by Rachel Dove
‘Ben,’ she said softly as he reached for her. ‘I’m fine, OK?’
Ben looked a bit sheepish, realising that she was on to him. ‘I’m sorry.’ He sighed, placing her hand around the crook of his arm, holding her up with the other. ‘I just worry.’
Amanda nodded. ‘It’s really cute,’ she said, not bothering to censor what she was thinking.
On the stage, Agatha was standing next to Grace and Taylor now, holding a large silver envelope and looking rather green. Ben nodded to Amanda, and they both made their way back to the stall, trying to look as innocent and oblivious as they could. Amanda could feel Agatha’s eyes on her as she thanked the villagers for the lovely gift of an evening out for her and Taylor. Sebastian Taylor, for his part, looked relaxed, positively laid-back next to the uptight Agatha.
As Amanda sat down next to Ben, Hetty and Marlene came closer from their place at the stall. Hetty smiled at Ben, and whispered to Amanda, ‘If Agatha flips, claim amnesia. We will hit the Mexican border till the heat lifts.’
Amanda and Ben lost it then, laughing so loud that half the village turned to look at them, distracted by the spectacle of the city girl and the bachelor vet howling with laughter together. When Amanda next looked at the stage, Taylor gave her a wide grin and nodded. She nodded back, pleased that he seemed quite happy with the gift. Daring to look at his employer, Amanda was surprised to see she was smiling. Amanda gave her a wave and Agatha waved back, a little understated gesture that anyone not looking for it might have missed. As Amanda kept watching, she saw Agatha gaze down at the envelope and do something she never expected to see. Agatha Mayweather, cool, calm, elegant, poised Agatha, hugged the envelope tight to her chest, and squeezed. Had Amanda not recently had a huge jolt to the cranium, she might have thought that Mrs Mayweather was ever so slightly the giddy kipper at the prospect of a night with Taylor.
Later that evening, Amanda and Ben pulled up to Ben’s house. What remained of Amanda’s stall was packed neatly into the back of the jeep and they figured it was safe till morning, given that the crime rate in Westfield consisted of a few speedy drivers and Mr Jenkins’ goose, aptly named Goose, nipping a few heels now and then. Amanda felt bone tired. She hadn’t done a thing for herself all day, but she felt as though she had run a marathon. Ben killed the engine and stepped out into the cool August night air. He appeared seconds later at her door.
Amanda smiled at him, awkward at what was to come. ‘I can go to a hotel, you know, I really don’t want to put you out.’
Ben shook his head, lifting her out as though she weighed nothing. She didn’t protest, instead laid her head on his shoulder and enjoyed the scent of his aftershave, mixed with the smell of the country air. Ben always smelled so fresh, so outdoorsy. He barely wore any cologne and he still smelled scrumptious. He sat her down gently in the porch swing he had near his front door, unlocked the house, picked her up again and took her inside. The house was tidy, and warm from the summer sun and Amanda smiled as she looked around. The house was so Ben, it already felt homely to her. He settled her on the sofa, wrapping a clean blanket around her from the back of the settee, and handing her the remote. He scurried off, and Amanda caught the waft of cooking food as he entered the kitchen. He came back minutes later, a glass of water and tablets in hand, to find the TV still off and Amanda asleep. The kittens, Pinky and Perky, having been asleep in the kitchen, jumped up to her and settled in on her lap. Ben gently laid her down, making her more comfortable, and left her to sleep, placing the tablets and water on the coffee table next to her. Returning to the kitchen, he grabbed some stew from the slow cooker, Dotty’s creation, and ate.
As he settled in later that night, on the settee opposite Amanda, he smiled. He thought it would feel awkward, having Amanda here, even if it was just on the settee tonight, but it wasn’t. The fact was, he hadn’t even considered what it would entail when the doctor asked if she had anywhere to stay, anyone to look after her. He had cut down everyone around him, although the ladies didn’t seem that eager to fight the point, and declared that she would stay with him, he would have time off work to look after her. The words had flown out of his mouth before they had fully formed in his own mind, but he found he didn’t want to take them back either. Now, as he drifted off to sleep watching Amanda and the kittens slumbering across the room, he congratulated himself on speaking up.
He just hoped that, when the time came for Amanda to go back to Baker Street, he would be able to let her go. Because one thing was for sure, while she was here, Ben’s house felt more like a home than ever before.
Twenty
Agatha scoffed at Taylor’s words the next morning. The clean-up crew could be heard outside her open bedroom window, taking down the marquees, returning the lawns to their original unaltered glory. ‘I really don’t see why they did it, Taylor, and we can’t go, obviously!’
Taylor shook his head, bemused, as he held her breakfast tray. She looked lovely this morning, her hair immaculate, lips glossy. She looked as though she had done her hair and make-up, but Taylor knew he had just awoken her with his knock at her door. ‘Mrs Mayweather, they have made the booking, and it’s all paid for. For tonight, and we are going. Your calendar is free, I checked.’
Agatha frowned, taking the cup and saucer from the tray. She took a sip of tea contemplatively. What Taylor didn’t realise was that the gesture was Agatha’s way of buying time. She was terrified at the prospect of going out for dinner with him, and she didn’t quite know what to make of her feelings. Taylor, however, took her awkward silence as something else entirely.
‘Are you ashamed to be seen out with me?’ he asked boldly, his chin jutting out in a manly way. Agatha nearly choked on her Earl Grey.
‘What?’ she said, incensed. ‘Taylor, don’t be so absurd! We are always together!’
Taylor shook his head, his jaw tensing as he sat down on her bed. Agatha flinched at his proximity.
‘Yes, but not as dinner dates, as employer and employee,’ he said, poking himself in the chest at the word ‘employee’.
Agatha’s eyes grew wide, and she gently replaced the cup onto the saucer. The small chinking noise was the only sound in the room as they stared at each other. Agatha sat up and, spotting his hand resting on the eiderdown, she shakily placed her hand over his.
‘Taylor,’ she said softly. His eyes flashed and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t take his eyes from their hands. ‘Sebastian,’ she said, the word sounding foreign in her own mouth. He looked at her then, and his hand clenched beneath hers. ‘I am not, nor ever have been, ashamed to be seen with you. We are friends, not just work colleagues. You know that as well as I do. It’s just a little strange, that’s all. I haven’t been out to dinner with a man since …’
Taylor’s eyes crinkled at the edges, and his fist relaxed. He moved their hands until his was entwined in hers, and he brought it up to his mouth, planting a kiss on the back. ‘I know, I am sorry. I should have realised.’ She nodded then, not trusting herself to speak further. He squeezed her hand again. ‘Agatha,’ he said, voice above a whisper, just barely. Agatha could hear the low rumble behind it and realised that he was nervous, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She looked at him. ‘Agatha, you have annoyed me since primary school, since the day we met, in fact.’ He smirked. She pulled a face at him, sticking her tongue out, making his rumble deeper, more pronounced in his chest as he continued. ‘You annoy me every day, and I have had a blast the entire time. Now, Agatha, will you please come to dinner with me this evening?’
Agatha nodded once. ‘I will, thank you,’ she said quietly.
Taylor grinned then, whisking himself off the bed and out of the room, whistling as he walked down the stairs to feed the children breakfast. As the door closed behind him, Agatha lay back against the pillows, absent-mindedly checking her lip gloss was still in place. She was just getting out of bed when she realised that for the first time since they were five, they had ca
lled each other by their first names. The fact that it felt so natural was the thing that surprised her the most.
Amanda awoke to a voice yelling, ‘Darcy, don’t be a dick! Share!’ She frowned, wincing at the dull ache that resulted with the movement. The voice laughed then, and she heard the meow of Pinky, much closer to her proximity. She opened her mouth to speak and got a mouthful of hair and whiskers as her cat ecstatically greeted her. She giggled as she stroked her little pet. She heard a door go and then Ben came into view, carrying a small basket of eggs.
‘Morning, sunshine! How are you feeling?’
Amanda was mortified. She felt, and probably looked, disgusting. She still had dried blood in her hair as she had to wait to heal more before she could wash it, she was in yesterday’s clothes and she knew she would have dire morning breath. She smiled tightly, hiding her teeth, and nodded. ‘Fine thanks,’ she said, lying. Ben sat on the coffee table, leaning in, with her cats either side of him, and showed her the dish. It was full of eggs, all fresh and covered in bits of straw, and she grinned. ‘Wow, the Bennet sisters have been busy,’ she laughed.
Ben grinned. ‘Yep, and these beauties are breakfast. Lovely with some toast and bacon, you up for it?’
Amanda’s stomach growled at the thought. She was starving. ‘That sounds amazing, but I need to get dressed.’ Ben jumped up, nearly dropping the eggs in the process.
‘Oh God, sorry!’ He put the eggs down and motioned to help her up. ‘I have put your things in the guest room, the ladies packed you some bits, and there is an en suite ready to go with towels and everything.’ He looked nervous for a second. ‘Will you … er … be okay undressing? Want me to call someone?’
Amanda was desperate to get a bath and change of clothes. She was so concerned about feeling and looking so grotty that she didn’t care if she had to strip wash with a baby wipe. ‘I’ll be fine, don’t worry,’ she soothed. ‘I am used to looking after myself, remember?’
Ben, arms wrapped around her protectively as he guided her up the stairs, stilled. He looked her straight in the eye, with a determined look. ‘I know that,’ he said eventually, leading her to the door of the guest room. ‘But it doesn’t mean that you have to all the time.’
Amanda regretted being so bullishly independent then, and wanted to bite her own tongue off. She allowed him to fuss over her, suddenly feeling very contrite as he started running the bath after settling her down on the double bed. The guest room was lovely, all fresh, bright colours and understated ornaments. Very much how a woman would decorate a room. She was still gazing around the room when Ben came back in from the en suite, a large cream bath towel in hand. He must have guessed what she was thinking. ‘My mum decorated it, just before … She had nice taste, not the chintzy sort, you see.’
Amanda smiled at him. ‘It’s lovely.’
He nodded, looking around. ‘I haven’t changed much since they died. I redecorated the master bedroom, and sorted the garden out for the chickens, but other than that, it’s pretty much the same.’ Amanda felt comforted somehow that he had taken the time to explain how little an effect his ex had had on the shaping of his current home. Weird thought to have, but there she was, thinking it. He came over and, leaning over her, he took in her bandages. ‘Doc says you have to leave this on another day, but then you can wash your hair, so I got you this.’ He passed her a plastic shower cap. ‘To protect you,’ he said.
She was still melting from his thoughtfulness when he dropped a kiss on her forehead and left. She sat there a minute, listening to the water running in the next room. She felt like she had really gone through the wars, and she felt vulnerable once more, even more vulnerable than she had all those months ago. This felt different though, she reasoned, as she heard Ben downstairs, humming to himself over the sound of the radio, banging pots and pans. This time, she was scared because she was beginning to like her new surroundings, her new friends, and the thought of starting again, alone, scared her more than anything.
Ben was dancing around the kitchen when Amanda padded into the room. She had scrubbed herself pink in the bath, brushed her teeth and run a comb through her hair the best she could, before giving it up as a bad job and pinning it back off her face with a piece of ribbon. She had almost rang Dotty when she had opened her cases, to give the women a sound ticking-off, but she resisted. They had packed her case as though she were going on honeymoon, with all her best underwear and skimpy nightwear at the top. She was just ridiculously grateful that Ben hadn’t seen any of it. She had eventually settled on a pair of boyfriend jeans and a loose pink sweater that she could pull over her head without scraping her wound. She stopped dead in the doorway, watching Ben dancing about the kitchen as he made breakfast. The kitchen smelled gorgeous, and Duran Duran was banging out on the radio airwaves. She loitered at the door, watching Ben’s hips wriggle as he placed fried mushrooms and bacon on two plates. The toaster popped up and Ben shimmied across the lino, stopping with a horrified look on his face as he spied her. He immediately dropped the leg that he was kung-fu kicking out, and laughed. Amanda burst out laughing too, or as well as she could with the pains in her head.
‘Busted,’ he said, chuckling. He looked her up and down. ‘You look great,’ he said.
Amanda blushed. ‘I look like I have roadkill on my head,’ she said, pointing at her matted hair.
Ben pulled out a chair. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said, motioning for her to come sit. ‘Dotty is coming soon to open the practice and the locum is on the way in, so we have the whole day. What do you fancy doing?’
Amanda looked at him as he finished preparing the food for breakfast. His jeans were pulled tight with a belt, and his white cotton shirt was open at the neck and rolled up at the sleeves, drawing her eyes to his tanned skin. I could think of a couple of things we could do, she thought to herself. ‘I should go see the shop, really, and I have the stock and stall stuff to sort out from yesterday.’
Ben sat down at the table with her, passing a steaming plate full of mouth-watering breakfast to her. ‘OK, the stall stuff is in my car, but the shop is definitely out of bounds today. Hetty and Marlene are there, making sure the insurance company and the builders are all on the ball. Trust me, it is better that you don’t exert yourself dealing with that today.’
Amanda nodded, grateful that the decision had been made for her for once. She didn’t feel up to much anyway.
Ben smiled at her, his eyebrow raised in query. ‘You have gone again, where are you now?’
Amanda looked at him, a sheepish look coming across her face as she realised he was on to her. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Just weird to be told what to do, been a while.’
Ben shrugged, taking a bite of sausage. ‘Well, for the next week or so, you had better get used to it.’
‘Week?’ Amanda said, incredulous. ‘It will be that long?’
Ben nodded. ‘Yep. Sorry to disappoint you, but you are stuck here for at least that long, till you recover, and Baker Street is back up and running.’
Amanda took a bite from her fork. ‘I am sure I will survive,’ she said.
He smiled at her then, and they ate breakfast in companionable silence.
Later that same day, Agatha was just finishing off getting ready, sat at her dressing table fumbling with a bracelet that matched her dress, when she heard a knock at the door.
She looked across at the dogs, sleeping at her feet. ‘Now, who can that be?’ she asked them, only generating a fart in response from Buster.
Wrinkling her nose, she headed to the stairway, still struggling with the clasp on her bracelet.
‘Taylor?’ she called down the stairs. No answer. ‘Taylor?’ she tried again.
Tutting, she clicked down the stairs in her heels, looking around doors and corners as she went. The door knocked again and Agatha looked at the dogs, who had managed to get themselves down the stairs before flobbing down again at the bottom.
‘Humph,’ she said. ‘Some guard dogs you are. Wh
at would you do, chase the burglars away with your stench?’
Maisie snuffed in reply, obviously agreeing.
Agatha opened the door to see a man standing there, resplendent in a grey suit and light blue tie. She was about to apologise for her tardiness in answering the door, when she realised just who the man was.
‘Good evening, madam, pleased to meet you.’
Agatha stood there, stunned. ‘Taylor, what are you doing?’
The man held out a hand. ‘Sebastian Taylor, pleased to meet you. Are you ready?’
Agatha stood and looked at him, bemused. She went to hold her hand out to him, being the polite woman she was, and realised that she had no hands free. Taylor, seeing this, deftly stepped into the room, took hold of her bracelet and swiftly closed the clasp.
She nodded her thanks, blushing.
‘So,’ he began again, a wry smile on his face. ‘Are you ready for our dinner?’
Agatha cottoned on. He was winding her up. Game on, Sebastian Taylor, game on.
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘How lovely to meet you, Sebastian. Won’t you come in?’
Taylor shook his hand. ‘Nope, your carriage awaits, my dear. We have reservations at nine.’
Agatha grinned at him devilishly. ‘OK, shall we call a cab? I gave my driver the evening off.’
Taylor didn’t miss a beat. ‘Not a problem, I have my car.’
Agatha nodded, reaching for her bag. She tried not to look at the dogs as she locked up, but if dogs could roll their eyes, Maisie and Buster would have.