“Is it ready?” Fred asked. “Can I try it?”
Bella wondered if Fred, too, was trying to cover Warren’s not-so-subtle put-down. She’d certainly had enough practice with Tim.
Ryan’s laugh was easy, as though he was the only one of them who hadn’t picked up on it.
“Sure,” he said. “Drop by tomorrow and I’ll make you a cup.”
Diggory wandered in from the hall, wiping his hands on a cloth that he then threw over his shoulder.
“How did you get on?” Martha asked.
“In technical terms, that radiator’s buggered,” Diggory replied. “Your thermostatic valve is stuck. I’ve loosened it off as best I can, but I dare not tinker too much as those pipes are so old they can’t take much pressure; they really need replacing. You’ve got some heat coming through in there, but it ain’t going to be balmy in the bathroom any time soon.”
Bella felt herself grimace. “Thanks for doing that. Could you recommend anyone that might be able to sort it for us?”
“I’ll make a couple of calls and get back to you.”
“Thanks, Digg, I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Right, we’d best be off, oh wife of mine, I need my beauty sleep.”
Martha kissed his cheek and said, “Come on then, old man, let’s get you to bed.”
“As designated driver, that’s my cue to leave,” Ryan said. “Bella, I’ll get a couple of bags of the Hallow-Hart blends I’ve been working on over to you, so that you can try them. I can adjust the strength and roast to your specifications, and we can play around with the flavors. Thanks for a great night, all. Warren, it was good to see you again. And I’ll see you tomorrow, Fred?”
“Absolutely,” said Fred.
Warren excused himself too. Fred went with him to the door to see him out, and then called out her good nights. Bella heard her footsteps going upstairs, and then it was only Liam left.
“Will I see you at the market tomorrow?” he asked, when they were alone by the open front door.
She was finding it hard to swallow; her throat was clogged with the things she wanted to say but dared not. Not yet. She needed to pace herself, move slowly. To hit him all at once with her thirty years of pent-up love would be overwhelming. “Yes, I’ll be doing the morning shift,” she replied. Her emotions were a jack-in-the-box that was one turn of the handle away from bursting out.
“Then I’ll make sure I get us a cranberry cruffin each for breakfast.”
“I look forward to it.” She smiled up at him, hoping to convey that it was the man behind the cruffin that she looked forward to seeing the most. He met her gaze, and she saw his eyes scrunch slightly, deepening the creases at the corners as he considered something and then dismissed it, looking away. “Thank you for dinner.”
Bella’s heart rate was at the mercy of his every expression. “You’re welcome. You’re always welcome here. You don’t even have to ask, just show up, I always make too much food anyway.” Did she sound needy? Too desperate?
“Well, given how strongly I feel about food waste, I’d better make myself available to help you out,” he said, with a grin.
“You’d be doing me a favor.” Her laugh came easily; after all these years, she was an expert at masking her inner restlessness.
He smiled and held his arms out, and she sank into him. The smell of wood shavings and beeswax lingered on his clothes, and she breathed him in, her face buried in his neck, his chin brushing against her hair. They held on toeach other a little longer than was customary, and Bella had to force herself to let him go. He smiled at her as they pulled apart, bringing his hand up to her face and brushing her cheek with his thumb. She so badly wanted the look in his eyes to mean that he wanted her as much as she still wanted him.
“Good night, Bells,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her sigh when he left her was a long exhale of all her hopes following his footsteps down the path. It tugged loose from her soul and spilled out after him in vaporous tendrils of yearning, reaching for him as the gates clanked open, and snapping back as they closed behind him.
Had they shared a moment? Had he felt her unspoken longing?
“I fancied a chamomile tea, so I made you one too,” said Fred, coming back into the hall with two steaming mugs and making Bella jump; she hadn’t heard her come back down the stairs. “What are you looking at?” Fred asked, handing one to her mum and shivering as she peered out of the still-open door.
“Nothing,” Bella replied. “Thought I saw a fox on the lawn. Feels like snow, doesn’t it?”
“I hope so, it hardly ever snows in London.” Fred pushed the door closed and locked it. “Right, I’m off to Bedfordshire,” she said, starting to climb the stairs.
“Warren seems nice,” said Bella.
