2010
The next few days passed without anything unusual happening. Natalie wanted to believe she was now free of her ‘ghost’ but a nagging voice in her brain advised caution. She amused herself planning what to cook on Friday evening, acknowledging even the most exquisite ready-meals produced by Waitrose would be a no-no. On Wednesday she had visited her parents in order to borrow some of her mother’s extensive recipe collection. Many had a French flavour and had featured in Jeanne’s first book, Recipes for Love, a bestselling mix of local and French recipes, served up with her grandmother’s ill-fated love story.
Her menu planned, she bought the ingredients on Thursday after work. The weather promised to continue hot and dry and this gave her the perfect excuse to cook something simple but elegant. Her mother had drummed into her that presentation was crucial. Natalie chose a confit of duck salad, followed by scallops in ginger and rounded off with cheese and biscuits and summer fruit pavlova. She saved time by preparing what she could that evening and then rustled up a chicken stir-fry for supper. The sense of achievement felt good. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had cooked from scratch. When she’d had boyfriends they usually ate out. Much more relaxing than cooking.
She sat outside and admired her almost finished garden as she ate. Matt wouldn’t be back after tomorrow until the replacement pond liner arrived. To her right was the area as yet undug for the pond, looking drab next to the shrubs and plants springing up around her. Once the garden was completely finished, Natalie planned to invite her family and friends around for a party. She might even cook the food herself. Although if there were a lot of guests, perhaps it would be better to buy ready-prepared party food. Mustn’t get too ambitious, she told herself. Later that evening Natalie went to bed with a light heart, looking forward to supper with Stuart.
***
Stuart checked himself in the mirror for the umpteenth time. He wanted to look cool and debonair but it wasn’t happening. His usual cropped chinos didn’t equate to debonair or sophisticated, only casual. And slogan T-shirts – well! He rummaged around in his wardrobe and dug out a pair of cream linen slacks he’d bought for a special occasion now long-forgotten, and not worn since. Another rummage and he pulled out a deep blue cotton shirt which matched his eyes. Hmm. Not bad, fella! You can scrub up well when you want. He grinned at his reflection in the mirror. It had been years since he’d had an intimate dinner with a woman, except Pam…Stuart sighed. He needed to get out more, but at thirty-eight felt ancient compared to the young men he saw out on the pull in the pubs. Not that he was much of a pub man, but a couple of his younger colleagues had dragged him out to The Cock and Bull in St Peter Port for a live music night. He hadn’t appreciated the music – too off the wall for his taste – and they hadn’t repeated the invite.
He ran down the stairs and picked up a bottle of wine and a bunch of freesias from the kitchen. Two minutes later he rang Natalie’s doorbell. When she opened the door his pulse quickened. Not a good thing for a not-a-date meal together. But Natalie looked stunning in a white gypsy blouse and short denim skirt, her skin glowing from the sun. Stuart gulped.
‘Hi, I come bearing gifts.’ He offered the flowers and wine.
‘That’s very sweet of you, Stuart, but you know you shouldn’t have. You’ve been more than generous. Please,’ she stepped back, ‘come in and let me get you a drink. It’s been so hot today, hasn’t it?’
Natalie put the flowers in water and poured two glasses of Prosecco.
‘I thought some bubbly was just the thing on a summer’s evening. Hope you like it.’
He would have drunk anything she offered.
They clinked glasses and Natalie suggested they go through to the terrace. The table was already set and she added the vase of freesias, smiling.
‘I love freesias, they’re my favourite flowers. Both their colours and heady perfume epitomises Guernsey for me. On the few occasions I was homesick in England, I’d buy a bunch to cheer myself up.’ She drew a deep breath from the flowers and let out an appreciative sigh.
‘It was a lucky choice of mine, then. My mother always liked them, too, even though she had no fond memories of Guernsey. I always thought that odd.’ He crossed his legs and leant back in the chair, allowing the wine to ease his nerves. ‘How have you been this week? Recovered from Sunday’s drama?’
Natalie bit her lip.
‘I’ve been okay, thanks. The sergeant said I’d be needed at Liam’s trial, which is a horrible thought. Did he say the same thing to you?’
‘Yes, I’m considered a vital witness. At least if he doesn’t plead guilty, I’ll be there to give you moral support.’
She brightened.
‘Well, that’s good to know. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to it.’ She stood, saying she would fetch the starters.
Stuart was left to his thoughts, solely centred on his hostess. He had come to realise under Natalie’s outward display of self-confidence, was a vulnerable woman. He wanted to protect her. Stuart told himself not to be so stupid, Natalie was still a strong, intelligent woman, and why would she want a schoolteacher as a partner? He swallowed his wine too quickly and spluttered.
‘You okay?’ She put a plate in front of him and sat down.
He nodded, trying to catch his breath and pointed to his glass.
‘Went down the wrong way? Happens to me, too.’ She waited until he’d got his breath back and added, ‘Please start when you’re ready.’
‘Looks delicious.’ He meant it. If Natalie was a good cook he could at least enjoy the meal even if she showed no interest in him.
They concentrated on their food, making the odd comment about the weather and the garden. Natalie asked him to give her a hand bringing out the main course and they collected plates and covered dishes from the kitchen.
‘Wonderful smell! Ginger, isn’t it?’ He lifted off the lids to serve. Plump, juicy scallops sprinkled with herbs lay in a light sauce. Another dish held rice and a third a colourful mix of stir-fried vegetables.
‘Hope you like it, I haven’t tried this recipe before, but Mum’s cooked it for the family and I always loved it.’
The first mouthful made him smile.
‘Absolutely delicious. You’ve gone to so much trouble–’
Natalie shook her head. ‘Nonsense! If it hadn’t been for you, I might not even be here, remember. And I thought it was about time I did some proper cooking. I’ve lived off ready-meals for too long.’ She took her first bite.
‘Not bad.’ She looked up and grinned. ‘Now, how about telling me a bit more about yourself? What happened to spur you on to move here?’
‘Similar to you, I guess. I lived with Pam for some years and we bought a house together. We were both teachers at the same school and I thought we’d be a couple forever, marry and have kids.’ He frowned as the memory caused the familiar nag of pain. ‘There was a…problem and then, out of the blue, she told me she’d fallen for someone else and left. And never came back. I had to pack her stuff and have it sent to her new place. The one she shared with…him.’ He ground his teeth. Why had he never gone round and punched the bloke on the nose? Too much of a wimp, that’s why. And embarrassed at the reason Pam left…
Natalie’s eyes narrowed.
‘How awful for you. I’ve never been deeply in love with anyone, though I did think I was with Liam. Looking back I realise it was infatuation, like my other relationships. But it must be horrible to love someone who walks out like that. Have you moved on?’
‘I’m getting there. It’s been a year so…’ he shrugged. ‘Coming here has helped because it holds no memories. The ultimate fresh start.’
She nodded, chewing her food.
Neither seemed to know how to continue the conversation and they ate in silence. Stuart kicked himself for lowering the mood of the evening. He should have prevaricated, said it was personal. But he believed in honesty, no matter the consequences.
‘I’m sorry, Stuart, I shouldn’t have pried. And now you’ll be miserable for the rest of the evening and it’s my fault.’ Natalie’s mouth drooped.
‘Hey, don’t blame yourself. I’m fine, really I am. Just get a bit maudlin at times. How about we forget my past and talk about something more cheerful? Like, do you have a holiday planned this summer?’
She smiled and his heart flipped.
‘As it happens, no. It doesn’t seem much point spending a fortune travelling hours to somewhere hot and sunny when it’s the same here.’ She waved her arms, embracing the sea sparkling under the descending sun. ‘I’ll book something later, autumn or winter. What about you?’
‘I’m stuck with the school holidays, which is a bit of a bummer. But like you, I don’t see the point of going away in the summer. I thought I’d go to Italy at half-term, see the sights and enjoy decent weather.’
Natalie asked him about his favourite places to visit and the conversation perked up. Before long they had finished the main course and Stuart helped her clear the table ready for dessert. Another bottle of wine was opened. He was becoming mellow and he sensed Natalie was as well. He even managed a couple of jokes as they ate the pavlova, and she broke into giggles. It set him off and they both ended up in fits of laughter.
She wiped her eyes.
‘That one about the pig’s one of the best I’ve heard in a long while. You’re a natural, Stuart. Do you tell jokes to your students?’
He glowed. ‘Sometimes. History can be a bit dull at times and I need to keep the students engaged. I find the Blackadder series gives me loads of inspiration.’
‘They’re brilliant, aren’t they? I’ve watched the DVDs loads of times.’
This set off a discussion about which series were their favourites, continued over cheese and biscuits. The sun had set and Natalie lit citronella candles in enormous storm lanterns, creating a soft-lit ambience. Stuart couldn’t help comparing Natalie’s terrace with his own – a boring small table with two chairs. No plants or lights. Nothing. He must do something about it.
‘I love what you’ve achieved in your garden, and this terrace in particular. Would you be willing to give me some tips? Like where to buy pots and which plants would be best?’
Natalie, her face cast in the warm glow of the lamps, smiled.
‘Sure. I’ve got no plans for tomorrow, so if you’re free why don’t we head to the garden centre at Le Friquet? They have a fantastic range.’
‘Suits me fine. How about the afternoon?’ The thought of spending more time with Natalie was heady. They were only looking at plants and things but still…
A time was agreed and Natalie suggested a nightcap. They cleared the remains of the food and returned with glasses of Calvados. The night air was balmy and the candles kept the insects at bay. The sound of the soft whoosh of the sea and the occasional screech of an owl were the only sounds. Stuart was in heaven. If only…
Natalie yawned.
‘Sorry, it’s been quite a week. Do you mind if we call it a night? I’ve had a lovely evening and even enjoyed my own cooking for once.’ She laughed.
He stood. ‘I’ve enjoyed it too and the food was great. Can I help with the washing-up?’
‘No need, the dishwasher will swallow everything.’
They headed into the kitchen with their glasses and Natalie went with him to the front door. Stuart wanted to kiss her properly on the lips, but was it being presumptive? He settled for a double kiss on her cheeks, which she reciprocated. He did manage to hold her in his arms for a moment longer than was strictly necessary, but Natalie didn’t object.
‘Night then. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He let go reluctantly.
‘Goodnight. Sleep well.’ Her eyes seemed enormous in the dim light of the porch and he took a deep breath. He’d definitely fallen for her. As he headed homewards Stuart wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing.
***
Natalie loaded the dishwasher in pensive mood. The evening had been a great success: the food had turned out well and Stuart had proved to be fun. Not only fun, but he’d sparked a flicker of desire in her body, not experienced since she first met Liam. She could drown in those eyes! Natalie slammed the door shut and switched on the machine, telling herself she wasn’t up for a relationship. She was beginning to get her life back on track and it felt good. Why mess it up with a man? Particularly the neighbour. If it went tits-up it would be mighty awkward. Shaking her head she went upstairs, overwhelmed by tiredness. She was bound to feel different in the morning, copious alcohol had probably played havoc with her hormones.