And Now You're Back

by Jill Mansell

  A lot of kissing.

  Not to mention the rest . . .

  Oh God, was she mad to be doing this, feeling the way she did right now?

  Then again, she’d only come here to have a swim. It wasn’t her fault Shay was here too.

  ‘No Aaron this weekend?’

  ‘It’s his boss’s birthday. He has to be in London. Lots of celebrating to be done.’

  ‘And you don’t mind?’

  ‘I haven’t been abandoned. I was invited.’

  ‘But you stayed here instead.’

  ‘It was going to last all weekend and I can’t stand his boss.’

  Shay’s eyes sparkled. ‘Well, good for you.’

  ‘Plus the hotel’s busy,’ Didi added.

  ‘I’ve noticed.’

  ‘You’ve been busy too. How’s the renovation coming along?’

  ‘We’re on schedule, just about. I had Dad over with me today, keeping an eye on things. Until he fell asleep on his sunlounger out in the garden. Then I stopped work for thirty seconds to refill my water bottle and he came inside to see what was going on.’ Shay grinned. ‘Called me a lazy sod.’

  ‘Better stop skiving off then,’ said Didi, ‘and get a move on with that house.’

  He swept his hand across the surface of the water, sending an arcing wave into her face.

  ‘Oh dear.’ Didi wagged a finger at him. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’ Scooping with both hands, she splashed him back, then shrieked with laughter and launched into an energetic crawl, heading for the far side of the lake where the branches of the willow trees bowed down and kissed the surface of the water.

  They splashed, swam and raced each other for the next thirty minutes, before getting out, spreading their towels on the narrow sandy beach and lying down to let the late-afternoon sun warm them up and dry them off. Just as they’d done all those years ago.

  ‘We never did find out who lived in that place.’ Propped up on one elbow, Didi twisted round and pointed to the impressive Victorian property behind them, set in stunning grounds and with an uninterrupted view over the lake. All they knew was that it was called Hestacombe House, and back then they’d occasionally glimpsed an elderly man at one of the upstairs windows. Now there were swings and a slide in the garden, and a pair of children’s yellow wellingtons lodged high in the branches of a well-established monkey-puzzle tree.

  Had the original owner died, or had he sold the place and relocated, perhaps to somewhere more exotic? Who knew? Either way, this view and the lake itself might still be unchanged but life had moved inexorably on. They all had.

  Hadn’t they?

  ‘I’ll tell you who does still live here,’ said Shay.

  They’d never known anyone from Hestacombe. She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. ‘Who?’

  He pointed over to the right and she followed his gaze. From around the bend in the lake, where low-hanging branches and thick reeds had previously obscured their view, a pair of swans now emerged. ‘Oh wow.’ She sat up to see them better. ‘They can’t be the same ones, surely?’

  They certainly looked the same, but was that possible? Thirteen years ago there’d been a pair of swans here, always together, invariably gliding along in unison. Didi and Shay had made up stories about their lives, their complicated families and the arguments they had in private whilst maintaining a blissfully happy public persona for the benefit of visitors to the lake.

  ‘Betty and Neville.’ Shay was shielding his eyes from the sun. ‘It definitely looks like them.’

  The pair drew closer, as elegant and synchronised as Torvill and Dean, and Didi spotted the mark on Neville’s neck, the result of an injury sustained long ago. ‘It is them. See the scar. They’re still together.’ Ridiculously, a lump had sprung into her throat, because it was so romantic. ‘After all these years.’

  ‘Are you about to cry?’

  ‘Shut up. Of course not.’

  Shay’s mouth twitched. ‘Glad to hear it. Because that would be weird.’

  He was just a man, he didn’t understand.

  They watched as Betty and Neville glided past, ignoring them completely, needing nothing but each other’s company. Still raised up on one elbow, Didi closed her eyes and felt the sun warm her eyelids. How was Shay feeling about them being here together? He was wearing a pair of faded red board shorts and she was in her old black swimsuit; his bare legs were just there and hers were here, right next to them. Was he remembering how they’d once lain on this beach with their limbs entangled, their bodies pressed together? Did he ever think about the kisses they’d shared? Was every detail of the sensation of her mouth on his still as fresh in his mind as it was in hers? What was going through his mind right now . . . and was she completely crazy to be asking herself that question, given what was going on in hers?

  Because if Shay were to turn towards her now, touch her arm, brush her hair back from her temple with his hand . . . would she be able to stop him? Or even want to?

  Her pulse quickening, she knew the answer would be no.

  From a tree behind them, a blackbird was singing. She opened her eyes and gazed up at the cloudless sky, remembering that it had been Red who’d taught her how to recognise the songs of the different species of bird around the cottage. Tilting her head, she prepared to tell Shay—

  Oh what?

  Seriously?

  Whilst she’d been lying beside him, awash with adrenalin, happy memories and forbidden thoughts, he’d fallen asleep?

  Didi exhaled, her ego crashing back to earth with a thud. She didn’t know whether to feel crushed, cross, insulted or relieved that her feelings clearly ran so much deeper than his.

  Talk about a kick in the teeth. Then again, maybe it was just as well.

  Oh, but how galling to realise that whilst she’d been secretly fantasising about Shay, he’d been thinking of her as nothing more than an ex-girlfriend who’d once featured in his past.

  Silently adjusting her position, she rolled onto her left side and studied his face. His thick dark lashes didn’t flicker; he’d been working crazy hours over at Hillcrest and was obviously exhausted. His streaky blonde hair was starting to dry in the sun. There was the narrow scar on his forehead that she’d loved to trace with her index finger, the familiar angles of his high cheekbones . . . his nose . . . his jawline. And there was the curve of his upper lip, which had always mesmerised her. What was that bit called, the tiny dip between—

  Shay’s eyes snapped open and she jerked back, mortified at having been caught out.

  ‘Hello.’ The faintest of smiles hovered around the mouth she’d been caught inspecting.

  ‘I thought you were asleep.’

  ‘Just resting. What else were you thinking while you thought I was asleep?’

  ‘Sorry, it was driving me mad trying to remember what it’s called.’ Didi touched the dip above her own upper lip. ‘I know it, my mind’s just gone blank. I’m sure it begins with a T.’

  ‘It’s your philtrum,’ said Shay.

  ‘That’s it!’

  ‘Doesn’t begin with a T.’

  ‘But there’s a T in it. Don’t be so pendantic.’

  He grinned. ‘Are you still saying that?’

  ‘I’ll never stop. I love the look on people’s faces when they try to correct me.’

  Shay was shaking his head, his gaze taking in every detail of her own face. His expression might be unreadable, but it was having a considerable effect on her body. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the increased rate of her pulse, hammering away in the base of her throat. Swallowing, she said flippantly, ‘I hope you’re admiring my philtrum.’

  ‘You mean your philtrum with a T.’

  And now she found herself unable to tear her gaze away from his philtrum-with-a-T, wishing she could kiss it. Oh God, this was terrible, she really really shouldn’t be thinking this, let alone wanting to do it. But this wasn’t just any attractive man, it was Shay, and she’d never in her life shared such an intense con
nection with another person, not even Aaron, although heaven knows Aaron didn’t deserve to be engaged to someone who was capable of feeling this way about another—

  Drringgg. Her phone broke the spell, like a pantomime villain popping up with an evil cackle just when he was least welcome.

  Didi turned away to reach for it on the other side of her beach towel. If it was Aaron, it would be fate’s way of telling her to sort herself out.

  But it was someone calling from the hotel. Answering, she heard Sylvia say, ‘Hi, look, we’re getting no reply from the room and he isn’t answering his phone, but we need to get hold of Shay. Someone drove out to his house and he isn’t there either. I don’t suppose you’ve any idea where he might be?’

  ‘He’s here.’ For a split second Didi had considered pretending to contact Shay by other means, but the message was clearly urgent and could only mean one thing. ‘He’s right here. I’ll pass you over to him now.’

  The phone call was brief. Shay was on his feet before it even ended. As he whisked his shirt out of his Nike bag and pulled it on, he said, ‘Dad was struggling to breathe so Rosa called an ambulance. She’s with him now at the hospital and he’s in a bad way. Shit, he was coughing more than usual this afternoon but nothing worse than that . . . I can’t believe this is happening . . .’

  ‘What can I do?’ In her haste, Didi almost lost her balance as she shoved one leg into her shorts. ‘You can leave your car here and I’ll drive.’

  ‘No, I’ll take mine. Fuck.’ He was pale beneath his tan. ‘I left my phone in the car and they’ve been trying to get hold of me for the last hour.’

  ‘You didn’t know, it’s not your fault.’

  But he shook his head, grabbing the Nike bag and making his way up the narrow path to the car park. ‘While we’ve been swimming and lying on the beach, he’s been rushed to hospital, unable to breathe. He probably thought he was going to die. Right, if anyone else calls, tell them I’m on my way there now.’

  The Audi shot off up the lane in a cloud of dust. Didi collected up the towels and headed back to her own car, feeling almost as guilty as Shay evidently did.

  Please God, don’t let Red die.

  Not now, not yet.

  Chapter 24

  Shay had spent the night in the waiting room outside the ward, dozing for only a few minutes at a time on the hard plastic chair. Now he listened to the muted sounds of the hospital as it came back to life around him, and the rattle of the breakfast trolley making itself heard further down the corridor.

  Finally he was allowed back onto the ward. The nurses assured him that his father was doing as well as could be expected, but Red was still looking dreadful. His skin was ash grey, the lines around his mouth pronounced. Much of his face was covered by the oxygen mask. His arms lay at his sides and Shay saw that the rose-gold three-diamond gypsy ring was looser than ever on the third finger of his right hand.

  He pulled up a chair and waited, watching his father’s chest rise and fall, hearing the effort it was taking him to breathe. There was a drip in his left arm and an oximeter fastened to his index finger. His skin was waxily pale.

  But he was still alive. As a machine beeped in an adjacent room, Red’s eyes opened and he registered Shay’s presence with the faintest of smiles. Lifting the oxygen mask, he said, ‘You still here? You should get some sleep.’

  ‘I’m OK. Do you need anything?’

  ‘Wouldn’t say no to a double Scotch.’

  Shay knew this was to try and reassure him, but how could he be reassured? He’d left his phone in the car whilst he’d been swimming in Hestacombe Lake with Didi. There’d been increasingly concerned texts and voicemails left on it by Rosa, and he could only imagine how panicked she’d been as his father’s condition had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Whilst she’d been dialling 999 and calling the ambulance out to Frog Cottage, he’d been lying in the sun on the tiny lakeside beach, not even pausing to spare a thought for Red. His mind had been entirely occupied with Didi, with talking to her, longing to kiss her and run his fingers through her dark hair, to trace the curve of her suntanned cheek, to pull her into his arms and—

  Red started coughing helplessly and Shay stopped thinking about Didi. Once the coughing episode was over, he replumped the pillows, helped Red to take a few sips of water and made sure he was comfortable once more. He had to stop thinking about her. His father needed to be his number one priority at all times. The situation with Didi was impossible anyway.

  ‘Go home now.’ Red’s words were muffled by the oxygen mask. ‘I can’t sleep with you sitting there watching me. It’s putting me off.’

  ‘I’d rather stay here.’

  ‘I’m the sick one, so I get to decide. And you need to be getting a move on with the house.’ Indicating the ward doors, he creaked, ‘Off you go. I’ll see you later. Tell Rosa I’m sorry I gave her a scare.’

  ‘OK.’ Shay gave his arm a squeeze. ‘I’ll be back this afternoon. Be good.’

  ‘By the way, where were you when Rosa couldn’t get hold of you?’

  There it was; the question he’d been waiting for.

  ‘I was over at Hestacombe Lake with Didi. Left the phone in the car.’

  Red nodded. ‘Thought it might have something to do with her.’

  ‘Don’t look at me like that. Nothing’s going to happen,’ said Shay.

  Above the oxygen mask, his father gave him a ghost of a wink. ‘Sure about that?’

  He couldn’t. He mustn’t. And Red wasn’t going to persuade him otherwise.

  ‘Quite sure,’ he said.

  Didi remembered the couple well; she’d shown them over the hotel back in March and been taken by their story. Beth and Phil were in their forties and had both been through the mill. Phil’s wife had died four years ago, leaving him to bring up three small daughters. At around the same time, Beth’s violent ex-husband had landed her in hospital with severe internal injuries. Told that she was unlikely to be able to bear children as a result, she’d moved across the country from Norfolk to Oxfordshire to begin a new life. Two years on and working as a teaching assistant, she’d met Phil, whose children attended her school, and a slow, shy courtship had developed. Indescribably happy together, they were all set to get married next summer and had booked the Wickham Hotel for the ceremony and reception.

  Except a problem had arisen.

  ‘It’s my mum,’ said Beth. ‘She’s poorly, and slowly getting worse. I asked the doctors if they thought she’d still be here next summer and they said it was . . . very unlikely. Sorry.’ She wiped away a tear. ‘It’s been a bit of a shock, although it shouldn’t be. It’s a brain tumour, you see. I just love her so much and she’s always been there for me, and she’s been so looking forward to the wedding . . .’

  Didi’s heart went out to them; they’d been through so much, and now this.

  ‘We just wondered if there was any way we could cancel the date we booked and bring it forward, but it’d still have to be a Saturday because so many guests are teachers . . . I know it’s a long shot, but if there’s anything at all before Christmas, we’d go for that.’

  ‘Oh Beth, I’m so sorry . . .’ Didi scrolled through the calendar on the computer screen, just in case there’d been some last-minute cancellation she’d somehow managed to miss. But there hadn’t; with its reputation and history as one of the oldest hotels in England, the Wickham was a year-round popular venue for weddings. They were already taking bookings for eighteen months ahead.

  ‘It’s OK, we knew it wasn’t likely. Everyone wants to get married here.’ Beth nodded at Phil and clasped his hand. ‘We’d have loved to get married here, but Mum comes first.’

  ‘We’ll book the register office instead,’ Phil told her, ‘and we’ll still have an amazing day. You’ll have your mum there and the girls can still be bridesmaids. Hey, look how lucky you are.’ He lifted Beth’s hand and kissed the back of it. ‘We found each other, didn’t we? That’s the important thing.’
>
  Beth’s eyes filled with tears once more. To stop her own doing the same, Didi conjured up a mental image of ugly politicians wrestling naked in mud. It generally did the trick.

  Phil turned to her. ‘Sorry to mess you around. We know it means losing our deposit, but that’s OK, at least we—’

  ‘Oh will you look at that? It was there all the time!’ Eyes wide, Didi jabbed at the screen, which was tilted away from them. ‘There is a free Saturday in December. I can’t believe I missed it!’

  ‘Really?’ Beth’s entire face lit up. She let out a squeak of excitement. ‘In December? A Christmas wedding! That would be perfect.’

  ‘December the seventh,’ said Didi, and this time there was no escaping the lump in her throat as Beth and Phil clutched each other in delight.

  ‘We’ll take it, we’ll take it!’ Beth exclaimed. ‘Thank you so much! I can’t believe we’ll be getting married here after all. It’s going to be the best wedding ever.’

  When they’d left, Didi slowly exhaled and marvelled at what her subconscious had made her do. Was it wrong? She had no idea. It was fairly momentous, certainly. But it felt right. And it was without question the answer for Beth and Phil.

  All she had to do now was work out how to explain it to Aaron.

  Chapter 25

  On Friday afternoon, Didi drove to Moreton-in-Marsh to catch the train to London. Passing Hillcrest, she saw a couple of vans outside and some work being carried out on the roof, but no sign of Shay. His car wasn’t there, which probably meant he was over at the hospital, where he’d been spending every spare minute. They hadn’t seen each other since last weekend’s afternoon at the lake, and if he was deliberately avoiding her, she understood why and didn’t blame him one bit. She also knew that Red was recovering from the chest infection that had had such a terrifying effect on his body.

  It rained all the way to London. Didi found herself sitting opposite a girl on the phone to a friend, sharing stories about her boyfriend, who was amazing in every way, honestly, and was really encouraging her to lose weight so she could fit into slinky dresses without looking like an overstuffed haggis. After twenty minutes, Didi longed to tell the girl that her amazing new boyfriend was a controlling gaslighter who was already skilfully isolating her from her own family. But the train stopped and the girl jumped off before she could intervene, her seat taken by a middle-aged man eating a tuna sandwich and slurping from a can of Foster’s. Oh joy.