Blackpeak Station

by Holly Ford

  Oh dear, it seemed to be catching. Charlotte sniffed. Her mother passed her a tissue. Had their father ever said anything like that to Nick?

  ‘I wanted to do something for you’ — Nick looked a bit teary himself — ‘after everything all of you have done for me.’

  A cheer went up as Flavia kissed him.

  Yeah, yeah, they were perfect for each other. All right. She needed a drink. Charlotte looked round for Jen. Ah, there she was. Staring deep into Hannah’s eyes. Ugh. Well, she’d better get used to it — it was going to be like this all day tomorrow. It was a wedding. Normal people brought dates. She sighed and took herself off to talk to Flavia’s grandmother.

  That conversation exhausted, she wandered over to see Rex, who was supervising the caterers’ spit-roast. ‘It doesn’t look nearly as good as yours,’ she reassured him. Rex looked dubious — and in actual fact, it did look pretty damn good. Kath had been a bit hurt that she wasn’t allowed to cook for the Sammartinos, but Nick had been adamant. ‘I want everybody to enjoy themselves on the night,’ he’d insisted, right from the start, ‘and the mess cleared up before morning.’

  She looked up. Above the smoke of the spit, the stars were coming out.

  ‘You got us a packie sorted yet?’ asked Rex.

  Charlotte smiled. Well, she hadn’t exactly been looking today but, ‘No, I haven’t found anyone yet.’

  ‘Who is it you need, cara?’ Flavia breezed up behind them.

  ‘Oh, just a packie. A cook. For the muster.’

  ‘To go mustering with you?’ Flavia looked excited. ‘I’ll do it!’

  Rex nearly choked on his beer.

  ‘What?’ Flavia pouted. ‘I can ride, I can cook.’

  Yes, but could she scrub pots in a freezing cold stream and get up at five in the morning? Charlotte doubted it. ‘Um, don’t you have a honeymoon to go on?’

  ‘For one week,’ Flavia shrugged. ‘Then we are back here for my family to watch the first day of the muster. Let me do it, cara! I will be good.’

  ‘Yeah … well, we’ll see, eh? When you get back.’ Charlotte sipped her wine. ‘Have a talk to Nick about it.’ That ought to do it — there was no way he’d want to come up to the hut for four days. Oh, thank heavens for that, she was saved — the caterers were lifting the lamb. ‘Looks like dinner’s ready.’

  ‘Che buono!’ Flavia clapped her hands and went off to round up her troops.

  As they ate, the night came down in earnest. When an impressive amount of lamb had disappeared, the caterers cleared the debris, the wine flowed, and Nick banked up the fire. One of the cousins produced a guitar and began, very casually, to pick something classical and difficult sounding from it. He was really very good. Wandering off a bit from the crowd, Charlotte perched herself on the bent arm of a willow tree and watched the moon climb over the range.

  ‘Are you having a nice time, cara?’ Flavia leaned beside her.

  ‘Lovely,’ Charlotte smiled. She even kind of was. It was such a beautiful evening to be outside.

  Still listening to the music, she looked around. On the other side of the fire, her mother was talking to one of Flavia’s silver-fox uncles. As she watched, he draped a blanket round Andrea’s shoulders. Charlotte’s eyes widened. Was he — oh my God, he was! — stroking her mother’s arm. Yikes. What had Flavia said about gorgeous Italian men?

  ‘Ah! Bene.’ Flavia followed Charlotte’s gaze. ‘That is nice.’

  Was it? Charlotte looked back at her in alarm.

  ‘Don’t worry, cara,’ Flavia smiled. ‘Uncle Gianni is one of the good guys.’ She patted Charlotte’s knee. ‘My aunt Maria, she died five years ago. Now! Come on, come and talk to your fellow bridesmaids. We need to present a — how do you say it? — a united front tomorrow.’

  The first helicopter landed at nine o’clock, bearing two more of Flavia’s friends, the flowers, the chef, and the news that the catering truck couldn’t get through the ford. Nick swore and stomped off. Twenty minutes later, the truck pulled in with him at the wheel.

  As the morning wore on, more trucks, then more choppers began to arrive. Men in expensive suits whizzed about on farm bikes, silk ties flying — the Sammartinos had taken to the transport laid on for them like ducks to water. The house was thrown open to what was, thankfully, a beautiful day. Flower arrangements sprouted up everywhere, from the bathroom to — Charlotte winced — the billiard table. Oh well. It was about time that room got an airing.

  Fifteen minutes before the ceremony was due to start, Jen stuck her head round the door of the bedroom where Charlotte was hiding out, curtains drawn against the mounting hordes in the garden outside. Overhead, another rotor sliced through the air. ‘Bloody hell. It’s turning into Apocalypse Now out there.’ Jen grinned. ‘You look a bit different.’

  So did she. Charlotte had lent Jen her silver lace dress, and it had to be said she was wearing it well.

  ‘Different good?’ Charlotte asked hopefully. Luciano had been quite definite, but she still wasn’t sure that all this smoky eye-shadow and pearly lipstick was really her.

  ‘Yeah, kind of.’ Jen caught herself. ‘No, I mean, you look great. You just need your curlers out, that’s all.’

  ‘Carlotta!’ Luciano’s voice echoed down the hall. ‘Hurry, now!’

  Charlotte winced. ‘Sounds like I’m on.’

  ‘Good luck.’ Jen raised her eyebrows. ‘Catch you on the flip side.’

  Ow. Charlotte tried not to flinch as Luciano’s fingers flew through her hair. Well, really, if he was just going to make it look a mess and then tie it up — ooh, but that was pretty.

  ‘Pronta?’ Flavia’s mother strode in. Luciano reached for the hairspray. ‘Si!’

  ‘Andiamo, Carlotta! Dress time!’

  Having slipped on her own dress, Charlotte walked in to get her first look at Flavia’s. Oh — wow. It was so … simple. Elegant. So Flavia. It was almost a column, if columns could curve. Nick was just going to die. How in God’s name had her brother got this lucky?

  ‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ Flavia beamed. ‘Giorgio did it for me.’

  Giorgio …? Oh! Double wow. Charlotte smiled to herself. Somewhere, Luke’s head had just exploded.

  ‘It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.’ By quite some margin, in fact.

  ‘Thank you, cara — you’re very sweet.’ Flavia took a deep breath and held out her hands to the bridesmaids on either side. ‘Okay.’

  Okay? What, no jewellery, no veil?

  ‘What is it, Carlotta?’

  ‘Nothing. You just look so …’ Charlotte smiled. ‘Utterly perfect.’

  Blinking, she followed the other bridesmaids out into the noonday sun. Jeez, there were a lot of people out here. She concentrated on trying to walk gracefully in her high heels — not an easy task, even on this carpet. Flavia’s friends, however, didn’t seem to be having any trouble. As she got to the front, Charlotte smiled at Nick, but his eyes were firmly fixed over her shoulder.

  It wasn’t just Flavia’s dress that was perfect. Everything was. The ceremony. The helicopter ride to the Peak for photographs. The weather, the food, the wine. The much-debated Parma ham.

  Released at last from public scrutiny at the top table, Charlotte wandered, relieved and only very slightly drunk, through the cooling garden, looking for Jen. She paused under the rose arch. There Jen was, with Hannah, talking to … oh, no way! It couldn’t be. Could it?

  Rob looked up. Their eyes met. He smiled. Charlotte, feeling suddenly wobbly, smiled back. Looking for support, her hand clutched a stem of the rambling rose. ‘Ow, Jesus!’ Dropping the rose and nearly her glass, she stumbled forward a little on the soft ground. When she looked up again, Rob’s smile was broader.

  He walked towards her. All things considered, she decided she’d better stay still.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hello.’ Charlotte looked up into those achingly familiar blue eyes. Her heart stopped as they crinkled into a smile. A strand of wavy gold h
air fell across them, and she only just stopped herself raising a hand to brush it away. ‘Your hair’s grown.’

  ‘Oh …’ He pushed it back with his long, lean, muscular hand. ‘Yeah, I haven’t quite got round to getting it cut since I got back. I’ve been away for a while.’

  ‘It suits you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Unable to stand any more, Charlotte dropped her gaze.

  ‘Look, I know it’s weird, me being here. I’m sorry. When Emma asked me to her friend’s wedding, I had no idea it was Nick’s … I didn’t work it out till last week, and it was a bit late by then. I couldn’t let her down.’

  Well, of course not. How could he let Emma down? ‘No, it’s fine,’ she told him. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to see you.’

  His voice dropped. ‘Is it?’

  Charlotte looked up sharply.

  ‘Hi!’ A blonde girl arrived at Rob’s side. ‘You must be Charlotte!’ She held out her hand.

  Oh God, it was Facebook-girl. Charlotte shook her hand. Her teeth looked pretty good in person.

  ‘Emma, this is Nick’s sister, Charlotte,’ Rob smiled.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ she mumbled. Oh crap, she couldn’t do this. No way. ‘Excuse me. I just have to go and … do, um — a thing.’ Turning on her impractical heels, she escaped back across the lawn.

  ‘Hey!’ Nick caught her as she passed. ‘Are you okay? What’s happened? You look like someone’s just died.’ He looked over her shoulder. ‘Oh Christ, is that Rob over there? With …’ He stopped.

  ‘With Emma,’ she finished for him.

  ‘Who is Emma?’ demanded Flavia.

  ‘A friend of mine from uni.’ Nick winced. ‘I’m really sorry, Charles.’

  ‘But,’ Flavia searched Charlotte’s face. ‘What is this? You want Rob?’

  So much it hurt. Charlotte bit her lip.

  ‘Well, you must go and get him!’

  ‘I can’t do that. He’s with someone.’

  ‘Not the right someone.’ Flavia took Charlotte’s hand. ‘Do not make me ashamed of you, cara. Go and tell him how you feel.’

  Oh God. Could she? Should she? She looked at Nick. ‘What about Emma?’

  ‘Hey.’ He shrugged. ‘She’s not that good a friend.’

  Slowly, Charlotte turned round. Rob was still looking straight at her. But Emma had gone.

  ‘Go!’ Flavia gave her a discreet push in the back.

  Crap, did they have to have such a big lawn? Charlotte picked her way back to the rose arch.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi,’ Rob smiled. ‘Again.’

  Oh, this was hard. ‘Um — you know, you were asking me something. Before.’

  ‘Was I?’

  Crap again. So he wasn’t going to make it any easier. ‘Yeah. About whether it was …’ Good to see him! Christ! Spit it out! But the words just wouldn’t come.

  ‘Oh, hello again.’ Emma handed Rob a fresh glass of wine and sipped at her own.

  No, no, no. Charlotte stared at the ground and wished it would open up. She could feel her cheeks starting to flame.

  ‘Charlotte,’ Rob said softly. God, it hurt when he said her name. ‘I never finished introducing you — this is my cousin, Emma.’

  Her head jerked up. Rob’s eyes moved over her face.

  ‘Um, Charlotte,’ Emma sounded amused. ‘Why don’t I go and get you a drink?’ She moved off.

  ‘Is there something’ — Rob took a step closer — ‘you’re trying to tell me?’

  She nodded.

  ‘What is it?’

  Charlotte bit her lip. All she could do was look at him.

  His hand stroked her cheek, brushing under the line of her jaw. Her lips parted. She let out her breath.

  ‘Come on.’ Rob seized her wrist.

  She tottered behind him as he set off at speed up the lawn. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Somewhere. Anywhere. Now.’

  She stumbled. Turning, he scooped her up into his arms. Oh … but … weren’t people watching? Over the backs of the assembled guests, she saw Flavia smile as Rob carried her into the house.

  Kicking the bedroom door shut behind them, he propped her against it and kissed her, hard. Charlotte lost the power of thought.

  ‘But,’ she managed, as his mouth moved down to her throat, ‘you’re in a relationship.’

  ‘What?’ He leaned back a little, still pinning her to the door with his hips — which was just as well or she’d probably fall down. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Facebook.’

  ‘Facebook? Seriously?’ His eyes laughed down at her. ‘I just put that to stop ex-girlfriends cyberstalking me.’

  Ouch.

  ‘Actually …’ He stroked her neck. ‘You know, I don’t think I ever changed it.’

  Charlotte frowned. Since what?

  Smiling, Rob shook his head. ‘For such a smart girl, you really are incredibly thick sometimes.’

  Um?

  ‘It’s you, Charlie. It’s always been you.’

  Oh! Wow … she closed her eyes as he kissed her again.

  He pulled back. ‘Except that you don’t look like you in that dress.’

  She giggled. ‘Want me to put some gumboots on?’

  For answer, his hands tugged the ties at her neck and back. The dress slid to the ground. Rob sighed. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that ever since you walked down the aisle.’ His eyes ranged down. ‘Hmm. And I don’t think those are achieving a lot, do you?’ His hand assessed the gauze strap over her thigh, then gave a sharp pull. The fabric yielded without protest.

  A second later, Charlotte found herself on the bed. She looked up at him.

  ‘You know, you don’t look like you either.’

  Kneeling between her thighs, Rob loosened his tie. ‘Is that better?’

  She shook her head.

  Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt. Oh … That was better. Just as good as she remembered, in fact. Those muscles that ran down the sides of his stomach … what were they called? Oh, who cared, she just wanted to touch them. She bit her lip as his hands moved down.

  He leaned over her. ‘How about now?’

  She gasped. Now was very good indeed.

  Charlotte opened her eyes. She was too happy to move. She could smell the pot of coffee on the fire, and in front of her, beyond the open door of Two Burn Hut, the mountains were glinting in the morning sun. Rob was leaning in the doorway, looking out at the view, his old jeans on, a battered enamel mug in his hand.

  It was perfect. She ran a mental hand over the golden skin of his beautiful back, up the muscles above his shoulder blades and into his silky hair. Well, maybe it wasn’t quite perfect … he could be closer. She sat up, searching the floor of the hut for her clothes.

  ‘Hey, you.’ Rob looked back over his shoulder and held out his hand. ‘Come here.’

  Giving up on her underwear, Charlotte threw her bush shirt on and joined him in the doorway. Rob pulled her into his arms, wrapping the bush shirt more tightly around her, and she leaned back against his chest.

  The morning after the wedding, they’d ridden out first thing. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Rob had said when they woke up. ‘There are way too many people in this house.’ So they’d slipped away before the Sammartinos, or anyone else, got up — well, almost. On the verandah, they’d bumped into Andrea, high heels in hand, sneaking in through her bedroom doors.

  ‘Oh, hello darling. And — Rob! How nice to see you.’ Her mother had blushed. ‘I was just, um …’

  ‘We’re off up to Two Burn for a couple of days,’ Charlotte had smiled.

  ‘Oh? Well, be—’ Andrea had stopped herself and grinned. ‘Have fun, darling.’

  Charlotte watched the sun creep down the tussock slope. Above the snow-covered alps, the sky was a deep and cloudless blue.

  ‘It’s beautiful up here today,’ she sighed.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Gently, Rob turned her around, propping her against the frame of the do
or. ‘I think it needs something.’ He opened her shirt. ‘There. Now it is.’

  Charlotte smiled. His hand brushed over her lazily. ‘Want some coffee?’

  Hmm, not particularly, no … maybe later … A horrible thought occurred. She straightened. ‘When do you have to go back to work?’

  ‘Actually, I don’t.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘I quit the firm.’

  What? Well, that was news. Shivering a little, she pulled the shirt around her. ‘Why?’

  Rob shrugged. ‘I got up there to Christchurch, and … well, I just couldn’t really seem to’ — raising his eyebrows, he slid a hand down the side of her shirt — ‘concentrate.’

  Oh!

  ‘Then I heard you were—’ Frowning, he broke off.

  Charlotte winced.

  ‘Anyway, Ems was organising this big trip, and there were a few of them going, and suddenly it seemed like a really good idea, so I booked my ticket and handed in my resignation and tagged along.’

  Wow … But …

  ‘When I saw you, that day at the airport, that was my last week of work.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘And you didn’t call.’

  ‘I wanted to.’

  ‘But you didn’t.’ He looked away. ‘Why?’

  Ugh. ‘Well, you were in Christchurch and I was here, and it just wasn’t …’ She sighed.

  Rob sighed too. ‘Yeah. That old chestnut, eh?’ He tugged the hem of her shirt. ‘So here we are again.’

  Charlotte swallowed. ‘So … what will you do? Now you’re back, I mean.’

  ‘Look for a new job, I suppose.’

  ‘In Christchurch?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He shrugged. ‘Sure. Christchurch, Auckland … wherever the work is.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Don’t look for work.’ Oh God, that didn’t sound right at all …

  ‘Are you asking me’ — Rob looked her over, a glint in his eye — ‘to stay?’

  Oh, God. Charlotte bit her lip. ‘Yes, please.’

  Forever, in fact, if she had her way.

  ‘Actually … I have seen a job I thought I’d apply for.’

  No! He couldn’t leave. She couldn’t bear it. Eyes welling, she looked down at the doorstep.