She’sconfused? These days Vince feels like his brain has been removed from his skull and put back the wrong way round. ‘The Kate who was here,’ he says carefully, ‘working for you.’
The woman seems to study him then, and for a moment Vince thinks she’s going to slam the hefty front door in his face. But instead, she says coolly, ‘Are you sure she wants you to find her?’
‘Yes!’ he cries. Then: ‘I don’t know. I mean, I hope she does. I’ve come as a surprise.’
‘I think you should warn her then,’ the woman says, then she takes another step back, to signal that their exchange is over, and quietly shuts the door.
*
Of course Kate doesn’t pick up the call. It just rings out, and eventually Vince gives up and stuffs his phone back into his pocket as the driver chats away. ‘...Never thought they’d manage to get the place looking so good. But Kate hired a gardening team, took charge of the whole project. Worked like blazes, they did. They’ve done wonders, considering the state it was in...’
Kate –hisKate – has overseen a gardening project? Back home she’d only ever plucked out the odd dandelion and very occasionally scrubbed bird crap off his dad’s water feature. It was Vince’s job – albeit undertaken grudgingly – to drag his dad’s ancient mower up and down. As the man rants on, Vince is in awe of how much he actually knows about the comings and goings around here. He is used to his movements being observed and noted back home, in a way that they never were in London. But this seems like next-level surveillance and he’s at a loss as to what to do next.
Finally the man takes a breath. ‘So, where d’you want to go now?’
Where my wife is,Vince wants to shout.I want to hold her close and say sorry for not appreciating her. I want to tell her how amazing she is, throwing buffets together and trotting off to work at that poncey hotel without a word of complaint and basically writing my books and always knowing when a semicolon is appropriate.
I want to thank her for boosting me, that night we met – a quarter of a century ago now –at a terrible open mic comedy night and for raising my daughter with me and taking her to Brownies and all those nature places with birds and animals and loving her with every cell of her being. I want to acknowledge what she’s done for me, like moving to Shugbury because I wanted to, and loving me even though I’ve been utterly wrapped up in myself.But he can’t say this because the driver would think he’s some mad southerner, rambling incoherently. He might even drive him to a police station – not that Vince imagines there’s one open around here at 7.45p.m. on a dark autumn night.
‘I’m not sure,’ he replies. ‘Just back to town, maybe?’ He places his hands over his tired, scratchy eyes and groans quietly.
‘You all right, mate?’ The driver glances round briefly. He has a kind, ruddy face and he frowns in concern.
Vince nods. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.’
Mercifully, the man falls silent then. It’s so quiet out here, Vince notices. The only sound is the hoot of something. An owl, maybe? Kate would know. Edie would too. There were owls, along with otters, at the animal sanctuary Kate had taken his daughter to all those years ago. They’d come back brimming with excitement and described each one: snowy, tawny, barn...
‘Look, mate,’ the driver says now. ‘If it’s Kate you’re looking for then I think I know where she might be staying now.’
‘Really?’ Vince jolts upright.So why the heck didn’t you say?
‘Yeah. They were doing the place up the other week. Rory was helping. Borrowed a stepladder from the Coffee Spot? He’s a good lad, does his best with the little man. Honestly, young people get a bad rap these days...’
Please don’t go on about this Rory person for a hundred years,Vince wills him silently, pressing a knuckle against his own skull.Just deliver me to where my wife is.
‘So I reckon that’s it,’ the driver concludes brightly. ‘I think Kate’s moved into that little flat above the shop.’
CHAPTER FORTY
Kate
...And suddenly all those tangled thoughts unravel and I know it’ll happen tonight. In the living room of the tiny flat Fergus takes my hands in his, and we kiss, tentatively at first. Desire rushes through my veins.
Our kisses grow deeper, more urgent. We stop momentarily and he says, ‘I don’t know how to say this...’
‘What is it?’ I ask.
‘I’ve fallen for you, Kate. I’ve tried to just be...’ He grins and pushes a hand through his hair. ‘Youknow.’
‘Professional?’ I smile and touch his face, tracing his cheek, his jawline. The handsome face I’ve grown to know so well. ‘I feel the same,’ I say.
‘But...’ His gaze seems to search mine. ‘Is it okay? I mean, are you absolutely sure—’
‘Fergus, I’m sure. A hundred per cent.’ Then we’re kissing again, my head swirling with wanting him, all mixed up with relief that I can still feel this way, so heady and wild.
There’s no way we’re stopping now. We’re going to sleep together tonight. It’s not wrong, I tell myself. It justis.Which makes it right, doesn’t it? We pull apart and, hand in hand, go through to the bedroom.
There, we kiss again, touching each other now. He presses hard against me, and I feel like I am melting as we tug off our clothes until we’re naked together on the bed. His body is beautiful as I knew it would be: strong and taut, so warm against me.
