The Little Clock House on the Green. Eve Devon

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СКАЧАТЬ then… the thought of severing that connection with the place she used to call home, made that stupid pang that had been hitting her at the oddest of times of late, press into her breastbone again.

      ‘I could claim to be politely interested,’ Kate’s new travel companion stated, ‘instead of appearing downright nosy, but to be perfectly honest with you, I fall very comfortably into the nosy camp. Plus, I hate flying and I thought this book,’ she held up her paperback for Kate’s attention, ‘would hold my interest, but alas… not.’

      Kate stared at the front cover of the proffered paperback. It depicted a woman in sky-scraper heels holding a whip and standing over a man lying on a bed. Kate grinned. Who didn’t love gawping at what other people were reading? ‘Too much whipping action?’ she sympathised.

      ‘Not enough,’ the woman said, making Kate’s smile grow wider. ‘So much for the “What to read after 50 Shades” list, but don’t mind me. If you’re not in the mood to talk… or if what you’re working on is confidential…’

      ‘No, it’s all right,’ Kate reassured, glad of the interruption, because what if, after she’d finished designing logos for a business she didn’t have, in premises she has absolutely no intention of owning, she’d actually moved on to designing the packaging too? ‘What you saw,’ she gently closed her laptop, ‘well, that wasn’t work. I was just–’ Getting carried away? Testing myself? ‘Doodling,’ she finished lamely.

      ‘I see,’ said the woman, with a look that clearly said she didn’t and as Kate hardly understood it either, she couldn’t really blame her.

      For the thousandth time Kate told herself that just because Old Man Isaac was finally selling The Clock House, didn’t mean she should be the one to buy it…

      Yes, she might, technically, have the funds sitting in a bank, largely untouched for four years, and, yes, she might have the idea.

      But, and as buts go, this one was a doozy… the person she was supposed to implement the idea with, wasn’t here any more.

      Her hand moved unconsciously to rub at her sternum and encountered the filigree-silver locket watch she never took off.

      There were some wounds that time couldn’t heal, so to be even contemplating going home to Whispers Wood and buying The Clock House was madness.

      Determined to shake off the melancholy, Kate turned more fully to her new-found friend and asked, ‘Have you been to La Rochelle, before, then?’

      Her companion shook her head. ‘My son-in-law is French, and he and my daughter moved back two years ago now. We Skype and all that business, but I haven’t been to see them because I hate flying so much. But–’ The woman pulled out her phone. ‘I decided the arrival of one’s first granddaughter merits a change in attitude and so here I am. Prepare yourself, this is where I now bore you with photos.’

      Kate stared dutifully down at the slide show on the woman’s phone, right into the eyes of a cherubic newborn swaddled in baby-pink waffle-textured blanket. ‘She’s so sweet. And tiny! Looks as if Granny’s in for a lovely visit.’

      ‘Doesn’t it? When my daughter first told me they were moving I was determined to be happy for them. It was a bit of a shock. We’d only lost my husband two years before.’

      ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Kate watched the grief flash in the woman’s eyes before acceptance remembered to make its appearance and, without even thinking about it, Kate reached out to squeeze her hand.

      The woman stared into Kate’s eyes and after a moment squeezed back and heaved in a breath. ‘Anyway, it was hard, but I had work and my friends and I knew I’d be okay. And then, oh, I don’t know, you go about your daily routine, being okay and you think that okay is fine. Okay is good. And then, out of the blue, you get some news and suddenly you’re realising things can be better than okay. And such joy floods in,’ the woman shot Kate a look. ‘Do you know what I mean?’

      ‘Oh, completely,’ replied Kate, lying through her teeth, because compared with before, her life being ‘okay’ was already more. Except… maybe when she’d received that first postcard from Juliet… Mixed in with that gravity-shifting experience – before she’d tamped it down so forcefully – had been a feeling of joy. Joy at the possibility of a second chance. Joy at the possibility of more.

      ‘So what about you?’ the woman asked, stroking a finger over the photo on the screen before sliding the phone back into her bag. ‘Meeting someone the other end?’ The woman glanced down at her book and grinned. ‘Ooh, tell me you’re jetting over oceans to meet your lover?’

      Kate grinned back. ‘Where I will naturally whip him into shape?’

      ‘Naturally,’ the woman laughed.

      ‘Sadly,’ Kate answered, ‘I’m just going to be working.’

      She wasn’t sure why she’d accepted the job, really. Possibly to prove something to herself? She would really rather not have realised that every flight she took of late seemed to bring her closer to England. And this was the first trip back to La Rochelle where she wouldn’t grab a taxi and whiz through the port’s busy harbour streets to meet Marco. There would be no falling into bed with him. No late-night stroll down the Rue Saint Pierre afterwards, holding hands and chatting about their latest work assignments before stopping in at his favourite bar and, after a drink or four, going back to his tiny apartment to fall back into bed again.

      She tested a breath and found that it wasn’t lodged too deeply in her throat after all. The last few months had eased the ego-crushing aftershock of her last visit, when Marco had sat her down and gently told her that he’d met someone. Someone who wanted to be with him. Wanted to live with him.

      Wanted to commit to him.

      She’d been stunned. He’d never once intimated he’d wanted more and hot on the heels of the shock had been an automatic need to tell him she was sure she could commit to him too – especially now that she knew that was what he was looking for.

      Big mistake.

      Huge.

      The realisation that the gravel-laced reverence in his voice when he talked about Clara was definitely not, and indeed, had never been, present in his voice when he’d talked to her, coupled with the excruciatingly gentle manner he’d used to explain why it was never going to be her, had had her salvaging her pride and high-tailing it out of there.

      She’d gone down the tried-and-tested route when she’d left on that jet plane, completely certain she wouldn’t be back again. Throwing herself into work she’d crossed so many time zones she hadn’t even bothered unpacking. Not that she usually unpacked. That was her ultimate life-hack, but Kate knew that didn’t look great, so she kept it to herself.

      ‘Work?’ said the woman disappointedly. ‘So the doodling…?’

      ‘Was for someone else.’ Another her. A different her. A lifetime ago. ‘My job involves travelling and reviewing for airlines, tourist boards, resort owners, etc. It’s a tough job…’

      ‘But somebody has to do it,’ her new friend replied, with a generous smile. ‘You get to travel. Experience new things. Share them with others. I like it.’

      ‘Exactly.’

      ‘You’re СКАЧАТЬ