CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘Mum? Can we go outside? It’s stopped raining.’

Louise stopped herself from putting the kettle on the Aga for a fifth time. She didn’t really want another cup of tea. It was just that, at some point this afternoon, somebody might want one.

‘Can we? Please?’ Jack’s voice was so high-pitched on that last word she was sure dogs would be bounding towards them from all over the district.

‘Can we what?

Her son ran to the back door and opened it, letting in a gust of damp November air. Louise walked over to where he stood and stuck her head out of the door. Moisture dripped from the leaves of an evergreen bush in the little courtyard directly outside the kitchen, but the clouds were now a pale, pearly grey and she even thought she saw a hint of blue before it was hurried away by the wind.

Fresh air would do her good. Fresh air would stop her waiting. Or wondering why he was late. Well, not late, because they’d never really set a time for him to come and go, but later than normal.

She shook her head and reached for the scarf and hat on a peg nearby. Ben Oliver had turned all her assumptions about him on their heads once this week already. Why shouldn’t he do it again?

The grass on the sloping lawn in front of the house was still damp, but it didn’t stop Jack deciding a game of football was the ideal way to burn off a bit of energy. They used a couple of the medium-sized stones lining the driveway to mark out the goals.

She’d never been good at games at school, always too tired from looking after both Dad and the younger kids. Jack was running rings around her, but then he misjudged a kick and the ball went flying past her towards the edge of the woods. She ran after it and stopped it with the side of her boot. If all went according to plan, she would have at least one goal to Jack’s seven by the time they gave up and headed back inside for hot chocolate.

She swung her leg in an almighty kick. There was a jarring pain in her lower back as it met something flat and solid and, all of a sudden, she was staring at the sky. She could hear Jack laughing his head off some distance away.

‘Just you wait!’ she yelled, giggling slightly herself, but the mirth stopped when she attempted to move. ‘Ouch!’

‘Here.’ The voice was as rich and low and she recognised it instantly. She also recognised the broad, long-fingered hand that came into her field of vision—although exactly when she’d noticed the shape of Ben Oliver’s hands, she wasn’t sure.

Even through the wool of her gloves, his skin was warm and he gripped her hand in such a way that she knew she could give him all her weight and he wouldn’t let her fall. She winced as he gently helped her to her feet. ‘Ow.’

‘Where does it hurt?’

She didn’t want to draw even more attention to her slightly-larger-than-planned and somewhat muddy backside. ‘Where d’you think?’

‘Do you want me to take a look?’

‘No!’ Louise’s cheeks went hot and she twisted out of his grip and brushed herself down, more for camouflage than for cosmetic effect. ‘Don’t tell me you’re an almost-doctor as well as an almost-gardener.’

He laughed and she looked up at him, her irritation dissolving. It was only then she noticed the girl standing slightly behind him. She had shoulder-length, honey-coloured hair, nothing at all like Ben’s dark mop, but her eyes were all her father’s.

Ben grabbed his daughter’s hand and pulled her forward a little. She blushed and looked at the ground. ‘Louise, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Jasmine.’

‘Nice to meet you, Jasmine. I’m Louise. Your dad’s been helping me out with my garden.’

‘I know.’ The reply was barely a whisper, and Jasmine flushed an even deeper shade of red.

Her father may not have known who Louise Thornton was the first time he met her, but Jasmine certainly did. This kind of reaction wasn’t unusual. Louise knew she’d acted identically when she’d started going out with Toby and he’d introduced her to the latest Oscar-winning Hollywood actress.

‘Come and meet my son, Jack. He’s football mad, I’m afraid.’

Jasmine shrugged and followed her across the lawn as Ben strolled along, bringing up the rear. Jack took one look at Jasmine and Louise knew he’d decided she was okay. As the child of a celebrity couple, he had an uncanny kind of radar for discerning between hangers-on and real friends. He made instinctive decisions in a second and he was rarely wrong. Now, how did she go about getting herself some of that?

Jack picked up his football and started walking in the direction of the back door. ‘There’s biscuits inside. Want some?’

Jasmine nodded furiously and broke into a trot to keep up with him as he raced off towards the kitchen.

Ben fell into step beside Louise as they followed their offspring. ‘Sorry I had to bring Jas with me. I hope it’s okay.’

‘Of course it’s okay. Who do you think I am? The wicked witch of the West?’

He was smirking when she looked up at him. ‘You can be a tad fierce at times.’

Was she? Really? She fell into silence for a few seconds while she pondered his remark. What had happened to the shy, sweet Louise she’d once been? Where was the awkward girl with the too-long limbs that sprouted through the sleeves of her school blazer?

Eventually, she said quietly, ‘If you’d been really afraid, you wouldn’t have come.’

Ben laughed again. She liked that sound. She wondered if she could make him do it some more. Only, so far, it had only happened accidentally, when she hadn’t actually been trying to be funny at all.

‘True. I hadn’t intended to bring Jas at all, it’s just that …’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘… it’s complicated.’

‘Trust me. I know complicated. Your ex have something to do with this?’

Ben stared off into the distance for a few seconds and she stopped walking, aware that it would be better if this conversation wasn’t overheard from the kitchen. Ben halted beside her.

‘Megan …’ He made a microscopic movement with his head, as if he wanted to shake it but was stopping himself. ‘She’s a good mother, really. It’s just that lately her priorities have been a little skewed.’

Louise nodded.

‘She seems to think that now Jas has started senior school she can fend for herself a bit more. And, probably, she could. It’s just with the divorce still in the recent past, I think Jas feels a little neglected. Megan had last-minute plans and cancelled their Sunday afternoon together. I don’t think she even realises how shut out Jas feels sometimes.’

‘How long?’

‘Since the divorce? Two years.’

‘I’m still waiting for mine to be finalised, but we split up five months ago.’ Louise breathed in. ‘Girls need a mother at that age.’

She had certainly ached for her mother going through those awkward years, but Mum had died just as she was on the brink of puberty, and she’d had to muddle through on her own. At least when her sisters had reached that age she’d been able to help them along.

She turned and smiled at Ben, tried to make herself seem less—what had he called her?—intimidating. ‘Well, Jas is very welcome here. I understand completely.’

Ben let out a breath and smiled back, and for the first time since she’d met him, Louise felt as if she wasn’t a complete mess compared to him. He might be out the other side of the divorce process, but she could still recognise the scars. But if he could pull through, maybe so could she.

Ben turned and scanned the lawn, which had sprouted magnificently since the previous Sunday, thanks to a healthy dose of West Country rain. ‘Thanks,’ he said, glancing back at her. ‘I’d better get started. It’s going to get dark soon.’

When Louise reached the back door, Jack ran across the kitchen and skidded to a halt in front of her. ‘Jas says there’s fireworks on tonight. Can we go?’

Fireworks? Oh, of course. Time had taken on a strange quality since she’d moved to Whitehaven. The date was … what? The second or third of November? It was only days away from Guy Fawkes’ night and there would be bonfires and firework displays all over the area this weekend. She thought the bangs she’d heard last night must have been shotguns, but now it all made sense.

‘I don’t know, Jack. What time is it? And where?’

‘I’ll ask Jas!’ He raced out of the kitchen before she could quietly explain that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to be out in public, that maybe the Olivers wouldn’t want a couple of extras tagging along. She fiddled with her cup of tea while she waited for her son to return but, after a couple of minutes, she decided he must have found something else to get all hyper about and had lost interest.

They didn’t need to go out to see fireworks. Whitehaven was perched high on a hill and there would be great views from the attic windows. They could stay here and watch at a safe distance.

Ben knocked softly on the back door. There was no reply. He stared at the chunky Victorian handle for a second, then gripped it, the brass chilly against his palm, and turned. The door swung open on surprisingly creak-free hinges.

‘Hello?’

Louise was standing at the old butler’s sink staring out the window. He could hear water sloshing and see bubbles splashing and a moment later she dumped an upturned cup on the draining rack. It fell over. She didn’t even look at it, just grabbed the next bit of crockery off the pile and started washing again. He coughed.

All the sloshing and splashing stopped. She didn’t alter the angle of her head, but somehow he could tell that her focus was no longer off in the distance. She was aware of him. And, somehow, that made him aware of her too.

Suddenly, she started washing the plate she was holding again. When it must have been scrubbed clean of every last speck of food, she placed it on the drying rack with exquisite care, then turned to face him wiping the bubbles off her hands with a tea towel.

‘All finished?’

He nodded.

A million snatches of small talk whizzed round his head, but meaningless words weren’t his forte. And Louise didn’t seem to require any. She gave him a look—not quite a smile, more an expression of openness, of welcome—and reached for a large brown teapot.

When he’d been married to Megan, he’d got used to having an arsenal of such phrases for the moment when he walked through the door. She always needed him to say something, to pay her attention, to make her feel noticed. Not that he hadn’t noticed her or hadn’t loved her. It was just that he was better at showing rather than saying. But Megan had never been able to understand that. When he’d tried to do nice things for her, she’d hardly noticed, like he’d been speaking a foreign language. So, he’d adapted, because she was his wife, and it had been what she’d needed from him.

Louise motioned for him to sit at the chunky kitchen table and started rummaging in a cupboard. After what he’d seen the other day, he wouldn’t have been surprised if this woman was thoroughly fed up of being noticed, so he did nothing to break the wonderful stillness that surrounded her. He just drank it in and slowly felt his muscles relax. She handed him a mug of tea, sweetened to perfection, then pottered round the kitchen.

Rampaging children, however, could not be counted on to be so restful. Jas and Jack stormed into the kitchen just as the last knot was about to ease from his shoulders.

‘Mum, I’m hungry!’

Even when she smiled, wide and full, as she was doing now, she still had a sense of elegance and poise that he’d rarely seen. At first he’d labelled it standoffishness, but he’d been wrong. She was merely reserved, shy even. But he could understand how people who didn’t know her better, people who’d probably decided she was an attention hungry bimbo, could misinterpret it as snootiness. Louise Thornton was indeed an intriguing mix of contradictions.

But she didn’t look very snooty now, smiling down at her son. ‘You’re always hungry,’ she said.

‘Can we have some cake? Please? After all, we’ve got guests.’ Jack looked hopefully at Ben and Jasmine, and Ben chuckled. Having been a hollow-legged boy once himself, he was pretty sure Jack’s request wasn’t entirely altruistic. However, he wasn’t about to talk himself out of a nice piece of cake, so he watched for Louise’s reaction.

She rolled her eyes and pulled a large tin off the counter—the item she’d been rummaging for earlier. Clever woman. She’d been prepared.

When she opened the lid the most delicious smell hit his nostrils: treacle and walnuts and warm November evenings by the fire. He almost had to wipe the drool from his mouth with his sleeve by the time a large chunk was handed to him on a plate. He didn’t waste any time doing it justice.

Now, he could make a decent casserole and a great roast dinner, but baking evaded him entirely. This must have been a prize-winning, locally-made example. As he bit into it, he was almost tempted to growl with pleasure. Light moist cake with dense spicy flavours and the earthiness of walnuts teased his taste buds. Almost half the slice was gone already. Would it be rude to ask for another one? He looked over at Jack, who had cleaned his plate, but was wearing a significant amount of crumbs over his face and down his front. Now, there was a lad who could be counted on to ask for more. All Ben had to do was hop on the bandwagon when the opportunity came.

Jack opened his mouth and Ben swallowed his last mouthful, confident that his plate would not lay desolate for long.

‘So, can we go to the fireworks, Mum? Please?’

Louise frowned and put the lid on the cake tin. Ben felt taste buds whimper in protest.

‘I don’t know, Jack. I thought we could watch from upstairs. That way we might get to see more than one display.’

Jack pursed his lips. ‘Jas says there’s going to be hot dogs on the village green. Can’t we go and have hot dogs?’

She looked pained as she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, darling. After the way that photographer … Well, it’s just better we stay here where no one will see us.’

Jack’s face fell and Louise’s was a mirror image of misery. Ben wished there was something he could do. It was criminal that a mother and son couldn’t do something as simple as watch a firework display without being hounded. He remembered only too well how hard he’d had to work not to stay inside every evening and mope when his divorce had been fresh and raw. With the extra pressures on Louise, he could see her turning into a hermit. And that wouldn’t be good for her son, either.

Jack slumped forward on the kitchen table, his chin in his hands and his bottom lip sticking out. Ben stared at the wall straight in front of him, racking his brain for a solution. Slowly, the pegs containing hats and coats and scarves near the back door came sharply into focus. He stood up.

‘I’ve got an idea.’

The other three stopped talking and looked at him. He grinned, walked over to the row of pegs and pulled off a fluffy, knitted hat and matching scarf. ‘Come with me,’ he said as he walked back towards Louise, whose eyes were wide and round, then he linked the tips of his fingers with hers and pulled her up to stand.

Her mouth moved, but no sound emerged.

He tugged her in the direction of the hallway, to the large gilt mirror he’d seen hanging there on his very first visit after Louise had moved in. He stood behind her and, while she continued to stare at him in the mirror, he pulled the dusky purple hat over her head. It was one of those tight-fitting ones with no embellishment or bobbles, and the crocheted hem came down level with her eyebrows.

Better. But she still looked like Louise Thornton. He scowled at her reflection and her eyebrows raised so they disappeared under the hat. It was the hair. That long, glossy dark hair was her trademark—instantly recognizable, indefinably her.

He brushed the hair framing her face back behind her ears and twisted the strands into a loose plait, something he’d done countless times with Jas. When his gaze flicked up to the mirror again, she was staring at their reflections, her mouth slightly open, and then she shivered and shook his hands away from her shoulders. He broke eye contact and busied himself wrapping the scarf once, twice, around her neck, letting it stand up so it covered the lower half of her face. Somehow his hands had made their own way back on to her shoulders with the flimsy pretence of keeping the scarf in place.

Only the eyes gave her away now, but there wasn’t much he could do to diminish their impact. She could hardly wear sunglasses on a chilly autumn evening. That would only draw more attention to her.

‘There.’

She was motionless, the only movement her eyes as they flicked between her own reflection and his. ‘I’m wearing a hat and scarf. Is that your stunning plan?’

‘No one will be able to pick you out of a crowd in this. It’s going to be almost pitch-dark, after all. Top it off with a big, dark coat and you’ll look just like the rest of us.’

‘I am like the rest of you.’

He knew celebrities weren’t a different breed of human being, so he could almost agree. But there was something about Louise Thornton that defied explanation, that made her unlike anyone he had ever met before. And he really hoped he didn’t feel that way because she was famous. He didn’t want to be that shallow.

They stared at each other in the mirror a good long time. Her shoulders rose and fell beneath his hands.

‘Mum, look!’

The stillness was shattered and suddenly he was moving away and Jack and Jasmine were running into the hallway, bundled up in coats and hats and jumping up and down. Jack was tall for his age, and Jasmine petite, making them almost the same height. It took a few seconds for him to realise that Jack’s over-excited squeaking was coming from underneath Jasmine’s hat and scarf. Louise looked from one child to the other and burst out laughing. She pulled the fluffy hat with ear-flaps up by its bobble until she could see her son’s eyes.

‘If you’d have kept quiet, I’d have had no idea that you two had switched coats!’

Jack jumped up and down. ‘Can we go? Can we?’

Louise rolled her eyes again. ‘Okay, we’ll go.’

Their cheers echoed round the tall hallway and up the elegant sweep of the stairs. Pounding footsteps followed as they raced back into the kitchen. ‘You can wear your own coats and hats, though,’ Louise called after them.

When the silence returned, she looked at him. ‘Do you really think it’ll work?’

‘Of course, everyone is going to be craning their necks and looking up at the sky. They won’t even pay attention to who’s standing next to them. And, let’s face it, it has to be a better disguise than your last attempt!’

She pulled the hat off her head and spent a few seconds de-fluffing her hair. ‘You don’t beat around the bush much, do you?’

He shook his head. Why waste time using inefficient words when you could use a few that hit straight to the heart of the matter?

Louise unwound the scarf and held it, together with the hat. ‘Was it really that bad?’

He nodded, and tried very hard not to smile. ‘You looked like a celebrity trying very hard to not look like a celebrity. I mean, a pink tracksuit with the word “juicy” splashed all over the … um … back.’

She gave him a knowing look. ‘Oh, you noticed that, did you?’

He knew he shouldn’t, but he grinned back at her. ‘It was hard not to.’