by Holly Ford
Ella hung her head.
‘I started thinking, what if that was you? What if I had to see your wedding invitation stuck to your mother’s fridge one day? If you met the better guy? And I thought how much worse I’d feel then.’ He rubbed his hand over his face. ‘I was never friends with Charlotte. But you — you liked me. At least, I think you did — once, anyway. Just as I am, not some idea of a guy you’d like me to turn into. And if you wound up hating me, too … If you could ever look me in the eye and tell me that you regretted every second of the time we’d had … Well, I didn’t think that I could bear that.’
God. Charlotte hadn’t held back, huh? Ella didn’t know what to say. ‘I did like you,’ she managed. ‘I mean — I do.’
‘I ran. I did.’ Luke looked at her. ‘But, Ella … I didn’t run far. I didn’t even get all the way home before I realised what I’ve been trying to tell you ever since, if only I could find you.’
‘What?’
‘I think that maybe, if you help me, I could …’ He took a deep breath. ‘I want to be the better man that you end up with.’
‘That’s quite a line.’
‘You like it?’
‘I do.’
‘Thanks.’ He grinned. ‘I’ve had some time to work on it.’
‘Uh-huh.’ She walked towards him. ‘Have you got any more like that?’
‘I have, actually.’ Luke ran his hands over her shoulders.
Looking up at his mouth, Ella had a powerful recollection of how it felt to be kissed by him. Powerful, yet … not quite vivid enough. ‘Go on.’
‘I don’t know if I can make you happy. But if you’ll give me the chance’ — without a hint of a smile, he looked into her eyes — ‘I’d really like to try.’
Ella slid her arms around his neck. ‘That’s very good, too.’
‘Will you,’ he said softly, ‘give me a chance?’
Smiling, she shook her head. ‘I don’t think I can.’ She felt his shoulders stiffen.
‘Why not?’
‘The thing is, you see’ — she stroked the back of his neck — ‘I promised my mother I wouldn’t fall in love with you.’
Pulling her to him, Luke kissed her slowly.
‘Your mother isn’t looking.’
She clung to him as he kissed her again. Holding her tightly, Luke buried his face in her hair.
‘Ella?’
‘What is it?’
‘Will you promise me something now?’
‘What?’
‘Don’t ever let go.’
Chapter TWENTY-ONE
Walking into Blackpeak’s old woolshed, Lizzie felt her jaw drop. How the hell had Hannah done all this? She must have had help … Lizzie gazed up enviously at the rusty barbed-wire chandeliers hanging over the snowy cloth of each tastefully draped table. Could she get Hannah to make her one of those? And those centrepieces, were they …? Lizzie laughed. Grass. In jam jars. Fabulous. They should show this wedding at Chelsea.
The ceremony outside had finished with the last low shafts of afternoon sun, and in the rapidly fading grey light the candles on the tables flickered on the old wooden walls. Lizzie couldn’t think of a nicer place to spend the evening.
‘Nick!’ she said, as he wandered up to greet her with a tray of champagne. ‘Good to see you again.’ Taking a glass, she raised it to the woolshed. ‘This is just amazing.’
‘Does it look all right? We didn’t really have enough time.’
‘Are you kidding? It’s perfect.’ Lizzie looked around again. ‘It couldn’t look better if you’d had years.’
‘Yes,’ Nick smiled, ‘it could. But never mind.’
As Nick excused himself, Lizzie’s heart gave a lurch. There was Carr. He must have arrived late — all she’d seen of him was a sideways glimpse at the end of the ceremony as Hannah swept him off behind the scenes. Watching him now on the other side of the shed, she found herself unable to look away. He looked surprisingly at ease in his well-cut black suit — although if he’d started off wearing a tie with that white shirt, he’d already shed it. As had Rex, Blackpeak’s old shepherd, whom he was talking to. Lizzie steeled herself to walk over to them. Carr couldn’t hide from her here. Tonight was her chance — her only chance, maybe — to say what she needed to say to him. What she’d been trying to say ever since the night of the frost. She took a step forward.
Across the room, a pretty blonde girl slipped her arm through Carr’s and reached up to kiss his cheek. As he bent his head towards her, his eyes met Lizzie’s. He held them for a second. Then, very deliberately, his hand to the blonde girl’s elbow, Carr turned his back. Lizzie heard the girl laugh. Her courage evaporated. She looked around for a friendly face: where the hell was Jules? She could see Seb on the prowl around the crowd, camera on his shoulder. Bloody Richard — this would be so much easier if he were here. Trust him to disappear the one time he could be useful. Lizzie slunk off to find her table.
Jules joined her just as the meal was served. ‘Isn’t this shed incredible?’ she beamed. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘It’s a work of art,’ Lizzie agreed.
Jules nodded towards the far corner where Rob, a huge grin on his face, was bending a laughing Charlotte backwards over his arm. ‘Do you think those two have even noticed it?’
Lizzie couldn’t help but smile herself. She shook her head. ‘I doubt it.’
‘How the hell,’ mused Jules, still looking at them, ‘did she manage to get a dress that good that fast?’
‘You’re forgetting who she’s related to.’ Lizzie inclined her head towards the top table, where Flavia — the thigh-high split in her long silver skirt revealing the most heart-stopping pair of grey suede over-the-knee boots — was talking animatedly to her uncle Gianni and Charlotte’s mother.
‘You’re talking about the wedding dress?’ Seb squatted beside them, resting the camera on the floor. ‘It’s merino wool.’
Lizzie and Jules stared at him.
‘What?’ He shrugged. ‘I asked about it.’
Jules raised her eyebrows.
‘I’d never seen anyone get married in a polo neck before,’ Seb excused himself. ‘I thought she was just keeping warm until she took off that furry wrap thing and the dress didn’t have arms or a back.’
‘It does have a back,’ said Lizzie, studying Charlotte again.
‘Just not very much of one,’ Jules agreed. ‘Here,’ she pulled out a white linen-draped chair with her foot. ‘Hannah’s made a place for you.’
‘Bless her.’ Seb settled himself between them with a sigh of relief.
‘So, have you talked to Carr yet?’ Jules demanded, after dinner, when the very few speeches were over and the rest of their table had drifted off to dance.
‘No, not yet.’
‘Lizzie …’
‘He’s busy.’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘Look.’
‘Who is that, anyway?’ asked Jules, following her gaze to where Carr was standing beside the bar, still talking to the blonde girl.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Maybe she’s his daughter,’ Seb suggested hopefully.
Lizzie shook her head. ‘He’s only got a son. His name is Ash. He works in Argentina.’
Jules looked at her.
‘What can I say?’ she shrugged. ‘We used to talk.’
‘Really? How was that?’
Lizzie swallowed. ‘Nice, actually.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake — stop sighing like a teenager and talk to him now,’ Jules demanded. ‘Come on, he’s not with Miss Iceland. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m pretty sure she’s with that bloke over there. Look — that has to be her kid.’ She nodded at a Scandinavian-blond boy playing in the woolshed pens. ‘Just walk over, pretend you’re two normal people and say hello. What’s the worst that can happen?’
‘He can refuse to speak to me,’ Lizzie replied, ‘in front of the whole room. Then what will they think?’
‘Who cares?’
>
‘That’s all very well for you to say — you never have to see these people again. I have to live here.’
‘Lizzie, love,’ Seb put in. ‘I think you should go. After what he did the other week …’ He shook his head. ‘It’s the least you should do, don’t you think? He’s a decent chap. He’s not going to embarrass you.’
Oh, Christ … With a sigh, Lizzie picked up her glass of wine. She felt ill. The old boards seem to tilt beneath her heels as she crossed the floor. Maybe she was seasick.
‘Hi,’ she said, brightly.
Carr looked over his shoulder. There was a second’s pause. He turned. ‘Hello.’
Silence followed.
‘Hello.’ She held out her hand to the blonde girl. ‘I’m Lizzie.’
‘Lizzie,’ the girl smiled. ‘Hi. I’m Siri — I used to work around here. For Carr. You bought the vineyard, didn’t you? Your friends are making the documentary.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Excuse me.’
They both stopped and watched as Carr strode off and out of the woolshed door.
‘I’m sorry,’ Siri said. ‘He’s not very good with people sometimes.’ She frowned. ‘He isn’t usually that bad, though.’
Putting her glass down on the bar, Lizzie found herself shaking with fury. ‘Excuse me.’ Without waiting for Siri’s reaction, she strode after Carr. How dare he do that to her? How dare he do this — whatever the hell this was? She caught her heel in the boards. Nearly falling down the woolshed steps, she began to calm down. She could see him standing out there in the dark beside the yards, the back of his white shirt picked out in the glow of the woolshed’s windows.
By the time she’d picked her way over to stand behind him, she just felt empty and shaky — and sad.
‘Carr.’ Lizzie reached out her hand, but not daring to touch his shoulder, she drew it back. ‘What’s the matter with you? Why won’t you talk to me?’
‘Nothing’s the matter.’
‘You won’t even look at me.’
With a sigh, he turned. ‘What is it, Lizzie? What do you want?’
‘I just want to say thank you,’ she managed. ‘That’s all.’
‘I know. I got your message.’ He sighed again. ‘You’re welcome. Okay?’
Jesus. Lizzie closed her eyes briefly. ‘Don’t do that! Just — don’t. You can’t do a thing like you did the week before last and then act like it’s nothing. It’s something. It’s something to me.’
‘If I let you thank me, will you leave me alone?’
She caught her breath. ‘Yes. If that’s what you want. I’ll stop bothering you.’
Turning his back on her again, Carr leaned his elbows on the rail of the yards. ‘I was getting on fine by myself before you turned up.’
‘You were talking to Siri.’
‘I don’t mean tonight,’ he snapped.
‘Will you please let me tell you,’ Lizzie battled on, ‘how much it meant to me that you came and …’ She gave up. She couldn’t go any further. What was the point? ‘Why did you even do it? Why did you help me?’
‘That vineyard’s your dream,’ he said shortly. ‘I didn’t want you to lose your first crop.’
‘What I’m trying to say to you,’ she tried again, ‘isn’t just about grapes — it’s about you being there … again … for me, when I needed—’
‘Look, you’ve thanked me, okay?’ Carr interrupted. ‘Now go.’
‘No! Not until you tell me why you’re being like this. I don’t understand—’ Lizzie couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice. ‘I don’t understand what I’ve done … What I did that was so wrong …’ She bit her lip.
‘Jesus Christ,’ she heard him swear under his breath. He turned towards her. ‘Lizzie …’ His hands skated briefly over her shoulders. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’ He took a step backwards. ‘I’m just — I’m trying to do the right thing, that’s all. And you being here … looking like that … it’s not making it easy.’
‘The right thing?’ She stared at him. ‘How is this the right thing?’
‘Ella told me about you and Richard.’
‘All this is …’ Lizzie frowned, ‘… about Richard?’
‘I can’t be the guy you fill in time with while you wait for things to work out.’ He made a noise of frustration. ‘I can’t be the guy you sneak around with when Richard’s not here. I can’t do it. I wish I could — but I can’t.’
‘What did Ella tell you? That Richard is her father? You’re worried about something that happened twenty-three years ago?’
‘She told me that Richard was the love of your life.’
‘Did she indeed?’ Lizzie blinked. ‘Well, that’s interesting news. I wasn’t aware my life was over.’
‘Come on, Lizzie. Are you going to stand there and tell me you don’t have feelings for him?’
‘No,’ she snapped back. ‘I can’t and I won’t. Of course I have feelings for Richard, strong feelings, I always have and I always will, but they’re not the same feelings I have for you. I’m not in love with Richard.’
Carr raised his head.
‘Richard is always going to be part of my life,’ Lizzie went on furiously. Christ, she couldn’t believe she was having this argument again — it was just like being married to Tom. Only worse. Because this time, she really did mean it with all her heart. ‘He’s Ella’s father, he’s my very dear friend — and yes, I was in love with him once, I was in love with him for a very long time, but I’m not in love with him now, and if you can’t handle him being around then that’s—’
‘I can handle it,’ Carr broke in angrily. ‘He can live in your spare room for all I care — hell, I’ll help him move in. I can handle Richard. I can handle him still being in love with you. I can handle sneaking around behind everyone’s backs. I can handle anything except—’ He lowered his voice. ‘I won’t help you fuck up your life. I won’t be the guy who got in the way of you being happy.’
‘Then don’t be.’ Lizzie put her palm to his chest, almost shaking with the urge to press the rest of her body there, too. ‘If you want me to be happy, then come back inside with me. Talk to me. Dance with me. Be with me. Take me home tonight.’
‘Take you home? Your home?’
‘Yes — come back to the vineyard with me. Be there in the morning when I wake up. Let me make you breakfast, for God’s sake.’
‘What about Ella?’
‘Ella will have to get used to it.’
His hand took her wrist, removing her hand from his chest. ‘Just go back a bit.’
What? ‘Back to where?’
‘To the part where you said you weren’t in love with Richard … and how that was different to the way …’
‘To the way I feel about you?’ Lizzie nodded slowly. ‘It is. It is different.’
He frowned. ‘So you’re saying that …’
She took a deep breath. ‘That I am … that I am …’
Carr’s arms closed around her. Oh, God … As he kissed her, Lizzie almost cried with relief. Get over this? Who the hell had she been kidding? The thought of it never happening again was too miserable to bear.
She opened her eyes. The wedding party was watching them from the top of the woolshed steps — she saw Charlotte and Rob exchange a smile before Flavia shooed them on towards the Prado. Lizzie hid her face against Carr’s shoulder.
He stroked her hair. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘People can see us.’
His arms tightened. ‘Good.’
Headlights swept over them as he kissed her again.
‘Maybe,’ Lizzie breathed a few minutes later, ‘we should go home now.’
‘Not yet.’ To her great disappointment, he released her slightly. ‘You promised to dance with me.’ He took her hand. ‘Come on.’
Blushing furiously, she let Carr lead her back up the steps and into the middle of the woolshed. In the small space between the tables on the old wooden floor, he pulled he
r close. Lizzie leaned her cheek against his neck. She wasn’t sure if what they were doing strictly qualified as dancing. But she knew she’d like to go on doing it for a long time.
‘Mind if I cut in?’ slurred a voice behind her.
‘Owen, mate,’ Carr growled above her ear, ‘fuck off.’
Lizzie closed her eyes.
EPILOGUE
Carr glared across the kitchen bench. ‘Have you finished with the milk jug?’
‘Yes.’ Hurriedly, Luke passed it over to him. ‘Here you are, sir.’
He watched as Luke shouldered open the sliding door and carried two coffee mugs out into the morning. Carr shook his head. ‘If anyone had ever told me I’d be having breakfast with that guy …’
‘Be nice,’ Lizzie smiled, pausing in her survey of the jobs remaining in the kitchen. The antipasto was ready in the fridge. She’d finished the bread, and the lamb just needed to go on the fire. Time to make a start on the cake. She picked up a spoon.
‘I was being nice.’ Carr looked hurt.
‘Of course you were. I’m sorry.’ Lizzie kissed his neck. ‘Sometimes it’s difficult to tell.’ Standing beside Carr, she watched Luke disappear into the vines. ‘He’s really not that bad, you know. You’ll get used to him.’
He sighed. ‘I dare say I will.’
‘You’ll have to. Look how happy they are.’
‘And, as you know,’ Carr smiled, ‘I have no opinion about that at all.’
‘Well done.’ Lizzie kissed him again.
His mouth twitched. ‘The things,’ he said, taking hold of her dressing gown, ‘I do for you …’
Looking up at him, Lizzie frowned. ‘Remind me what those are again?’
She let her spoon fall into the sink as he lifted her onto the bench. Who needed dessert anyway …
Through her camera lens, Ella studied the sunlight shining through the reddening leaves of the vines.
‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ She touched her finger to a bead of dew. ‘It’s so nice to see them uncovered again.’