by Kate Hardy
‘Do you think she fell for someone else and just didn’t want to hurt you by telling you?’
He shook his head. ‘I think she was having cold feet. She didn’t want to marry me because she didn’t love me enough. You’re right in that Rob’s kidney was an excuse. But the real reason—and I know it’s real because she told me—is that I wasn’t enough for her.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘And that’s messed with my head a bit.’
‘It would mess with anyone’s head,’ Gemma said. ‘I’m sorry you got hurt. But the problem was with her, not you.’
He wasn’t so sure. ‘With me not being enough, and you not letting anyone close, we might be setting ourselves up for trouble,’ he said. ‘Maybe we can just see how things go.’
‘I’d like that,’ she said.
For the first time since Tabby had broken their engagement, he actually felt positive about the idea of dating someone. Dating Gemma.
‘I’m going to give you the rest of the day to get over your hangover. And I’m not going to kiss you right now, because neither of us is particularly fragrant.’ He held her gaze. ‘But, just so you know, I’m planning to kiss you tonight. I’d like to take you out to dinner.’
‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I’d rather like to take you out to dinner. And I’ll drive. I’ll book a table and let you know what time I’ll pick you up.’
‘That’s bossy,’ he said, but the fact she was asserting herself appealed to him. ‘OK. But I’ll meet you here. The walk will do me good. Let me know what time.’
‘You’re on,’ she said, and her smile made his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this enthused about an evening out.
Maybe, just maybe, he and Gemma could help each other heal from the unhappiness of their pasts. And maybe they could go forward together. Tonight would be that first step.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ONCE OLIVER HAD LEFT, Gemma showered and washed her hair; being clean again made her feel much more human and sorted out most of her hangover.
And it also gave her time to think about what had happened this morning. Now Oliver knew the very worst of her: but it hadn’t made a difference to him.
He liked her.
Really liked her.
He’d told her he was planning to kiss her, tonight, and it made her feel like a teenager again—but in a good way, light-hearted and carefree, rather than in an angsty, world-on-her-shoulders kind of way.
He’d suggested going out to dinner. The place where she really wanted to take him tended to be booked up weeks in advance. But it was always worth a try, so she rang them to ask if they could possibly squeeze in a table for two.
‘You’re in luck,’ the manager told her. ‘I’ve just had a cancellation. I can fit you in at eight.’
‘That’s perfect,’ Gemma said. And it was a very good sign.
She texted Oliver.
Managed to get table for eight. Pick you up at seven thirty? Dress code smart-casual.
Should she add a kiss at the end, or not? Then again, they were officially dating. She took a risk and added a kiss.
He replied immediately.
Seven-thirty’s perfect. I’ll walk over to your place. x
Excitement bubbled through Gemma’s veins. He’d sent her a kiss back by text. And he was going to kiss her properly tonight...
She caught up with the chores, then took some flowers down to the churchyard. ‘Hey, Sarah. I’ve met someone. You’d like him,’ she said, arranging the flowers in the vase on her sister’s grave. ‘His ex was pretty unfair to him and broke his heart. It’s early days, but we’re going to see how things go between us.’ She finished arranging the flowers. ‘I miss you, Sarah. I wish you were here so I could chat to you while I was getting ready tonight.’ But her little sister would always be with her in her heart. ‘Love you,’ she said softly, and headed back home.
* * *
Gemma took care with her make-up that evening, and wore her favourite little black dress. At seven thirty precisely, her doorbell buzzed. She pressed the button on the intercom.
‘Hi, Gemma. It’s Oliver.’
‘Right on time,’ she said.
‘Can I come up?’
‘Sure.’
Her heart skipped a beat when she opened her front door. She’d seen him in a suit for work, and wearing jeans outside the surgery, but Oliver Langley dressed up for a night out was something else. Tonight he wore dark trousers, highly polished shoes, and a blue linen shirt that really brought out the colour of his eyes.
‘You scrub up very nicely, Dr Langley,’ she said, feeling the colour slide into her face.
He looked her up and down. ‘Thank you. You look beautiful, Gemma,’ he said. ‘Your hair is amazing.’
She’d straightened it so it was smooth and shiny and fell to her shoulders. ‘Thank you.’
To her surprise, he handed her a bunch of sunflowers. ‘For you.’
‘Thank you. They’re gorgeous. Was that a lucky guess, or did you know they were my favourites?’ she asked.
‘You had sunflowers in a vase the first time I came round,’ he said.
He was that observant? She was impressed. The men she’d dated in the past had never really noticed that sort of thing. The few dates who had actually bought her flowers had chosen red roses or something pink—a safe choice, and she’d appreciated it because she loved flowers, but these ones felt more special.
‘Plus,’ he added, ‘they make me think of you because you’re like sunshine.’
‘What a lovely thing to say.’ The more so because it felt like a genuine compliment. ‘Come in while I put them in water.’
‘So where are we going tonight?’ he asked, following her into the kitchen.
‘The Lighthouse. It’s a pub in the next village down the coast—it used to be a lighthouse, hence the name, but after it was decommissioned it was turned into a bar and restaurant.’ She smiled at him. ‘It’s foodie heaven, so I think you’ll enjoy it. Plus the views are pretty amazing.’
‘Sounds lovely,’ he said.
She put the sunflowers in a vase. ‘You’re OK about me driving you?’
He laughed. ‘I might be starchy sometimes, but I’m not sexist. I’m absolutely fine with you driving.’
* * *
Gemma was a careful, competent driver. Not that Ollie had expected anything less. She drove them to the next village and parked outside what looked at first like a lighthouse, and then when they walked through the front door he realised that the whole of the wall overlooking the sea was made of glass.
‘Does this mean we get to see the sunset while we eat?’
‘Sort of. We’re on the east coast, so we get more of the sunrise than the sunset,’ she said, ‘but the sky and the sea will still look very pretty.’
Once they were seated, he asked, ‘What do you recommend?’
She glanced up at the chalk board and smiled. ‘Crab cakes are on the specials today. Definitely them for a starter,’ she said. ‘For the mains, just about anything; everything’s as local as possible, so the fish is particularly good.’ She paused. ‘Is it just cake you’re not a fan of, or sweet stuff in general?’
‘I’m not really a pudding or cake person,’ he said. ‘Which is another difference between me and my twin. Rob will do almost anything for chocolate.’
‘That’s a pity, because the salted caramel cheesecake here is amazing. But, since you don’t like puddings, I’d recommend the cheese plate,’ she said. ‘They’re all local artisan cheeses, and the team here makes their own oatcakes. Actually, it’s really hard to choose between pudding and cheese. I might have to toss a coin.’
He ordered the same starter, main and sides as Gemma. The portions were generous and the food was excellent, but the company was even better. He felt more relaxed with Gemma than he’d felt in years
. How weird was that? He hadn’t been looking to start dating anyone. And yet here he was, on a first date with a woman he liked very much. A woman he wanted to kiss. A woman who made him feel as if the sun was shining through the middle of a rainstorm.
And now was his chance to get to know her better.
‘So when you’re not chucking yourself out of a plane or whatever for fundraising,’ he said, ‘what do you do for fun?’
‘Play with my goddaughter,’ she said promptly. ‘I have my dance aerobics class on Tuesday nights; if Yvonne is hosting a crafting workshop on an evening or a Saturday afternoon, I go to support her and I’m in charge of making coffee. Sometimes I have a girly night in with my friends; that usually involves cake, watching a film, a glass of wine and a mug of hot chocolate. Oh, and a big bowl of home-made sweet popcorn.’ She smiled. ‘What about you?’
‘I run in the morning before work. In London, I used to run along the Regent’s Canal, and here I get to run along the harbour and the beach.’ That was something Ollie still found a sheer delight; the sound of the sea really calmed him and pushed any worries away. ‘When Rob was in Manchester and I was in London, we used to play virtual chess, though as we live nearer each other right now we can do that in person. None of my close friends in London have children yet, so most weekends I’d go with a group of them to watch the rugby or cricket.’
‘I get the running, but cricket?’ she teased. ‘A game that takes days to play rather than a few minutes. Not my thing at all.’
‘Rugby?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry. I’m not into watching any contact sports. I keep thinking of all the medical complications—the torn rotator cuffs, the sprains, the fractures and the cases of herpes gladiatorum. I’ll stick to my dance aerobics.’
He loved the teasing glint in her eyes. ‘OK. So we’ve established that you like sweet and I like savoury; I like cricket and rugby and you don’t. How about music?’
‘Anything I can sing and dance to,’ she said promptly, ‘and I reserve the right to sing off key. You?’
‘Rock,’ he said. ‘Rob dabbled with the idea of being a rock star. He thought we could be the next Kaiser Chiefs. We started a band when we were thirteen. He was the singer and lead guitarist, one of our friends was the drummer, and he made me learn the bass guitar and do the harmonies. I can’t hold a tune, so I was absolutely pants.’ He grinned. ‘And so was he.’
‘Oh, that’s cruel,’ she said.
‘No, it’s honest,’ he said, laughing. ‘Our drummer was out of time, too. It was fun, but we were awful. Our parents were so relieved when we gave it up. Then Rob discovered a climbing wall and found out that not only did he love climbing, he was really good at it.’
‘What about you? Are you a climber?’
‘Slogging your way up a sheer rock face, when it’s chucking it down with rain and there’s only a tiny little rope between you and disaster? Nope. That’s really not my idea of fun,’ he said. ‘I’d much rather sit in the dry, watching rugby. Or playing chess.’
‘I don’t play chess,’ she said. ‘But Claire’s family is really into board games. We used to have game nights every Friday—anything from board games to charades or cards. We’d have build-your-own fajitas for dinner first, which was Yvonne’s way of sneaking extra veg into our diet without us noticing. It was a lot of fun.’
‘It sounds it,’ he said.
‘So where did you learn to do that magic trick, making a coin appear behind that little boy’s ear?’
‘My rotation in paediatrics. The consultant taught me that a magic trick is the best way to distract a child and get them to relax. There’s the coin one, and for the older ones there’s the one with the magic envelope.’
‘Magic envelope?’ Gemma asked. ‘Tell me more.’
He ran through the rules. ‘You write a number on a piece of paper, and put it in a sealed envelope. Then you ask them the year they were born, the year they started school, how many years it’s been since they started school, and how old they’ll be at the end of this year. Get them to add the four numbers together and tell you what it is. Then you ask them to open the envelope. They’ll discover that it contains the number they just told you—which is basically double whatever this year is.’
‘That’s clever,’ she said.
‘It’s a simple maths tricks but it’s handy for distracting an older child when you need to get a blood sample, or you’re going to do something that’s going to be a bit uncomfortable.’
‘I’ll remember that one,’ she said. ‘So today the G in GP stands for “genius”.’
He laughed. ‘I can’t take the credit. It was my consultant who taught me.’
‘Ah, but you’ve just taught me,’ she pointed out.
* * *
Once they’d finished their meal; Gemma excused herself to go to the toilet and paid the bill on the way so Oliver wouldn’t have the chance to argue.
‘Thank you for dinner,’ he said as they left the restaurant. ‘Next time we do something together, it’s my treat.’
So there was definitely going to be a next time? Maybe this time her relationship wouldn’t all be over almost as soon as it had begun; the hope made her feel warm all over. ‘That’d be nice,’ she said with a smile. ‘Shall we go and have a last look at the sky and the sea?’
They walked over to the edge of the cliffs, hand in hand. Such a tiny contact, but so sweet. She could really get used to holding hands with Oliver Langley. And she wanted more. A lot more.
The bright colours of the sunset had faded to a rosy afterglow, and the moon was a tiny sliver of a crescent in the darkening sky. ‘There’s Jupiter,’ Gemma said, pointing out the bright planet, ‘and Mars. If you look out to the east in the early morning, you’ll see Venus.’
‘In London, I never really got to see the sky properly,’ he said. ‘Out here, it’s magical.’ He turned her to face him. ‘You make me feel magical, too, Gemma,’ he said softly. ‘And, right now, I really want to kiss you.’
‘I want to kiss you, too,’ she said.
He dipped his head and brushed his mouth against hers, and her lips tingled at the touch.
‘Sweet, sweet Gemma,’ he said softly, and kissed her again.
It felt as if fireworks were going off in her head. She’d never experienced anything like this before, and she wasn’t sure if it made her feel more amazed or terrified.
When Oliver broke the kiss and pulled away slightly, she held his gaze. His pupils were huge, making his eyes seem almost black in the twilight.
She reached up to touch his mouth, and ran her forefinger along his bottom lip,
He nipped gently at her finger.
Suddenly, Gemma found breathing difficult.
‘Gemma,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘I wasn’t expecting this to happen.’
‘Me neither,’ she whispered. And this was crazy. She knew he was only here temporarily, and he’d probably go back to his life in London once his locum job here had finished and his twin had recovered from the transplant. Was she dating him purely because being a temporary colleague made him safe—she wouldn’t be reckless enough to lose her heart to someone who wouldn’t stick around? Or would it be like the misery of all those years ago when her parents had moved and left her behind?
‘We ought to be heading back,’ she said. Even though both of them knew there was no reason why they couldn’t stand on the cliffs all evening, just kissing, the unexpected intensity of her feelings scared her.
‘Uh-huh,’ he said—but he held her hand all the way back to the car. And he kissed her again before she unlocked the door.
Gemma drove them back to Ashermouth Bay and parked outside his cottage.
‘Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?’ Ollie asked.
Was he being polite, or did he really want to spend more time with her? Or did he me
an something other than coffee? It was hard to judge. She wanted to spend more time with him, yet at the same time she thought it would be a mistake. What was the point of getting closer to him if he wasn’t going to stick around?
Should she stay or should she go?
‘Gemma? I’m asking you in for coffee,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m not going to rip your clothes off the second you walk in the front door.’
She felt the colour fizz through her face. ‘Like the boyfriends in my past, you mean.’
‘I wasn’t being snippy. Back then, you were seventeen and hurting and maybe not in the place to make the right choices for you. It’s different now. I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate you’ve been honest with me about your past and I’m not going to make assumptions or pressure you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.’
So coffee meant just coffee. It meant spending a bit more time with her. Funny how that made her heart feel as if it had just flipped over and eased the tightness in her chest.
‘Then thank you. Coffee would be nice.’
‘Good.’ He took her hand, lifted it to his mouth, pressed a kiss against her palm and folded her fingers over it.
The gesture was unexpectedly sweet, and melted away the last vestiges of her misgivings.
Inside the house, he connected his phone to a speaker. ‘Would you like to choose some music while I make you a cappuccino?’
‘Cappuccino? As in a proper cappuccino?’ she checked.
He nodded.
‘So are you telling me you have a proper coffee maker in your kitchen? A bean-to-cup one?’
‘With a frothing arm. Yup.’ He grinned. ‘Busted. I didn’t tell you that gadgets are my bad habit. Rob gives me quite a hard time about it.’
She groaned. ‘And to think I’ve been giving you instant coffee, when you make the posh stuff.’
He smiled. ‘It’s OK. I didn’t judge you.’
‘Didn’t you?’ She raised an eyebrow at him.