‘And are you ready for the next meeting?’ he asked.
‘You bet.’
‘But no faking this time. We can just be ourselves.’
‘Of course.’ Though a weird realisation crept through her – she’d quite enjoyed pretending to be his date.
The lane wound between budding hedgerows and fields that shimmered green under the soft spring light. She and Sam chatted in easy bursts – about Dominic and Astrid, about the wedding plans, about nothing at all. A tractor rumbled past, forcing Clara to edge the car onto the verge, and they both laughed when she over-corrected slightly. The mood stayed light, their earlier nerves long gone.
About half an hour later, Clara reversed Sam’s car into a narrow parking space in front of a village green, with rows of terraced houses in a weathered brick red surrounding it. Behind the ones opposite stretched a field.
‘Welcome to Somerwell,’ Sam said, unclipping his belt. ‘We can have a look in the village later – it’s very picturesque.’
‘I love all the thatched cottages we saw on the way.’
‘There are plenty more of them in the village. Mum never wanted a place like that. She likes her home here.’
‘Is this where you grew up?’
‘No.’ Sam shook his head. ‘We grew up in Yeovil. Mum moved out here when Claire did. She likes being in the same village. That way she can help with childcare.’
‘I see.’
Clara followed Sam across the green up to one of the houses in the terrace. It had a neatly painted white fence, and a path lined with bushes and clusters of tulips. The garden next door was the opposite, overgrown and messy. Clara pulled a face at it as Sam opened the gate into the neat garden.
‘That brings down the street a bit, doesn’t it?’ she whispered
Sam leaned in closer as he let the gate click shut. ‘I’m sure Mum will tell you all about who lives there,’ he said quietly. ‘She loves gossip, and she knows everything about everyone who lives around here.’
As they reached the door, it swung open before they had a chance to knock. A striking older woman with neatly featheredshoulder length hair that was almost white stood on the threshold in a plain grey top and matching soft trousers. A smile split her face, and she thrust her arms wide. ‘Oh, Sam, my boy! You’re here at last.’ She wrapped her arms around him, and he did the same. Even standing on the doorstep, she wasn’t taller than him. The hug lasted a long time, and Clara tilted her head, looking on as so much love passed between the two of them.
‘So good to see you, Mum. And you’re looking well.’
‘I’m just so pleased you’re here.’ She glanced over at Clara, still with a broad smile, then stepped down and came over. ‘Oh, how nice to meet you, sweetheart.’ She wrapped Clara in a hug too, and Clara returned it, feeling a happy sense of belonging. ‘You’re Sam’s lovely friend.’
‘This is Clara,’ Sam said.
‘I’m so happy to have you here.’ Sam’s mum pulled back and smiled at her.
‘Lovely to meet you too, Mrs Addison.’
His mum chuckled. ‘Oh gracious, lovely girl, just call me Moira. Mrs Addison makes me feel old, which of course I am, but I don’t feel it or want to be reminded of it.’
‘Well, you’re older than me, but you look great.’
‘Thank you. I certainly have a lot of energy today. Always do when I know my boy is coming home.’ She put her hand on Sam’s back and rubbed it. ‘Now, in you come. I’ve made a cake. We can sit out in the back and eat it. It’s warm enough, I think, though I hope the dogs aren’t out next door. Make a terrible noise, so they do.’
Sam squeezed his mum’s shoulder, glancing over the top of her head to smile at Clara.
The mention of dogs made Clara think about Skye; she missed her but knew she would be getting lots of cuddles from Molly.
Inside the house was compact and beautifully decorated. It looked fresh and airy. The kitchen was small but bright and inviting. Sunlight spilled through the window and the open door.
‘The garden’s looking good.’ Sam peered outside.
‘I’m glad you think so. It’s like a full-time job keeping it up, but I love it.’ She turned to Clara. ‘Do you enjoy gardening?’
‘A little bit. I like growing vegetables and soft fruit. Sometimes they do well, but they’re a bit hit or miss for me. There were some great pumpkins growing at my new cottage last year – obviously whoever was there before me planted them – but the vines scared me a bit. Every time I opened my door, it looked like they’d crept closer to the house.’
