by Fiona Harper
Now I hear Alex’s voice in my head, telling me I’m being melodramatic again. Perhaps I am, but what does he expect? He married an actress, for heaven’s sake!
Anyway, I’ve decided I need to get off the island and take a day trip tomorrow. The plan is to do something that will clear my muddled head of its clutter. Whether it’s the plan of a genius or a fool will only be known tomorrow evening, when I’m back here, sorting through my thoughts with ink and paper.
Until then …
As much as Louise tried to ration reading these diary entries, she found she had no self-control any more to put the book away and mull on the possibilities until next time. The diary did not go back in the drawer. The key did not turn in the lock. Instead, it stayed open in Louise’s hands, giving up its truth as her eyes lingered on every sentence.
24th August, 1954
It took some time to get to my destination, mostly because of the winding rivers that insist on dividing up the land in this part of the world. But I hired a car and asked the driver to take me all the way to the ferry at Lower Hadwell. It would have taken much longer by road and I wanted to catch glimpses of Whitehaven through the gaps in the trees as I crossed the river.
The first glint of white stone in the sunshine set my heart fluttering. I knew he wasn’t there, but I feel as if he’s etched into that land now somehow, forever connected. As I am. But it wasn’t just that. It was also excitement at seeing that beautiful place again. It soothed me last time I was there and I was hoping it would do it again. Somehow, although things have gone horribly, horribly wrong, I feel this house has the ability to put things right, bring things to peace, and peace is certainly something I could do with presently.
I took my time walking up the hill then crossed through the gardens until I reached the house. Thankfully, the owners had been very receptive to a visit when I’d telephoned yesterday, but they insisted on dragging me inside and giving tea and scones—all the while grinning at me inanely—before letting me loose to wander the grounds. They wanted to show me the way down to the boathouse, but I insisted I knew the way and hinted I’d appreciate a little solitude. Thankfully, they were far too well-mannered to argue.
It was cool in the woods, with the sun filtering through the leaves. Every now and then there’d be a hole where a tree had come down and tall grass and wild flowers abounded in the sunny patch left behind.
A strange mixture of feelings hit me as I saw the boathouse again after all this time. Longing, for Dominic, but a sense of warmth and nostalgia too. I had to brave the dust and go inside, make my way out onto the balcony and just stand and breathe.
It was here I whispered my words to the river breeze—words of sorrow and regret, words of love and promises, but mostly they were words of farewell.
Once again I said my goodbyes to Dominic. Once again I cried like a child.
But as I sit in my suite this evening, although I feel raw and ragged and puffy-eyed, I also feel as if something inside has come to rest. Whitehaven has given me a gift. It has let me take some of its peace away with me. It is a gift that I will treasure fiercely.
Louise flicked through the remaining pages of the diary. She was almost three quarters of the way through now. Could the final entries provide the answers to Laura’s history? She frowned as she tried to remember snatches from a documentary she’d tuned into late one evening—oh, at least a decade ago—on Laura and her career.
She remembered her buying this grand old house, and then something about a husband. Could that have been Dominic instead of Alex? And, if it had been, how could he have stood to leave his wife and daughter?
She shook her head. It would be dark soon, and it would be a good idea to get back up the hill to the house before night fell. The mystery would have to wait for another day.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The roar of a distant car engine got louder. Ben knew not to hope this would be Megan bringing Jas back. She’d rung twenty minutes ago saying she was ‘running a little late’. And when Megan usually said ‘late’, she didn’t mean ten minutes late. He’d be lucky if he saw Jas before teatime. Megan had probably only just left the country house hotel near Stow-on-the-Wold where they’d been staying—not that her breezy message had communicated anything of the sort. He just knew.
Abruptly, the engine cut out and he dashed outside to open the garage doors. This must be Louise. He checked his watch. Yup, five minutes early. From one extreme to the other.
Louise grinned at him from inside her car as he guided her inside and closed the garage door behind her. He walked round to the driver’s window and waited as she pressed a button to wind it down. Acting on impulse, he leaned in through the open window and surprised her with a swift kiss.
The rush of endorphins he got every time he just laid eyes on her was amazing, but a long-lasting relationship took more than just feel-good chemicals whizzing round his system. While Louise wasn’t the high-maintenance woman he’d mistaken her for, she was still smarting from a recent break-up. Only a fool would rush in too quickly.
A crick in his neck forced him to draw back and let her out of the car.
‘Good morning, yourself,’ she said, smiling sweetly at him. Then she looked around. ‘Where’s Jas? I would have thought you’d have wanted to talk to her first rather than have her catching us like that.’
He grimaced. ‘Megan is running late. Very late. We have some time to ourselves.’ He tangled his fingers with hers and pulled her out of the side door of the garage and across the garden, where small patches of snow still lingered. Most of the village now was back to normal, a warm wind from the west having melted the snow in all but the shadiest of spots.
Once through the back door, he kissed her again, taking his time this time, not rushing anything. The endorphins started partying.
Louise was different this morning, calmer, more peaceful. Since Christmas Eve she’d been like a skittish horse, jumping at every little thing, sensing danger where there was none. But something had changed. He could tell it from the way she kissed and held him, from the sound of her voice, even the way she moved.
Still kissing her, he pulled her hat and scarf off and threw them in random directions. She laughed against his lips. ‘Not fair,’ she murmured. ‘You’ve only got your indoor clothes on.’
She undid the top button of her coat, but left the others fastened as she kissed him again. Everything went blurry for a bit and all he was aware of was the sweet spiciness of her perfume, the shallowness of their breathing, the pull of her fingers as they hooked into the belt loops at the back of his jeans and contracted into fists.
Then, after hesitating for a second, she ran her hands under his sweater. He flinched as her cold fingers met his warm flesh, but the sensation was anything but unpleasant. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. Louise responded eagerly, surprising him by sliding her hands up his back, taking the sweater with them. Cold air rushed around his torso, but his blood felt hot and slick as it pumped through his veins.
Finding it impossible to go any further without breaking lip-contact, she pulled back from him and continued to tug his top upwards. Just before she pulled it over his head, she looked him in the eyes. They stayed there like that while the kitchen clock announced the seconds.
Wordlessly, he lifted his arms over his head and she disappeared as his sweater blocked his vision. The jumper went the same way as her scarf and hat.
‘Not fair,’ he said, trying very hard not to let on he was shaking. And he didn’t think it was because he was cold. ‘You’ve still got your outdoor clothes on.’
He reached for her, first dealing with the remaining large buttons on the front of her coat and pushing it off her shoulders before stroking her face with his fingertips. That perfect bone structure might make her seem untouchable and proud, but he knew that the woman inside was soft and tender, carrying the scars of the years. He wouldn’t add to them. He promised himself that.
The teasing humour evapor
ated and suddenly everything felt very serious, momentous. Should he stop her now? Was she really ready for this? ‘Louise … is that what you really want, what you really need?’
Because what Louise wanted and what Louise needed might be two very different things. And they might not be the same as his wants and needs—although the needing part of the equation was making it very hard to think.
She silenced him with a kiss. ‘I don’t want to just wish and dream any more. I want it to be real.’
He kissed her fiercely, then drew back to look at her, hoping his eyes conveyed the storm surge of feeling that was crashing over him. She had to have guessed how he felt about her. It was stamped in every look he gave her, in every touch.
Her answering kiss was rich and soulful. Her fingers traced the muscles of his chest and he felt them quiver in response. ‘You are what I want, Ben. You are what I need …’
Then how could he say no? He wanted to give her everything, and he’d do anything to fill that empty hole inside of her. It was about time somebody tried. It was about time someone made her feel loved. He would. Even though it was too soon to say the words yet, he’d show her how much. He would make sure that she never doubted for a second, ever again, how rare and precious she was.
He kicked her fallen coat out of the way, picked her up and carried her straight out of the kitchen and into the hallway. His foot was on the bottom step when the doorbell rang.
‘Cooo-eee!’
Both of them froze.
He would have known that irritating little sound anywhere. Megan.
The word he wanted to say, he couldn’t, just in case Jas was standing outside and she heard it through the door.
Louise slithered out of his arms and ran back into the kitchen. Megan’s blonde head was detectable as she tried to peek through the little window in the centre of the door. Thank goodness the old glass was not only obscured with a pattern, but rippled and bowed. The bell sounded again and he jumped.
‘Ben? Is that you?’
Realising he couldn’t very well answer the door in his present state, he charged back into the kitchen and started to fight with his sweater. Why, in situations like this, did the neck hole and the armholes seem to switch places? When he’d finally popped his head out of the right opening, he ran back to the front door, yelling, ‘Just coming!’
Megan did not look impressed when he swung the door open. Jas jumped into his arms. ‘Daddy!’
‘About time too,’ Megan said, pushing past him into the hall. Never mind that she didn’t live here any more and, technically, she was supposed to wait to be asked. ‘Come along, Jasmine.’
Jas gave him one last kiss and turned to grab the handle on her roll-along case and followed her mother inside. Ben, in a fit of adrenaline, managed to slam the door, charge past his ex-wife and daughter and make it to the kitchen door first.
Megan eyed him suspiciously. ‘What are you up to, Ben?’
He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the door jamb, blocking her way. ‘Nothing.’ The problem with priding himself of being a straight-talker was that he didn’t get much practice at lying. Megan was looking at him strangely.
‘Coffee?’ he asked, although the words felt as if they came out sideways. In the effort to maintain harmony and stability, he always offered Megan a drink when she dropped Jas home. Most times his ex was far too busy being fabulous to stop and chew the fat, but today she was showing no inclination to rush off.
‘Thanks,’ she said dryly and pushed the kitchen door open.
Louise, hat and scarf on and coat in hand, was heading for the back door when she heard the kitchen door creak open. Quickly, she turned and hung her coat on one of the overcrowded pegs. If she couldn’t disappear altogether, she was going to have to make it look as if she’d just arrived. Her skin felt hot and her cheeks were probably flushed but, hopefully, she could blame it on coming in out of the cold weather.
‘Louise!’ Jas shot into the room like a bullet and threw her arms around her middle.
‘Hey, Jas!’ she said softly.
Jasmine looked over her shoulder and shouted at the woman who had just entered with Ben. ‘Mum! Look! Louise is here!’
‘So she is.’
Ben’s ex-wife was nothing like Louise had pictured her. She’d imagined a housewifey sort, but Megan was only what could be described as a ‘yummy mummy’. Her long blonde hair fell past her shoulders and ended in a blunt, straight line, and she was wearing a designer coat, military style, pulled in tight at the waist. Her high-heeled boots made a fingernails-on-a-blackboard sort of noise as she crossed the tiled floor and offered her hand.
Louise’s jeans, jumper and clumpy fur-lined suede boots suddenly seemed rather casual. She pulled the hem of her jumper down, rumpled as it had been from being whisked into Ben’s arms. The memory was still doing odd things to her insides.
‘Hello.’ Not exactly original, but it was polite and it didn’t give too much away.
Jas, still hyperactive after a longish car journey, abruptly let go of her and dashed towards the door. ‘Dad! Wait till you see the really cool presents I got from Granny and Grandpa! Can I get them from the boot, Mum?’
Megan nodded, pulled a bunch of keys out of her pocket and threw them for Jasmine to catch. The girl’s exit left the adults in an uncomfortable silence.
‘Nice to meet you.’ Louise stepped forward and offered her hand. Megan took it, but the contact only lasted the barest of seconds.
‘Megan.’
Something about this woman reminded Louise of a cat arching with all its fur frizzed up. Somehow that made the whole situation easier. Being Toby’s wife had made her used to this kind of response from other women. She was always a threat, the enemy, never someone that they wanted to gossip over cappuccinos with.
‘I’m doing Louise’s garden for her.’
Both she and Megan turned to look sharply at Ben, who seemed to be pulling every mug he could find out of one of the kitchen cupboards.
Garden? Good one. She’d forgotten all about the garden.
‘Yes,’ she said, nodding a little too hard. ‘Ben is sorting out my rebellious garden for me … We were going to have a look at the plans.’
Don’t wince, she told herself. You were going to look at the plans today—just later. Much later.
‘Today? It’s still Christmas, the holidays.’ Megan’s voice was flat and she looked at Ben, then at Louise, then back at Ben again. Nobody moved.
Okay, the only way to get round this was to milk the rich-and-famous angle and play the I’m-a-diva-and-people-jump-when-I-snap-my-fingers card—much as she hated it. ‘Yes. I’m sure you understand, Megan. My life can be so hectic, you know, travelling all over the place …’ The silly little laugh she gave turned her own stomach. She hadn’t meant to do it; it must be the nerves. ‘Sometimes we just have to squeeze the project meetings in whenever we can.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be marvellous,’ Megan said, and Ben did a double-take and looked in astonishment at his ex-wife. ‘Ben really is very talented.’
Louise stifled a smile as, from behind Megan, Ben gave her a dry look, pointed at his ex-wife and held up a pint-sized mug up, then shook his head. Megan’s back was to him, thank goodness, so she didn’t see him reach for the smallest mug of the collection and, after giving Louise a wicked smile, spoon instant coffee into it.
Megan sat down at the kitchen table, her mouth pursed a little too tightly for Louise’s liking. ‘I must say, you’re all Jasmine has talked about while we were away.’
Louise shot a nervous look at Ben, who was now making a cup of coffee with record-breaking speed. ‘Well … Ben has brought Jasmine up to Whitehaven a couple of times. My son, Jack, is only a few years younger than her and it made sense for the children to play together while Ben was looking after the garden.’
Megan nodded and twisted to look at Ben as he plonked the mug of coffee in front of her then dropped into the seat opposite Louise, his expr
ession guarded.
‘Well, Louise. I’m sure you’ll appreciate that you’re not the only one who leads a busy life. Ben and I have some family stuff to discuss—’ as she said ‘family’ she laid a hand on Ben’s arm ‘—so if you wouldn’t mind …’
‘Dad!’ Jasmine burst back through the kitchen door, her arms full of presents. ‘Look what I got!’
Much as Louise would have liked to walk over to Ben, slide her arm around his waist and stake her claim, this was neither the time nor the place.
Ben turned to look at Megan, an exasperated expression on his face. ‘Louise and I have an appointment. She shouldn’t have to leave.’ The words especially as you were supposed to be here at one hung in the air.
Louise stood up and did an extra knot in her scarf. ‘No, it’s okay Ben. Family stuff comes first. I’ll call you when I have an opening in my schedule. Goodbye, Jasmine … Megan.’
She collected her coat from near the back door and Ben rose and escorted her out of the kitchen and into the hall. She looked a little puzzled, but followed his lead. As she reached for the door latch, he grabbed hold of her hand. ‘Don’t go.’
She bit her lip and shook her head.
He turned her hand over, pulled it to his lips and planted a kiss into her palm. ‘Actually, you can’t go yet—not without giving away that your car is parked in my garage, which will only make Megan more suspicious.’
Okay, that was true, but she could always use the ferry and come back for her car later.
‘If you could just … I don’t know … take a walk on the beach for half an hour, I’ll see what she wants to get off her chest and I’ll call you when the coast’s clear. You do have your phone with you, don’t you?’
She nodded. This was getting sticky, complicated, just as she’d feared when Ben had only been a daydream. That was the problem with reality. It was so … messy. She ought to take the ferry and leave them alone. But she found herself nodding and heading for the beach anyway.
Ben closed the door behind Louise and then pressed his face against the little window to watch her disjointed shape walk down the garden path. There were some days when he regretted not being able to make his marriage work, but today certainly was not one of them.