I fed Sugar, and was just about to take her out for some exercise in her outdoor run when I heard Rob’s car pull up on the drive again. I stood in the kitchen, holding Sugar, breathing hard. I couldn’t face him – I’d slapped him, hard, and although he’d deserved it, I had no idea how to handle being in his company for the rest of the day. Putting Sugar back down, I closed the door to keep her safely in the kitchen, and made a bolt for it out of the back door, and round the side of the house, where I waited until I heard Rob closing the front door behind him, and then ran down the road as fast as I could. Vanya would be home later, and I’d have to tell her what had happened. She might not want to use me any more – after all, she couldn’t trust her husband around me now. I’d lose my best client, thanks to him, but it was only right that she knew what he’d done.
I wandered the streets for a while, trying to calm down, and this time when I found myself facing Moor View Lane, I decided that, despite what I now knew about Bilberry Cottage belonging to Matt, I still really wanted to have another look at it. I stood, sighing, outside the gate as usual, staring up at the windows. I half expected to see Matt inside; if I had done, I would have waved to him this time and perhaps he’d even have invited me in to look around. Don’t be stupid, Emma, I chastised myself for the thought. How would that help? It was bad enough being in love with the outside of the cottage and knowing it was already taken, without giving myself the chance to fall in love with the interior too! Wasn’t it enough of a problem, knowing that I’d fallen in love with Matt himself?
The thought made me actually gasp out loud. Love? Was that what it was? Had it really taken a run-in with that dirty old man Rob to make me realise how strongly I felt about Matt? I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be feeling the same way about me. Wanting a relationship with someone was one thing, but love … I doubted that had been part of the plan! I leant against the cottage gate and took a few deep breaths. I’d promised myself never to get into this kind of situation again, after Shane, and yet here I was only – what, six, seven months later? – in danger of making the same mistake all over again.
But it’s not the same, is it, a little voice inside me pointed out. He’s nothing like Shane.
‘Maybe not, but he’s a bloody journalist!’ I said out loud to the little voice, and a lady walking past on the other side of the road turned to stare at me. Talking to myself now – they’d be locking me up soon if I wasn’t careful.
Anyway there was no sign of Matt in the cottage, which perhaps was just as well. So I strolled back into town, feeling no better, worrying about Matt and whether we could ever be more than friends, worrying about Rob and whether Sugar was safe with him for another hour or so until Vanya arrived home. Should I go back and check, or would he just pounce on me again, despite the slapped face? I didn’t feel like going home, so I just kept walking, back and forth beside the river, up and down Fore Street, up Castle Hill and back down again, trying desperately, but failing, to take my mind off the situation. As I approached The Star pub, I realised it was past their opening time, and I suddenly decided that what I really needed was a drink. I pushed open the door and stumbled, blinking, in the darkness of the bar after the bright sunshine outside. There were one or two men sitting on stools at the bar, but I ignored them as I ordered my glass of white wine and waited while the barmaid poured it.
‘Well, if it isn’t our little pet sitter,’ a voice close to me said. A very unpleasant voice. I turned to look at him. He was a huge man, too large to sit properly on a bar stool so he was just balancing his backside against it and leaning on the bar. He looked around the bar, appearing to make sure he had everyone’s attention, before giving a nasty, sneering laugh and going on, loudly: ‘What have you been up to, then, as if I didn’t know?’
‘What do you mean?’ I stammered, thinking immediately of Rob. Not that it was me who should feel any shame about the incident, I reminded myself. Even if I had given him the wrong impression, even if he had mistakenly thought I’d be up for more than a cup of tea with him – it was still his fault, his shameful behaviour. ‘I’ve been looking after pets, of course,’ I said more firmly, ‘like I’ve always done.’
‘That’s not what I’ve heard,’ he said. ‘Not what I’ve heard from my friend and fellow parish councillor, Mr Rob Montgomery.’ He leered at me again. ‘He tells a very interesting story about you, miss. Very interesting indeed!’
‘Well, he’s lying,’ I said, my face on fire. ‘So please stop embarrassing me in front of all these people—’ I turned to see how many people were, in fact, sitting at tables in the darkness of the shabby little bar, their ears no doubt flapping in anticipation of some tasty morsels of gossip. I knew only too well that just the fact that I’d stayed at the house overnight while Vanya was away, would be enough to make people’s tongues wag around here. Fortunately the pub wasn’t too busy, but …
And then I saw him. Already getting to his feet, coming over to join me, a puzzled expression on his face. I knew he’d been listening. I guessed he was going to tell this rude, fat man to leave me alone – but he’d be too late. The councillor’s mouth was already open, he’d already begun to speak and I knew what he was going to say.
‘I can assure you Rob Montgomery doesn’t lie,’ the fat man said calmly. ‘And what he tells me—’
Matt was beside me now, giving me an uncertain half-smile, his eyebrows raised as if to ask if everything was OK. I looked at that dear, kind face, those beautiful brown eyes, those soft lips that had kissed mine so tenderly, and I wanted to cry. Without even realising it, I’d fallen in love with this man, and now I was going to lose him. Because what this horrible parish councillor was about to repeat was bound to be a completely untrue version of this morning’s events that he’d heard from Rob. To save his own pride, to put me down and feel that he’d got even with me, Rob would probably have made it sound like I was a tease, who’d lured him, encouraged him, right up till the last minute and then rejected him – or worse, he might have pretended I’d been happy to participate. How would Matt feel if he heard stuff like that about me? And would he believe me if I tried to tell him what really happened? Or would it just turn him off me for good – just as I’d started to realise how very much he mattered to me?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I closed my eyes, wishing the sticky, dirty floor of the pub would open up and swallow me before Matt had to hear what was coming. The fat parish councillor had been leering at me, his face red and sweaty with obvious delight about what he was about to divulge.
‘What my good friend Rob Montgomery tells me,’ he repeated slowly, for the benefit of everyone listening, ‘is that you haven’t always looked after people’s pets at all. You had a very different past altogether, and it only took a little bit of research on the internet for Rob to find out about it. It seems you’re hiding yourself away here to avoid some kind of scandal. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’re actually wanted by the police.’ He nodded triumphantly, looking around the bar at the other customers, who had all fallen silent. ‘You’ve told everyone here in Crickleford a pack of lies, haven’t you, young lady? You’re not who you say you are at all.’
I opened my eyes again in shock as soon as I realised what he was saying – that he wasn’t, after all, telling some fictitious version of the incident earlier that day when Rob had assaulted me. This was even worse. If Rob had somehow managed to find out my real identity, there’d be hordes of journalists here anytime now. And Matt, of course, would know why I’d never come clean to him about my background. Was I going to lose him now, just as surely as if he’d heard some invented licentious story about me and Rob Montgomery? I looked around the bar, my heart thumping. Everyone was staring at me. Some people were frozen in surprise, drinks halfway to their mouths, others were whispering together behind their hands. And Matt … I hardly dared to look at Matt. When I finally did, it was the hurt in his eyes that made me catch my breath.
‘It’s not true,’ I said, in a tremb
ling voice. ‘Rob’s just spreading lies about me.’
The fat councillor snorted and shook his head dismissively. It was enough to make me angry, and the anger took over from my shock and fear, and gave my voice the strength it needed.
‘And I can tell you exactly why he’s doing it,’ I said much more loudly, turning to look around the pub, ‘if anybody’s interested.’ People looked down into their drinks now, embarrassed, but quite obviously still agog. ‘He didn’t get what he wanted from me, OK? Yes, that’s right. I refused to sleep with him, and when he tried a bit too hard to … well, let’s say to persuade me … I slapped him round the face.’ There was a gasp from a woman at a nearby table. ‘He knows I’m going to tell his wife,’ I went on, ‘and he’s obviously feeling humiliated. That’s why he’s trying to make me look bad.’ I paused for breath, glanced at Matt again, and went on quietly, ‘I’m not wanted by the police. If anyone thinks I’ve run away from something, they’re right – I ran away from a disastrous relationship. That’s not so very unusual, is it?’
‘Well, that’s not what Rob told me,’ the councillor spluttered. ‘He says you’ve come here from New York, and you used to be—’
‘Shut up,’ Matt said quietly, stepping in front of me to square up to him. ‘You heard her. Your so-called friend assaulted her. Nobody gives a monkey’s what he said – or what you say, either. So why don’t you just get your fat arse off that stool and bugger off before I land one right on your fat nose?’
There was a background of sniggering in the bar now.
‘You threatening me, boy?’ the big man said, lumbering to his feet and glaring at Matt, their noses almost touching.
‘That’s enough!’ the barmaid shouted. ‘Get out – go on, both of you. And you,’ she added to me. ‘I don’t want any trouble in here. I’ll call Fred down from upstairs if you’re not gone in ten seconds.’
We didn’t stay to find out who Fred was. Matt grabbed my hand and tugged me towards the pub door. The parish councillor came swaggering after us, still snorting with disgust, but he’d obviously had too many drinks to manage his huge girth unaided, and he was falling over chairs and tables and swearing loudly as the door closed behind us.
We walked in silence, Matt still holding my hand, striding quickly away from the town centre.
‘Where are we going?’ I gasped. ‘Slow down!’
‘Sorry.’ He stopped, turning to look down at me, his face still etched with pain. ‘I’m just …’ He ran a hand across his face. ‘I just don’t know what I’m supposed to make of all that, Emma. Is it true? Have you been lying to me? Lying to everyone?’
I felt a shiver run through me. Of course I’d been lying. I’d done nothing but lie, hadn’t I, since I’d been living here. From the lies I told Lauren about having a job in a care home and having been ill, to the stories I made up for Mary about my house burning down and my parents looking after refugees – to say nothing of pretending I liked reading Shakespeare. Even stupid wannabe burglar Josh had been on the receiving end of my lies – that I’d got a daughter called Holly, that I had a boyfriend back in Loughton – and no doubt he’d spread them around the town. For God’s sake, Matt himself seemed to have been taken in by my lie about being a fitness fanatic.
‘I just kind-of bent the truth a little bit occasionally,’ I admitted miserably, ‘because I didn’t want people probing into my background.’
‘I know that,’ he said dismissively, making me stare up at him in surprise. ‘I’ve heard the rumours about the house fire and everything, Emma,’ he went on, with a shrug. ‘Probably everyone has. I just ignored them. I realised you were just trying to keep people from being too inquisitive. But that – what that guy in the pub was saying—’
‘I told you,’ I said quickly. ‘Rob Montgomery’s saying things to spite me. He tried it on with me, and—’
‘I don’t doubt that. Everyone around here knows what he’s like. I’m sure his wife knows too. But all that stuff about finding out about you on the internet … about you coming here from New York … you looked scared out of your life when that great slob of a man came out with all that stuff about you.’ He started to walk again, more slowly this time. We turned down beside the River Crickle and he led me to a bench on the riverbank, where we both sat staring at the water. ‘What did he mean?’ he asked quietly without looking at me. ‘You said you’d escaped from a bad relationship, but what else haven’t you told me? You’re not really in trouble with the police, are you? Tell me, Emma! I … look, I care about you, you must realise that. I really do. I just want to help you.’
I sighed and leant my head against his shoulder. It was so tempting to finally unburden myself to someone, but whether I followed my heart or my head, I couldn’t help thinking it would end up badly. Matt was a journalist, and how many times had he already told me he was looking for a big story? If I told him, and he acted on it, I’d definitely have to leave Crickleford and start all over again. Even if he didn’t, it seemed likely I’d have to do that, now the story seemed to be leaking out. But when I looked up at Matt, and saw the tender expression on his face, the concern in his eyes, I convinced myself he wouldn’t betray me; he wouldn’t let me down. I’d found someone who really cared about me – hadn’t I?
‘No, I’m not in trouble with the police,’ I told him, letting out a long breath. ‘But there is stuff I haven’t told you. I’m sorry. It’s actually the press that are after me.’
He frowned. ‘The press? Who? Why?’
‘Because … look, I haven’t exactly been lying about who I am. My name is Emma Nightingale, but that’s not what I’ve been called for the past five or six years.’
‘I don’t understand. Were you married? Did you take his name – this guy you’ve run away from?’
‘No. While I was living in New York I changed my name to Candice.’
‘Candice? That’s …’ He stopped, his eyes suddenly widening. ‘Candice Nightingale?’ He actually jumped to his feet, as if I’d touched him with something hot. ‘You’re telling me you’re … oh my God, I can see it now! How did I not see it? I knew your hair colour wasn’t natural, obviously, but … oh my God! You’re a redhead. You’re Candice bloody Nightingale.’ He stood there, shaking his head at me, while I waited, holding my breath. In the scheme of things, it was so unimportant it was ridiculous, but I wanted to ask him how he knew my Cheeky Chestnut hair colour wasn’t natural.
‘Sit down,’ I pleaded eventually. ‘You’re making me feel nervous.’
He sat, a few inches away from me this time, as if my notoriety might be something infectious that he wanted to avoid catching.
‘So you’re a famous American “It” girl, and somehow you’ve wound up here in a little Devon town, hiding from the paparazzi,’ he said. He shook his head again. ‘Why do I suddenly feel like someone’s going to jump out at me from a hedge in a minute and say April Fool?’
‘It’s August,’ I reminded him in a little voice. ‘And I’m not American – I don’t have an accent, do I? I’m English. I only went to America because of Shane.’
‘Shane Blue.’ He nodded slowly. ‘Of course. I read somewhere that you’d broken up with him. Then you … just seemed to disappear from the scene.’ He looked at me sideways. ‘So the paparazzi were looking for you, and you were here, all the time, masquerading as an innocent little pet sitter.’
‘I didn’t want anyone to know. I had to leave my parents’ home because they were invaded by reporters. I just wanted to lie low until all the fuss died down.’
‘So you did lie to me.’ He gave me a hurt look. ‘Even though you must have known how I felt about you. Couldn’t you have trusted me, Emma?’ He gave a little snort of a laugh. ‘Is that even what I should be calling you? Would you prefer me to say Candice?’
‘No! I don’t want to be known as that stupid, vacuous person I used to be, ever again! You said I was famous, but what for? Just for being Shane Blue’s girlfriend, that’s all! Just for wearing the l
atest fashions and hanging out with the rich, stupid, New York set who followed Shane around. I was a nobody, Matt! I hate that person I was. I …’ I grimaced and shrugged. ‘I hate the life I had back then,’ I went on. ‘I’ve never been as happy as I’ve been since I came here to Crickleford and started working as a pet sitter. Since I met you,’ I added very quietly.
‘Even though I’m a journalist?’ he retorted, and I shrunk away from his harsh tone. ‘I suppose you realise I could blow your cover now? I could write a story about who you really are, and where you’re hiding out. It’d be a game-changer for my career.’
‘You wouldn’t do that,’ I whispered.
‘Why shouldn’t I? I could have understood, Emma, if you’d confided in me from the start. But I can’t believe the way you’ve kept up this act with all the people in the town who’ve tried to be kind to you, to accept you and pay you for looking after their pets. How could you do that? I suppose even Lauren and Jon don’t know who you really are?’
I shook my head miserably, and he exhaled in disgust and got up, brushing down his jeans as if he’d been contaminated.
‘I haven’t been hurting anyone,’ I said, in a pathetic little voice. ‘I just didn’t want to be found. If you knew how it all ended, in New York …’
‘But I don’t, do I, because you didn’t want to tell me. Oh, keep your silly little secrets to yourself, Candice – frankly I’m not interested. I’m not the kind of journalist who goes running after two-penny celebrities. I’d rather write about something more worthwhile. To be honest, the story I wrote about the pretend haunting of Castle Hill House was a far better one than anything I could write about you.’
Trust Your Heart Page 7