‘Oh.’ He regarded the green wrought-iron table with matching chairs, upholstered with floral patterned cushions like the ones on his manor sofa. A citronella scent wafted from a solitary candle, and a white cardboard box sat beside it. ‘This is simply perfect, Clover. I’m in awe.’
‘Don’t thank me yet, until you’ve opened the box.’ Taking a seat, she gestured him to do likewise.
‘What’s this?’ Sinking down beside her, he held back a groan of relief at being off his aching knees, though they weren’t bothering him quite as much these days.
‘Open it and find out.’
‘You do know it’s not my birthday?’ Raising his eyebrows, he slid the box closer, peeling off the tape and flipping back the lid.
‘I don’t know when your birthday is, and we must cover that later, but this is better. I’ve brought a piece of home to us.’
‘Home?’
She tucked a glossy silver wing of hair behind her ear. ‘Devon,’ she crowed. ‘Our home county. For dessert, there’s scones, strawberry jam and clotted cream – all homemade by Kirsten, of course – but there’s also Brixham crab, fresh bread, pasties, and blue-veined cheese made by a farm down the road from where I grew up.’ Bringing her large handbag onto her lap, she opened the clasp and drew out two plastic tumblers and an insulated bottle bag. ‘And the piece de resistance,’ she touched her fingers to her lips with a loudmwahsound, ‘good old-fashioned scrumpy.’
Albie chortled as she produced a bottle of cider and unscrewed the cap, pouring two generous cups of sparkling gold liquid. ‘Cheers!’ She handed him one, clinking their rims.
‘Cheers,’ he replied, swallowing a large mouthful. ‘That’s delightful.’
After downing half her cider, she scraped her chair closer to his. ‘It is. Extra-strength, too.’
There was a sparkle in her eye, and for a taut moment, Albie wasn’t sure he was brave enough to utter the next sentence. ‘Ms White,’ he said in a trembling voice, cringing with potential embarrassment at the situation he might land himself in, ‘are you trying to get me drunk?’
‘Why, Mr Curville,’ she cupped her palm around his cheek, ‘I should hope so. I prize your companionship, but I’m also trying to seduce you.’
‘You are?’
Her gaze was tender. ‘Yes.’
‘Seduction, at our age?’
Leaning forward, she whispered against his mouth, ‘No one is ever too old for romance. Besides, I may be wrinkled on the outside, but mentally I’m still in my thirties. Aren’t you?’
So many muddled emotions flew through his head he didn’t know what to do with them, but the one shouting the loudest was a voice that sounded like Rose.Do it. Live. Love.
He didn’t give guilt or doubt a chance to take hold.He couldtry.‘I may need a little time.’
‘That’s okay, we can have a slow-burn romance,’ Clover reassured.
Closing the gap between them, he gathered his courage and kissed her. It wasn’t with youthful passion, or the excitement of a newly married couple. It was altogether different, full of respect, admiration and affection. Deeper than a passing ardour, greater than a temporary elation. It was better than anything he could have imagined, and a spark which had lain dormant for more than eighteen years flickered to life.
It was only as they drew away from each other with matching grins they saw the roses surrounding them had changed from pastel shades to a bright, startling red.
‘How…? Why…?’ Clover gazed around with wonder in her eyes, shaking her head at impossible things.
Albie stroked a finger over her cheekbone, thinking the roses were lovely, but she was lovelier. ‘Do you believe in magic?’
‘Unequivocally,’ she breathed, staring pointedly at his face. Then, rallying, she tilted her head at the scarlet blooms. ‘Well, it looks like I’m not the only one who’s ready for some romance.’
CHAPTER 26
Tori
Be Genuinely Delighted by Someone Else’s Success
Dear Notebook,
Since telling Kirsten my story, feel lighter and freer. Talking meant reliving trauma, but she was so supportive and hearing how she conquered panic attacks offers hope. Also, rebuilding our cottages ASAP to convince developers/interested parties it’s a viable community and unethical to destroy, gives extra purpose. Want to restore Little Beaubrook not just for Albie and Rose, but because it’s right thing to do.
