I leave Joan’s cottage soon after, promising to keep in regular contact and let her know if I discover anything significant. And she tells me she’ll phone me after she’s spoken to Lottie.
She hugs me really tightly on the doorstep and I know she’s remembering Mum. I cling on to her, the familiar feelings of panic rising up more powerfully than ever, making my whole body tremble.
Clemmy is shocked when I tell her about my biological mother coming to the house and trying to snatch me back.
‘But I can’t understand how she could possibly have got hold of your address,’ she murmurs in wonder. ‘Aren’t personal details meant to stay private in adoption cases?’
I shrug. ‘Who knows? It obviously scared Mum to death, though, and I really hate the thought of how she must have suffered after that. She must have been terrified the girl would come back to try again.’
Clemmy murmurs her assent.
‘But aside from that, I’m actually glad she came looking for me because at least I now have a clue to her identity. If she hadn’t left her bag, finding her would have been impossible. Joan says she knows the village gossip who’s lived along the road from Maple Tree House all her life.’
‘That must be Lottie.’ Clemmy grins.
‘You know her?’ I ask, astonished.
Clemmy nods. ‘Poppy caters at her dinner parties and Lottie sometimes pops along here to talk over the menu. We have a theory it’s just an excuse so she can get the gossip from Poppy over a cuppa in the Log Fire Cabin.’
‘Perhaps Lottie will know, then. If there was a baby,’ I murmur.
We drive a little way in silence and when I glance at Clemmy she looks far away, wrapped in thought – definitely not like an excited bride-to-be.
‘Are you okay?’ I murmur. ‘Will you phone Ryan tonight?’
She heaves a sigh. ‘He’ll be in Paris until Saturday. I need to tackle him face to face about this, not over the phone, so it looks like it’ll have to wait.’
‘It’s probably nothing, you know,’ I venture, wishing I could be sure it was true.
The look she gives me – full of sad wistfulness – makes me realise she doesn’t believe that for a moment.
‘Come over later if you like,’ I tell her when we arrive back at camp. ‘Toby probably won’t be back until after nine so we could talk.’
‘Thanks, Daisy, but I said I’d help Poppy with preparations for her stall at the fayre on Saturday.’
She looks far away, no doubt stewing over Ryan.
It’s only when I’m out of the car and walking over to the tent that I remember Clemmy was about to tell me something in the café, before we were interrupted. After her shock at seeing Ryan with that girl, it must have gone from her mind.
*
I don’t know what’s wrong with me today but I’m feeling really emotional.
Wandering around the tent, I feel jumpy, like I don’t really know what to do with myself. It’s a weird feeling. I wish I could call Toby and ask him to come back, but I can’t because I know he’ll be engrossed in work and won’t appreciate the interruption.
In the end, I decide it must be seeing Joan again and talking about Mum that’s made me feel as if my mind has been thrown into a whirling pit of unwelcome feelings.
Thinking about it, visiting Mum’s oldest friend was always going to be a stumbling block on my route to recovery. Joan is the only person alive who loved Mum nearly as much as I did. Her display of grief was clearly going to have an effect on me.
Needing to shake off my mood, I decide a walk would do me good. I’ll email my manuscript over to Jake then I’ll go on over there. I bat away a little niggle of guilt. Jake’s a friend and I enjoy talking to him. That’s all …
I’ve almost reached the woods when my mobile rings. It’s Toby.
‘Just wondered where you are,’ he says.
‘Oh. Well, I’m out for a walk round the lake.’ There’s a blaring of a horn in the background. He must be driving.
‘Right. So what time do you think you’ll be back?’
‘I’ll be an hour at least. Why?’
‘No reason. I’m on my way home but you just enjoy your walk. Take your time and I’ll see you when you get back. No hurry!’
I hang up, feeling slightly less shaky inside. I’ve been trying hard not to feel abandoned by Toby over the past few days. But he’s en route here now so everything will be fine. I’ll make dinner and I’ll open up to him about everything that’s on my mind …
I think about turning back now so I’m in the tent when he returns. But I really want to make sure Jake has received the manuscript. I won’t be away for long.
So I walk on, thinking about Toby’s call. He sounded pretty relieved to have missed the walk. Looking back, I realise I made entirely the wrong choice in deciding he’d enjoy a glamping holiday – but I’m learning fast! I guess that’s half the fun of embarking on a new relationship – learning all about each other’s likes and dislikes and funny little habits.
It’s clear that if Toby and I stay together, I’m going to have to get used to doing the outdoorsy stuff by myself. Not that it particularly bothers me. I rather like going for walks alone. It’s nice being able to just let my mind drift, instead of finding myself discussing complicated work matters – as I often end up doing when I’m with Toby – and trying my best to understand the job of a financial analyst!
When I arrive at Jake’s camp, he’s not there. The tent is zipped up and the fire has gone out. A huge pang of disappointment hits, I suppose because it’s been a totally wasted journey. Ridiculously, I almost feel like crying.
I carry on through the woods until I come out the other side, and then I see his car parked in the lane. My tummy gives a funny little lurch. Wherever Jake’s gone, he must be on foot, which means he’s probably not too far away.
I’m pondering whether to turn back into the woods, in the hope that I might find him, when a deep voice behind me says, ‘I’ve been thinking about you.’
I swing round and there he is, standing in a shaft of sunlight filtering down through the trees. He’s balancing branches on his shoulder, presumably to make a new fire, and he’s smiling at me in that eye-crinkling way that always catches at my heart.
‘Admit it. You’ve come back for more nettle tea.’ His lips twist and I start to laugh.
‘In your dreams.’
‘Perhaps nettle soup might be more to your taste?’ he suggests, raising an eyebrow. ‘I must have known you were coming. I made a big pan of it this morning.’
‘Mmm, yes. Sounds lovely. But sadly, I’ve just eaten.’
We beam at each other, enjoying the moment, and I feel an excited fluttering inside.
Jake rubs his hands together. ‘Right. I’ve got ordinary teabags. Or whisky?’ he says, pointing into the woods by way of invitation.
I nod, unable to stop smiling, and we start walking side by side back to his camp.
‘Thanks for the manuscript,’ he says.
My heart skips a beat. ‘I guess this is the point where you tell me you’ve broken your glasses. So you’re not faced with having to tell me it’s rubbish,’ I joke nervously.
‘I don’t wear glasses.’
‘Right.’
‘And I’d love to read it. I said so, didn’t I? You should have more confidence in yourself, Daisy.’
‘It’s just it’s a really big thing.’ I give a sheepish shrug. ‘Letting someone read what you’ve written.’
He nods. ‘I know the feeling. You shut yourself away for months creating this thing but not having any clue if it’s even worth the paper it’s written on.’
‘Do you write by hand, then?’ I ask, surprised.
He grins. ‘No way.’
‘Then shouldn’t you have said “worth the laptop it’s written on”?’ I smile pertly.
‘Yes but that’s not a saying, is it, clever clogs?’ He pokes me in the ribs teasingly.
‘No!’ I shriek and pull myself away from him, and we lock eyes, laughing.
My heart is suddenly beating really fast as we fall into step again. I sneak a glance at Jake’s profile. He’s staring at the ground, his jaw tense.
We walk in silence like this for a while, then Jake murmurs, ‘Emerging from the writing cave into a world full of critics can be very scary.’ He glances at me then he looks away. ‘Has … Toby read your book?’ He kicks at a fallen branch lying in our path and it flies into the undergrowth.
His question takes me by surprise. ‘Oh, erm, no. Not yet.’ I feel a flush rising to my cheeks. ‘He will, though. I’m sure he will … when he’s got the time.’
Jake nods thoughtfully.
‘So who gets the first look at your manuscripts? Is it your agent?’ I ask, suddenly keen to change the subject. ‘From what I can gather, most people seem to have a friend they trust to give their verdict before the book goes out into the big wide world. Is that what you …’ His face closes up and I trail off.
Bugger! Talk about putting your foot in it!
‘Did Laura used to read your manuscripts?’ I ask softly, feeling strangely conflicted. I really need to know the answer to this. But at the same time, I wish I could take my words back to restore the smile to Jake’s face.
‘She did, yes. And she was brilliant. I could always rely on her to give it to me straight.’ He smiles wistfully. ‘There were times, of course, when I wished she would be a little less brutal in her suggestions, but that’s what you need. An objective point of view from someone you really trust, who cares enough to tell you the truth.’
We walk along in silence again.
‘You must miss her so much,’ I murmur at last, my heart squeezing with emotion at the thought of what he’s going through.
‘I do.’
We lapse into a heavy silence.
‘Hey, sorry,’ he says a moment later, attempting a smile. ‘The reason I came here was so no one would have to put up with my moods. I reckoned I could vent my anger on chopping wood and be as miserable as I wanted. And there’d be no more of those well-meaning, sympathetic faces struggling to know what to say to make things better.’
‘I know exactly what you mean. After Mum died, I used to duck into shop doorways to avoid people because I couldn’t bear the sad looks on their faces.’ I grin. ‘You can be as mean and moody as you like. Honestly. I totally understand.’
He looks at me and something leaps inside.
‘You do, don’t you?’ he murmurs, his eyes lingering on mine, an expression in them that I can’t quite fathom. ‘Understand.’
We’ve stopped walking for some reason, and I nod, trying to swallow down the emotion that’s suddenly flooding through me. Looking into Jake’s eyes, I feel breathless with something akin to joy, yet I feel as if I could – at any moment – break down in tears and never be able to stop.
I also have an urge to move closer to Jake and kiss his beautiful mouth to make everything all right for him.
We’re standing close already. Close enough that I can smell his scent, a tantalising mix of musk and the body spray he probably used after his early morning dip in the lake.
Thoughts of Jake emerging from the cold water, dripping wet, roughly towelling his body dry are suddenly filling my mind, sending little electric pulses of desire through my whole body. I swallow hard and stare at his strong, tanned neck above the washed-out pale T-shirt, trying not to notice the way the garment clings to his broad chest, moulding the hard muscles beneath.
My gaze travels upwards. Jake is staring at me with an intensity that makes the breath catch in my throat, and I find that I can’t drag my eyes away from his. I feel like I’m drowning in their gorgeous dark depths and my legs are suddenly those of a newly born lamb. I sway towards him and he catches me round my waist.
An image of Toby suddenly flashes into my mind, bringing me back to reality.
Get a grip, girl!
What the hell is wrong with me?
Breathing in, I take a step back and clear my throat, which seems to be seriously clogged. ‘I’d better not be too long.’ My voice sounds croaky. ‘Toby might be phoning me and there’s no signal at all in the woods here.’
Instantly, the spell is broken, which I suppose is what I intended. Jake looks away and we walk on to the camp.
The camaraderie between us seems to have vanished and, for a while, our conversation is stilted and awkward. But then he says he has something he’d like me to see.
It’s getting dark quickly now. Jake flicks on his torch and leads me through the trees until we arrive at the open, grassy area by the lake where his car is parked.
Stripping off his jacket, he lays it on the ground and says, ‘You can use it as a pillow.’ He grins. ‘Would Madam like to lie down and watch the show?’
‘The show?’ I laugh but do as he says, and he flicks off the torch and lies down beside me.
‘Look up,’ he murmurs.
When I do, I let out a gasp.
The sky is heavy with stars, glowing and twinkling all around us, enveloping us in their breathtaking magic. I get a feeling of space so vast it makes my head spin – and yet the sky seems somehow within touching distance.
For a long time, I just lie there, drinking in the beauty. Then I catch a movement high up in the heavens.
‘That was a shooting star!’ I cry, excitedly.
‘It was,’ Jake murmurs. ‘You might see a few more if you’re lucky.’
Despite being light years away, the stars, cushioned in the velvety sky, seem weirdly close. I almost feel as though I could reach out and draw down one of those gleaming orbs as a prize.
‘Why have I never done this before?’ I whisper. ‘It’s totally magical.’
Jake’s voice at my ear seems to reverberate right through me. ‘People don’t often look up. And I’m guilty of that myself. We’re far too busy looking where we’re walking, afraid we’re going to fall flat on our faces.’
I turn and we exchange a smile. His hand touches mine – whether by accident or not, I’m really not sure – and a little shiver ripples through me, running from the tips of my fingers all the way down my legs to my toes.
I turn my head and our eyes meet and I experience a strong tug of desire that completely overwhelms me. He rolls closer and then his mouth finds mine and we’re kissing so deeply, my body seems to melt. For a few heady seconds, I’m swept along, helpless to resist, every single nerve leaping in response to the feeling of Jake’s mouth on mine, his hard body against me.
His arms around me are powerful and strong and I give myself up to the total bliss of having what I realise I’ve wanted ever since I first laid eyes on Jake Steele.
A little voice of reason calls out, fighting its way through the shadowy depths of my consciousness to be heard, competing with the overwhelming feelings of ecstasy that are rushing through my entire body as Jake kisses me and I cling to him desperately, never wanting to let go.
Toby!
What the hell am I doing?
‘No!’ Panicking, I push myself violently away from Jake and scramble to my feet, stumbling slightly.
Jake is on his feet in a flash, reaching out to steady me. Then we stand facing each other, panting, our eyes locked in shock at what just happened between us.
‘Sorry.’ His voice sounds strained.
I shake my head, a maelstrom of emotions whirling inside me. ‘My fault.’
He looks away, at the fire that’s struggling to take a proper hold, and the tense set of his jaw says it all.
He kissed me … but I’m not Laura. And now he regrets it.
Or maybe he doesn’t regret it at all and that’s the problem? Because there’s Toby …
I need to get back to Toby.
Swallowing hard, I push away the memory of Jake’s mouth on mine.
A moment of madness.
That’s all it was …
*
The guilt I’m feeling is almost too much to bear.
What just happened was an aberration, brought on by emotion. It can never happen again …
Walking back, having refused a lift from Jake, I break into a run from time to time, so anxious am I to get back to Toby and reassure him that all is well. Not that he needs reassuring. He obviously has no idea that things just got weirdly out of hand with Jake and me.
A nagging voice in my head whispers: Isn’t it you who needs the reassurance? That your future lies with Toby?
But I dismiss this thought immediately. Toby and I are fine. Okay, things aren’t perfect. But then, no relationship is. The reason I kissed Jake back was because I’d had such an incredibly emotional day. Seeing Joan stirred up all sort of feelings I’ve been trying desperately hard to lock away in a box, to protect myself from breaking down entirely. My head was all over the place …
I’ve realised since seeing Joan again, that I’ve been in denial since Mum died, pretending I was fine, holding in my emotions, often refusing to allow myself the solace of healthy tears. Rachel could see that, which is why she was so worried about me.
I think I was scared that if I started to cry I’d never be able to stop …
Anyway, there’s no doubt in my mind that today’s emotional rollercoaster accounted for my moment of madness with Jake. And now I need to put it behind me and focus on Toby.
I need to forget about Jake …
Touching my cheek, I find my face is wet with tears. But I brush them away angrily.
Tomorrow night at the hotel is going to be wonderful. There’ll be champagne in the room and Toby and I will have time to really talk. It will be a whole new beginning. The start of the rest of our lives together …
*
Toby’s car is there when I finally make it back.
But walking over the grass, I’m wondering why – despite the warmth of the July day – the tent flap is closed. Maybe Toby’s gone for a walk. Not that this seems likely …
Puzzled, I reach to unzip the flap.
The first thing that strikes me is the radio, blaring rather loudly. It must be tuned into a play on Toby’s favourite Radio Four – a play that’s reaching quite a dramatic climax, by the sounds of things. Someone appears to be suffering from a wheezy attack that just might be fatal. They’re fighting for breath, the gasps getting faster and more urgent by the second.
‘Toby? I’m back!’
I walk in, expecting to see Toby propped on pillows on the bed, surrounded by papers.
But what confronts me instead is a naked bum, pumping up and down.
As the full horror filters into my shocked brain, I’m faced with the fact that Toby isn’t propped on his pillows.
He’s completely naked and propped up on Chantelle from next door.