“That’s very touching, Ella.” There was a sharp edge to Symon’s voice that she’d never heard before. “The trouble is, we both know it’s utter nonsense. No doubt you said the same to Charlie and, who knows, maybe even Jake? I’ll have to ask him.”
Ella gasped. These words were so cruel she actually felt as though she’d been slapped. She couldn’t believe Symon was so angry just because she’d not told him about Charlie.
“How many times can I tell you that Charlie meant nothing?” she said. “I didn’t mention him because it didn’t even occur to me that I needed to! That’s how little he actually featured in my life! It’s not because he’s some major love affair I’m guarding. It’s because he was a stupid, meaningless fling. I’ve regretted it every day since!”
“Just like the one that we nearly had, I suppose? Lucky we stopped when we did. I’d hate to be the latest notch on your bedpost. And if you’re trying to bed all the TV chefs in the land, then I guess Gordon and Jamie had better watch out.”
The sarcasm in his voice was betrayed by the briefest flicker of pain in those blue eyes, and instantly Ella understood that none of this was really about her.
This was about Symon. Or maybe more accurately it was about Claudette.
Hadn’t the other woman told Symon he was just a fling? Made him feel that what they’d shared was nothing to her when it had meant the world to him? Like Ella, Symon felt things deeply and, like her, he would revert to whatever defence mechanism had worked before. By his own admission he’d shut Claudette out of his life and walked away, and now he was going to do the same to Ella.
She couldn’t let him. They were at the start of something special and they couldn’t lose it. Not over a stupid misunderstanding.
“What we have isn’t meaningless and you know it,” said Ella quietly. “That’s why you’re terrified.”
His mouth curled scornfully. “Hardly.”
“Yes, you are.” Ella felt as though she had nothing to lose now. There was no point holding back. “You’re terrified of real relationships where a woman is actually flesh and blood and not some idealised vision up on a pedestal. Like your mother was and like Claudette was too.”
“Spare me the cod psychology,” he spat.
But Ella had the bit between her teeth now.
“I’m sorry if you had a bad time in the past and I’m sorry if Claudette let you down and hurt you but I’m not her! Women are human, Symon. We make mistakes. We do things we regret. We sleep with the wrong people. We make bad choices. We have pasts. That’s real life. I’ve never pretended to be perfect and I’ve never lied to you either. If I misled you about Charlie then I’m sorry but you’ve misled me too!”
“I have not!” Symon grated. “I’ve been nothing but open and honest with you.”
Ella shook her head.
“You might have told me about your past but you also let me believe that it was safe to be myself and that it was all right to tell you everything – but that was a lie, wasn’t it? I haven’t lived up to some unobtainable goal you placed there for me to reach. And do you know what? Maybe it’s just as well you’re disappointed in me now because with a conditional love like yours nobody could ever be good enough! So I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve let you down, Symon, but you’ve let me down too!”
Then she flew from the restaurant and out into the street. It was raining hard now but that didn’t matter to Ella. She could hardly tell where the raindrops ended and her tears started. She felt as though her heart was splintering into a million sharp pieces, each one stabbing her repeatedly as his words echoed through her mind. The pain was unbearable.
How had something so wonderful been snatched away so quickly?
Once again she was alone; unloved and unlovable. And this time as she stood sobbing in the rain, her hair plastered to her cheeks and her clothes drenched, she didn’t even have Evil Ella to call upon. No matter how hard she tried it seemed that her ice-maiden alter ego was long gone and no amount of wishing would summon her back. This new, hurting and vulnerable version of Ella St Milton looked frighteningly as though she was here to stay. The thought made her cry even harder.
Symon watched Ella go and then slumped at the table with his head in his hands. He’d been so angry about Charlie that when she’d walked into the restaurant he’d been unable to contain himself. White-hot jealousy had coursed through him; the idea of Ella being with Charlie Burton turned his stomach. He wasn’t a fool and he knew Ella had been with other guys, but Charlie Barton? That smirking, preening, swaggering idiot? Symon had almost thrown up at the thought and when Ella had admitted it, he’d thought he would explode.
Why did he feel so angry? Why did it matter so much that she hadn’t mentioned Charlie to him? Why was he feeling this way?
Symon stomped up and down the restaurant, trying to calm himself down, but the words Ella had fired at him replayed over and over again in his head. It was all nonsense. Of course he hadn’t let her down. She’d let him down by not being truthful with him. How could he trust her? He should have learned his lesson the last time.
“You might have told me about your past but you also let me believe that it was safe to be myself and that it was all right to tell you everything – but that was a lie, wasn’t it?”
It was all utter nonsense, of course. He wasn’t that unrealistic but there had to be honesty in relationships. Otherwise what was the point? He’d been on the edge of trusting Ella in every way – in business and in love – and to find that she’d been keeping secrets had been a huge shock to him. It reminded him of Claudette (who’d been a consummate keeper of secrets, and of secret lovers), and he’d sworn to never go down that route again.
“Symon, are you OK?”
Tara popped her head around the service door just as Symon completed another lap of the restaurant.
“I’m fine.”
“You might be, but the soles of your shoes won’t last long if you keep this up!” She smiled at him but her eyes were worried. “Look, Symon, I overheard some of what just went on.”
Symon groaned. That meant that they’d all heard. Great. Just great. The kitchen staff would have a field day.
“Did you know that Ella was seeing Charlie?”
Tara slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. “I think that was common knowledge, Symon, but even if it wasn’t you shouldn’t hold that against her.”
“Why not? Ella uses people. Charlie first and then me. Christ. I can’t believe I didn’t listen to Mo or Jake. They know what she’s really like.”
Tara poured him a brandy from the bar. “Have this and calm down. Besides, you know Mo’s a law unto herself and can hold a grudge like no one else. And Jake won’t say anything against Ella even though things ended badly between them.”
Symon necked the drink. The burning warmth in his throat did little to comfort him, Instead, it reminded him of his past: in his mind’s eye, he saw a bare-chested young man downing cognac and showing off to a dark-eyed woman whose mouth curved in wry amusement.
“I’ve been so stupid,” he said bleakly. “I trusted her.”
Who was he talking about? Ella or Claudette? The two were starting to blur and Symon closed his eyes in defeat. He needed to stay away from love; his judgement was not to be relied on.
“I don’t think trusting Ella was wrong,” said Tara slowly. “I think your instincts are spot on with her. You can tell me it’s none of my business, but I think she’s in love with you too. She’s changed since she’s been working with you; everyone says so. She’s warmer and more human.”
Symon laughed bitterly. “You’ve been reading too many of Caspar’s novels.”
“I have not,” said Tara, looking offended. “I just know that being with Richard has made me a better person and that sometimes finding the right person is all it takes. Ella trusts you and from what I’ve seen of her she doesn’t give that trust lightly, Symon. Don’t blow it.”
Once Tara returned to her w
ork, Symon mulled these words over. Nevertheless, he was sure there was nothing anyone could say now that would change his feelings. A lie was a lie even if it was by omission. Ella hadn’t told him the truth, so how could he ever put his faith in her again? He didn’t think he could even bear to work with her at the manor now, let alone trust her with his heart. She’d let him down and he couldn’t see a way forward.
He had no choice but to stay well away from Ella St Milton, no matter how much that was going to hurt.
Chapter 27
Emerald’s head hurt. Really hurt and even opening her eyes felt like an effort.
“How are you doing, love?” Her grandmother’s voice was filled with worry.
Not wanting to give the elderly woman any more stress, Emerald forced herself to look animated. “I’m feeling much better,” she fibbed. There was no way she could tell Alice it felt as though a line-dancing festival was taking place inside her skull. When she’d been hit by the car she must have walloped it with quite some force. The doctors in the emergency room had all agreed that she’d got off rather lightly with mild concussion and a broken arm. The unspoken sentiment was that she was lucky not to have been killed.
Emerald was very shaken. One minute she’d been trying to dive out of the way of the speeding vehicle and the next she was waking up in an ambulance. She’d panicked at first but the paramedic had soothed her and promised to call her family, which had made Emerald cry harder because her mom was thousands of miles away in California. She might be eighteen and in the middle of her adventure of a lifetime, but there was nobody Emerald wanted more at that moment than Leaf. Her mom might be flaky at times but she was still her mom and Emerald missed her dreadfully. As she’d lain on the trolley, with an oxygen mask pressed over her face and tears trickling out of the corners of her eyes, she’d realised that she hadn’t needed to travel all the way to England to find her family: she already had one.
Leaf was her family.
“How are you doing?” Jimmy asked solicitously. “Is the arm settling down?”
Emerald nodded. Her arm was hurting but some heavy-duty painkillers were taking care of that. It had been pinned in two places and would take some time to heal. All the simple things she took for granted, like getting dressed or making a drink, were going to be very awkward indeed. And what about looking after Mo’s horses? How would she manage?
“I haven’t done the horse for Mo!” Emerald cried, struggling to sit up. The sudden movement yanked her drip and an alarm began to bleep.
“The horses are just fine. Jake and Summer are helping Mo,” Jules said, placing a hand on Emerald’s shoulder and easing her back onto the pillows.
“And Ashley has quite enough money to pay for help,” added Jimmy, who was sitting at the bedside and working his way through the box of candy Alice had produced. “There’s nothing for you to worry about except for getting better.”
Her father’s grey hair, usually in a ponytail, was looking dishevelled where he’d been running his hands through it in agitation for most of the night. Jimmy must be exhausted, Emerald thought, because he’d arrived at the hospital only ten minutes after the ambulance and had stayed at her side ever since. When they’d set her arm and she’d sobbed with pain, Jimmy had held her other hand and told her stories about the time Zak broke his collarbone falling out of the tree house.
“He was lucky to get away with that,” Jimmy had recalled. “Zak had borrowed a trawl from Big Eddie to make a scramble net, and if Ed had got his hands on your brother a broken collarbone would have been the least of his injuries!”
He’d gone on to recount her siblings’ other childhood injuries and illnesses, from chickenpox to concussion, and as she’d listened Emerald had remembered all the times that Leaf had sat by her bedside cooling her forehead when she had a fever or singing to her to soothe her to sleep after a bad dream. Jimmy was a good father in his own way – his love for his children rang true in his every word, and there were years and years of care and affection woven through the stories that he’d told her – but these weren’t her stories, were they? These were the childhood memories of her siblings and the echoes of the past they shared with their father. She had her own memories and stories but they were shared with her mom and their life in America. That was home.
As she lay in her hospital bed, Emerald was struck by the irony that she’d come all the way to England to find her roots, only to discover they were to be found exactly where she’d started.
“I want to go home,” she said quietly.
“That shouldn’t be long now,” smiled the nurse who’d come to turn off the alarm. She picked up Emerald’s chart from the foot of the bed and squinted at it. “You’re doing really well, love. I expect you’ll be discharged tomorrow.”
“Oh! Isn’t that wonderful!” Alice squeezed Emerald’s hand and beamed at her. “You can come home tomorrow! We’ll make your bedroom ready for you at Seaspray and I’ll cook your favourite dinner to welcome you back.”
“Cool,” said Emerald listlessly.
But the elderly woman’s face furrowed. “Oh love, I’ve just realised I haven’t a clue what your favourite food is.”
But Emerald hadn’t been thinking about Seaspray. When she’d thought of going home it was the tiny rental apartment in Sausalito that she’d been picturing, with its peeling mint paint on the woodwork, dusty backyard, vibrant splashes of bougainvillea and ticking ceiling fan in the den. Home was the cloudless blue skies and bright colours of California, the traffic-choked freeway – and her mom, who would have known to welcome Emerald back with refried beans and tacos. Homesickness clawed at her heart and tears spilled over her cheeks. Emerald wanted to be there so much it hurt.
“Can I call my mom?” she whispered.
“Oh, love, of course you can,” said Alice. She passed Emerald a tissue. “You must miss her very much. But it’s still the middle of the night in the States. Shall we call her a little later?”
Emerald couldn’t reply. Shaken from the accident and missing home so badly, she started to sob.
“Oh, love!” said Alice helplessly.
“I’m sorry, Granny,” wept Emerald, “but I miss my mom so much.”
“Of course you do,” said Jules. “There’s no one like your mum when you’re poorly. I even miss mine, and she used to dose me up with cod-liver oil.”
Emerald smiled through her tears. “That sounds gross.”
Jules grimaced. “It certainly was. In fact, the thought of it makes my stomach churn even all these years on.”
“I’ve already spoken to your mum, love,” said Jimmy, once Emerald had blown her nose and Alice had mopped up her tears. “I called her last night while you were having your arm set. She’s on her way.”
Emerald stared at him. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Leaf was coming here?
“For real?”
He smiled. “For real. I promise! Not that I could have stopped her if I tried. As soon as she heard what had happened she was ready to swim the Atlantic if she had to.”
“That’s mothers for you,” said Alice.
But Emerald was worried. “She hasn’t got any money! How will she afford it?” The tears, never far from the surface today, started to fall again. “I’ve caused so much trouble for you all.”
“Never!” said Jimmy fiercely. “None of this is your fault, Emerald. And as for the ticket here? It’s all taken care of. I’ve already booked and paid for the flight and Leaf will be here tomorrow. It’s the very least I can do for you, Emerald. I’m sorry I’ve handled everything so badly and I’m sorry if I’ve been a disappointment to you as a father.”
Emerald raised herself up on her good elbow and smiled at him.
“Never,” she said quietly. “You could never be a disappointment. Thank you, so much! Thank you, Dad.”
And this time it was Jimmy’s turn to well up.
“Have the police got any idea what happened?” Jules asked Alice once visiting time was
over and they were driving home. The countryside blurred past them in smudges of greens and browns and splatters of daffodils in the hedgerows, but for once the glory of a Cornish spring was completely passing Jules by; still shocked by the state they’d found Emerald in, she could only see the deep cuts to the girl’s head and the angry purple and red bruises blooming against her tanned skin. The pinned arm was plastered, but even the cheerful pink cast couldn’t detract from the fact that it was covering a nasty injury. Who could have hit her and left her for dead?
Alice shook her head. “The police have nothing to go on and Emerald says it happened so fast that she didn’t see anything that can help them.”
“So it’s a hit and run?”
“Not necessarily. It was very dark, Emerald’s torch wasn’t working and she was wearing black,” Alice pointed out. “Whoever hit her might have thought they clipped a deer or a badger.”
Jules found this hard to believe. “How could you possibly mistake a person for a badger?”
“If you were driving fast you might?” Alice didn’t sound convinced. “There are lots of badgers and deer up at the top. They live in Fernside woods, where there’s lots of cover, and they quite often run out into the lane. Jake hit a badger in the truck once and it did a huge amount of damage.”
The car had reached the top of Polwenna Bay and, as always, the view took Jules’s breath away. The bad weather had drifted out into the English Channel and now the water was a kaleidoscope of shifting blues and turquoises below the houses and narrow streets. The thought that somebody down there, one of their friends or neighbours, could have knocked Emerald down and knowingly left her alone and injured in the dark was unbearable. Jules simply couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe it.
Recipe for Love: A gorgeous Cornish romance (Polwenna Bay Book 5) Page 26