‘I didn’t want you going in there on your own,’ she told him in her familiar way, reserved and imperious, but kind.
She wasn’t angry with him any more, at least.
Minty’s eyes belied her anxious state, even though the way she held herself was the picture of poise and calm.
Neither of them made any move towards the cottage. She stared entreatingly at her old friend. Jowan knew he would have to be the one to fix this, and it had to be now.
‘Mint…’
Her mouth tightened and she turned her face a little to one side, as though that could stop her having to listen to any more painful excuses about how Isolde would always be the one for Jowan.
‘Mint, you are my oldest friend, and I promised you I would always be there for you.’
Minty closed her eyes, readying herself for another bout of rejection.
‘No, Minty, no, it’s not like that, come here.’ He reached for her hand and she let him hold it, barely daring to look in his eyes. ‘The promises I made to you in friendship, I want to make all over again as your… as your—’
Now he had Minty’s full attention and her eyes threatened to overflow with tears. Her brow crinkled in a way that made Jowan’s heart soften even more.
‘Go on.’ She wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.
‘As your lover.’ As soon as the words were out, Jowan gulped and clamped his lips closed. He and Minty stared hard at one another.
‘I mean, as… your partner? Your best friend. Your most important person.’
Minty’s laughter rang out as she brought a hand to her mouth. ‘My most important person?’
Jowan blushed and tried to find more words but there were none. ‘Yes, my most important person,’ he shrugged.
‘Right then, well… Good.’ Minty nodded sharply, accepting the new arrangement, and Jowan’s smile burst across his face.
Ever so slowly, he stepped closer, taking her other hand in his, then bringing his fingertips in a slow trail all the way up over her arm and across the knot of silk at her throat.
Seeing her gulp and her lips soften – she was barely breathing, it seemed – he let his hand settle along her jaw, sweeping his thumb across her cheek and the edge of her lips, his eyes sinking to her mouth before he closed the last of the distance between them in a soft kiss the likes of which could only happen between best friends well on their way to becoming lovers.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Always Look for the Helpers
The news cameras left Clove Lore soon after Christmas, and the tourists stayed away, but the thing about a place like Clove Lore is, it lives on in people’s memories.
Those who had spent happy childhood holidays, or honeymoons, or Christmases in the village and remembered it fondly certainly didn’t forget the images on their screens of the place in peril, and while the diggers and bricklayers, glaziers and plasterers moved in and every cottage ran dehumidifiers night and day and skips arrived to take away everyone’s wrecked furniture and spoiled possessions, the envelopes began to arrive.
Almost all of them were addressed ‘Care of the Clove Lore Estate’, which meant Minty had the pleasure of opening them. Some contained cash, others cheques, all sent in sympathy and solidarity to the people of Clove Lore to help them rebuild their lives.
A delegation was formed, headed by Minty, of course, aided by her right-hand man and most important person, Jowan. The money was to be split between residents and businesses Down-along and there was to be no delay in divvying it up.
Still the envelopes arrived all through the winter, prompting Minty to ask around the village if there wasn’t an easier way of doing all this.
Alex had been the one to suggest the donations website and as soon as it was up and running (and Minty had given yet another of her rousing, stoical interviews to the press – she was becoming quite the poster girl for the entire project), the money poured in from across the world, and everyone in Clove Lore wiped away happy tears and remarked with wonder about the astounding generosity of strangers.
The Siren’s Tail, just like the bookshop and Mrs C.’s ice-cream shop, needed a complete refit of its ground floor. The stable got underfloor heating, much to Moira, Bon Jovi and Mushy Peas’ eternal delight. The cellars of the Big House had to be dredged and relined and Mrs Crocombe had to claim for two hundred litres of spoiled ice cream on her insurance policy.
On one very solemn Sunday the site where the chapel had once stood was cleared away entirely, leaving only the tiled floor, the font and the front pews. Leonid replanted the whole area with camellias with the intention of extending the once-famed camellia grove all the way up to the back of the Big House. The whole operation was undertaken with the plodding slowness that local red tape and petty bureaucracy brought with it but there were signs of progress everywhere.
The works would take many more months to complete, but when the first hint of summer reached Clove Lore, the village’s mood and fortunes had improved enough for a very special event to take place.
Elliot was the first down the aisle, handsomer than ever in his dark suit, and nervously sweeping back his long, sleek hair.
