tall shelf containing pet food and assorted stationery. ‘That mag that your Jasmine was waiting for has come in. I expect you’ll be wanting to pick that up as well.’
Ben’s mouth straightened into a thin line. He stuffed the coins back in his coat pocket and retreated to the safety of the other side of the shop, pleased that he was hidden by the boxes of envelopes balanced on the top shelf.
Now was it
There was a sudden jangle of the shop door and a rush of cold air. A figure slammed the door closed and darted behind the shelving unit to join him.
‘Louise?’
She pulled the baseball cap she was wearing further down over her eyes and crouched a little lower. ‘Shh!’ she whispered loudly, without looking at him. Then she froze and slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder. ‘Ben?’
He didn’t say anything back. It was obvious who he was.
‘You’re wearing a suit,’ she said, forgetting to hunker down.
Just then the wild-looking ornithologist appeared, running down the street. Louise must have seen a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye, because she practically flattened herself against the shelves, sending a box of ballpoint pens flying. ‘Did he see me?’ she hissed at him, looking a little wild-eyed herself.
Ben tried to look nonchalant and peered out of the shop window, but it was difficult to see clearly with all the posters for local events and cards offering bicycles for sale and adverts for paperboys.
‘I think he’s gone.’
Louise edged closer to where he was standing and craned her neck. ‘Are you sure?’
He nodded. ‘He was going at some speed when he shot past here. On a hill this steep, it’s pretty difficult to stop when you’ve built up that kind of momentum. Why are you worried about-’
Oh. If Jas had been in his shoes she would have slapped herself on the forehead and said
‘Couldn’t you just let him have a picture and then he’d be on his way?’ That seemed like a reasonable solution.
Louise looked at him as if he’d just suggested she do a nude photo-shoot on the jetty-in sub-zero temperatures.
‘I’m so…flipping cross with him, I might not be responsible for my actions. He just scared the life out of Jack as we were on our way into school.’
Her son was here? Good. Perhaps then she’d lose that slightly haunted look from her eyes. The look that unwittingly begged him to rush in and be her knight in shining armour. His armour had gone into retirement when he’d signed his divorce papers, and he’d better remember that fact.
She sighed and straightened up a little. ‘A photo of us looking shocked is bad enough, but a shot of me turning pink in the face and spitting obscenities at him would only stoke the fire. By Friday there’d be a whole pack of them camped out at the local inn waiting for us.’ She rubbed her face with her hand. ‘Thank goodness I’d calmed down enough to realise that when I spotted him following me again.’
She stopped talking and looked him up and down. ‘You’re wearing a suit. A very nice suit.’
‘You already said that.’
‘Won’t it get dirty?’
‘Nope.’
She glowered at him. ‘Stop being obtuse.’
He was tempted to chuckle, but decided it wouldn’t help her current mood. ‘I know you think I’m only fit for weeding the flower beds, but actually I’m not a gardener by trade. Not exactly.’
Louise’s mouth dropped open. A sensation of achievement swelled inside him. Although why he should feel so stupidly proud of the fact that
‘I’m a landscape architect. I design outside spaces-town centres, open spaces, parks, private homes. This morning Lord Batterham, the owner of the large stately home near here, wants to chat to me about restoring a knot garden on his estate and building an environmentally friendly play area for visitors.’
She blinked. Twice. And closed her mouth. ‘Oh.’
She seemed to have forgotten all about the photographer, which had to be good news, so he decided to keep her distracted. ‘You look a little different yourself.’ Gone were the elegant clothes in dark, muted tones, replaced by a baby-pink tracksuit and bright white running shoes. And what was the cap with the ponytail sprouting through the back all about?
‘I look a mess,’ she muttered.
He took in her appearance again, went beyond the surface impression. Her face was free of make-up and her cheeks rosy with fading anger. A slightly more dishevelled appearance suited her. It made her more approachable…touchable.
He took a step back.
‘Every day for months I’ve not gone out without my best clothes or my make-up on. Trust some rat with a digital camera to turn up when I’m looking…well, less than perfect.’ She shook her head. ‘I swear they must have some kind of radar to target me on my off days.’
‘You look fine.’
She tipped her head to one side and gave him a weary look. ‘I think what you said was that I looked “different”. Believe me, it spoke volumes.’
‘I just meant…not your normal self.’
That’s right, Ben. Just dig yourself in deeper.
He was bad at this kind of stuff, he knew. He didn’t have the ability to dress words up and make them pretty. And what was so wrong with the plain, unvarnished truth, anyway?
‘Not my normal self?’ she said, staring hard at him.
He sighed inwardly. Megan hadn’t appreciated his ‘lack of tact and incredible insensitivity’ either. Some women were just too much hard work.
‘Well, here’s your explanation…’ She pulled a magazine off the rack and thrust it in front of his face. It took him a few moments to realise that the blurry picture on the cover was Louise herself-playing catch on a beach with a little boy. But that wasn’t all. The caption read ‘Celebrity Bulges’ and large red lines circled her tummy and thighs.
He snatched the magazine from her and slapped it back in the rack, upside down and with the cover facing inwards. She locked him with a steady gaze and, when she spoke, her voice was low and dry.
‘Apparently, I’ve been letting myself go. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard.’
Her ability to mock herself blind-sided him. Laughter rocked him from the inside and burst out of his mouth. And then, after a few seconds, she joined him. Her eyes widened, as if she was as surprised at her own response as he was.
It was kind of surreal to be huddling in a little country newsagent’s, hiding from the press and chortling with Louise Thornton. The laughter subsided to a level where he could get a bit of control and he wiped his hand over his face.
Louise was no longer laughing, but she was still smiling. If the topic of conversation was transformations, here was one that beat them all. The remains of his laughter died away instantly.
She was truly beautiful when she smiled. Her eyes sparkled and her skin glowed. Why did she think she needed all that black stuff to make her look pretty? He almost wished the photographer was here right now to capture this moment.
Thinking of cameras and lenses, he walked to the shop window and looked up and down the street. ‘No sign of him now. I think you’re safe.’
Louise’s brows changed shape as she frowned, then relaxed again. The smile vanished and the remote beauty returned. ‘Of course.’ She stood up properly and started picking up the pens scattered all over the floor. When she’d finished, she gave him another smile, but this time her eyes were unaffected. ‘I’ll see you on Sunday?’
