‘Hey, sorry,’ he says a moment later, attempting a smile. ‘The reason I came here was so no one would have to put up with my moods. I reckoned I could vent my anger on chopping wood and be as miserable as I wanted. And there’d be no more of those well-meaning, sympathetic faces struggling to know what to say to make things better.’
‘I know exactly what you mean. After Mum died, I used to duck into shop doorways to avoid people because I couldn’t bear the sad looks on their faces.’ I grin. ‘You can be as mean and moody as you like. Honestly. I totally understand.’
He looks at me and something leaps inside.
‘You do, don’t you?’ he murmurs, his eyes lingering on mine, an expression in them that I can’t quite fathom. ‘Understand.’
We’ve stopped walking for some reason, and I nod, trying to swallow down the emotion that’s suddenly flooding through me. Looking into Jake’s eyes, I feel breathless with something akin to joy, yet I feel as if I could – at any moment – break down in tears and never be able to stop.
I also have an urge to move closer to Jake and kiss his beautiful mouth to make everything all right for him.
We’re standing close already. Close enough that I can smell his scent, a tantalising mix of musk and the body spray he probably used after his early morning dip in the lake.
Thoughts of Jake emerging from the cold water, dripping wet, roughly towelling his body dry are suddenly filling my mind, sending little electric pulses of desire through my whole body. I swallow hard and stare at his strong, tanned neck above the washed-out pale T-shirt, trying not to notice the way the garment clings to his broad chest, moulding the hard muscles beneath.
My gaze travels upwards. Jake is staring at me with an intensity that makes the breath catch in my throat, and I find that I can’t drag my eyes away from his. I feel like I’m drowning in their gorgeous dark depths and my legs are suddenly those of a newly born lamb. I sway towards him and he catches me round my waist.
An image of Toby suddenly flashes into my mind, bringing me back to reality.
Get a grip, girl!
What the hell is wrong with me?
Breathing in, I take a step back and clear my throat, which seems to be seriously clogged. ‘I’d better not be too long.’ My voice sounds croaky. ‘Toby might be phoning me and there’s no signal at all in the woods here.’
Instantly, the spell is broken, which I suppose is what I intended. Jake looks away and we walk on to the camp.
The camaraderie between us seems to have vanished and, for a while, our conversation is stilted and awkward. But then he says he has something he’d like me to see.
It’s getting dark quickly now. Jake flicks on his torch and leads me through the trees until we arrive at the open, grassy area by the lake where his car is parked.
Stripping off his jacket, he lays it on the ground and says, ‘You can use it as a pillow.’ He grins. ‘Would Madam like to lie down and watch the show?’
‘The show?’ I laugh but do as he says, and he flicks off the torch and lies down beside me.
‘Look up,’ he murmurs.
When I do, I let out a gasp.
The sky is heavy with stars, glowing and twinkling all around us, enveloping us in their breathtaking magic. I get a feeling of space so vast it makes my head spin – and yet the sky seems somehow within touching distance.
For a long time, I just lie there, drinking in the beauty. Then I catch a movement high up in the heavens.
‘That was a shooting star!’ I cry, excitedly.
‘It was,’ Jake murmurs. ‘You might see a few more if you’re lucky.’
Despite being light years away, the stars, cushioned in the velvety sky, seem weirdly close. I almost feel as though I could reach out and draw down one of those gleaming orbs as a prize.
‘Why have I never done this before?’ I whisper. ‘It’s totally magical.’
Jake’s voice at my ear seems to reverberate right through me. ‘People don’t often look up. And I’m guilty of that myself. We’re far too busy looking where we’re walking, afraid we’re going to fall flat on our faces.’
I turn and we exchange a smile. His hand touches mine – whether by accident or not, I’m really not sure – and a little shiver ripples through me, running from the tips of my fingers all the way down my legs to my toes.
I turn my head and our eyes meet and I experience a strong tug of desire that completely overwhelms me. He rolls closer and then his mouth finds mine and we’re kissing so deeply, my body seems to melt. For a few heady seconds, I’m swept along, helpless to resist, every single nerve leaping in response to the feeling of Jake’s mouth on mine, his hard body against me.
His arms around me are powerful and strong and I give myself up to the total bliss of having what I realise I’ve wanted ever since I first laid eyes on Jake Steele.
A little voice of reason calls out, fighting its way through the shadowy depths of my consciousness to be heard, competing with the overwhelming feelings of ecstasy that are rushing through my entire body as Jake kisses me and I cling to him desperately, never wanting to let go.
Toby!
What the
hell am I doing?
‘No!’ Panicking, I push myself violently away from Jake and scramble to my feet, stumbling slightly.
Jake is on his feet in a flash, reaching out to steady me. Then we stand facing each other, panting, our eyes locked in shock at what just happened between us.
‘Sorry.’ His voice sounds strained.
I shake my head, a maelstrom of emotions whirling inside me. ‘My fault.’
He looks away, at the fire that’s struggling to take a proper hold, and the tense set of his jaw says it all.
He kissed me … but I’m not Laura. And now he regrets it.
Or maybe he doesn’t regret it at all and that’s the problem? Because there’s Toby …
I need to get back to Toby.
Swallowing hard, I push away the memory of Jake’s mouth on mine.
A moment of madness.
That’s all it was …
*
The guilt I’m feeling is almost too much to bear.
What just happened was an aberration, brought on by emotion. It can never happen again …
Walking back, having refused a lift from Jake, I break into a run from time to time, so anxious am I to get back to Toby and reassure him that all is well. Not that he needs reassuring. He obviously has no idea that things just got weirdly out of hand with Jake and me.
A nagging voice in my head whispers: Isn’t it you who needs the reassurance? That your future lies with Toby?
But I dismiss this thought immediately. Toby and I are fine. Okay, things aren’t perfect. But then, no relationship is. The reason I kissed Jake back was because I’d had such an incredibly emotional day. Seeing Joan stirred up all sort of feelings I’ve been trying desperately hard to lock away in a box, to protect myself from breaking down entirely. My head was all over the place …
I’ve realised since seeing Joan again, that I’ve been in denial since Mum died, pretending I was fine, holding in my emotions, often refusing to allow myself the solace of healthy tears. Rachel could see that, which is why she was so worried about me.
I think I was scared that if I started to cry I’d never be able to stop …
Anyway, there’s no doubt in my mind that today’s emotional rollercoaster accounted for my moment of madness with Jake. And now I need to put it behind me and focus on Toby.
I need to forget about Jake …
Touching my cheek, I find my face is wet with tears. But I brush them away angrily.
Tomorrow night at the hotel is going to be wonderful. There’ll be champagne in the room and Toby and I will have time to really talk. It will be a whole new beginning. The start of the rest of our lives together …
*
Toby’s car is there when I finally make it back.
But walking over the grass, I’m wondering why – despite the warmth of the July day – the tent flap is closed. Maybe Toby’s gone for a walk. Not that this seems likely …
Puzzled, I reach to unzip the flap.
The first thing that strikes me is the radio, blaring rather loudly. It must be tuned into a play on Toby’s favourite Radio Four – a play that’s reaching quite a dramatic climax, by the sounds of things. Someone appears to be suffering from a wheezy attack that just might be fatal. They’re fighting for breath, the gasps getting faster and more urgent by the second.
‘Toby? I’m back!’
I walk in, expecting to see Toby propped on pillows on the bed, surrounded by papers.
But what confronts me instead is a naked bum, pumping up and down.
As the full horror filters into my shocked brain, I’m faced with the fact that Toby isn’t propped on his pillows.
He’s completely naked and propped up on Chantelle from next door.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It’s apparently Chantelle who’s making the escalating squeals.
She sounds like she’s being pushed by a murderer ever nearer the edge of a cliff, although the view from where I’m standing, on the threshold of the bedroom, is somewhat less cinematic. They’re on the bed, far too near the hard wooden headboard for comfort. A thrust too far and Toby will knock himself out. Not that either of them are aware of this. They’re far too busy going at it hammer and tongs, their passion no doubt heightened by the fact that I could arrive back at any moment.
The unavoidable focal point is the spectacular pumping action of Toby’s neat rear, which seems far more enthusiastic than it’s ever been my privilege to witness …
A feeling of nausea hits, and as the full horror of what I’m witnessing finally penetrates my disbelieving brain, Chantelle’s cries build to a crescendo and she tumbles with one final shriek of surrender onto the rocks below.
Five seconds later, she spots me beyond Toby’s shoulder and gives a horrified squeak.
When Toby turns, his face is a picture.
I’ve seen plenty of dramas where the heroine catches the hero naked in their bed with another woman, and I’ve sometimes wondered what I’d do in those circumstances.
Let fly with a stream of abuse? Start hurling things at them, such as hair-drying implements and bedroom chairs? Or stand there speechless (which is what I’m doing), wondering how he could possibly do this to me?
Time freezes as we gape at one other and my future crumbles into dust around me.
I’d like to be cool about it and say something like, ‘Hey, this looks fun. Budge up, will you?’
But frankly, I’m feeling the very opposite of cool. In fact, as Toby scrambles off the bed and starts pulling on his jeans, hopping all over the floor in his haste, I can feel an angry flush spreading over my whole body. Chantelle hasn’t moved, apart from to grab the duvet and clutch it around her bosomy nakedness, staring at me all the time in frozen horror.
I can’t believe Toby would do this to me! After all the negative things he said about Chantelle! He must have fancied her all along …
Tears sting my eyes at his unbelievable betrayal. I thought I knew him; I really thought I was safe with Toby. How stupid I was to imagine he’d never ever hurt me!
I recall his words when he phoned me earlier. ‘You just enjoy your walk. No hurry!’ He wasn’t thinking of me. He was just making sure he had the time to get down and dirty with Chantelle, the low-life snake!
Fury is mounting inside me.
I glance at the bedroom chair but it looks a bit awkward and unwieldy.
So instead, I hurl some choice words. ‘You … fucking bastard! I suppose that’s why you phoned me. To make sure the coast was clear for a while so you could … do this.’ I gesture wildly.
Toby blanches, not accustomed to hearing me swear. Then he utters the classic line, ‘Daisy … this really isn’t what it looks like.’
I give a hoot of laughter. ‘Right, so what is it actually? Chantelle wanted some advice on her finances so you thought you’d conduct the meeting in our bed stark naked? Do me a favour, Toby, and at least admit when you’ve been caught with your pants down, shagging a woman with “ridiculously large mammaries”.’ I do the quotation marks in the air and shrug at Chantelle. ‘His words, not mine.’
This snaps Chantelle out of her trance. ‘Toby? Is that true?’ she asks crossly.
Toby shakes his head. He looks so painfully conflicted, I’d feel sorry for him if I wasn’t currently trying to contain the urge to cut off his extremities with a blunt knife.
I go to pull my cardi around me but realise it’s not there. I must have dropped it after leaving Jake’s camp in such a hurry. It strikes me as horribly ironic that I raced back to Toby, determined to shower him with love – only to find him showering Chantelle with something else altogether …
Emotion is welling inside me to dangerously unmanageable levels. If I don’t leave the tent now, I’ll break down completely and it will all be very messy, and I don’t want to cry in front of them.
I’m determined to hold on to my pride, if nothing else.
Escaping the tent, I blunder over the grass towards Clemmy’s house, tears
rolling down my face, feeling totally humiliated. I just want to see a friendly face. Plus something else is starting to worry me, stabbing my gut with panic, making me feel quite sick.
It’s a dread that seems surprisingly out of proportion, bearing in mind that I’ve just witnessed my boyfriend committing the ultimate betrayal in our bed.
What if I dropped my cardigan somewhere in the woods and I never find it?
*
Clemmy answers the door. I must be looking pretty terrible because she immediately bundles me inside, asking what’s happened.
I flump down at the table and stare at her. My head is whirling with gut-wrenching images of Toby and Chantelle, and Clemmy has to gently tease the facts out of me. Saying the words – I just found Toby shagging our next-door neighbour – smacks me in the gut and makes me feel as if I’m going to throw up. But I take a few deep breaths to calm down and then I start telling Clemmy about the sneaky phone call Toby made to ensure I’d be away from the tent.
‘Were you out for a walk?’ she asks gently.
Nodding, I glance down at my lap, thinking of Jake and feeling suddenly ashamed. What will Clemmy think of me if I tell her about Jake? If I tell her that actually, while Toby and Chantelle were getting it on, I was kissing Jake in the woods?
I don’t have the right to be angry at Toby. I’d be a hypocrite.
‘You can stay here tonight,’ says Clemmy firmly. ‘You’re definitely not going back over there.’ She hesitates. Then she adds, ‘And listen, Daisy, this might not be the right time to say this – but I’m going to say it anyway because I care about you.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘What if Toby isn’t the right man for you anyway?’
‘What do you mean?’
She shrugs. ‘I know you’re fond of him but maybe, after all, he’s not for you.’
I immediately think of Jake and more feelings of guilt rush in.
Oh God, I can’t be in love with Jake Steele. Not when he’s still so obviously hung up on Laura …
A cloud of despair settles over my head. I wish I could be the sort of person who inspires the kind of enduring devotion Jake so obviously feels for Laura. I thought Toby felt that way about me. I fooled myself into imagining he was the rock I could always rely on. How wrong could I be?
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