CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

By the end of the week, the occupants of the new apartments had stopped staring every time they saw Louise and were much more ready to beg for cake or tease her. Jack was really enjoying having the company too. He and Kate, the den mother, had taken three of their ‘guests’—James, Letitia and Rebecca—across to Lower Hadwell to go crabbing off the jetty. Jack was eager to show his expertise with a bit of string and some bacon rind, apparently.

Only Molly had remained behind. She was a quiet, mousy girl, who had only hovered on the fringes of the group all week. Louise found her in the stable courtyard when she went to collect a cake tin she’d left in the kitchen.

‘Hey, Molly! How’s it going?’

Molly dipped her head and looked at Louise through her thick, dark blonde hair. ‘Okay.’

‘Have you been having a good time?’

Molly grimaced. ‘Yes.’ She fidgeted. ‘I can’t get a signal on my crappy mobile here. Can I use the office to phone home?’

Louise sat down next to her. The spring air was sweet and fresh and the sun was beautifully warm on her skin in the sheltered courtyard. ‘Of course, you can. But I thought you already called this morning.’

Molly nodded and looked away.

‘They’re okay, you know, your family. They’ll do fine while you’re here. Relief will have sent some excellent staff to help with all your usual tasks while you’re away.’

Molly looked unconvinced. ‘They might not do things right. I need to check.’

Louise dearly wanted to put her arm round the girl, but she wasn’t sure it would be welcomed. Only fourteen, and already she carried the responsibility for her two disabled parents. The psychologist had warned her that some of the children might be like this, and she had vague memories of not being able to switch off herself.

‘How would you like something to do?’

At this, Molly brightened. Just as Louise had guessed, she would feel less uncomfortable … less guilty … if she had a job.

‘You lot are eating cakes faster than I can bake them. I was planning to do a chocolate one today and I could do with an extra pair of hands.’

For the first time that week, Molly smiled. ‘Sure. I can help.’

As they measured and mixed and washed up back in Whitehaven’s kitchen, Molly began to relax a little. Louise took the opportunity to dispense a little wisdom.

‘It’s okay to enjoy yourself, Molly.’

Molly frowned. ‘I know that.’

Hoping that this would be the right time, she walked over to her and put an arm gently round her shoulders. ‘You don’t have to feel guilty for being here. It’s what the scheme is all about.’

Molly sniffed. ‘I know that. It’s just that I feel bad leaving Mum and Dad alone while I get to stay in a beautiful place like this … and with you. It’s too nice.’

One-handed, Louise tore a piece of kitchen towel off the roll on the table and passed it to the girl. ‘Molly …’ Oh, blast, she was tearing up too. She grabbed a piece for herself as well. ‘You work hard all year round. Much harder than other kids your age. You deserve this, you really do. And your parents would want you to enjoy yourself while you’re here, not spend the whole time worrying about them or feeling guilty.’

As she hugged Molly, she suddenly could picture her own father’s face the day she’d run home from the supermarket and told him about the modelling scout. He’d been so proud of her. And never once had he said anything to make her feel as if she was abandoning him. He’d been such a special man.

And yet, for all these years, she’d held onto the same feeling that was eating Molly alive. The girl beside her started to tremble and Louise pulled her close for a proper hug. ‘Is it really okay?’ Molly whispered.

‘Yes.’ The kitchen distorted and became all blurry. Louise’s lip began to wobble. ‘Yes, it really is.’

Ben walked into Mrs Green’s shop on a bright July morning to get his usual paper. She’d been as meek as a lamb with him since that incident at Christmas. Louise now had a most loyal supporter in her. And that was good. For Louise. The tide of opinion might turn one person at a time, but it was still turning in the right direction.

Thoughts of Louise led to thoughts of Whitehaven and its luscious gardens. He would have loved to have seen how they looked now in full summer, with all the borders in bloom. He wanted to know if they matched the vision in his head when he’d drawn up the plans.

He reached the counter and Mrs Green just handed him a paper without asking which one. Then she handed him a glossy women’s magazine, not one of the cheap, gossipy ones, but one of the high-fashion mags that also ran articles on serious subjects.

‘A bit old for Jas, Mrs Green,’ he said, without looking at it, and handed it back to her.

She shook her head. ‘I thought you might be interested.’

Him? He started to chuckle, but a glimpse of a pair of dark and stormy eyes on the cover made him look a little closer. Louise. She’d done an interview. He moved out of the way of the counter so the person behind him could pay and scrabbled through the pages until he found the article he was looking for. It was a long one.

He read it as he walked down the hill back to the cottage. He was working from home today. More than once he stopped in the middle of the road and shook his head. Especially when he’d realised he’d forgotten to pay Mrs Green. But she’d understand. And she’d know he’d settle up tomorrow.

Then, as he reached his front gate he started to smile, even though the ache in his chest that he thought had dulled a little in the last few months began to quietly throb again.

Amazing. He’d always said so. And here she was believing it. Living it.

Not only had she done something amazing at Whitehaven with her new respite centre, she was doing the interview to raise the profile of the charity she was now patron of. Relief were lobbying the government for new funding for child carers, not just respite care, but proper practical help on a day-to-day basis.

And Louise Thornton, the woman who would rather cut off her right arm rather than talk to a journalist, had not only given an interview—and let the photographers into the new apartments at Whitehaven—but had opened up about her own childhood, her own lack of education, in an effort to prevent more children to have to live through the same things. He felt his chest expand as he read that she was planning to study part-time for a degree in child psychology.

He reached his front door and misjudged putting the key in the lock, because he just couldn’t stop reading. He flicked the magazine closed so he could stare at the cover. The eyes were the same perfect almond shape with their dark lashes, and, yes, they still held the same dark intensity, but there was something new there.

Some people might call it confidence. Some might call it resilience. But Ben knew what it was that he saw there.

He saw not just Spring, but Summer.

This could be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Except, maybe, that time when his sister had convinced him to fly off the shed roof with a pillow case for a Batman cape and he’d ended up with two broken arms for his trouble. Ben tied his dinghy onto the iron ring outside Louise’s boathouse and wondered whether he should just sail straight back across the river, because, actually he’d been right the first time. This was the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

It was just past noon and the most glorious summer day. He stood for a moment on the jetty and considered his next move. Where was Louise likely to be at this time? Up at the retreat centre? In her kitchen? Up in London visiting friends?

He didn’t have a clue, and it saddened him that he didn’t know, that her life had changed so much since he’d last seen her. But at the same time he was immensely proud of her. He’d seen all that potential inside of her, knew she had the ability to do something with it, but it had taken strength of character and guts to turn that into something real.

Something flashed up on the boathouse balcony and he immediately craned his neck to see what it was. The sun had bounced off the glass part of the door as it had opened and out stepped … Louise.

She was wearing a faint smile and her long chocolate-brown hair glowed chestnut in the sunshine. He couldn’t move. Despite all his carefully rehearsed speeches, suddenly he didn’t know what to say. If it was possible, he’d forgotten how beautiful she was—or maybe she had just got more beautiful, because there was something different about her.

She rested her hands on the edge of the balcony and leaned forward, breathing in the salty river air.

And then she saw him and stiffened in surprise. He couldn’t hear her from where he was standing, but he was sure he saw her mouth his name. The lapping of the river, the constant shrieking of the seagulls all died away as they both stood frozen to the spot, staring at each other.

And then she smiled.

He wasn’t sure how he got there, but suddenly he was at the top of the jetty, then running up the steps to the boathouse’s upper room. He made himself stop when he got to the door that led onto the narrow balcony, half-worried she would disappear into thin air if he got too close.

She was leaning against the rail, her back to the river. The breeze tugged at the hem of her long, frilly-edged skirt.

‘Ben,’ she said again. Her smile was soft and warm with a hint of sadness. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

He nodded. Nothing sensible was going to come out of his mouth unless he got his act together. ‘You too.’

‘I’ve been meaning to come and see you,’ she said, ‘but I just haven’t …’ She trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid, but Ben didn’t care. The fact she’d been considering making the first move was all that he needed.

His heart started to pound in his chest as he crossed the threshold onto the balcony. He was close enough to touch her now, but he wouldn’t—not yet.

‘I saw the article in the magazine.’

Okay. If this was as smooth as he was going to get, he might just as well jump back into his dinghy right now.

She nodded. ‘I’m going to be in the spotlight whether I like it or not, so I might as well get to choose where it shines.’ She looked at her feet, then back up at him. ‘So, Ben Oliver, why are you trespassing on my land again after all this time?’

It was a joke and he was supposed to laugh, but he seemed to have lost the knack.

‘I … um … forgot to give you something.’

She frowned and her eyebrows arched in the middle. ‘We haven’t seen each other for months. What do you mean? Is there another invoice I haven’t paid, because—’

‘It’s not so much what I didn’t give you, but when.’

‘When …?’ she repeated frowning.

He nodded. ‘Christmas.’

His heart slunk into his boots. On the way over here this had seemed clever, now it just seemed … lame.

‘Christmas was a long time ago.’

He reached into his pocket and his fingers closed around the palm-sized box hidden there. ‘I know. But some gifts have their own seasons. This one was a little premature back then.’

She bit her lip. ‘Am I going to like this gift?’

It was now or never. And he was shaking in his sensible boots. He looped the little ribbon holding the box closed round his finger and used it to pull the silver parcel out of his pocket. Then he dropped it in her hands.

‘I really don’t know. And I’m not sure it’s in season even now, but sometimes, you can just wait too long …’

It didn’t seem to matter that he wasn’t making any sense, because she was staring so hard at the little package he sensed she wasn’t taking it in anyway. With excruciating slowness, she tugged the velvet bow and let it fall to the floor. Then she took the lid off the box.

‘Oh.’

Oh? Was that a good oh or a bad oh?

‘Oh, Ben!’

A good oh. Warmth began to spread upwards from his toes.

Her nose crinkled in confusion. ‘Mistletoe? But it’s almost summer!’ Gently, she reached into the box and pulled the sprig out to look at it. A thin white ribbon looped round the top and was tied in an elaborate bow. ‘It’s not even plastic! It’s …’

‘… the real deal,’ he finished for her.

She stepped close enough for him to smell her perfume. ‘How did you …?’

He shrugged. ‘I have my sources.’

She twiddled the mistletoe between finger and thumb and suddenly grew more serious. ‘What does this mean, Ben?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

She bit her lip and looked away. ‘You want to … kiss me?’

Always. Forever. But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t until she’d given him the answer he wanted to hear. ‘I told you I knew what I felt and I still feel the same way.’

Louise shook her head. ‘After all the things I said to you! The way I behaved … I don’t deserve it!’

He couldn’t use his hands to make her look at him, so he concentrated on just pulling her gaze to his by the force of his will-power. ‘Yes, you do.’

Six months ago, he would have seen the doubt in her eyes, but the woman standing before him looked deep into his eyes and he saw the light of recognition and understanding flicker on. Slowly, she raised her arm so the little green sprig dangled above her head and, taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.

This was it. Now or never. He thought perhaps he was going to hyperventilate, but managed to pull himself together. Louise was still poised, ready for the kiss, her lips soft and slightly parted. When he didn’t respond straight away, she lifted one eyelid, making the other scrunch up.

Her whisper of uncertainty only made his fingers shake all the more. ‘Ben?’

He nodded up to the little green sprig with its cluster of white berries above their heads. ‘Look a little closer.’

With his fingers as deft as a bunch of bananas, he tugged her hand downward so the mistletoe rested at eye level and she could see the diamond ring held fast by the white velvet bow.

‘Marry me?’

Louise’s eyes snapped all the way open and she dropped the sprig on the floor, then her hands flew to her chest and stayed there.

He bent down and gently rescued both mistletoe and ring before he trampled it with his boots. Louise looked as if she was in a trance. Taking a chance, because she wasn’t slapping him in the face or running up the hill, he twirled the mistletoe above their heads once more.

‘Will you …?’

‘Yes! Oh, Ben, yes!’ She threw herself at him and almost sent him flying over the edge of the balcony. And then she was kissing him on his face, his neck, his lips … He particularly liked the bit when she got to his lips. But eventually he pulled away, peeled her hand off him and guided them so she could pull gently at the ribbon to release the ring. It dropped into his waiting hand.

She looked up at him, laughing and shaking her head, her eyes shining. ‘Are you for real, Ben Oliver?’

He nodded and lowered his head, then brushed his mouth across hers, savouring the moment, and slid the ring onto her left hand. Even though it was high summer, he had one last wish to bestow upon her.

‘Merry Christmas, Louise,’ he whispered against her lips before wrapping her in his arms and pulling her into the cool darkness of the boathouse.