“I don’t know either, but we’ll work something out. I’ll be a trainee like Poppy here. Are you sure you don’t want to engage a professional? I will be looking for part-time work when we get settled here, so if you hear of anything, will you let me know?”
“Well, I don’t usually move in the higher echelons of the legal profession, Becky. Try to stay away from solicitors, if truth be known. Sharp suits, posh words, and they cost a fortune. You wouldn’t believe how much we were charged to divide the land at the lower field into the six plots, create the easements and restrictive covenants, and what have you. No disrespect, but the fees were exorbitant!”
“I won’t be looking for work in the legal profession, Josh,” Rebecca replied.
She glanced out the window to where Max was playing happily with his metal detector, enjoying better access to all the nooks and crannies after the overhaul. The rain had ceased and the garden was bathed in bright sunshine. She decided to come clean to Josh. If he hated her afterwards, then at least she had been honest about her chequered past and he wouldn’t be wasting his time with her or labouring under any misconceptions about her legal career.
“Josh, when I bought Rosemary Cottage, I used all my savings and the majority of Dad’s savings, too, from when he sold his and Mum’s house before moving into the retirement flat. I wanted to keep the purchase secret from my then-husband, Bradley, so I had the deed to the cottage put in Dad’s name until I could unveil the whole package—a sort of ‘tah-dah’ moment that would repair our ailing marriage.”
Rebecca rushed on, afraid that if she paused her courage would seep from her bones and she would not arrive at the end of her confession. “I hoped we would then re-mortgage and return Dad’s money in full with the interest he’d lost—a simple enough transaction. But Bradley was horrified at the very suggestion of moving to the ‘back of beyond’, as he called Northumberland. He refused to agree to a mortgage, I couldn’t afford it on my own, and he dropped the bombshell of his affair with Cheryl at the same time”.
Intermittent high-pitched beeps assured Rebecca that Max was busy with his treasure hunting activities, so she continued, her voice wavering with emotion just like the sounds of the metal detector.
“Then Dad had his stroke and needed residential care so moved to St Oswald’s Lodge. I wanted him to move to Morningside Towers, more luxurious, and yes, I’ve heard the scandal. Further evidence of my questionable decision-making!
“As I had used all Dad’s savings for the cottage, no money was available to pay for Dad’s care fees, so I borrowed twenty thousand pounds from the bank and paid his fees until Christmas, hoping that in the meantime the cottage would sell. From the proceeds, I’d be able to repay the bank loan and Dad could move to Morningside Towers. But as you know the cottage didn’t sell—the roof caved in, the garden became a jungle. Who would want to buy it in that state?
“Bradley refused to pay child support for Max as he never wanted children in the first place and views Max as solely my responsibility. I couldn’t afford to pay back the loan to the bank, pay the rent on our flat in London, and Max’s child care fees, so I fell behind with the repayments. To cut a painful story short, the bank went for bankruptcy which meant I could no longer practice as a solicitor.”
Rebecca wiped away a single tear as it trickled down a well-worn path on her smooth, pale cheek. The loss of her career still lacerated her heart, but she had almost finished her story.
“Lucinda Fleming, a partner in one of the law firms I had regular contact with as an adversary in numerous litigation matters when I worked at Harvey & Co, offered me a paralegal job in April, something I have been eternally grateful to her for. I grabbed the opportunity so Max and I could remain in London, allowing him to be near his father. Not that Bradley showed any interest in having regular contact with Max and has recently relocated himself and his girlfriend, Cheryl, to Dubai. There. That’s my potted history. I doubt I will ever get another job in the legal profession again, sadly.”
“Becky, I had no idea.” Josh reached across the table and snatched her hand with his, his floppy golden hair sticking out at all angles, horror spreading across his face. “I blame that Jeremy Goldacre! If you had been fully aware of the condition of the cottage, you may not have bought it and this nightmare would not have unfolded. No way am I agreeing to instruct his estate agency, no matter what Dad says! But Dad’ll agree with me when I tell him what that money-grabbing piece of garbage did, against my express written instructions.”
Rebecca squeezed his hand, grateful for the supportive words, but continued, “It wasn’t Jeremy’s fault, Josh. The mistakes were all my own. I would have bought Rosemary Cottage with no roof. It’s the perfect replica of my childhood dream—to live in a cottage with pink and cream roses crawling around the door, overlooking lush green and yellow meadows, a couple of children running free in the garden. I was following an unattainable dream, logic left the process, and I turned it into a nightmare.”
He met and held her eyes, still holding her slender pale hand between his rough palms. He opened his mouth to speak, but an excited cry from the doorway interrupted him.
“Mum, Mum, Mum. My detector is beeping. Come and see, come and see. Josh, come and see. There’s treasure in our garden!”
Josh’s handsome face crinkled into a gentle smile. He released Rebecca’s hand, scraped back his chair, and strode to the back door. He grabbed Max’s hand and was immediately dragged to the bottom of the garden where the orchard displayed fruit-laden trees—which had previously been impenetrable without a machete—and the metal detector had been discarded, emitting an unpleasant, high-pitched squeal. Max collected it, swinging it backward and forward under the Bramley apple tree amongst the fallen fruit.
“What have you found, Max? Perhaps there’s a spade in the shed. Let’s do some digging.”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
Rebecca laughed at the boys’ excitement as she sauntered back to the cottage. She felt completely calm, Rosemary Cottage performing its healing magic on her damaged emotions. She grabbed a grey hoodie for Max, whom she could see from her bedroom window digging ferociously at the bottom of the garden, smearing mud on his pjs. She’d never be able to drag him away from digging a hole to get dressed.
She pottered around the kitchen, unpacking the boxes, bags, and suitcases she’d brought with her from London. Next she went to investigate the Aladdin’s cave of a shed at the bottom of her garden where she unearthed several ancient wicker baskets—assuming they’d belonged to Josh’s mum—then delivered a jug of ice-cold lemonade to where Max and Josh were digging for victory.
Josh paused in his toil, quenching his thirst with the cool drink. Sweat dripped from his temples, muddy finger marks streaked his cheek, whereas Max had been rolling in it, covered in muck and mud but beaming.
“Found the Crown Jewels yet, Max?” She ruffled his hair.
“No, Mum, but we’ve found this muddy old coin.” He held out his hand where a tiny circle of metal rested in his mud-covered palm. “Josh says it could be treasure!” But he looked doubtfully at his palm. Treasure to Max was shiny and golden, and preferably pirate.
“Yes, love. It could be.” She kissed the top of his head and went off to collect a wicker basket full of the sweet-smelling Bramley apples.
Rebecca paused on her way back to the cottage. She had made a decision. “Would you be free to come over for dinner this evening, Josh? Nothing elaborate, just me, and Max, and pizza. Oh, and a gigantic apple pie!” She indicated the overflowing basket on her arm.
“Mmm, pizza, my favourite! I would love to.”
“Sevenish okay?”
For the first time in years Rebecca experienced the stirring of sexual interest as her eyes lingered a little longer on Josh’s strong, firm buttocks, his bulging biceps displayed as he crouched to dig the garden for Max, whilst she watched from the ancient Belfast sink peeling the Bramleys. She even felt flirtatious and resolved to revisit the little em
erald book of love for gems of wisdom under the ‘Romancing’ Section. Deb and Nathan would be proud!
CHAPTER THIRTY
The delicious toffee aroma of sweet baking apples spread through the kitchen as Rebecca scooped the apple pie from the Aga, the ancient solid fuel stove that served as both cooker and heat source for the cottage, and set it to cool on the windowsill. She’d have to rethink her whole recipe repertoire if she had to produce food using this monstrosity.
“I’m starving, Mum. When is the pizza ready? When will Josh be here?”” asked Max as he pushed Thomas along the train track snaking the kitchen floor.
“Well, could that be Poppy I hear barking?” She held up her finger and listened.
Max rushed to drag open the heavy front door and Poppy shot passed him, curling up in her usual spot on the faded green and rose rag rug in front of the Aga.
Rebecca was relieved she had made an effort with her appearance. After washing and conditioning her hair, she’d twisted in soft sponge rollers so it now tumbled down her back in neat russet waves. She’d outlined her eyes with her favourite jade liquid eyeliner, applied a flick of mascara, and a slick of apricot lip gloss.
Her emerald, sequin-embellished t-shirt complimented the wide-legged cream linen trousers which she wore barefoot—the uneven stone floors warmed by the Aga. She’d even managed to persuade Max to jump into the old, rose-pink bath with her, luxuriating together in the thick bubbles, scrubbing away the soil from their gardening adventures, and relaxing their stiff aching muscles. With his dark auburn hair spiked with a little gel and wearing his blue denim shirt, Max presented an unusually smart image. But this was the first time Rebecca had entertained a man with Max around and she wanted to keep things low key and friendly.
“Hi.” As Josh materialised at the kitchen door, clutching a chilled bottle of Moet, Rebecca’s heart leapt.
Gosh, he scrubs up well!
Gone was his usual attire of loose, practical jeans or faded cords, thick woolen jumpers, and ancient green wax jacket, replaced by beautifully-cut, snug-fitting black slacks, a candy pink, blue, and lemon striped cotton shirt—cuffs wound back to display tanned, muscular forearms—and soft, brown leather loafers.
As Rebecca thanked him for the champagne, meeting his baby blue eyes, she noticed with amusement that his sandy blond hair had not responded well to a comb. It was incongruous that a man who worked in fields all day long should sport surfer-dude hair.
His pose was awkward, his presence reducing the kitchen’s dimensions. Rebecca unearthed two crystal flutes as Josh joined Max on the rug next to the Aga with Poppy, employing his structural engineer’s skills to expand the train track, setting the engines travelling around the intricate loops with not a flicker of fear or concern from Max as Poppy sniffed at the moving trains.
Rebecca found her eyes involuntarily sought out Josh’s, rotating away as a frisson of desire shot through her veins, nerves relaxing at each sip of the delicious champagne.
Max relished every mouthful of the usually forbidden pizza. Hungrily, they dug into the apple pie Rebecca was so proud of baking from the very apples grown in her garden orchard. They eased their mismatched wooden chairs back from the table, mellow from the comforting food, well deserved after the hard labour of the day. Max yawned theatrically.
“Come on, Max, time for bed. You’ve had an exciting day and there’s another one waiting for you tomorrow. More treasure hunting.”
“Look.” Josh dropped the now-scrubbed Roman coin onto the table between them. “Now I’ve washed off the mud, Max, can you see it has an interesting depiction?”
Three heads bent together in curiosity, a clashing mix of copper, dark auburn, and sandy thatch.
“It’s definitely a coin from the Roman occupation in this area.” He turned the tiny bronze coin over in his huge calloused hand. “Can you see it’s stamped on one side with Emperor Hadrian’s head? Look Max, see his beard? He was the first Roman Emperor to wear a beard.”
Rebecca smiled slightly. What was the word Nathan had used once when they had been discussing her intense dislike of beards? Pogonophobia. She wouldn’t have fallen for Emperor Hadrian in his day.
“Do you remember me telling you Emperor Hadrian was the one who built the Wall just north of here? To keep out the marauding Scots?”
“Yes,” said Max, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
“This is a bronze coin, called a sestertius. They made silver and gold coins, too. Quite a few of these bronze coins have been unearthed in gardens and fields around here and they are displayed at a museum at Vindolanda, just past Hexham. Would you like to visit it one day?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Can I take my coin to show them?”
“They would love to see it, Max. But what intrigues me about this particular coin is that when we look at its reverse, the striking is still very well-defined. Can you see the Emperor on a rearing horse, addressing a line of his troops ready for battle? It’s as though the coin were struck yesterday, no wear at all. With your permission, Max, I would like to show your coin to my pal, Thomas Greenwood. I went to uni with him and we still play rugby together on a Sunday morning. Tom is a professor at Newcastle University, not in Roman History, I hasten to add, but he will be able to speak to one his colleagues on the history faculty, find out more about the coin’s past. What do you think?”
“Okay. As long as he doesn’t spend it! I’m going to keep it in my treasure box on my windowsill. It’s a great coin, Josh, but it’s not gold and not as good as pirate treasure.” Max reluctantly got down from his chair holding Rebecca’s proffered hand. “Night, Josh. Thank you for being our friend.”
Rebecca couldn’t have put it better herself.
Josh leapt to his feet. “I’ll be off as well. Thanks for dinner…”
“Oh, stay for a coffee. I’ve put the pot on the Aga to brew. I’ll be down in ten minutes, when I’ve got this little man settled.” She brushed the top of Max’s soft hair affectionately and Josh relaxed into his seat, twiddling the stem of the crystal flute with fingers that were meant for a tankard!
* * *
“That didn’t take long. Out like a light, bless him!” Rebecca resumed her seat at the kitchen table, grateful that Max had floated off to sleep so quickly. “It’s the fresh country air and excitement of the pursuit of treasure. Thanks for spending your time with us today. Max’s confidence is building by the day.”
“I’ve enjoyed the treasure hunt, too, Becky. Any excuse to revert to childhood pleasures. I’d be up that apple tree in a shot if I didn’t think you’d laugh at me! Loved apple bashing when I was a kid. Mum didn’t though, wasting all those delicious apples, throwing them like boulders at my mates, Tom Greenwood being one of them. Mum had a soft spot for Tom. Never got into too much trouble when he was the instigator!”
She laughed, enjoying the rush of pleasure radiating to every part of her body, feeling vibrant as a woman, not the oppressive gloom of failure as an ex-wife, an ex-solicitor, or a bereaved daughter.
As their eyes met again, she whipped up to fetch the coffee and cream, her emotions heightened by the intensity of his gaze. What would it be like to kiss his sensuous lips, run her fingers through his tufty golden hair? To experience the sensation of his huge hands rippling over her receptive body? It had been too long.
Get a grip, Rebecca!
She poured two steaming coffees, her fingers tantalisingly brushing his as she handed over the mug.
Grasping their drinks, they wandered in to the lounge and slumped into the depths of the sagging chintz sofa, but once there, awkwardness descended. It had been relaxed, cosy, homey even in the warmth of the kitchen, busily preparing food, talking to Max, his presence acting as chaperone.
Now, despite being in a more comfortable place, Rebecca experienced a shot of vulnerability. No table between them, no Max as a diversion, she was exposed. Her shoulders tightened across her neck.
Rebecca’s body language must have warned Josh of her discom
fort. He swallowed hard as if his mouth was dry and dashed down his coffee.
“I must make tracks back to the farm, early start tomorrow. Rugby at the Novocastrians with Tom and James—the gardening friends. Thanks again for dinner, Becky.”
He stood abruptly, towering over Rebecca, who sunk low in the ancient folds of the flowery upholstery. She struggled to her feet to walk him to the door, holding his gaze a fraction too long.
She parted her lips to answer his thanks, but in an instant, he’d cupped his hand around her soft cheek, lowering his head to hers, his warm lips seeking hers. She yielded to their softness, their taste.
Rebecca sank into his embrace. The kiss was delicate, sensitive, unsure, but her body felt none of these things—she sensed its violent rush of emotion, shocked at the intensity. He combed his fingers through her tumbling hair, stroking her neck with his thumb, her follicles electrified. She reached to caress his muscular back.
They broke away, eyes locked questioningly, unsure how to progress. She felt her cheeks flush, her breath expelled in short spurts. Wow was the only word to fill her whirling mind. All the advice and wisdom from the little green book was superfluous when the spark of mutual attraction struck.
“Rebecca, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve met. From the first glimpse of your auburn waves whilst weeding the garden that sunny day in August, I’ve wanted to experience the thrill of kissing you. Now that I have, I don’t want it to end.” He flushed at his intimate words, but raked her face with his gaze.
Rebecca smiled. “Well, I have no objections to a rerun.”
Josh pulled her body more roughly into his arms, his mouth crushing down on hers. His smooth lips gently explored her quivering ears, her neck, her hairline until her knees weakened with longing. Still kissing, they fell back down onto the sofa, sinking deep into their desire.
They broke apart, breathless, laughing, touching each other tenderly. Josh grasped her in his arms, pulled close to his hard body. She experienced a concoction of emotions—inflamed passion and sexual hunger, mixed with a feeling of safety, of trust, knowledge there would be no pressure to move their relationship more swiftly than she wanted. She had Max to consider in every decision she made, and she had the oncoming upheaval in her life as she relocated to the north east. It wouldn’t be wise to complicate or add to her pressures.
The Wish List Addiction Page 17