Watch for Me by Twilight

by Kirsty Ferry

  ‘Probably a good idea.’ But bizarrely, Cassie thought that might wash the essence of Aidan off it, so she didn’t want to do that just yet. ‘Come on.’ She needed to take the heat off her and Aidan. ‘Let’s get the rest of those porkers purple.’

  After he had spoken to Cassie, Aidan sat at his desk in the office for a little longer. Astrophel? She was right – it was an odd name.

  He wondered whether she had bothered investigating it or whether it was on her ‘to do’ list. Perhaps it would be added to her project information. Maybe she would look into it, but it was highly unlikely she would come back to him and tell him what she’d discovered. Whatever, he was curious about it himself so there was only one thing to do.

  Aidan pulled his keyboard closer to him and loaded up a search engine on the computer. He didn’t really expect to get any hits but it was worth a shot. As he typed in the name, his eyes widened to see the search results fill up his screen. He ran his eyes down them and clicked on one in particular.

  ‘Interesting,’ he murmured, his heart starting to beat a little faster. He jotted some information down on a notepad and re-read it. Then he smiled to himself. Perhaps it answered one of his long-standing questions as well.

  Eventually, the morning Aidan had promised that the work would start, came around. It had seemed like a year since she’d seen him, even though it had just been a week or so. He had phoned her though, during that week – which had surprised her, in a nice way. He’d been quite professional, so it wasn’t as if he’d made her think any more naughty thoughts than she was already thinking, but it was nice to hear his voice again. He’d told her there was another job that he had to try and sort out, but he was going to pass it onto Iain, just as soon as he could.

  The fact that he had called her, although he didn’t really have a need to, had definitely made her smile.

  Then she wondered if he was just being very professional and keeping her in the loop, because of course he had Petra, didn’t he? And the smile had died on her lips.

  Regardless, Cassie was determined to try and stay positive. She had her breakfast in the garden of the cottage as it was a lovely sunny day, and as she looked out over the estate she hoped, no, she prayed, that the Country House Party weekend would be a success and the work Aidan’s company was doing would go according to plan and be finished on time. She felt she owed it not only to Alex and Elodie, but also to herself.

  Idly, and not without a small stab of jealousy, she wondered if Petra was as exotic and glamorous as her name suggested. She also kept thinking about the letter from her mother and the fact that she had the address all neatly written out and stashed in her kitchen drawer until she decided what to do. And, just as Alex disappeared into Hughie-world when he was anxious or stressed, Cassie had already wheeled her Yamaha out.

  She’d polished it and serviced it over the weekend and she rode it up to the gates slowly. It felt good to be on it again. She was going for a nice long ride after the site manager turned up. If Aidan wasn’t there, then Cassie didn’t really want to be amongst all the muck and the madness either.

  At about 8.50am she was parking the bike by the gates. At 8.55am she opened them and took herself off to the grassy area near the pool to sit and wait. Then she decided she would rather fiddle with her Yamaha, so she got up again and bent over the bike, meddling with things that didn’t need meddling with.

  The conversation Aidan and Cassie had had about adrenalin and extreme sports being akin to love had been haunting her a little bit. Perhaps Aidan had already shared that sort of experience with someone? Maybe Cassie would never get that adrenalin rush. Maybe she’d never have that rom-com movie sort of love.

  Maybe she would always be that old spinster aunt.

  Cassie thought of Aidan again, deliberately. No. No adrenalin rush – just a sort of squidge in her stomach. It was clear that she just fancied the leather pants off him, that was all. Nothing else. You could bet that he didn’t even feel that about her. Didn’t he have Petra anyway, so it was a moot point?

  Cassie heard the roar of an engine before she even saw the cloud of dust. So, the site manager had one too. Maybe it was just easier to get around the little country lanes on a motorbike. She rubbed a speck of grease off her Yamaha. The roar of the engine reached a crescendo, and Cassie didn’t look up, distracted by what she thought was a scratch on the red paintwork. She felt the rush of wind as the bike skirted through the gates and circled, parking in front of her.

  She looked up, ready to smile a polite, professional greeting to the site manager, but instead she saw a T5. And there was a man riding it, dressed from head to toe in black with a smoked glass visor on. The squidge built up in her stomach. The man took the helmet off and smiled at her, his eyes warm, his too-long dark hair messed up, but oh so touchable. A faint dusting of dark stubble covered his chin.

  Talk about an adrenalin rush – her vision wavered and she was certain she went cross-eyed. She couldn’t breathe and the squidge in her stomach turned into a full-blown whirlwind.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Petra’s on her way too, she wants to see how it’s all going to fit together. I hope you don’t mind me coming earlier than everyone else. I thought I’d walk through the plans with you first?’

  The squidge shrivelled up and died. ‘I don’t mind you coming earlier at all.’ She took a deep breath, calming herself down. He was bringing his girlfriend to the Hall to have a look around? It was a very clear message, then, that she should step away from the seriously hot biker who had raced into her life. And also very embarrassing that he knew she felt that way, and had felt the need to subtly introduce Petra as a little warning to her. ‘I was going to get changed and take the bike out,’ continued Cassie, fighting to stay, yes, professional in the face of Aidan and all that black leather. ‘But I’ll wait until I see your designs. Elodie has found the original blueprints. They might be quite useful as well?’

  ‘Excellent. You know, if you don’t mind, I’ll come with you? On the bike, I mean.’ He grinned. ‘At least I will after I’ve seen Petra. I’ve got something else to show you as well – and you don’t need to be around for the deliveries. Unless you want to be of course?’

  ‘No.’ Cassie shook her head, confused. ‘I’d rather be out of the way.’

  Aidan grinned. ‘Me too.’

  Cassie was standing next to the red Yamaha, her fingers touching the handlebars lightly and her long, dark hair tumbling loose past her shoulders. She was wearing a denim jacket and a flirty, floral short dress. She had baseball boots on and a blue scarf around her neck and the whole picture was just … her.

  ‘It’s a very nice bike.’ Aidan forced his gaze to the Yamaha.

  ‘Thanks. I like it.’

  Aidan’s smile widened even further, and he dismounted the T5. ‘Here you go. My blueprints. The new ones. We can compare them with yours, and see if there are any crossovers.’ He unfolded the paper and laid it out across the seat. Cassie came over to him and he was very aware of her standing so closely, so he held onto the blueprints more firmly to ensure he didn’t reach out and touch her hair or trace his fingers down the curve of her cheek … ‘We can get the pool all sorted for you, no problem, thanks to some favours I pulled in, and it’ll all be done by August. Trust me.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  He showed her some composite pictures he’d designed, an artist’s impression of what the Spa would look like. ‘So we can rebuild the diving board and have the steps going down here.’

  He pointed to them and she nodded. ‘Fantastic. D’you think the pool was ever deep enough for swallow dives?’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to swear to it. But I wouldn’t be encouraging your visitors to try it out, just in case.’

  ‘Agreed.’ Cassie laughed and looked up at him. She was suddenly serious. ‘Thank you, though, for doing this. I appreciate it’s short notice.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to the end result as much
as you are.’

  He wanted to say more. He really did.

  But then they were interrupted by the rumbling of a rather large vehicle.

  ‘That could be the first batch of supplies arriving.’ Aidan looked towards the gates. ‘They’re early. I’ll have to stay here until Petra turns up and that’ll give you time to get changed, won’t it? Where shall we go?’

  ‘Get changed? Oh! For the bike ride. Okay. But won’t Petra mind?’

  ‘Petra?’ Aidan frowned. ‘She’s more than capable of dealing with this, it’s fine. But if Tom might have a problem with it, then we won’t go. I just thought—’ He tailed off and felt himself flush. He was horribly aware of that barrier of professionalism which should, by all rights, hold him back despite every fibre of his being telling him to just go for it. It probably wasn’t a great idea to be so consumed with one client and spend so long on one project – his business head told him that and his experience with Kim Barrett had compounded it – but his heart was daring to defy him.

  Cassie looked a little confused and blinked like a baby owl. ‘Tom? He’s just my friend Kate’s brother. We dated briefly, but that was ages ago and we both moved on. He’s got no reason to complain. But with Petra coming and stuff. I don’t know …’

  ‘Tom’s your friend’s brother? I thought that he was – you know –your boyfriend!’ Aidan felt his face split into a huge grin. Game on. Let’s do this! ‘And honestly, I mean it. Petra won’t have a problem either. Oh. That reminds me – while I’m here. May I?’ His fingers hovered around the knot of the blue and white scarf and swiftly undid it, slipping it from around her neck and holding it up in front of her.

  ‘Oh – gosh. Yes. Sorry.’ She blushed furiously and looked guilty.

  ‘Hmm.’ His lips twitched into a smile. ‘You can keep it if you want.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  September 1941

  It was a different sort of get together. A different sort of party. It was subdued. It was awful. Thank God it wasn’t going to be a weekend thing. Stella didn’t think she could cope with it beyond a day.

  ‘Do you miss him dreadfully?’ Veronica gazed drunkenly at Stella, a cigarette dangling from her fingertips, an empty glass on the ground next to her. A good number of champagne bottles remained in the Earl’s wine cellar, but Stella had still smuggled the stuff out today, just in case he raged at her. She couldn’t deal with that at the moment either, she really couldn’t.

  They were sitting in the Spa area, but it was no longer summer. It was autumn, and the leaves were turning and the wind was becoming chilly. None of them wanted to so much as dip a toe into the dirty water of the pool. Stanley, the lad who looked after the pool and kept it clean and filtered and free of leaves, had joined up along with most of the young men on the estate. Stella didn’t want to think about how few of them might come back. The war memorial in the village stood like an omen; it seemed as if it was just waiting to have its faces filled with another lost generation of Hartsford men. The female staff were disappearing too – to farms or to the forces themselves, or to do nursing. Some had even moved to the towns to work in the factories.

  It had made Stella realise how privileged she had really been, and how much everybody had done for her. She spent more time in the kitchens now, helping the cook to prepare meals and learning how to spin out a ration book to feed the family. She’d had to take on other domestic chores as well, and she’d done it without question. A place the size of Hartsford Hall didn’t keep itself clean and tidy and the firewood didn’t bring itself in from the log store.

  Stella was conscious of exactly how much her life had already changed and how it would change again – and not, she was certain, for the better. Thoughts kept her awake at night, staring into the darkness, seeing Rob’s face every time she closed her eyes. She was also horribly aware that she would need to become even more independent and that she would have to do it very, very soon. It made her curl into a little protective ball under the bedcovers as she soaked her pillows with silent, hopeless tears.

  The people left behind were making the best of it, but everywhere in the horribly quiet village were sad, haunted faces when the masks dropped and you really looked around you. Clusters of Land Girls could be spotted out and about as well, their distinctive khaki dungarees marking them out, their accents – Cockney, Northern, Black Country, anywhere you could think of – chiming in the tiny streets of Hartsford as they dashed out on errands or bought themselves a rare treat at the little bakery. They came in from the neighbouring villages and the Hartsford Home Farm itself. As the weeks wore on, Stella also fell into the habit of popping down to the Home Farm to help them out. She was tired of feeling so useless, and felt she had lost all control of her future. The hard physical work at least made her think less about Rob and ensured she finally fell into an exhausted sleep, so deep that there was no room for his beautiful eyes to invade her dreams.

  ‘Miss whom?’ Stella asked bitterly. ‘Which one of our friends do you mean?’ She stared at the big gates of the estate, as if Rob would come swaggering through them, smiling and clutching his latest sketch book or notebook. He’d toss his head back, and his hair would flop across his forehead and he’d raise his arm in greeting. Or he’d appear like he had done that last time, in his slate blue uniform and grab her wrists through the gate and they’d never let each other go.

  But never again.

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know.’ Helen smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. The tragic telegram they had all dreaded had come about Anthony – ‘killed in action … deepest condolences … commend him for his bravery etc etc’ – and the pain was still raw when the news had filtered through about Rob.

  ‘He had to go one better than us.’ Oscar sat in his wheelchair, his fingers tapping restlessly on the arm rests. ‘I lost my bloody legs. He – got lost.’ He laughed shortly and reached down for his own drink. ‘The bugger’ll reappear, you know. He will.’

  Stella shook her head slowly. She still found it hard to acknowledge Oscar’s disability. If she looked him straight in the eye, it wasn’t so bad. But she simply could not watch him manoeuvre himself around slowly and awkwardly, his face set in pain and concentration. Oscar – the best dancer out of the lot of them. War was simply horrid.

  Stephen sat next to Veronica, their shoulders almost touching. He leaned towards her and lit his cigarette from hers. Stella saw the slight shake of his hands. He never talked about his experiences. It was enough for them to gather that he, Anthony and Oscar had all been together when it happened. He had been medically discharged too, but nobody was quite sure why.

  He reached into his pocket and, his hands shaking even more, pulled out a pillbox. He knocked two of the pills out into his palm, and one bounced off and rolled away. Without a word, Veronica leaned down and retrieved it. She gave it back to him and he popped them into his mouth and washed them down with the dregs of his champagne.

  It wasn’t the same. It certainly wasn’t the same.

  ‘I don’t know if he will come back.’ Stella was numb, unfeeling. He was only supposed to be Missing in Action, but she couldn’t feel that he was alive at all. She couldn’t feel anything. Numb. Just numb.

  ‘Dear Stella.’ Oscar’s face twisted into a grimace of a smile. ‘I hope he does come back for you. Hate for you to be left on the shelf, old thing. Could quite fancy being the better half of a Lady, myself, come to think of it.’ He was trying to make a joke and she loved him for it.

  Stella smiled. ‘Oh, my darling Oscar. You think I could fight Rosie for you? She’d win every time.’

  Rosie was currently staggering over to the changing rooms to find more wine, her blonde, fiercely pin-curled hair now dishevelled. She was stepping very, very carefully into the building in case the doorway suddenly shifted. She hadn’t left Oscar’s side all evening. And her eyes had never left him either.

  Oscar dipped his head and his round face coloured, but Stella could see his smile widen. She l
eaned across and patted his hand. It was thin and cold.

  ‘I swear,’ she told him. ‘Just ask her, for God’s sake. Just ask her.’

  She moved away from him and huddled up, pulling her legs up towards her and hugging them.

  Oh, Rob.

  We’re like the stars – we’re forever, until we die. Maybe we’ll last even longer.

  She looked over the pool and away across towards the gates. She narrowed her eyes and could almost swear she saw two figures there, holding each other, leaning towards each other and kissing. She blinked and they were gone.

  She took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any. ‘Oh – I’ve got some other news.’

  ‘What’s that then?’ Lois leaned over to Mary and lit her cigarette from her sister’s, then blew a smoke ring in Stella’s direction.

  Stella pulled a face and waved it away. ‘I’m bloody well knocked up. Hurrah!’ She began counting off questions on her fingers ‘Yes. It’s Rob’s. Yes. I’m sure. Yes. It was last time he was home. No. He doesn’t – didn’t – know. No. I have no clue what I’m going to do about it. Anything I haven’t covered?’ She looked around at the group of friends with raised brows. ‘Anything? Anything at all? No? Good. So we’ll have no silly questions then. That makes it all so much easier.’

  The silence hung heavily and desperately over the little group of friends as they stared, open-mouthed at her. The ash dropped off the end of Lois’ cigarette and a spark burned a tiny hole, unnoticed, in her precious new dress. There was very little money or material to waste on new dresses, and Stella even felt guilty about the fact she’d need a whole new wardrobe somehow to last her over the next few months.

  She thought there could be nothing worse than having to announce that news to a group of stunned friends, in 1941, when she was twenty-five years old and one of her friends was dead and the father of her baby had disappeared somewhere in the midst of a bombing raid.