She was joking. He knew she was joking. But parts of him weren’t so convinced.
This wasn’t going to be the most relaxing holiday he’d ever had.
Chapter 6
Pippa was trying, to no avail, to shave her legs. But as this involved having a bath on her own, and getting at least ten minutes’ peace and quiet, it wasn’t going according to plan. Scotty was at the other end of the tub squirting her face with a water pistol and the twins were perched on the edge, fascinated by her unfamiliar actions.
“But why are you doing that?” asked Daisy, staring at her big sister’s legs. “And why do you keep cutting yourself?” added Lily, poking one finger at her.
“Mainly because someone keeps prodding me!” snapped Pippa, deciding to give up. She’d managed one. The other would just have to stay forested. And anyway, they were right – there was no reason to be doing it. It’s not like she’d be entering the North Cornish Miss Lovely Legs contest any time soon, or be prancing round in a mini skirt.
She climbed out and dried herself off, leaving Scotty to play for a few more minutes. He gave her a final squirt on the bum as she bent over to pick up the towel, much to everyone’s amusement. At least she’d managed to wash her hair, she thought, and was now going to actually blow-dry it. Chores be damned! She was turning into a wild reckless fool!
Lily and Daisy looked on as she got dressed – in actual clean clothes with no holes in them – and even dabbed on a bit of blusher and lip gloss. She looked in the mirror and felt…odd. It hadn’t been a lot of effort, but it had made a big difference. She felt like a different human being. A female one.
“You look like Cinderella,” said Daisy, reaching up to touch Pippa’s long blonde hair in awe. “And Ben can be Prince Charming!” added Lily, giggling. They were only little, but they’d already picked up on the difference, thought Pippa. The difference in her.
It was worrying because she felt it herself, this subtle change. Since their lunch in the pub, they’d settled into a steady routine. Ben had extended his stay for another week, and for the last nine days, he had got up early to help them with the animals, and even found a few jobs to do around the farm.
They’d carried on flirting, looking but not touching, and it had been…well, it had been lovely. They left the deep and meaningful stuff alone, and instead simply enjoyed it when their routines threw them together.
Despite her protests, he claimed he enjoyed being her odd-job slave, that a bit of manual labour helped his creative juices run more freely in the evening when he was writing. And watching him, moving with the easy grace of the very fit, she had to admit it got her juices flowing as well. Not necessarily creative ones. She’d never thought of watching a man replace rusty gate hinges as entertaining before, but this was better than a trip to the multi-screen. She found herself keeping one eye out of the window, noticing his hulking figure pottering around, hoping for a heatwave so he’d have to do it all without a shirt.
She was shameless, she thought, with a final peek in the mirror. But she was enjoying it, despite her doubts. She’d never had a man in her life before, beyond the postman and her own father all those years ago, and knowing he was around made her feel secure. Hopeful. And ever so slightly concerned.
Because what happened when he went? He’d been here less than a fortnight, yet somehow he’d become part of all their lives. He’d already been here longer than either of them had anticipated, and she wasn’t the only one who’d got used to having him around. She might be the one putting on the lip gloss – but the kids had been affected as well. They enjoyed spending time with him, and she often caught Scotty sitting by his side, passing him tools and chatting to him.
Now, though, he only had two nights of his stay left. Then he’d go back to London and she’d go back to normality. Back to doing everything on her own. Back to having nobody to talk to, no adult company. Patrick’s behaviour had improved since he’d started visiting Mr Jensen – she even had the sneaking suspicion he was starting to enjoy it – but he hardly qualified as an adult. Not in the way that Ben did.
It was all going to end – this brief interlude that had turned into as much of a holiday for her as it had for Ben. And that made her sad.
There was no fairy godmother and no glass slipper – or even a glass wellie. When Prince Charming left in his carriage they’d quite possibly never see him again. His life would move on – she had no doubt that he’d be famous for his books as well as his brawn before long. Everything would be different for him. But for them, it would be the same – but with a Prince Charming-shaped hole.
Huh. Prince Charming. She hoped they didn’t mention that one when he came to dinner tonight. She’d die of embarrassment. Because while there was still a gentle air of flirtation between them, it was nothing more than that. She didn’t have time for a man and he had made his feelings on the subject very clear – he was a woman-free zone.
Tonight, though, he was coming for dinner. It had been Scotty’s idea, bizarrely. The four-year-old had taken to Ben in a way she’d never seen him react before. He’d followed him around on his “jobs”, passing him tools like a surgeon’s assistant. Playing football with him in the field. Asking for him as soon as he woke.
On the one hand it was a joy to see him open up, but on the other…again, worrying. Because Ben would be leaving. Ben wasn’t his father. Ben wasn’t her boyfriend. Ben most definitely wasn’t Prince Charming. Ben wasn’t going to be around for the hard times, when Scotty was crying in the night, and Patrick was drunk, and she was shovelling snow off the driveway. Ben was temporary, and she needed to be one hundred percent okay with that.
Which is exactly why, she thought, spraying a bit of perfume on her wrists, she was taking so much care getting ready for a chicken-casserole dinner in her own kitchen. Duh.
“You look really pretty, Pippa,” said Scotty, ambling towards her, naked and soaking wet. Since when had he learned to climb out of the bath on his own? He was growing so fast she could barely keep up.
“Thank you very much, sweetie,” she said, wrapping him in a towel and getting him dressed. What would happen to her when he grew up and left home? Her baby boy? Well, she thought, giving him a kiss on his damp blonde curls, she’d just have to go out and get a life of her own. She’d only be in her thirties, after all. Hardly ancient. There’d be time for love later on. She might meet someone wonderful. After all, she’d pretty much given Ben a pep talk on exactly the same subject that day at the pub, so she should at least do herself the same kindness.
As soon as he heard the knock on the door and the sound of the latch lifting, Scotty wriggled out of her grasp – luckily dressed apart from one missing sock – and was out of her arms and down the stairs. She heard Daisy and Lily thundering after him.
“Pippa!” Daisy cried. “Prince Charming is here!”
She grimaced and scooped up the wet towels Scotty had left on the bedroom floor. So much for being a princess – there was always going to be laundry to do and no magic woodland creatures to do it for her…
Slinging the towels in the basket, she patted her silky hair down one last time and went downstairs. Ben was standing in the kitchen, acting as a human climbing frame for all three kids, who were draped strategically over his shoulders, back and legs. Once he’d managed to shake them all off, he turned round with a smile.
Prince Charming indeed, she thought, feeling that now-familiar hitch in her breathing. He’d dressed up too and was wearing a crisp, pale-blue shirt that made his skin look even more tanned. His hair was freshly washed and she swore she could still smell his shower gel – something spicy and male and expensive and utterly lush. His head was slightly stooped, as though avoiding the beams in the ceiling, and he was holding out a bunch of wild flowers that had obviously been picked from her own meadow.
The man was completely edible, and she worried for a moment that she might actually be drooling. Maybe it was a good thing he’d be leaving soon – she wasn’t sure her
libido could take much more. After years of giving men little or no thought at all, she now found she couldn’t go more than a few minutes without thinking about him. Imagining putting her hands on his shoulders, tiptoeing up, and placing a great big smacker on those luscious lips of his. Slipping her hands under whatever clothing he was wearing and exploring the magnificent torso she knew lay beneath it.
It was way too distracting, and starting to chip away at a sense of independence she never even realised she had. Him being here was changing her and she wasn’t convinced she wanted that at all.
“I brought you these,” he said, holding out the bouquet, his smile chasing away all her vague anxieties. “I realise that technically picking them from your meadow was theft, but I hope you’ll forgive me. You look…beautiful.”
Pippa smiled, absurdly pleased that he’d noticed.
“Thank you. Just goes to show how bad I normally look,” she replied, taking the flowers and sniffing them as she placed them in a vase. “Please, sit down – dinner’s almost ready. I think Patrick may even be gracing us with his presence.”
“How’s it going with him and Mr Jensen?” he asked, seating himself at the table. He immediately started refereeing as the children squabbled about who got to sit next to him. She was about to step in, then realised he’d sorted the situation out already, with a few simple comments and the setting up of a rota system. He was good with them, she thought. Maybe a bit too good.
Shaking off that slight feeling of unease, she served up dinner, hearing Patrick’s gentle footfall thudding down the stairs, shaking the whole room like an approaching giant. He even had to stoop his head as he came through the door.
“Ask him yourself,” she replied. “He’s obviously smelled food.”
Patrick – washed, shaved and looking almost like a normal human being, demolished two bowls of casserole, all the time telling them about Mr Jensen, his life and especially his time in North Africa during the war. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so animated, and he wasn’t even drunk. He’d even been going back there voluntarily – and thankfully without Robbie – just to “help out the old geezer”. She was starting to think that him trashing Mr Jensen’s garden was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, and prayed that it was the rock bottom he needed to hit before he crawled back up.
“It sounds really cool, sis,” he said, mopping up the gravy with a chunk of home-made bread. “I know it was a war and all, but it sounds like they had a right laugh as well. I was thinking that maybe the army life might be for me…”
There was a lull in the conversation, and Pippa felt a chill run up and down the small hairs on her arms. Patrick? In the army? Shipped off to Iraq or God knows where? Given a real-life gun? She must have looked as horrified as she felt, because he immediately burst out laughing.
“Only kidding – just wanted to see your face! Actually, I was thinking about applying to agricultural college next year. I know my grades aren’t brilliant – okay, they’re really crap – but maybe I could resit my exams. What do you think? Mr Jensen thinks it’s a good idea. Says he’ll even give me a reference.”
Pippa paused, spoon midway to her mouth, and the whole family stared at her.
“Could you please tell me when the alien invasion came and what they’ve done with the real Patrick?” she asked, standing up to clear the dishes. “I think it’s a great idea! If you need any help with the application – ”
“Yeah, like filling the whole thing in!”
“– then you know where I am. Right, I’m going to put the kids to bed.”
There was an immediate protest, as all three of the children claimed they wanted Ben to read them their bedtime stories.
Again, she felt it – the slight raising of hackles. She liked Ben – maybe more than that – and the kids adored him. He’d been nothing but honest and open and gentle with her. He’d helped around the farm, he’d played with Scotty, he’d made time for Patrick when everyone else, including her, was ready to give up on him. But he was, she reminded herself again, only temporary. Was it right to let him this close, to let him read them bedtime stories, let him become such a favourite in their lives? And was it even them she was worried about, or just herself?
Life had been tough for the last few years, but she’d survived. She’d survived by coping alone. And now she felt all of that starting to crumble – it wasn’t only the kids who looked forward to seeing him every day, it was her as well.
Patrick saved her from making a decision by stepping in.
“Nah. I’m putting you all to bed,” he said. “And then I’m going to play Call of Duty on the X-Box till my eyes bleed. Sis and Ben can go out for a drink or something. Grown-up stuff.”
The children grumbled until he started chasing them, pretending he was a zombie while he pursued them up the stairs, making them shriek in delight. Pippa looked on in amazement – she couldn’t remember the last time Patrick had voluntarily done anything for someone else, especially her. She was normally enemy number one. Either aliens really had invaded or Patrick was showing signs of growing up. If you’d asked her a month ago, she’d have sworn that a close encounter of the ET kind was the more likely of the two.
She turned to Ben, still holding the tea towel in her hands. He smiled, seeming to sense her tension.
“Well, do you fancy it?” he asked.
“What?” she replied, her imagination stepping in to fill a few gaps. This was crazy. One minute she wanted to shoo him out of her nest for getting too close, the next she wanted to lick his face. Maybe she was going insane.
“A drink. A walk. Skinny-dipping in the bay.”
All of the above and more, she thought. He might only be here for a few more days – maybe she should make the most of them.
Chapter 7
Barrelstock Bay was one of Pippa’s very favourite places in the whole world – which was lucky, as it was only a couple of miles away from the farm.
It was almost always deserted, thanks mainly to the fact that you needed a hefty four-wheel drive and nerves of steel to get to it. At night, in particular, it was rare to see another living soul. Unless you counted the nervous foxes and shrews you occasionally saw illuminated in car headlights, dashing away from the road the minute anyone approached.
The beach was made up of pebbles and rocks of all shapes and sizes, washed smooth by millennia of waves, interspersed with patches of fine yellow sand. On both sides, the sea crashed into cliffs that had been hewn into haggard shapes by the constant ebb and flow of the ocean. The moonlight filtered through the cove, dappling the sand and rocks, casting the whole bay in an eerie glow.
She wasn’t sure why she’d brought him here, to this special place. A place she almost held as sacred and had visited alone so many times in the last few years. It had been her secret haven, a hideaway she fled to when she needed time to regroup. It wasn’t unheard of for her to come straight here after a particularly fraught school run, and spend hours talking herself down off the edge of her I-Can’t-Do-This cliff. Hopefully not out loud or the foxes might grass her up to Social Services.
She came here on the anniversary of her parents’ death and on their birthdays. For the last few years on her birthday as well – because nobody was throwing her a party and baking a cake any time soon. She’d spent her twenty-first here, with nothing but the ocean for company, and it hadn’t been anywhere near as sad as it sounded. Because when she was sitting on the sand at Barrelstock Bay, she was at peace.
Maybe that’s why she brought him here – why she thought he’d understand and love it as much as she did. They both needed some peace and that’s what she associated the Bay with. Peace and fun and happiness. And now, with Ben. With this virtual stranger, who had somehow found a place in her home, in the children’s lives, and, she was beginning to suspect, in her poor befuddled heart.
The night was mild, but they were both huddled beneath the blanket she’d brought with them from the Land Rover.
A flask of hot coffee sat at their feet and for a while they were both silent, listening to the sound of the waves and the scurrying of small animals in the scrubby bushes behind them.
“Why does this blanket smell of dog when you don’t have a dog?” said Ben, breaking the quiet. “And why don’t you have a dog, anyway? I’d expect a border collie called Postman Pat or something.”
“Ah. You must have been a detective in a previous life,” replied Pippa. “This was the blanket we always kept in the car when we took Leonardo out with us.”
“Leonardo? A dog named after a famous artist?”
“No, stupid. A dog named after a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle – and a lab, not a collie. It’s a bit of a family tradition, letting kids choose the names. He died last year, which was fair enough as he was about a thousand in doggie years, and I just haven’t had the heart to get rid of it. I don’t even notice the smell any more. Sorry if it’s a bit gross.”
“No, not gross at all. Just dog, nothing wrong with that. Could be worse. Could be Harry Potter…smells are so powerful aren’t they? One whiff of something evocative and it’s as if your mind jumps into a time machine.”
For him, he knew, that wasn’t so good. The smell of over-boiled veg would forever remind him of prison meals. The smell of Opium would forever remind him of Johanna – the one she always wore. But maybe, he pondered, subtly inhaling the aroma floating up from Pippa’s cloud of pale hair, they could be replaced. With something new, something better.
The smell of lavender shampoo, for instance, would now be forever pinned in his olfactory memory. Maybe he’d start visiting lavender farms or herbalists just to bring back this moment, to bring back these images. Because right here, right now, he felt more content than he had for years. Possibly forever. He’d eaten a delicious home-cooked meal in a family kitchen, with a family that had welcomed him. He was looking at one of the most beautiful views he’d ever seen. And sitting right next to him, beneath a blanket that smelled of a long-gone lab, was Pippa. He knew it couldn’t last – that real life would come along and punch him on the hooter before too long – but just in that one moment, everything felt right. More than right. Perfect.
Pippa's Cornish Dream Page 6