‘Foolish behaviour and entirely his choice.’
‘Damsel in distress?’
‘Hardly a damsel. And I wasn’t distressed.’
That wasn’t exactly true. Although distress was the wrong word. Bemused, bewildered, nonplussed, flummoxed, confuzzled (Kate loved that word) all aflutter.
Any or all of the above, but not really distressed.
In fact, if anything, the feeling Kate had experienced in his presence was actually a little exciting.
No it wasn’t. The man was rude.
So was she.
He evaded her questions. Did he have something to hide?
She had no right to ask them. Just because she had been stupid enough to blurt out so much about herself and her family, it didn’t mean he had to do likewise.
‘Kate? Did you hear me?’
‘What? Sorry, Gran. What did you say?’
Granny Viv laughed. ‘I asked what you had felt, if it wasn’t distress?’
‘Nothing. I felt nothing. So, what are we going to do? Lunch? Shopping? I might take a nap while you have coffee with Millicent. Unless you think she would mind?’
Granny Viv met Kate’s look. Until Kate looked away.
‘I’m sure she won’t mind, darling, if I tell her that you had such a bad night. And … a … let’s say, an unsettling experience on your walk. Although I still think it was Fate.’
Kate tutted and got to her feet. Rufus remained where he was, his paws twitching as though he were dreaming. Which he probably was judging from the snoring.
‘I’ll put these in the dishwasher and go for a nap. You know where to find me if you want me.’
Why on earth she heard Raff’s voice in her head, saying something similar, as she collected the mugs and placed them and her empty plate, back on the tray, was beyond her comprehension.
Five
Kate didn’t get much rest. She couldn’t stop thinking about Old Farm and Rafferty and Hope’s Rescue Centre for Dogs. The fact that an image of Raff striding into the sea to retrieve Rufus’s ball kept popping into her mind’s eye, was very annoying. And so was he. The man clearly loved dogs though, she had to give him that.
She turned over onto her back and puffed out a long breath as she stared up at the ceiling. What was his story? He’d seemed to tense when she had mentioned a wife. Was he married? Divorced? Had she left him? Or passed away? Wait. Hadn’t Granny Viv said she believed he was single? And he’d purchased the place with his parents. Did he live with them? At his age? A burst of laughter escaped her.
She silently reprimanded herself. Why shouldn’t he? If she had had her way, Beth would still be living with her. But Beth was thirty-five. Raff was … late fifties, early sixties at the most. Even so. Good for him. And to open a dog rescue centre was a good thing to do. Granny Viv was right about that. The man couldn’t be so bad then, could he?
Not that she cared. She now knew all she needed to about Old Farm, and Rafferty and Hope’s Rescue Centre for Dogs, so she wouldn’t be asking him any more questions. No need to track him down. Well, not track him down. She knew where to find him. No need to see him again. If she bumped into him in the village, she would be polite and say ‘Hello,’ but other than that, there was no need for her to stop and chat.
So why was she feeling that seeing him again was exactly what she needed to do?
She sat bolt upright on the bed.
‘I know why!’
She jumped up and bolted down stairs; thankfully she was still fully clothed.
‘You were right!’ she exclaimed, bursting into the sitting room. ‘Meeting Rafferty Gale todaywasFate.’
‘Of course it was,’ said Granny Viv, beaming at her. ‘I was just telling Millie all about it and she agrees.’
