The Beauty of Broken Things

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The Beauty of Broken Things Page 28

by Victoria Connelly


  ‘Good, I think.’

  He grinned. ‘As modest as ever. I bet you’ve got some great shots.’

  ‘Maybe one or two.’

  ‘Fancy an ice cream down by the harbour?’ he suggested.

  She nodded enthusiastically.

  Ten minutes later, ice creams in hand, the two of them walked down to the quay and sat on a bench, staring out at the calm blue of the water.

  ‘How’s Bill getting on?’ Luke asked.

  ‘Really well. Back to his old self, only Margy fusses around him more since his operation, which drives him mad. She’s even been taking her knitting up to the allotment so she can keep an eye on him there.’

  Luke laughed. ‘I can’t imagine him liking that much.’

  ‘Actually, I think he’s beginning to get used to it. You should see them. They look so cute together, sharing a flask on the bench outside his shed.’

  ‘Shall we pop in and say hello to them later?’

  ‘Of course,’ Orla said. ‘I saw Margy buying a rather large Victoria sponge at the fete so we may be in for a treat.’

  They sat for a few minutes enjoying their ice creams in silence.

  ‘How have you been?’ Orla asked him at last.

  ‘Good,’ he said, and then shrugged. ‘Well, by good, I mean better.’ He paused. ‘You know.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ She gave him a gentle smile, remembering some of their long evening phone calls when they’d talked about Helen and how some days just had to be got through. Like Luke’s first Christmas Day without Helen – that had been a tough one. They’d spent a good couple of hours on the phone that day. And Valentine’s Day, too, which had trooped its colour in hateful splendour, with Luke confiding that he had nobody to leave a card for on their pillow any more. His wedding anniversary had been tricky too, as was his own birthday and Helen’s – her second one since she’d died. But Luke was looking well, she thought. There was colour in his cheeks and his eyes were bright with life and light.

  ‘How about you?’ he asked. ‘You look good. Happy.’

  She nodded. ‘I am. I had this moment at the fete just as everything was coming to an end and I suddenly realised that I didn’t want it to. Isn’t that funny? All that time, I shut myself away from the world in the castle, afraid of what was outside my own door, and now I find that a lot of it’s rather wonderful.’ She popped the last of her ice cream cone into her mouth and crunched. ‘Mildred asked me if she could book me for next year’s fete.’

  ‘And what did you say?’ Luke asked as he finished his own ice cream.

  ‘I said she’d better take a look at this year’s photos first.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  ‘That they were bound to be better than the blurred ones of decapitated prize winners that she’s been taking for the last three years.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘There’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you,’ she added. ‘I’ve got in touch with some of my old friends in London.’

  Luke looked surprised by this. ‘Orla, that’s great!’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’ She gave a little shrug as if it wasn’t such a big deal. ‘Anyway, I thought it was time. I’ve missed them all so much.’

  Luke smiled and they sat in silence for a few moments.

  ‘You know, I haven’t felt this for a long time,’ Orla confessed at last with a contented sigh.

  ‘Felt what?’ Luke asked.

  ‘This sense of belonging.’

  Luke turned to look at her, and then he did something he’d never done before – he reached across the bench and placed his hand on hers. It was such a natural movement that Orla didn’t mind at all. Instead, she sat perfectly still and perfectly content, the happy soundtrack of seagulls high above them.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  As ever, thank you to my husband, Roy, for endless trips in pursuit of this novel.

  Thank you to Sara Moreton for letting us stay at beautiful Keep Cottage in Orford. To Sue Dixon for advice when needed in an emergency! To Kevin Tatum for advising me about old buildings and planning permissions.

  And thank you to Sammia, Katie, Bekah, Laura, Nicole and the rest of the brilliant team at Lake Union. It’s so much fun working with you all.

  A very special thank you to Dr David O’Reilly, who will be pleased to know that I wrote most of this novel at my new standing desk, and that I am implementing all of his suggested ‘lifestyle changes’.

  To the lovely people of Instagram who answered my many questions. Do follow their accounts, because they are all gorgeous:

  Rebecca Lewis @poshyarns, Celia Hart @celiahartartist, Milli Proust @milliproust, Helen Redfern @helenredfernwriter, Becky Cole @beckyocole, Julia Smith @humphreyandgrace, Emma Chessell @mylittlecountrylife and Eva Nemeth @eva_nemeth.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2016 Roy Connelly

  Victoria Connelly studied English Literature at Worcester University, got married in a medieval castle in the Yorkshire Dales and now lives in rural Suffolk with her artist husband, a young springer spaniel and a flock of ex-battery hens. She is the author of two bestselling series, Austen Addicts and The Book Lovers, as well as many other novels and novellas. Her first published novel, Flights of Angels, was made into a film in 2008 by Ziegler Films in Germany. The Runaway Actress was shortlisted for the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s Romantic Comedy Novel award.

  Ms Connelly loves books, films, walking, historic buildings and animals. If she isn’t at her keyboard writing, she can usually be found in her garden either with a trowel in her hand or a hen on her lap.

  Her website is www.victoriaconnelly.com and readers can follow her on Twitter @VictoriaDarcy and on Instagram @VictoriaConnellyAuthor.

 

 

 


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