‘Oh, Diane! You wouldn’t believe the adventure I’ve had,’ I announce as I clip my seat belt. I’m still out of breath from trundling my case and bag down the hill.
Maybe that’s not the only reason I’m breathless. There was that view of the bobbing hollyhocks in the gardens all the way Down-along and over the glistening roof tiles in the late-August early morning sun, and the sparkling Atlantic the colour of a starling’s egg, speckled with frothy white wave crests and dotted with little black fishing boats far out to sea. And of course, there was Elliot, standing at the top of the slope, with his arms crossed and his feet planted wide, waving one hand every time I stopped to turn back – which was a lot of times.
I’m surprised I haven’t cried, although I think Elliot and I did enough of that this last fortnight to last a lifetime, and actually, I’m more inclined to smile at the memory of him this morning, wrapped in crisp white sheets, his lips swollen from kissing me and eyes tired from an almost sleepless night. I shiver at the memory of his hands on my skin and the way he’d made my body sing at his touch, and it is definitely the good kind of shiver.
I’d made him promise not to come all the way down to the car park, saying I wanted to remember him standing there by the turning to our little shop, and I wouldn’t let him say goodbye either, and even though he’d frowned, he’d done as I asked. I want to hang onto the notion that he’ll always be right there where I left him, handsome and strong, standing solidly, if a little ravaged-looking from the night before, with wild hair blowing in the breeze, and always watching for me, like poor, sad Captain Benwick inPersuasion, in his little cottage by the sea, reading poetry all day and dreaming of his lost love.
Except Elliot’s not sticking around; he’s going for a run this morning to clear his head before cleaning up the shop and café and returning the keys to Jowan. Then he’ll be off down South to try to make amends with his faithless parents, cold fish that they are.
‘Oh no, Diane, no tears now. Come on, let’s go.’
As we attempt a fifteen-point turn in the car park, busy today with the Siren’s overnight guests’ cars, I can’t help picturing my lovely little shop and Elliot behind the counter, and the way he’d have to stoop to get through the little door to the café, and the way he couldn’t make a fairy cake to save his life, and how he’d put on his reading glasses, magically rendering himself one hundred times more handsome every time he picked up a book around the shop or worked the till.
I press my foot to the floor, powering Diane up the winding hill towards the main road. She protests a bit after her long sleep in the car park while I was off falling for Elliot and Clove Lore.
I try to distract myself with thoughts of home, and the new bedroom waiting for me, and how nice it’ll be to see Gran, but instead, through eyes misting with tears, I picture Elliot, and Jowan, and nosy old Mrs Crocombe, and little scruffy Aldous.
No, I can do this. I’m not crying. I wipe my tears away and sniff back the emotions. Life goes on. We talked through our options in the middle of the night, and came to the conclusion we didn’t really have any options. Elliot wanted to protest, to conjure up some plan so somehow we could stay together, but in the blue light, stars still shining down on us, gulls singing after the dawn boats, I knew that while our adventure had been utterly magical, that magic was the very reason why it could not survive in the real world where money needs to be made, bills must be paid, and adulthood embraced.
I fell for a magical illusion once before, the promise of a romantic, bookish, happy life with Mack and look where that got me.
‘No, we’ll be sensible,’ I’d said, trying not to spoil the quiet wonder of the night and Elliot’s soft eyes upon me. ‘We’ll go back to our lives. You and I are from different worlds, and we met here and had a really special connection but it wasn’t going to be forever. Two weeks was all we had. You have family and friends and colleagues waiting for you; your name’s cleared and your old life is ready to pick up again. And I’ve still got tostartmy life. There’s a home for me in Marygreen, and my parents, and Gran, and Daniel. There’s my entire foundation, my starting point. I’ll go home and begin something new.’
Sitting here in Diane I daren’t admit to myself I still have no clue what that new something could be, and going home doesn’t appeal nearly as much as it should, but it’s the sensible decision, the mature decision, and Elliot accepted it all, even if it did look as though his heart was straining in his chest and he had gulped down words until I kissed him again, making the most of our last dawn.
Still, it hurts. I’ll miss baking every morning, and seeing Izaak settling into life here with his beautiful man, and I won’t get to see Jowan’s fabled Christmas light display in the harbour that must be amazing, given that Minty has a hand in it – if her family fun day hunt organising is anything to go by. I’ll miss seeing what the Siren’s like in the autumn with the fire lit and the windows steamed up, and there’ll be no more of Bella and Finan’s Sleuthing Club for me, sadly.
I turn Diane onto the main road and the morning is bright and damp after the night’s rain and from up here I can see nothing but wild and verdant late-summer greenery and ancient stone walls lining our route.
My thoughts are cut through with an image of my fingertips tracing the lines of Elliot’s tattoo, a wild red fox casting stars behind it as it dashes across his broad back, and I try not to let my mind wander to his taut waist and the broadening muscles up his sides that jumped and shook when I skimmed my hands over them. ‘I’m ticklish,’ he’d said, pinning me down, grinning at me, his hair hanging over his face.
Concentrate, Jude!I’m not going to make it to the motorway at this rate. I’ll end up wrapped around a lamp post or in an ancient Devonshire hedgerow.
I’m just losing sight of the visitors’ centre in my rear view mirror when it all gets too much and I have to flick my indicator on and pull off the road.
I’ll just sit in this lay-by for a second, letting the holiday traffic stream past me. I’ll take a few deep breaths and have a word with myself about how this was a holiday romance and now that it’s over I’ll just have to be glad it happened, consider myself lucky, like Gran said.
If Elliot gets his job back at Cambridge – which surely he will now that the trial is all over and he’s been vindicated – there’ll be three hundred miles between us, and the small question of my future career to settle, but at least I’ll have Daniel by my side, if he’s not too busy with Ekon. Anyway, what Elliot and I had was gorgeous, perfect, amazing, and now the adventure’s over, and that’s fine. I’m fine.
Oh God, I’m sobbing now and rummaging in Diane’s glove box looking for a tissue. ‘I can do this,’ I tell myself, but the tears won’t stop.
After ten minutes and lots of big heaving breaths, I’m ready to go. I’m tired already from lack of sleep, so I’d better get this long trudge home over as soon as possible.
I’m reaching for the ignition once more and checking my puffy red face in the rear view mirror when I see it, a moving dark shape in the far distance behind me. I squint and rub my eyes, and turn to get a proper look out the back window in case I’m imagining things, but it really is him, black hair flowing from under his black cap, pounding along the verge, coming after me.
Without thinking, I’m out of Diane and running too, and the gap is closing between us and I watch Elliot’s desperate, determined expression turn to a grin as we collide and he sweeps me into his arms and swings me round, kissing me hard.
When he finally puts me down his eyes are shining. ‘Mrs C. doesn’t win her tenner until we’ve settled down here in Clove Lore.’ He’s gasping between the words, breathless from running after me.
‘What?’
‘You have to stay.Wehave to stay. Or she’ll lose out, you see?’
‘Oh, right.’ My mind’s reeling, offering up plenty of good reasons why that idea isn’t at all practical or well thought out. ‘It would be a shame for her to lose the money.’
‘Anjali mentioned the possibility of working at her practice, as a partner, if I wanted to stay.’
‘She did?’
