Saving Willowbrook (20 page)

She did her work automatically that day, chatting to regulars at the pub, tidying up as she went without realizing what her hands were doing, and all the time longing to get home and start painting. Reluctantly she accepted the chance to work the following evening. She needed the money, but oh, she grudged the time it took to earn it.

Just before she finished her shift, Oliver came into the pub and stood leaning against the wall near the door, obviously waiting for her. She waved, glanced at the clock and finished serving a final customer before handing over to the owner's wife.

She walked across the lounge and he held the door open with a half-smile, falling into place beside her as they walked down the street.

‘Busy shift?'

‘Just average for a lunchtime. I need to pick up some groceries on the way home.'

‘I'll come with you.'

It reminded her of old times, the way they'd walked round the supermarket, arguing cheerfully over what to buy. Today she whizzed round at top speed, hardly saying a word. He was very quiet, too. Did he remember? Of course he did.

Not until they were in the flat did he ask the question that had been lying between them, ‘What did your cousin say about the letter?'

‘She said you never gave her one.'

He stared at her in shock. ‘Why would she say that?'

‘Because it's true.'

‘I'm not lying to you.'

‘Now there's the dilemma. I know you don't lie, Oliver but nor does she. So what exactly happened?'

He frowned into space and she began to put her groceries away to give him time to think.

‘I put it into Miles's hands myself, and he laid it beside him on the car seat. He was waiting for Ella and then they were going straight back to the farm, where you were looking after Amy.'

‘Whoa! What did you say? You gave the letter to Miles not Ella?'

Oliver blinked at her. ‘Well, I didn't actually put it into Ella's hands, but she was just across the road and—'

‘Miles hated me.'

‘I know you weren't the best of friends, but—' Oliver slumped in his chair ‘—damn! He didn't give it to her, did he?'

‘I'd say not. Though why he deliberately withheld it, I can't think. We hadn't had a big quarrel for a while. Petty spite, do you think? Must have been. He saw me himself when they got back from the village, so had no need to ask Ella to give the letter to me.'

‘If only I'd waited and given it to her. But I'd an appointment in London and had to run to catch the train as it was.'

There was silence for a few moments, then he said softly, ‘What a lot of time we've wasted, Rosie! We could have worked something out, I know we could.'

She shook her head. ‘I've gone over it again and again. We couldn't, you know. I was tied to Wiltshire; you needed to get away.'

‘I'm back now.'

‘For how long?'

Another pregnant silence, then he said, ‘A few months, as I told you. After that I don't know. But surely you can be a little more flexible this time?'

‘Not about leaving Wiltshire.'

‘You're obsessed by that project.'

‘Yes I am. And proud of it, too.'

‘Will you show it to me?'

‘Not yet.'

He stepped back. ‘It's not worth it if it comes between us.'

She looked at him sadly. ‘I've wondered about that. Especially after you left. But I couldn't stop then and I still can't. I've put years of my life into it and I'm nearing the end. It's the best thing I've ever done, I know it is.'

With the faintest of sighs, he turned to open the door.

‘Oliver?'

‘Yes.'

‘We could have dinner one night.'

He looked at her steadily. ‘If you're never going to leave Wiltshire, what's the point of fanning the embers?'

He was gone before she could find an answer.

Well, there was no new answer to their dilemma, was there?

The embers didn't need fanning, though. Her love for him had stopped her forming serious relationships since they split up, had burned up again when he came back – without any encouragement whatsoever – and was getting in the way of her special project now.

The urge to weep roughened her throat but she fought against it. She'd wept too many tears over him.

The phone rang early the next morning. Ella.

‘Rose, there are fledglings everywhere today. I can see a row of four swallows sitting on the fence even as I speak. You said you wanted me to let you know.'

‘Yes.'

‘You all right? Your voice sounds strange.'

‘I – um, had a mouth full of food. I'll drive out to Willowbrook straight away.' She left her bowl of cereal uneaten on the table, grabbed her camera bag and was out of the flat within seconds, glad to be leaving because it always felt as if Oliver were hovering nearby.

And the fledglings were wonderful, cheered her up. She'd never seen so many all at once. They were fluttering round in little groups, supervised by anxious parents. Most were fluffy and some still had straggly drifts of baby feathers marring their plumage.

A tiny swallow tried to land on the fence, missed and fluttered to the ground, from where it made a more successful attempt to fly. She took a couple of quick shots. The birds of prey would get some of them, no doubt about it. She smiled wryly as she continued to take photos.
Nature red in tooth and claw
.

But they were beautiful and many of them would survive in this little oasis that Ella guarded so jealously. Rose would make several pages for her project from today's shots, she knew she would, and also a couple of paintings that would stand a good chance of selling.

She went home at teatime, eyes full of pictures, driving automatically.

It was only when she arrived at the surgery that her thoughts went back to Oliver.

Damn you, get out of my mind!
she muttered. But he popped in and out of her thoughts as she transferred her photos to the computer and started doing some rough sketches from them.

And he was still in her thoughts when she went to work at the pub.

He hadn't contacted her, though.

On Monday there were no guests so that evening Ella cooked a simple evening meal for herself and Cameron. She didn't know whether she was glad to be alone with him or terrified. Both.

Amy ate with them, then went to bed, still wanting to keep the ancient teddy bear close by.

After she'd tucked her daughter in, Ella walked slowly down to the conservatory, where Cameron was staring into his half empty glass of wine. He'd produced a bottle of merlot, an expensive wine judging by the awards listed on the label, had drunk moderately, seeming to savour each mouthful and be in no hurry to finish it.

Automatically she started to clear the table, but he stood up and pulled her gently towards him.

‘We'll do it together later.'

She felt suddenly young, vulnerable and hopeful, all at the same time, and went willingly into his arms, lifting her face for his kiss.

The world faded around them and there was only the warmth of him, the velvet touch of his lips, gentle at first then growing more demanding. This was too tempting. And oh, it had been a long time since a man had roused her.

The wind blew more strongly outside, making it feel as if they were beleaguered in their small island of light. She nestled closer, loving the warmth and strength of him.

But the memory of how foolishly she'd rushed into her relationship with Miles came back, jerking her out of her mood. She moved her head away with an inarticulate murmur.

Cameron kept his arms loosely laced behind her back, studying her with his head on one side. ‘You're delicious.' Raising one hand he buried his fingers in her hair. ‘I love auburn hair.'

She jerked away and Cameron let go of her at once, frowning.

‘What's wrong?'

‘I'm afraid,' she confessed in a shaky voice. ‘I've not dated since I split up with him and I . . . I feel – nervous.'

‘Then we'll take things at a pace which doesn't upset you.'

‘I know. And thank you for being so understanding. I'm tired as well as everything else. You're right, I'll leave clearing up till later. Let's go and sit in the living room for a while.'

The big sofa was just right and she murmured in pleasure as they moved easily into a comfortable position with his arm round her shoulders. With a sigh of happiness she relaxed against him.

She woke to find him kissing her forehead.

‘Time you went to bed, sleepyhead.'

She sat upright, horrified to realize that she'd fallen asleep on him almost as soon as she sat down.

He chuckled. ‘You're beautiful when you're asleep and I'm not at all surprised you dozed off. You work far too hard. Leave me to clear up and you go to bed.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be. It was a compliment that you relaxed so completely with me. And I intend to make sure that we have plenty of time to get to know one another.'

He pulled her to her feet, walked her to the foot of the stairs and kissed her lightly on each cheek. ‘Go to bed. I'll lock up when I've finished.'

She was so tired tonight she let him clear up.

Twelve

The next thing Ella knew, light was flooding into her bedroom and Amy was tugging at her sheets.

‘Mummy! Mummy, it's time to get up. I have to go to school.'

She dragged on some clothes and rushed downstairs. Everything in the kitchen was immaculate. She couldn't remember Miles ever clearing up on his own, though he'd made a show of helping her at first. Cameron's practical help seemed a far better gift than even the most enormous bunch of flowers.

Fine romantic I am, she thought ruefully. Was she too prosaic? Would that put him off?

She hoped not.

Her spirits rose at the thought of seeing him again at breakfast, perhaps being with him during the day while Amy was at school.

She smiled. Rose would approve but say she was a hopeless case when it came to romance. Perhaps she was. But she dare do nothing except take things slowly.

Cameron was up early too. He stopped on the way to the house to marvel at a fluttering group of fledglings, to admire the way the early morning light glinted on the water, and to smell an old-fashioned rose tumbling riotously along the side of the house.

‘I'll help make breakfast,' he offered at once. It felt so right to be with her, to help, tease her daughter, smile at her and catch a smile in return.

As they ate together, Amy chattered away about her school and her friends, then it was time for her mother to take her to the end of the drive so that she could catch the school bus. The child looked a little flushed and he saw Ella studying her with a frown. But Amy was clearly eager to go to school, so as soon as the kitchen timer rang, she hurried off to get her things.

‘I have to use the timer,' Ella explained, ‘or she gets ready too soon.'

By the time Ella got back, Cameron had the kitchen immaculate once again. Strange, he thought as he hung up the tea towel, how much satisfaction you could get from these jobs when they were shared. He couldn't ever remember taking pleasure in washing up before.

‘A guest shouldn't be doing this,' Ella scolded when she returned.

‘Stop saying that. I hope I'm more than a guest here, though I do intend to pay for the chalet. In fact, let's sort it out now. I can pay for the days I've had this chalet and how about a week's payment in advance on top of that?' He chuckled. ‘You're blushing. Ella, my love, don't be foolish about this. That chalet is far cheaper than a luxury hotel and far more comfortable. To me, it's an inexpensive alternative.'

‘If you're sure?'

‘I am. I don't have a permanent home in the UK, only a serviced bedsitter in London, which I don't want to go back to. I'd be enjoying my stay at Willowbrook and feeling it well worth the money even if I hadn't met you. Now, sort this out!' He slapped his credit card down on the surface, glancing up at the tariff card near the desk in one corner of the huge kitchen.

Ella could only do as he asked. But she hated charging him. It felt wrong. She watched him walk away with a sigh.

‘I'll be back in time to see Julian with you!' he called.

By the time she'd put a second load of washing on, Julian Walkley had arrived, punctual to the minute. He was a very tall, thin man, with sparse, thinning hair cut short all over. He stayed by his car, staring round at the outbuildings, making no attempt to come to the house. As Cameron went out to greet him, he turned with obvious reluctance from his perusal.

Ella watched from the kitchen window. The two men continued to survey the yard and outbuildings, gesticulating, speaking eagerly. She took off her apron and went out to join them.

‘What would you like to see first, Mr Walkley?' she asked after the introductions.

‘The barn. It appears to be the oldest part of the farm. My goodness you do have a mixture of styles and periods. But they blend harmoniously, I don't know why.'

She'd always thought it was because they'd been built with love, but you couldn't offer that as an architectural reason.

He walked round the outside of the barn, murmuring a faint commentary, talking to himself more than to them, so they fell back and left him to it, smiling conspiratorially at one another. When they got round to the big doors again, he gestured to her politely to lead the way inside, but she moved to one side, opening both doors to allow him to go first and see the place properly.