downstairs he couldn’t find his keys. He never lost his keys. He searched the pockets of his jacket, which he found on the floor rather than on its usual hook. Nothing. Rather than dropping it again, he pulled it on.
A panicky feeling started to breathe fire in his stomach. He had to get back! He’d be late!
Okay, now he was scaring himself. He sat down on one of the chairs in the kitchen and thought about where he could have possibly left his keys since he’d run through the front door. Best thing was to retrace his steps. He went to the cottage door, opened it and found his bunch of keys dangling in the lock.
What was happening to him? The sky was under his feet and the earth above his head. When exactly had the universe turned itself inside out so everything was back to front? An image popped into his mind: Louise, wrapped in a quilt, standing on the boathouse balcony, tipping her head up to meet his eyes and daring him to love her.
It was a challenge he hadn’t refused, he realised.
He loved Louise.
Now he wasn’t so sure he wanted to wake all his neighbours up and share the news. Was he crazy? Quite possibly. How could whatever was happening between them have a future? His head told him to back out now; his heart told him not to lose faith.
With one startling flash he understood that the tables had been turned. He’d set out to be what Louise needed and, in the end, he’d discovered he needed her so badly it hurt. Fear sliced through him at the thought that there might not be a happy ending to this story.
He pulled his keys out of the lock and returned them to his pocket, then closed the door. He’d loved Megan, he was sure of that, but she’d never shaken his foundations like Louise did. What did that mean? Was this romance doomed or did that promise great things?
He ought to stay away, he decided. He ought to make an excuse to back out and stay away. That was the sensible thing to do. He nodded to himself, took off his jacket and carefully placed it on its hook.
Five minutes later he was in his dinghy, motoring across the river in the direction of the boathouse jetty.
Christmas was its own little universe for Louise and Ben. They shared a festive dinner of lasagne, which Louise found in the freezer, then retreated to the boathouse for the evening, where they talked and laughed and kissed and wished-not out loud, of course. Some things were far too delicate to be spoken aloud.
But this little universe was finite and, as night fell on Boxing Day, ugly reality started to shred the perfect picture they’d created.
Louise was sitting in one of the wicker chairs close to the fire with a book in her lap and Ben was stretched out on the day bed, trying not to doze. Suddenly, he raised his head and looked at her.
‘Louise?’
Her heart did a silly leap. Shouldn’t she be able to control that by now? It had started on Christmas morning when he’d reappeared, slightly damp and smiling, at her back door with a Christmas pudding big enough for ten and a bottle of port. Now,
She couldn’t remember a Christmas as perfect. Not even Jack’s first Christmas. Toby had spoiled it by getting drunk and disappearing off to a nightclub with one of his useless so-called friends.
‘What’s up?’ she said carefully.
Ben shifted himself on to one elbow. ‘What are we doing?’
‘Well, I’m supposed to be reading that biography about Laura I borrowed from you and you’re trying to pretend you didn’t finish off the last quarter of that plum pudding.’
Ben didn’t laugh as she expected him to. He gave a half smile, then jumped off the day bed and drew the other chair over so he could sit opposite her. He took her hands in his. ‘No, I mean you and me. What is this?’
She folded the book closed and placed it on the coffee table. Laura’s carefree smile and laughing eyes in the cover picture mocked her. She bet Laura wouldn’t have got all tied up in knots about something like this. Laura would probably have said something droll and had her lover swooning at her feet in this kind of situation. But Ben wasn’t her lover, and it seemed that she was the one in most danger of swooning at present. This was all so new- this thing with Ben-that sometimes it felt raw, even though it was wonderful at the same time.
‘Ben Oliver, are you asking me if I want to be your girlfriend?’
There. That was as droll as she could manage. But she didn’t manage to pull off the knowing sophistication that was supposed to go with it when he leaned in close, gave her a soppy grin and said, ‘Yeah, I suppose I am.’
She grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him in close for a long, slow kiss.
He rested his forehead against hers. ‘It’s just that…’
What? Her heart began to thump. It was too perfect.
‘Jas is home tomorrow and…’
She nodded. This had been a time out of time. Tomorrow they had to go back to their real lives, which seemed to be on parallel tracks, running close, but maybe never destined to cross and merge again.
‘I understand, Ben.’
He pulled away and looked intently at her face. ‘No…No, Louise. I meant…what are we going to say to the kids? Are we going to keep this a secret or are we going to shout it from the rooftops? It’s a delicate situation and we need to decide how to handle it.’
Relief flooded through her. Followed hastily by confusion. What
And, more to the point, what would they say if they did? Everything was so new between them. How should they define it? Of course, there would be far-reaching consequences as well.
‘You do realise that we might get media attention if we go public?’ she said.
Ben’s face was a picture of surprise, as if he’d totally forgotten about that side of her life. That only made her want to kiss him again. Everybody else always saw the glitter first and nothing second.
For the first time in days, she felt as if she were on familiar territory. ‘Believe me, you don’t want photographers camped on your doorstep. Why do you think I chose to live in such a remote place as Whitehaven? In the village, you and Jas would be easy pickings.’
‘Jas?’ There was more than a hint of panic in his voice. ‘You think they’d take pictures of Jas?’
Just great. This relationship was dead in the water before it had even begun, wasn’t it? She knew Ben well enough to know that creating a ‘normal’ life for his daughter was paramount.
She stroked his arm. ‘Who knows? The paparazzi are a law unto themselves. But I think we have to consider the possibility.’
They both stared at one another.
There were no easy answers to this one. The only way to really protect Ben and Jasmine was to call the whole thing off right now. She broke eye contact and stared at her feet. Just the thought of saying goodbye to Ben now made her hurt-physically hurt. Cold fear shot through her. Contemplating the possibility of losing him brought things sharply into focus: somewhere along the line, she’d fallen in love with Ben Oliver.
He gently brushed his fingers under her chin and tipped her face up to look at him. ‘Hey.’ The word was filled with such tender softness, she felt her eyes moisten. He smiled at her. ‘I told you before-I’m not going anywhere, okay?’
She nodded and the cold, sharp feeling gradually withdrew.
‘Here is my idea,’ he said. ‘We tell Jas and Jack-because they’re going to work it out pretty soon anyway-but we don’t tell anyone else yet. It will buy us some time, give us and the kids a chance to get used to things first.’
Sensible. He wanted to wait before letting the world know, just in case it didn’t work out.
‘I’ve got to wait at home for Megan to bring Jas back tomorrow, but I still want to see you.’
Good. She wanted to see him too. And she was greedily going to grab every chance to be with him.
‘Jas is due back at noon and it’s going to be quiet tomorrow-everyone recovering after Christmas. If you come for one o’clock and drive round, using the lanes rather than coming through the village, nobody will see you. Once
