‘What about the lemon cheese? Have you tried that yet?’ Mrs Moss took the shallow dish, and held it towards Damien.
Damien’s gaze lifted to Ava’s, and she gave him a look that shehopedsaid, quite clearly:Please be careful, for it’s sharp enough to make your tongue burn.
‘It’s my grandmother’s recipe,’ Mrs Moss said, a proud smile curling her lips. ‘It’s very simple – just lemon, sugar, eggs and butter.’
‘You’re in trouble, Pa,’ said Oliver, nudging his father’s forearm. ‘Looks like Mrs Moss has a new project.’
‘Thank God,’ their father muttered, as Damien took the small dish being proffered. He took a mouthful, and Ava watched his face pinch a little, his lips tweaking into a line.
‘It’s very …’ he began, lips puckering a little as he swallowed. ‘Lemony.’
‘Delightful, isn’t it?’ Mrs Moss said. ‘That’s won awards, too.’
‘At the same jamboree,’ muttered Oliver. ‘Didn’t it come second, to your blackberry jam?’
‘And my gooseberry jam came third,’ Mrs Moss said. ‘I cannot help it if I’m exceptionally talented in the kitchen, Oliver. I can give you a pot of that too, if you’d like, Mr Carter? So long as Mr Willows hasn’t squirrelled them away in his pockets like last time.’
‘I’ve already seen him pocketing the scones,’ said Oliver. ‘I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to stick any of the tombola prizes up his sleeves yet.’
‘I can make you a little basket,’ Mrs Moss said, giving Damien a warm smile. ‘To take home with you.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Damien – though now his voice was taut, and he pushed his chair back from the table so quickly the cups and saucers began to chatter. ‘If you’ll all please excuse me a moment, I just need to—’
Ava saw how his eyes were glassy, his jaw tight, and when he didn’t walk to the tombola table, as she thought he might, but straight out of the front door – she stood, too.
‘I’ll be just a moment,’ she said, placing her napkin down on the table.
‘Goodness,’ she heard Oliver say as she walked away, his voice lifting over the chatter of other people’s conversation. ‘What on earth did you put in that lemon cheese, Mrs Moss?’
Chapter Forty-Two
Ava found him in the small alleyway beside the teashop, his back to the wall, his hands braced against his thighs.
‘Damien? Are you—?’
He didn’t look at her straight away. Instead, he stared down at the cobbles, at the puddles yesterday’s rain had left behind.
‘I’m fine,’ he said quietly, his lip twitching up a little, though his features still looked carved from stone. ‘It’s foolish, really.’
‘What’s foolish?’
He straightened, blowing a breath through his teeth. ‘It was just – sitting there, with you all. I didn’t think – I haven’t—’ He stopped, teeth skimming over his lower lip. ‘I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.’
She heard the ache in those words – the loneliness, rough-edged and worn, like a stone in his pocket.
‘Damien …’
He laughed a little then, though it sounded more like an exhale. ‘I told you it was foolish.’
‘I don’t think it’s foolish at all,’ she said, reaching to take his hand in hers. ‘Whatwasfoolish was admitting you liked Mrs Moss’ lemon cheese. For now that’s all she’ll ever gift you.’
‘Ididlike it.’
‘I saw your face, Damien,’ she said – looking up at him now, his green eyes bright against the clouded sky.
‘You should get back inside,’ he said, as the wind whipped her hair across her face. ‘You haven’t your coat.’
‘Come with me,’ she said – but he shook his head.
