none of this hesitation, none of this uncertainty, not knowing what the other person was thinking. Even if it was obvious what he was feeling.
There had been no need to flirt, play games, tease. She didn’t know how to do this, and Ben wasn’t helping. It was like taking a step into the dark when she’d been clinging to a light. Dim, flickering, but safe. She felt as if she’d been running for the last three years. Making a new life. But all she’d been doing was running on the spot. Or maybe around in circles…
And Ben recognized that, needed her to take the step on her own, as he had done. Not to cling to something that was over, gone, but to let it go, turn and walk towards a future that was entirely hers.
She cleared her throat, tried again.
‘As I’m your prisoner,’ she said thickly, ‘it’s your duty to get me out of these wet things. Before I catch my death of cold.’
‘You appear to be losing your voice. Maybe you should take a hot shower as well?’ Then, with a slow smile, ‘Under the closest supervision.’
She didn’t need hot water when she had his smile to warm her. ‘You think I might try to escape?’
‘I’m not prepared to take the risk.’
‘We’d better use your shower, then. It’s, um, bigger.’
‘The smaller the shower,’ he said, ‘the closer the supervision…’
‘We could try both.’
The phone was ringing as they reached the house. They ignored it, shedding wet clothes as they made their way through the kitchen, across the hall. The answering machine clicked in as they reached the stairs.
Ben’s voice said, ‘You’ve reached Ben Faulkner and Ellie March. Leave a message for either of us after the bleep.’
Startled, Ellie stopped, looked at him. ‘When did you record that?’
‘Does it matter?’
Yes, weirdly, it did. But before she could work out why, the caller’s voice cut in.
‘Ellie, it’s Becky Thomas. The hospital has just called to say I’ve got a kidney match. My mother’s in California, visiting my sister. Jack’s gone to Scotland for a meeting, and he can’t get back until tomorrow morning-’
Ben reached over the banister, picked up the phone, said, ‘We’ll be right there, Becky.’
‘Ben…’ The word was an unspoken apology, a plea for understanding.
‘It’s okay, Ellie.’ His kiss, long and sweet, was a promise. ‘This will keep.’
The weekend was over before life returned to anything like normal. Ellie had stayed with Daisy, leaving her father to spend as much time as possible at the hospital with his wife, and allowing him to leave in the middle of the night in case of emergency.
In response to her appeal Ben had brought her laptop, so that she could at least get on with her column. Had stayed to share lunch. Spaghetti hoops on toast.
‘It’s the nearest to Italian we’re going to get this week,’ she said, as she saw him to the door, then blushed at her boldness.
‘Anticipation is half the pleasure, or so they say.’
‘It’s going to be that good?’
‘You are a joy and torment,’he said as he touched her cheek, curling his fingers back into his hand as if even that contact was too much temptation.
‘You’ll have the wedding to take your mind off it. You will go?’
‘I have no choice. But I’ll be sure to tell everyone that my girl is too busy being an angel of mercy to come.’
His girl…
She had finished Lady G’s column, weaving in the renovation of the herb garden. Then, instead of sending it, she’d written a long letter to Jennifer Cochrane, explaining why she would not be able to continue with it after the initial six-month contract.
It had taken four attempts to get it right.
She was so used to writing ‘in character’ that it was hard to break out of it, be herself, but she’d finally managed to set down the plain, unvarnished truth. No excuses about family pressures or the children needing her.
It was time to confront reality. The future.
Her future.
It was all there. Who she really was, what she did. How the first column had come to be written just to prove to the rest of the writing group that she could do it. How, instead of owning up straight away, she’d stupidly clung to her character at the interview. How, even though she’d known what she was doing was wrong, she hadn’t been able to turn down such an unexpected opportunity.
Finally, she apologised unreservedly to Mrs Cochrane and her readers, offering to return the fees she’d been paid.
She had e-mailed it before she could change her mind and then, once it was gone, all bridges burned, she’d begun to search the net for an art college that might be prepared to take a mature student.
It was another three days before Becky’s mother, who’d jetted back from California as soon as she could get a flight, recovered sufficiently to take care of Daisy so that Ellie could go home.
Ben had told her to call him, that he would pick her up, but she needed a walk, half an hour on her own, so that she could get everything straight in her head.
Daisy’s dad said he’d drop her things off on his way to the hospital, and she took the long way home, sitting for a while on a bench by the river.
Clearing the decks with Mrs Cochrane was just the beginning. She had other people to talk to. Her parents. Sue. The writing group. But most of all Ben. There were things he had to know about her, things he had a right to know before he made any kind of commitment. Even one as small as dinner for two at an Italian restaurant…
A car was parked in front of the house when she finally turned in to the drive, and her stomach, already churning with nerves, sank to her knees. It had been hard enough to work herself up to this point. Now she was going to have to wait.
She let herself in the back door and was practically bowled over by a half-grown dog, leaping from a basket and hurling itself at her. A mass of soft red fur, long quivering legs, a whirling feathery tail.
‘Hey, gorgeous,’ she said, wrapping her arms around him in an effort to hold him still. ‘What’s your name?’
He just grinned.
‘Where did you come from?’
No answer to that one, either.
She straightened, expecting to see Ben in the doorway, regarding her with a slightly rueful smile. The door was, unusually, closed. Presumably to keep the dog from bounding through the house and causing total mayhem. ‘Okay, boy, back to your basket.’ He rolled over, tongue lolling, a stupid look on his face. ‘Basket!’ she said, in her firmest voice.
He immediately leapt into it, looking pleased with himself, then leapt out again. Right. She eased herself backwards into the hall, pushing him back when he bounded after her so that she could close the door.
Laughing, she headed for Ben’s study to let him know she was home, stopped by the hall table, planning to flick through the post, then did a double take as she saw her pastel drawing of the house, beautifully framed, hanging above the table at eye level.
She reached up, touched the frame, incredibly moved. He’d liked it
She heard the drawing room door open behind her and turned, heart in mouth.
‘Ben…’ she began.
‘You’ve got a visitor, Ellie.’ His face was blank, giving nothing away, just the way it had been when he’d first come home. When he hadn’t smiled. When he’d wanted her gone. ‘Jennifer Cochrane?’
It was a question. Like, do you really know this woman? Is what she’s saying true?
She covered her mouth with her hand to stop the cry of anguish. She had been going to tell him. Explain. She’d hoped to make him laugh. See the funny side of it. But she’d lost that moment.
Jennifer Cochrane was standing by the window, looking out at the garden, but she turned as Ellie opened the door. Smiled, oblivious of any tension. At least Ben hadn’t thrown her out. Hadn’t threatened to sue.
