by Rachel Dove
‘Oh wind your neck in, Hetty. I am doing a neckline, if I drop a stitch I am buggered!’
They turned the corner to Ben’s street, and the car fell silent. All eyes fell on the driveway, and Taylor slowed to a stop outside his house. The driveway was empty, and Ben’s jeep was gone.
Maisie and Buster jumped at their mother as she came through the door, looking decidedly wretched. Her normally pristine look was long gone. Her hair, normally coiffed to perfection, resembled a bird’s nest, and her outfit was rumpled and askew from her cramped car ride. She sat down in the large room, cuddling her babies and lighting the already stacked fire. The dogs came to lie in front of it, in between the pair. Taylor came in after her, taking a seat in the chair opposite. ‘Do you think she’ll be OK? She was headed for the fell, I think, it can be a bit nasty out there when the weather turns.’
Agatha sighed.
‘I don’t know, dear,’ she said honestly. ‘I will call her later, see if she got home OK. I am sure that she just wanted some time alone.’ She started to sort out her hair, pushing strands back into the clip she had worn that day, but in the end she gave up, pulling it out altogether and shaking her hair free.
Taylor looked at her. Framed by the firelight, hair a mess, heartbroken look on her face—she had never looked so hauntingly beautiful. He rubbed his hand down his jawline, feeling the stubble coming through, and felt for something in his jacket pocket.
‘Agatha?’ he said, smiling at her kindly when she looked at him questioningly. ‘Whatever happens with Amanda and Ben, I want you to know, I love what you did for them both.’
Agatha snorted slightly, shaking her head. ‘What? Breaking her heart? Pushing Ben out of the village? I should have left well alone, there is nothing worse than a silly old fool meddling in things she doesn’t understand.’
Taylor stood and crossed the room to her. ‘Hey, we’ll have less of that talk, thanks. I happen to think highly of that silly old fool.’ She smiled at him, reaching for his hand. He knelt beside her, and she ran her fingers through his hair, brushing his fringe back so that she could get a better look at his beautiful eyes. He looked different tonight though, and she recognised an unfamiliar emotion in his face. Fear.
He cleared his throat. ‘In fact, I have grown rather fond of that fool. I love her, and I think I always have, ever since I was a boy, chasing a girl around a fountain.’
Agatha looked into his eyes, her own wide with surprise, and she saw the love burning behind them. She put her hands on either side of his face, dropping a slow, tender kiss onto his lips, which were as soft as always, and warmed slightly by the fire.
‘I love you too, Sebastian Taylor,’ she whispered. His expression said it all, and he claimed her lips for another kiss. Drawing back, he shifted slightly in his kneeling position. ‘Get up,’ she said, laughing. ‘You will do yourself an injury sat down there.’
Taylor shook his head. ‘I have something to ask you first.’
Agatha gasped as she saw he had moved onto one knee, and in his hand was a box. An open box, with the most elegant and understatedly pretty ring nestled within it.
‘It was my mother’s,’ he said, pulling it out of the box. ‘She always told me to save it for the girl I loved, and so I did.’
Agatha teared up then, and a single tear ran down her cheek. ‘Oh, Taylor,’ she said.
He tapped his finger on her nose delicately. ‘I have told you a million times, Agatha, call me Sebastian.’
She laughed then, and more tears spilled out. ‘Well, Sebastian,’ she said, showing him her bare ring finger, where she had taken off the rings she once wore there some weeks ago, when she had realised she loved the man before her. ‘I guess you had better call me Mrs Taylor then.’
Twenty-Four
Amanda headed back to Baker Street at a slow pace, walking like a condemned prisoner to their fate. The sun was setting and the air was crisp, the slight change in the air noticeable as the season started to change. September was approaching, and Amanda groaned inwardly as she thought of the dark nights that were coming. Summer would be a distant memory, and so would Ben. She had spent the day on the fell, remembering the day they had spent together there. When the sky had changed, and the rain had started coming down, she had considered lying there, waiting for a Willoughby lookalike on a horse to ride up and save her, but then she remembered how that had ended, and headed home to feed the cats. Now the rain was slowing down to a light drizzle and, as she turned onto Baker Street, she marvelled again to herself about how pretty it was. Heading to her front door, she remembered that her mobile phone was still switched off and languishing at the bottom of her bag, and made a mental note to check in with the girls, who would no doubt be worried by now. She reached for her keys, frowning when she saw the A-board had been left out again for next door. She was just picking it up to take into her shop for safekeeping from the elements, when she heard a voice behind her.
‘Hi.’
The deep voice startled her, and she dropped the advertising board. It fell with a clatter to the floor, and Amanda cursed under her breath, her heart pounding with surprise. She knelt down to pick it up, flustered, and promptly banged heads with something hard. ‘Ouch!’ she said, her recovering injury smarting from the impact. Touching her head and rubbing at the healing cut gingerly, she looked up, ready to give a tongue-lashing to the stranger. The scolding dried up in her throat when she looked across, straight into a familiar steely grey pair of eyes.
‘Ben,’ she whispered.
‘You’re still here.’ The question came out more like an astonished statement.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, not registering his words.
Rubbing his own head, he stood up and offered her his hand palm up. She took it and immediately felt that all too comforting jolt of lightning run up her arm. She shivered despite herself.
‘Sorry,’ he said, as they stood across from each other. He didn’t move to drop her hand, and she left it there, wrapped in his. He was so close that she could see the tiredness around his eyes. He had stubble on his chin, and, as he turned his head to her, she caught a waft of his aftershave. ‘Are you OK? Your head, I mean.’
She nodded, ignoring the dull ache it produced. ‘I’m OK. I didn’t hear you come.’ She looked behind him and noticed his car wasn’t there. ‘Where’s the jeep?’
She locked eyes with him again, and his expression was confusing. He was looking at her so intensely it made her flush, as though he were trying to commit her features to memory. He glanced at her lips, and she licked them unconsciously, making his eyes widen.
He cleared his throat. ‘I left it in the village. I was walking, and somehow I ended up here.’
She nodded. What does that mean? she wondered to herself.
‘Oh, right.’
They stood in awkward silence, hands still linked.
‘When—’
‘Are—’
They spoke together, their words coming out all at once, and they laughed awkwardly. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and she resisted the urge to reach up and smooth them out with her fingers. The effort made her hands squeeze, and the hand around hers squeezed her back. She smiled at him, and his thumb started moving, tracing small circles on the skin on the back of her hand.
‘You start,’ she said.
He looked at her, a sad smile playing on his lips. ‘I guess I just wanted to come here, I don’t really know why. I didn’t expect you to be here.’
Amanda frowned. ‘Why, where would I be?’
Ben face was a picture of confusion, and his thumb stilled. ‘I thought you would have left for London by now. When does the job start?’
Amanda realised then he must have heard about the offer from Stokes. She shook her head, marvelling at her own pig-headed determination not to call him. ‘I didn’t take the job. I am staying here.’
Ben exhaled loudly, as though he had been holding in his breath the whole time. His thumb started again,
and he reached for her other hand. She let him, and took a hesitant step closer to him. She could feel the heat from his body now, and her own body responded, sending shivers up from the tips of her toes. Steam rose up between them, as the warmth radiating from them interacted with the cool rain around them.
‘I thought you were gone,’ he said, his eyes boring into hers. ‘I have been trying to ring you all day. I wanted to talk to you, to say goodbye.’
Amanda’s heart, which had been fizzing and bounding out of her chest, flatlined at his words. Her body went cold, the shivers turning into ice water. She looked away from him, down at the pavement, and pulling her hands from his, she folded them across her chest.
‘Well, you can say goodbye now.’
Ben’s face dropped, and an emotion she couldn’t quite place passed over his features, and then it was gone. His jaw clenched, and she could see the muscles flex. They stood there silent for what felt like an age, the only sound to be heard was the crickets in the bushes nearby.
‘Is that what you want?’ he croaked finally.
She tightened her arms, hugging them close to her and stared at him. She could feel her cheeks burn, with anger and pain. Don’t cry, she commanded herself. Don’t you dare cry.
‘It’s not about what I want, is it, Ben,’ she snapped. ‘You made your decision.’
He flipped then, his face a mask of pain and frustration. He threw his hands into the air, and ran them through his hair aggressively.
‘I just don’t get you!’ he boomed. ‘What the hell do you want from me!’
She jumped at the volume of his voice. She had never seen him so angry, and his reaction fuelled her own outrage.
‘Nothing! I don’t want anything from you! Just go to London with your fancy new job, and leave me alone!’
Ben reared his head back as though she had slapped him. She clenched her fists by her sides, breathing hard.
Ben took a step towards her, his voice softer now. ‘Amanda, I don’t know how you know about that.’ He scratched his head. ‘I have a fair idea though,’ he said, realisation dawning on him. ‘But I am not leaving. My locum, however, left for London this morning. I recommended him for the post. It’s not me with the job offer from the smoke.’
He reached for her hand again, and she snatched it back, still angry. He sighed and grabbed it forcefully, trapping it between his own. ‘Look at me, Manda.’
She blinked back her tears, and forced her head, which felt as though it was weighed down, to look at him. He was shaking, she could feel the vibrations from his hands reverberate through her own, and she wondered if it was the light rain that was making him shiver, or something else.
‘Manda, the morning after the night we spent together, I got a letter. An invitation actually.’ He resumed circling his thumbs on the back of her hands, the rhythm sending little shocks round her body. ‘My ex-wife got married. I was mad, and I don’t think I handled it well that day.’
Relief coursed through Amanda, as she realised the reason for his behaviour that morning. We are just as stubborn as each other, she thought to herself.
‘Then you left for London, and I thought that I had lost you. I went to the wedding, to get some closure.’ Amanda raised her eyebrows at him. He nodded at her. ‘It was good, actually. I have put it all behind me now. I actually feel better. I wished them well.’
Amanda squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers back, taking another step closer to her. She felt his minty breath on her cheek, and she sighed audibly.
‘I am staying here, Ben, this is my home now, and I can honestly say I feel happy for the first time in a long time.’
He chuckled. ‘I hear you gave them hell in London. I read all about Marcus.’
She giggled herself then, remembering Marcus’s face as he sat sniffling on the floor.
‘I punched him,’ she said, laughing.
Ben cracked out then, laughing with her with his low rumble, and Amanda felt elated to hear the sound again. He dropped one of her hands, and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. She took her free hand and cupped his cheek with it, and he nuzzled into her, tickling her palm with his stubble.
‘You look tired,’ she whispered.
He nodded, his grey eyes gazing into her own. ‘I haven’t been sleeping well. You see, my bed used to smell of you, but that smell has gone now, and I want it back.’
She put her other hand up to match the other, and he smiled, wrapping both arms around her tight. The rain was getting heavier now, and a drop dripped from his hair down his cheek and over her hand.
‘I missed you too,’ she said to him breathily. ‘The kittens do as well.’
‘Well,’ he said cheekily, ‘I don’t blame them, Dotty is a better cook than you.’
She swatted at him with an open palm, and he dodged her deftly, wrapping her arms around his back before pulling her close.
‘I love you, Amanda,’ he murmured. ‘I want to wake up with that smell in my bed every day. I don’t want to spend another day apart. I beg you, please give us a chance.’
‘I love you too, Ben,’ she answered, dropping a soft kiss onto the stubble on his chin. ‘I think I always have.’
He broke into a grin, and brought his lips to hers. ‘Be mine then,’ he said, the rumble in his voice travelling through her whole body. She brushed her lips over his gently, looking into the eyes she loved so much. ‘Stay with me, be my wife, love me forever.’
‘Always,’ she replied. ‘I would marry you tomorrow.’
They kissed then. Soft, passionate kisses, kisses that defied time and obstacle, kisses that held a person to the earth itself, and spun it into a frenzy. The rain fell down around them, and neither even noticed.
When Amanda had said that she would marry Ben tomorrow, she didn’t expect him to take her so much at her word, but here she was, less than two months on, sat in a wedding dress that the girls had designed and made especially for her. To say that they had outdone themselves would be an understatement, because the dress was exquisite. The shimmering ivory fabric pooled at her feet, swishing when she moved, and the heart-shaped neckline and fitted lace bodice flowed into long sleeves, making her arms look so long and elegant she felt like a runway model. She never wanted to take it off.
She sat at the lavish head table, watching the guests dance to the band, thanking the British weather once more for getting them this rare and beautiful October night. The rain had held off, the sun had shone and now the night was mild, warm even. She spied Mr Beecham, enjoying a sandwich with Hetty, and she wondered whether they had misjudged him too. The community centre was back open now, new roof and all, and was busier than ever. Looking out across the grounds of the Mayweather estate, she saw people milling around under the huge marquee, drinking, dancing, and having fun. Even Agatha was dancing, looking as regal and elegant as always in a light cream suit. Taylor was holding her in his arms, spinning her around the room. Their wedding was such a shock to the village that the aftereffects were still being felt. Two weeks before, at the party they had thrown to celebrate saving the centre, Agatha had waited till the evening was in full flow before announcing that the night was actually a dual celebration. They were so in love it was a joy to see, and they suited each other so well it was hard for Amanda to think of them as anything other than a happy couple. Ben had given Agatha away, and she still smiled at the memory. Taylor had been best man that morning, and she was ridiculously grateful to have two such good people in her life, like the second mother and father she never knew she needed, the guardians of Ben, and the instigators of their happiness. Even her parents had come today, and her mother had even shed a tear at the ceremony, and seemed to like her choice of husband, especially since the events of recent months had come to light.
Ben came to sit next to her then, having danced with Dotty, who was like the proud preening mother, beaming from ear to ear. He sat next to her, kissing her till her toes curled. ‘Are you OK, Mrs Evans?’
Amanda giggled, pulling him in for another huge kiss. ‘I,’ she said between kisses, ‘am the happiest woman alive, Mr Evans.’ He kissed her back, before he offered her a glass of champagne. They both took a sip, surveying their wedding reception.
‘I have to say,’ Ben said, grinning. ‘These women of Westfield, they can do anything they put their minds to. This is stunning.’
Amanda nodded, looking across at Hetty and Marlene, who were sitting at a table nearby, giggling and guffawing at Mr Jenkins and some of the other men, who were doing their best to dance to a Rihanna song. Grace was sitting next to them, knitting as per usual. She had even made a discreet knitting bag out of the same material as the chair covers, so it blended in. She caught Amanda’s eye and held up her knitting, beaming. She pointed between the two of them, and then tapping her watch, tittered to herself and went back to staring at her needles. Amanda was confused for a moment, till she realised what she was knitting. They were only small, but the yellow booties were unmistakable as they took shape on her needles. She nudged Ben. ‘Did you see that? I think Grace is knitting …’
‘Booties?’ Ben said, smirking and rolling his eyes. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’ He took her hand into his and kissed it. ‘My darling, they have been at it for weeks. I caught Dotty knitting a baby blanket at the kitchen table the other day, and she tried to tell me it was for the cats, and I caught Taylor in our spare room the other week. He said that Dotty had called him in because she smelled gas, but he was measuring up!’
Amanda’s mouth dropped open. ‘Oh my God!’ she said, stunned.
Ben flashed a cheeky grin at her. ‘Well, what do you expect, my darling wife? We are married now, we are expected to reproduce. They will be on our backs till we give them what they want, you know that, right?’
Amanda shook her head, laughing at the truth of the situation. ‘They are incorrigible!’ she said, pretending to be mad.
Ben pulled her close, peppering kisses all over her face. ‘Well,’ he said, breathing into her ear. ‘We can always practice. In fact, I am all in favour of plenty of practice.’ He nibbled her ear lobe, giving her a little growl.