by Kate Hewitt
“I know you are.” Lindy gave him an impish smile as she held an alcohol-soaked piece of cotton wool. “But let me? I feel bad enough as it is. I think I tripped you up accidentally, and I’m meant to be the expert here.”
He took in her teasing smile with a feeling of confusion. On top of his throbbing cheek and smarting eye, he couldn’t process this conversation—or Lindy’s intent. “As you said,” he managed, “accidents happen.”
“So they do.” She leaned forward, close enough so he could breathe in her scent again—yes, it was vanilla—and feel the press of her breasts against his chest, the warmth of her breath on his face as she spoke. “This might sting a bit.”
Roger found he could not respond, which was undoubtedly a blessing. He feared what he might blurt out in such a situation as this. He closed his eyes as she dabbed the cotton wool on the cut by his eyebrow, her body moving against his with every little dab of the wool. This was torture. Exquisite, unbelievable torture.
He must have drawn a decidedly unsteady breath, because she paused in her ministrations. “Does that hurt?”
“It’s fine.” His voice came out in something close to a snap. He pressed his lips together to keep from saying something he’d surely regret. Did she feel even an iota of what he was feeling?
Another dab. And then another. And then, with his eyes still closed, he felt her fingertip gently trace the line of his eyebrow. The very air in the room seemed to tauten and shimmer from beneath his eyelids.
“You’re definitely going to have a black eye,” she said, and Roger opened his eyes.
Lindy was very close. Close enough to kiss, should he so dare. Her gaze locked on his and for a second neither of them spoke. Neither of them breathed.
He could kiss her right now. All he needed to do was move his head a few inches. Two, at most. It would be so easy…
And yet it felt like the most difficult thing he’d ever done. Impossible. What if he was reading the signals wrong? What if she was shocked, offended, or worse, incredulous?
What if she wasn’t?
Did he even want to do this? Pursue some sort of relationship, begun with what most would see as a simple kiss? Heaven knew he’d kept himself from relationships before, and with good reason. They tended not to work out.
Besides, Lindy most likely didn’t even want to kiss him. Flirting was undoubtedly an instinct with her, as a beautiful woman, and nothing more. It didn’t mean anything.
They continued to stare at each other. Lindy’s eyes widened a fraction. Her breath came out in an uneven rush. Without making a conscious decision about what he was actually going to do, Roger moved forward.
His head had been tilted backwards so she could access his eye, and he straightened, intent on kissing her, or at least trying to kiss her, or maybe just seeing if she kissed him. Something. He wasn’t sure what. Probably not kissing at all, actually. Probably just some sort of awkward hovering.
Except he hadn’t realised there was a cupboard above his head and as he began moving in, he banged his head hard enough to see stars all over again.
With a muttered ‘oof’ he pressed one hand to the top of his now throbbing head and Lindy let out a smothered laugh.
“Oh, dear…”
“I seem to be accident prone.” At least it had saved him from making a complete fool of himself. Lindy had stepped away, and was now briskly putting everything back into the first aid kit, and if there had even been a moment, which Roger was now doubting, it was surely broken now.
Roger ruefully rubbed his head as he heard his mother’s wavery voice from the hall.
“Roger? Darling? Are you all right?”
Chapter Eight
“Lindy!”
With something between a laugh and a cry, Ellie ran towards Lindy and enveloped her in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I haven’t seen you more since you moved. I’m a bad friend.”
“You’re not a bad friend,” Lindy assured her as she returned the tight embrace. This was only the second time she’d seen Ellie since moving to Wychwood-on-Lea three months ago, but that didn’t matter now that they were finally together again. It was Saturday afternoon, nearly a week since the disastrous dancing class, and Lindy was still wincing inwardly at the whole black eye episode.
She wasn’t sure what had happened, or who had tripped whom, but the sight of Roger’s stunned face and emerging shiner had made Lindy feel wretched with guilt. And then there had been that exquisitely awkward and weirdly wonderful moment when she’d actually thought he might kiss her—she’d felt so tangled up inside, knowing she’d been flirting rather shamelessly and yet feeling so uncertain and even fearful. Did she want him to kiss her? Yes, she rather thought she did. And yet…what then? Did she want to date Roger Wentworth? Pursue some sort of romance? Lindy couldn’t quite picture it, and yet in the moment, she’d ached for his kiss.
But Roger hadn’t kissed her. He’d banged his head, and his mother had come in, looking worried, and Roger had been terse and monosyllabic, and then they’d all trooped back for the rest of the class, which he’d gone on with gamely enough, much to his credit. Lindy hadn’t dared dance with him again. And she hadn’t heard from or seen him since—she’d gone about her days, filled out her online application with Blue Cross for Toby, met with the head teacher of the primary about teaching Year Sixes, and had her junior class this morning, which had been brilliant.
Ollie had shown up in a tuxedo, while his dad Will had rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “We found it in a charity shop, can you believe? He was so excited to wear it for the class.”
Lindy had been thrilled by her budding star, and she’d had a fantastic time teaching her three eager pupils how to waltz; Ollie had even said he was hoping to bring his best friend next week. As they’d all been leaving, Ishbel had asked if they could start a WhatsApp group for class parents, and Lindy had been pleased at how enthusiastic everyone had been at the prospect. Will had named it Twinkle Toes, and several messages had pinged in almost immediately, thanking her for the class and saying how thrilled their kids were with it. Lindy had felt buoyed by it all.
And now she was here with Ellie, so glad and grateful to see her friend, although Ellie looked a little tired, with violet shadows under her eyes.
“How are you?” Ellie exclaimed as the waitress gave them menus. They were in a restaurant in Witney on a rainy afternoon; the summery weather had turned, and there was more than a touch of autumn chill to the air.
“I’m doing well,” Lindy answered, realising she meant it. Despite her constant wondering and dithering about Roger, she’d had a good week, and her school was starting to feel like it might actually, one day, be something of a success.
“You’re not regretting moving to Wychwood?” Ellie asked anxiously. “I feel so badly, telling you to move down here and then basically never seeing you again.”
“No, I don’t regret it all, and you shouldn’t feel badly about anything, Ellie. I know you’re busy.” Briefly Lindy touched her friend’s hand. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, it’s all fine,” Ellie said a bit dispiritedly, and then opened her menu. “What are you going to order?”
Lindy decided to take the rather heavy-handed hint and drop the subject for now. She scanned the menu with its upscale offerings—avocado toast and kale both featured heavily—and she decided on a burger and a Coke, of course. That made her think of Roger, which was silly, but that’s where her mind had been going these last few days.
Had he been going to kiss her? Or had she been imagining—even willing—the whole thing? She’d certainly been flirting for England, if not the entirety of Europe. It wasn’t like her, either. She didn’t do breathy laughs or coy looks or standing a couple of inches closer than usual, and yet with Roger she seemed to lose her head and turn into some sort of weird, wannabe vamp. It was strange. And, Lindy acknowledged, if she thought it was strange, what on earth would Roger think?
He’d probably been horrified by her b
razenness. Whoever he dated, it would be someone sensible—someone with a twinset and no-nonsense manner. Pearls, too. Not someone like her—scatty and impulsive and overwhelming and obvious.
The waitress came to take their orders, and once she’d left again, Lindy decided to level with her friend. “What’s going on, Ellie?” she asked. “You seem a little down.”
“I’m not…” Ellie protested, so half-heartedly that all Lindy had to do was raise an eyebrow. She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “It’s nothing, really,” she said. “I mean, nothing’s wrong.”
“But…?” Lindy prompted after a moment.
“You know Oliver’s a viscount?” Ellie said and Lindy gave a little laugh.
“That’s not something I’m likely to forget.” She’d teased Ellie about being royalty now; she really had fallen into her own fairy tale.
“Well, I did, or at least I tried to,” Ellie answered frankly. “I just wanted to live a normal life with my husband and daughter. That’s been wonderful, but it’s also been hard at times—Abby turning into a teenager, and Oliver’s work has been demanding.”
“So what happened with the viscount thingy?” Lindy asked, curious now, as well as concerned. Ellie’s life had always seemed like a fairy tale to her, from afar. Charmed as well as charming.
“Oliver’s father has become quite frail,” Ellie said heavily. “Nothing serious, no diagnoses or anything, but he can’t do as much as he used to and he wants Oliver to start taking up the slack. So we’ve been spending more time there—which shouldn’t be difficult, the house is lovely, it’s all lovely…” She sighed again, and to Lindy’s alarm she saw that Ellie now looked near tears.
“What is it, Ellie?” she asked, reaching once more for her hand.
“Oliver’s parents have never liked me particularly. They endure me, I suppose, and it hasn’t been too bad because we see them so rarely. But now we’re there every weekend, and I still get rattled by all the forks and spoons and things at dinner, and I’m hopeless at so many of the things Oliver seems to just take for granted…” Ellie shook her head slowly. “I feel like I’m not good enough for him. His parents have actually been all right about it all, but I feel it. Inside.” Her face crumpled a bit before, with effort, she smoothed it out and tried for a smile.
“Oh, Ellie.” Lindy’s heart expanded with sympathy. “That’s all got to be so very tough. But maybe you’re just what the stodgy nobility need—a true breath of fresh air. I know Oliver adores you, and there’s no way on God’s green earth that he thinks you’re not good enough for him. Absolutely not.”
“I know that too,” Ellie said quietly as Lindy squeezed her hand. “I really do. It’s stupid to feel this way—it’s just that this particular situation brings up a lot of old insecurities, and no matter how much I tell myself it’s not like that, I’m not like that, I still feel it.”
“Yes, I can see how easy that would be to do. We all fall into those traps, don’t we?”
“Do you?” Ellie looked surprisingly sceptical. “Because you seem so confident all the time, Lindy. I really envy you that.”
“Do you?” Lindy let out an uncertain laugh. “Well, I’m not sure how confident I am, really.”
“You moved here to Wychwood on your own, didn’t you?”
“So did you.”
“And you started your own dancing school!” Ellie shook her head, marvelling. “You’re amazing.”
“Well, right back at you,” Lindy replied with a smile.
“Anyway, enough about me,” Ellie said firmly. “How are you doing? Have you met anyone? Any sweep-you-off-your-feet Casanovas who are waltzing with you?”
Lindy thought about Roger and suddenly couldn’t keep from bursting into laughter. Ellie smiled, looking intrigued. “There’s so a story there. Come on, tell me what it is.”
“Well…” Lindy hesitated as she tried to organise her thoughts. “There is a man, but he’s certainly not a Casanova, even if he did sweep me off my feet. Literally.”
“What—”
Laughing a little, Lindy told her the story while Ellie listened avidly. “He sounds charming—”
“I don’t know about charming,” Lindy answered. “Quirky. Kind. Adorable.” She blushed as Ellie let out a delighted laugh.
“You have it bad, don’t you?”
“No, not really,” Lindy quickly protested, although she wasn’t sure why. She felt a need to protect herself, instinctive and elemental, even with Ellie. Even when Roger wasn’t here. She didn’t have it bad. Of course she didn’t. She never did.
“So do you think he’ll ask you out?”
Lindy thought of how quickly Roger had walked out of class on Monday night, without even looking at her. “Probably not,” she admitted on a sigh.
“You could ask him out,” Ellie suggested.
“I know—I was working myself up to do exactly that, and then we fell and he had a black eye and I couldn’t find the right moment.” Although perhaps she could have, when they’d been in the kitchen. When he’d maybe, almost kissed her. Or was she in fantasy land, even to hope that had been the case? Did she hope that was the case? Lindy wondered if she’d ever be able to make up her mind.
Their food came, and Lindy dug into her burger with appreciation. “Anyway, I don’t know if I should ask him out, when I’m technically his teacher. I mean, isn’t that some form of sexual harassment?”
“Surely not,” Ellie exclaimed. “I mean, it’s ballroom dancing, not Sixth Form.”
Although sometimes she felt like she was in Sixth Form, a giggly girl making eyes at the cute boy. Lindy sighed, suddenly feeling childish. Perhaps she should just do her best to stop thinking about Roger that way. It was messing with her head. The last thing she wanted to be was obsessed about a man. About anyone. Fifteen years on, she’d become used to, and even a little protective of, her solitary existence.
“I think you should ask him out,” Ellie said firmly. “Why not? You only live once.”
“I know that.” Lindy put her burger down and propped her chin in her hand as a sudden, unexpected melancholy descended on her like a fog. Why was she dithering so much? What might she miss out on, simply because she didn’t want to take a risk? Or was it better to live the way she always had—friend to all, but never anything more?
“At the end of the day, it’s just a date,” Ellie told her pragmatically. “Not a ring or a vow or anything like that. You could make it nonthreatening—an afternoon walk rather than a three-course meal at some Michelin-starred restaurant.”
“That’s true.” As quickly as her melancholy had descended, it dissipated, clouds scattered by sunshine. An afternoon walk seemed a lot easier to handle than some big romantic endeavour. Surely, surely she could manage that. If she wanted to.
Lindy was still mulling over the prospect as she drove back to Willoughby Close. As she was heading towards her front door, Alice waved to her from the other side of the courtyard.
“I just slipped a note through your door,” she called. “I wanted to invite you to Sunday lunch, although not for a few weeks as I’m afraid we’ve been terribly busy. In October—I’m doing a roast.”
“Oh, that would be lovely,” Lindy exclaimed. “Thanks.”
She felt positively brimming with bonhomie as she unlocked her door and stepped inside her cottage. It had taken awhile, but she finally felt as if she were starting to make social strides here, proper ones. Seeing Ellie…Alice’s invitation…planning a class for Year Sixes…even the WhatsApp group for the parents. It had all made her happy. Now all she needed to do now was call Roger…
She reached for her mobile, and was pleased to see a text had come through from Blue Cross, approving her application and asking her to ring to set up a home visit. It felt like a sign—if she had a dog, an afternoon walk made so much more sense, plus Roger had said Toby was his favourite. Perfect!
Before she could change her mind or lose her nerve, Lindy scrolled for his number and then press
ed to make the call.
He answered on the second ring, his tone predictably terse. “Roger Wentworth speaking.”
“Roger, it’s Lindy.” She paused, and when he did not reply, she added a bit uncertainly, “From ballroom dancing.”
“Yes, I know. Your number is in my telephone.”
“Right.”
“Are you calling about the class? Is it cancelled?”
“No, it’s not cancelled.” And now she felt a bit foolish. Roger had spoken in the kind of tone that indicated there would be no other reason whatsoever to call him. “Far from it. I’m calling because…” She hesitated, then plunged. “Because I thought you might like to know that I’ve been approved by Blue Cross to adopt a dog. All I need to have now is the home visit.”
“The home visit is quite important,” Roger told her in that severe way of his. “There have been many clients who have had their applications denied at the home visit stage.”
“Okay, well,” Lindy answered with an uncertain laugh, “here’s hoping mine won’t be.” She was starting to feel properly stupid now. Why had she called him again?
“Assuming your home and living situation are appropriate, I shouldn’t think it would be,” Roger said. “But as I said, the home visit is an important stage of the process that should not be dismissed.”
“Well, fingers crossed.”
An uncomfortable pause ensued, like a prickle along Lindy’s skin. She could not think of a single thing to say that would make sense in this moment.
“Was that the only reason you called?” Roger finally asked.
Lindy bit her lip. Hard. “Yes, I suppose it was,” she said, her voice pathetically small. “Sorry to disturb you.”
“You didn’t disturb me.”
“Well, you don’t sound particularly glad I rang,” she retorted rather tartly. A girl could only take so much. How was it she’d told Ellie Roger was adorable?
“No, it’s not—” Roger began, and then stopped abruptly. They were both wretchedly silent. “I apologise,” he said after a pause. “I was merely surprised.”