The Secrets of Meadow Farmhouse. Katie Ginger

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СКАЧАТЬ tensed her muscles and a burden of dread rested on her chest. He hadn’t said that. He couldn’t have. ‘What do you mean?’ An incredulous laugh escaped her. ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘I can’t marry you, Vera. I’m so sorry.’ Tears welled in his eyes once more and with a strong sniff he attempted to force them away.

      ‘Why not?’ A weight pressed down, tightening her ribs. ‘You love me and I love you.’

      ‘You know why—’

      She shook her head. ‘But you said you didn’t care. You said—’

      ‘I know what I said.’

      Vera watched the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed heavily. Why was he hurting her like this?

      ‘I have to think of others, not just myself.’

      He was saying words that weren’t his. He’d never have said anything like this before, when their relationship was purely friendship. It must have been his mother. She must have refused her consent. Vera felt the slow, steady tearing in her heart as it ripped so completely in two.

      ‘You don’t mean that,’ she whispered, tears now falling down her face. Her heart ached, slowly breaking as his words sunk in. With white knuckles, she held tight to the doorframe, her body no longer able to stay upright. All her strength had disappeared.

      ‘I’m sorry, Vera, but I do. I have to go.’

      He turned and walked away, and as loudly as she could without waking the others, she called out to him, but apart from a slight turn of his head, he didn’t stop, or acknowledge her anguish.

      Vera’s hands shook as she closed the door and leaned back against it as though it would stop her from disintegrating. Her legs gave way, unable to take the weight of her emotions. She slid down to the floor, curling her legs up and hiding her face behind them. Tears soaked through the fabric of her nightdress so it stuck to her skin. The grey clouds that had threatened only moments before let loose their burdens and as her life fell apart, the rains came.

       Chapter 1

      Paris

      Present Day

      The sights and smells of the Paris flea market were almost too much for Amelia’s hungover senses to bear. Only her excitement at living in the city she adored, and a need to be out of her apartment, led her forwards.

      Though the baking emanating from the nearby shops smelled delicious, the aromas changed with every step causing her stomach to roil and calm in equal measure. The strong scents of garlic and onion were overtaken by that of sweet pastries and butter. The crowds wove around her, all heading for the farmers’ market at the bottom of the tiny street or returning up the hill with bags laden with fresh produce. In between, shopkeepers cast open their windows, displaying the eclectic range of goods they had to offer. Amelia’s eyes darted between the numerous chandeliers that hung from the ceilings of one store, onto antique vases side by side on a small side table. Traditional French furniture lined the street outside along with stacks of paintings. On the other side of the street, smaller objects like perfume bottles, vintage jewellery and trinkets glittered as the sun hit the windows.

      All around, the sound of chatter penetrated her ears, resonating through her sluggish brain. Fluent in French, Amelia could make out most of what was said, but when so many voices merged and the locals spoke so quickly, she struggled to keep up. Snippets of conversation met her, forming unusual and humorous sentences. She pushed her large round sunglasses further up her nose to shield her eyes from the sun’s strong glare, and her stomach rumbled loudly.

      Spring in Paris was a magical affair as flowers bloomed around the city, giving the air an overwhelmingly floral scent. She’d been there for eight years now, but the capital never failed to impress her. Each season affected the city differently, but whereas summer could sear the streets with a hazy heat, spring gave all the golden glow but with a much more temperate feel.

      Pausing at her favourite café, with a mix of folding metal and wicker chairs tightly packed around small circular tables, she took a seat and ordered a café crème and a buttery, flaky croissant; the perfect thing to soak up the rest of the wine lingering in her system while she waited for Océanè to join her. She’d want to know all about her date with Bastien last night and by the time Amelia had something to eat and chatted to her friend, she’d feel well enough to look again for the perfect items to finish off the job she was working on. As an interior designer, Paris – with its chic fashions and varied shops – was ideal for her business. Could she have built this career in the tiny English village she’d grown up in? Probably not. Though regret at the way she’d left bubbled inside, causing her insides to roll again.

      Twenty minutes later, Océanè arrived and ordered the same as Amelia. Amelia asked for another café crème before the waiter disappeared, knowing the questioning was soon to begin and a second caffeine hit would help her endure it. Her friend didn’t exactly mince her words.

      ‘So?’ Océanè asked in her heavy French accent. ‘How was your date last night? Was Bastien attentive? Did he buy you champagne? You have seen him, what? Five times now?’

      ‘He bought me wine. And lots of it. Too much, in fact,’ Amelia said, adjusting her sunglasses once more as the sun moved across the sky, climbing higher. The coffee was helping her headache, but she still felt a little fragile. This morning she had dived to the bathroom and hastily scraped her black hair into a chignon and swiped bold red lipstick over her lips, knowing it would give her pale complexion some colour. Over the years she had tried to absorb the Parisian style of dressing: classic, expensive pieces, simple lines, and most of the time she managed to pull it off, but there were times, like this morning, when fashion wasn’t important. She’d thrown on old loose jeans and a jumper but it only took a moment with a real Parisian to make her feel sloppy and slobbish, and as Océanè cast her eyes over her outfit, she knew she didn’t approve.

      Océanè swiped her blonde hair over her shoulder. ‘You do look a little, how do you say …’

      ‘Under the weather?’

      ‘Pasty.’

      ‘Thanks.’ Amelia giggled.

      ‘Did you not have a good time? He is very handsome, non?’

      ‘We had a very nice time.’ For once, Amelia was grateful that she looked so ill any blushing wasn’t likely to show as thoughts of his intense and passionate kisses rang through her head. ‘And yes, he is very handsome. He wined and dined me, paid me compliments, made me laugh, but I’ve left him to make his way home while I’m out.’

      ‘You are avoiding him?’ Her friend’s tone was incredulous.

      Bastien was almost perfect and she liked him well enough, but Amelia wasn’t very good at the small talk made the next morning. It made her uncomfortable and embarrassed and to be honest, she hadn’t had a lot of practice at it. An image of Adam flashed into her brain and she shook it away. Ever since she’d left him back home in the tiny village of Meadowbank, he’d pop up in her mind, most often when she was thinking about or trying to date someone else. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t shake him off.

      ‘But you will see him again tomorrow?’ Océanè asked. ‘He is СКАЧАТЬ