He nodded at his crotch. ‘Not everyone is as well endowed. Some men feel threatened or inadequate.’
Beth coloured, but she rallied quickly. ‘Walter doesn’t need to worry on that score,’ she replied, with a suggestive wink.
Stanley’s face fell. Clearly that wasn’t the response he had expected. ‘So, are you two an item?’
Beth simpered and smiled coyly. Let him make of that what he would. She had met men like Stanley before; the slightest encouragement and he’d be sniffing around her like a dog searching for leftovers in a bin. But if he thought she was unavailable, he’d look elsewhere for his entertainment.
Stanley nodded slowly, his expression solemn. ‘I’m pleased for him. Walter deserves a second chance of happiness.’
Beth’s eyes widened. Gosh, that was profound.
‘Treat him right, Beth,’ Stanley said. He brightened. ‘But if you get fed up with his cranky farmer ways, you know where to find me.’
‘Right. Thanks.’ What else could she say?
‘You make a lovely couple, by the way,’ he added.
‘You do,’ Melanie said, making Beth jump. She hadn’t realised the art teacher was so close. ‘I wish I had a fella who looked at me the way Walter looks at you. That’s love for you – makes me go all gooey-eyed. It’s a shame he’s not here today; I loved his caricature of Stanley.’ Stanley scowled as Melanie continued, ‘I’d like to see what he could do with a basket of fruit, but I suspect still life isn’t his speciality.’
Beth had stopped listening. She was stuck on the wordlove. It couldn’t be true. The woman was talking out of her backside. Walter didn’t love her. He didn’t particularly like her. But for Stanley and Melanie to think the same thing…
Could there be some truth to it? Did Walter have feelings for her?
The thought made her knees go weak and she had to sit down. Shuffling towards the nearest unoccupied easel, she plopped onto the chair. Her pulse was racing and there was an odd sensation in her tummy. Her heart felt full and the ache in her chest was one she hadn’t experienced in decades. So it wasn’t surprising that it took her a while to understand what it signified.
Beth was in love.
The realisation caught her unawares, and she froze.
Suddenly everything made sense – the loneliness, the restlessness, the longing for something she couldn’t name…
And, Beth being Beth, there was only one thing for it – she had to speak to Walter.
Leaping to her feet, she ran out of the room, ignoring the startled looks of her fellow artists, and raced home to fetch her car.
Cursing at the slow-moving traffic in the high street, she put her foot down when she left the village and was soon zooming up Muddypuddle Lane, before coming to an abrupt halt as she slammed on the brakes outside Walter’s cottage.
It was then that her courage failed her, and she began to question her impulsive flight. What kind of madness had overtaken her? All it had taken were a few misguided and ill-informed comments, and she was daft enough to believe that Walter might have feelings for her. She was behaving like a schoolgirl with a crush. And she had been about to make a total and utter fool of herself. Thank goodness she had come to her senses in time.
Taking a moment to catch her breath and tame her too-fast heart, she closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. She would go home, have a nice cup of tea, watch some drivel on the telly, and try to forget that she loved Walter.
Knuckles rapped on the driver’s window and Beth’s eyes flew open as she uttered a shriek.
Walter was peering in at her. ‘Beth?’ He made a wind-the-window-down motion.
She wound it down.
‘Did you forget something?’ he asked.
‘No, I…’ She trailed off. ‘I shouldn’t have come. Sorry.’
‘Would you like a cup of tea, since you’re here? I’ve got your favourites, pink wafers. And Peg would like to see you. She’s missed you.’
‘At least someone has,’ Beth muttered.
‘I’vemissed you too.’
‘You have?’
