‘You say that…’ His easy smile broadened. ‘But you’d be surprised how many people say we’re hard to find when they haven’t been before.’ He stepped back and threw the door open. ‘Come in. Charlie’s in the kitchen laying the table; he’s really looking forward to seeing you again.’
Lizzie stepped in and Jude shut the door, instantly intensifying the rich, herby aroma that had faintly tickled her senses on the doorstep.
‘It smells amazing in here.’
‘Let’s hope the product lives up to the advertising then.’ Jude gave a soft chuckle.
The kitchen was bright and airy and a lot less imposing than the outside of the house had suggested, with high ceilings and French doors leading to a paved area and the garden beyond. An archway to the left revealed a more intimate dining area, with a large armchair stuffed into a nook by the window and a glossy rosewood table, but there was a more casual pine table in the kitchen, the scuffs and scratches telling of comfortable meals with a lively family, and Lizzie was glad to see it was this one that was laid out for their meal.
Charlie turned and waved as Lizzie walked in. ‘I’m making salad! Do you like salad? I don’t.’
Lizzie couldn’t help a little laugh. ‘People only eat salad because they grow up being told they have to.’
‘The trick is to mush it in with everything else so you can’t taste it,’ Jude said.
‘It makes you wonder why anyone buys it at all.’
‘Because we’re supposed to care about the vitamins or something?’ Jude offered.
‘Probably,’ Lizzie agreed.
Charlie brought an overflowing bowl to the table and carefully set it down before taking a seat and beaming at Lizzie. By the looks of things, there was a market garden somewhere that had been stripped clean, which was strange when you considered that they’d all just agreed they didn’t like salad. Despite what she’d just said, however, the salad did look fresh and crisp and actually pretty good.
‘Take a seat,’ Jude said, gesturing to Lizzie. ‘Can I get you a drink? I’ve got wine.’
‘Wine would be lovely.’
Jude nodded and went off to the fridge. A moment later he returned with a bottle of white. The cork was popped deftly and he filled a glass in front of Lizzie before leaving her the rest and going to the oven. When he returned to the table this time, he was carrying a bubbling lasagne, browned and crisp on top. He placed it on an iron trivet at the centre of the table.
‘Don’t touch it, Charlie; it’s hot,’ he said mildly, and Charlie’s hands immediately went under his knees.
‘It looks amazing,’ Lizzie said.
‘It’ll be OK. It’s about the only thing I can cook well.’
‘That’s not true.’ Charlie wagged a finger at his brother. ‘You can make beans with toast at the side.’
‘Oh, I can do that,’ Jude replied cheerfully. ‘I’m quite good at driving out for takeaway too – that’s cooking, isn’t it?’
‘If this tastes as good as it looks I’d be happy to eat it every day and I wouldn’t worry about being able to cook anything else,’ Lizzie said.
Jude scooped out a mound and put it onto a plate for Charlie before offering to do the same for Lizzie.
‘Is it cheeky to ask for the corner bit?’ she asked. ‘It won’t get me thrown out, will it?’
Jude grinned. ‘It won’t get you thrown out as long as you leave me some. The crunchy bits are by far the best.’
‘They are, and of course I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your crunchy bit. Or Charlie, for that matter.’
‘Oh, Charlie only eats the pasta sheets anyway,’ Jude said. ‘I don’t even know why I bother putting the rest on his plate. And I’ll eat pretty much whatever’s going. You wouldn’t be depriving anyone.’
Jude continued to dish out a portion for Lizzie, taking care to scrape a large section of the edge of the dish for her, and handed it over. As Lizzie reached for the salad, Charlie began to fire questions at her. His curiosity knew no bounds, particularly as he’d already quizzed her quite exhaustively earlier that day when they’d had tea at the caravan.
Do you have a dog? Are you going to get one? Do you like cats? How many CDs do you have? Do you like country music? Can you sing? Why haven’t you got a job?
Lizzie did her diligent best to answer each one, finishing by patiently explaining that while it might look like she didn’t have a job, she did, in fact, work from her caravan. At this point, Jude hinted strongly that perhaps Charlie ought to get on with eating his meal and give Lizzie a rest. Charlie looked a little disappointed but he went back to picking the pasta sheets from the lasagne while a little cairn terrier padded into the kitchen. He looked old, with grey whiskers around his mouth and wiry eyebrows.
‘George!’ Charlie cried, as if he’d never seen him before. He turned to Lizzie. ‘This is George!’
The little dog was followed by rangy looking cat.
‘And here comes Mildred too!’ Charlie announced. ‘This is our cat, Lizzie!’
Mildred looked imperiously at the gathering, decided she couldn’t be bothered with making the acquaintance of the new person at the table and skulked off again. George, on the other hand, gave Lizzie a brief sniff, and then decided he liked what he smelt and sat down by her chair, gazing up at her.
‘Oh, he’s smelt dinner,’ Jude said. ‘Even George knows if it’s lasagne he’ll get the meat from Charlie’s plate.’
‘It looks as if he thinks he might get it from mine too,’ Lizzie said.
‘Hmm, clearly he’s decided you could be a soft touch.’
Lizzie laughed softly. ‘Is he allowed to have some?’
‘A little won’t hurt, but we have to watch his diet these days – he’s an old boy and he doesn’t get the exercise to work it off like he used to.’
Lizzie broke off a piece of cheesy pasta sheet and offered it to George, who sniffed before taking it gently from her fingers and then wolfing it down.
‘Friend for life now,’ Jude said.
‘If someone fed lasagne this good to me then I’d be their friend for life too.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Jude replied, and suddenly Lizzie realised just what she’d actually said. She blushed.
‘I mean… if I was a dog…’
‘It’s OK – I know what you mean.’
‘I mean, it’s really good,’ Lizzie continued, unable to stop herself digging in deeper. ‘Better than my sister’s and that’s saying something because she’s an amazing cook.’
Jude took a sip of his wine. ‘You have just the one sister?’
‘Yes, Gracie. And a brother, James.’
‘Do you get on well?’
‘We get on great because they both live in London,’ Lizzie said with a little laugh. ‘It’s much harder to argue with someone when they’re a two-hour train journey away. What about you? Is it just you and Charlie? No other siblings? Half-brothers or -sisters?’
‘It’s just us.’ He chewed slowly as he studied her. ‘So is there anyone else… significant?’
Heat spread to Lizzie’s cheeks again. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend, if that’s what you mean.’
Was that what he’d meant? God, how she wished she was better at reading these situations.
‘Jude’s got a girlfriend,’ Charlie offered cheerfully. Lizzie turned to him, trying not to let the disappointment crush the air from her lungs. There it was in one sentence – her answer.
‘That’s nice,’ she managed to say.
‘Charlie, Harriet is not my girlfriend now – you know that.’
Charlie looked confused for a minute. ‘But you have Artie,’ he said, brightening again, and Lizzie felt that boulder weigh down a little heavier. She had a feeling she might know who Artie was.
Jude turned to Lizzie. ‘Harriet’s my ex. And Artie…’ He shifted, his expression losing some of its relaxed ease. ‘Artie’s our son.’
‘Oh.’
Why did Lizzie suddenly want to lea
ve? Was it because of the echoes of a past of her own she’d been trying to forget, now clanging out a new warning?
‘We’re just friends now,’ Jude continued. ‘We have Artie to think about so it makes sense.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘How old is he?’
‘Almost three.’
‘Do you see him much?’
‘As much as I can. I don’t want to miss out on Artie’s childhood, even if we’re not together. Harriet gets on really well with Charlie too – they’re very close. We’ve both known her for a long time.’
Great, Lizzie thought. Not only a child together but a long-standing friendship too. Why did she always pick the complicated guys? She liked Jude, and she was beginning to feel confident that he liked her too, but already she wondered whether anything more than a friendship with him could withstand the threat of a constantly present ex and the child they had.
Lizzie pushed the idea firmly out of her mind and inwardly chided herself for being so paranoid and ridiculous. Her heart was still fragile and uncertain after the break-up with Evan – that was all – and if Jude said it was over with his ex, then it must be over.
‘Your house is lovely,’ Lizzie said, doing her best to move things along. ‘Did you decorate it yourself?’
‘Some of it. For so many years I wanted to make structural changes – thought I had all the answers to make the spaces work best for the family. I thought I knew everything back then… Dad wouldn’t have anything changed, though. He liked it the way it was because that was the way Mum had liked it. Now that they’re both gone I can see what he meant and I’d rather keep it how they liked it too. We’ve painted and done other bits and pieces, of course,’ he added, taking a gulp of his wine.
‘Structural changes?’ Lizzie asked with a half-laugh, recognising that the pain of his memories was private and they didn’t know each other well enough yet to openly discuss it. ‘If you want structural changes you’re welcome to go crazy at my place.’
‘Actually, I’d love to help if you’d like me to. You see, it’s what I do – I’m an architect.’
‘Really?’ Lizzie’s face split into a broad smile. ‘Wow, that’s what you call good fortune – at least on my part. Fancy me meeting an architect during my first week at the mill!’
‘Did you have plans drawn up for your renovations?’
‘Actually…’ Lizzie began, suddenly feeling silly. She hadn’t had anything drawn up professionally, assuming that she could manage alone.
‘It’s expensive – I realise that,’ Jude said, taking her hesitation as the answer to his question. ‘I can see why most people would try to get along without hiring someone to do that. I’m sure you’ve got it all covered, but if you need any help or advice, don’t think twice about giving me a call – no charge, of course.’
‘Really? It would be OK?’
‘I could come up whenever you like and size it up, give you a few ideas about what you could do with it.’
‘Wouldn’t it put you out? I mean, you must have paid work to do.’
‘I’ve always got paid work to do but I can always make time in my schedule to help a friend.’
Lizzie blushed again. She liked the sound of that, even though she probably wouldn’t do much to change the existing layout of the mill, and she especially liked that he’d called her a friend.
‘And you’re sure it would be OK?’
He reached for his drink. ‘Of course it would.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, her insides fizzing at the warmth in his smile. ‘I’ll do that.’
* * *
Lizzie might have guessed that the evening would end with kissing. It did, in the shadow of Magnolia Mill as Jude had seen her to her caravan door, Charlie waiting impatiently in the car for him.
‘May I?’ he’d asked, a perfect gentleman, his eyes dark and inviting like new worlds to get lost in. Lizzie had nodded eagerly, her breath quickening, and their lips touched with a spark, a jolt of desire that shot through her body. There’d been a fierce attraction that had grown with every moment in his company, and if Charlie hadn’t interrupted them, finally sick of waiting in the car, there was no telling where the kissing might have led. Lizzie had never been a bed-on-the-first-date kind of girl but there was a first time for everything and some attractions that were too strong to fight.
When she thought about it now, lying in her own bed in her tiny caravan after the last echoes of his car engine had faded, she replayed the moment of their kiss in her head. Only this time, the conclusion that might have been had they not been thwarted by Charlie played out. She realised that the direction the day had taken was unusual, but then everything about her life was unusual right now so why not this?
FOUR
A light drizzle kissed the window as Lizzie woke. For a moment she was confused, until she remembered that her comfortable pad in town was gone and now she lived in a creaky caravan that dripped and wobbled on its bricks and smelt a bit odd in damp weather. She also remembered that she sort of liked it that way. If it was easy and comfortable then it wouldn’t be an adventure worth having.
Reaching for her phone to check the time, she smiled to see a text message from Jude already, even though it had only just gone eight. She opened it and her smile broadened as she tapped out a witty reply that really had no right to be in her head at such an hour. He made her feel clever and witty; he made her want to be sparkling and sexy.
Can’t wait to see you again, came the reply. She couldn’t wait to see him again either, though somewhere in the dark recesses of her brain an impatient little voice told her to beware, to keep her cool, to focus on what really mattered. She’d had her heart broken before and not so long ago… Meeting someone like Jude almost as soon as she’d arrived at Magnolia Lane certainly hadn’t figured in her plans.
Tapping out another brief reply, she put the phone to one side and pushed herself out of a bed that was far too warm and comfy. There was a ton of rubble and litter to be cleared and only her to do it.
* * *
Lizzie twiddled with the dial on her portable radio until she found a station playing old nineties house music that would do nicely as a backing track to her day’s work. The delivery driver had just left a huge empty skip and the first plank of wood echoed satisfyingly as it hit the bottom with a clang. She threw in another and another, and with every hunk of wood there came a growing sense of optimism, of excitement about her new project and the life she had always dreamt of without even knowing she’d wanted it until now.
An hour saw a good layer of debris lining the bottom of the skip and a good sheen of sweat on Lizzie’s brow. Pausing to catch her breath and take a sip of water, she leaned against the container and shielded her eyes against the glare of a sun that had chased away the morning’s drizzle. She watched with a vague frown as a car approached in the distance, winding its way up the shimmering ribbon of the road perhaps faster than it ought to. After a moment she pulled off her thick gloves and made her way to the gates. As she’d expected, the car pulled in.
‘So this is where you are, cara mia,’ the driver announced as the window wound down. ‘It’s not very easy to find, is it? The satnav wanted to take me to Wangford for some reason and it wouldn’t have anything else.’
Lizzie looked in surprise at her stepmother and uttered a silent prayer that her mum wouldn’t choose this moment to spring an unexpected visit…
‘Florentina! I wasn’t expecting to see you. It’s a bit rural up here for you, isn’t it?’
Florentina gave a vague shrug. Nobody who knew her could deny that she didn’t do countryside well – she was even less suited to it than Lizzie’s mum was. It perhaps had a lot to do with her upbringing in the exclusive streets of Milan, where her father had worked in a leading fashion house, followed by her stint in Paris and a couple of years at a finishing school in Switzerland. Suffolk was a million miles from the world she’d come from as it was, even the less remote parts, but Florentina was never going to be
content with her family’s plans for her future. So, as they’d plotted to get her married off to a wealthy Italian banker, she’d run away to England to take a job that by their standards was positive drudgery. When she’d then had the audacity to fall in love with an older Englishman who already had a family, it had been an insult too far. From what Lizzie knew (which was only what Florentina chose to make public), they weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Florentina had settled with Lizzie’s dad in Norwich, and she’d always seemed content with their life there.
Lizzie had often wondered if that were really true, and she’d thought that perhaps her stepmother might go back to Italy after her dad’s death. So far, there had been no signs of that happening, but she supposed that Florentina was still adjusting to life without him, as they all were. Perhaps big changes would be hard to think about for a while.
‘Well,’ Florentina announced, ‘I thought to myself that I haven’t seen your new house yet. In fact, I’ve hardly seen you at all lately.’
‘Sorry about that. It’s just… awkward. You know…’
‘Of course I understand. You’ve got to be loyal to your mum. But I do miss our chats.’
Florentina got out of the car and surveyed the mill in all its decaying glory. ‘Oddio! What a beast!’
Lizzie laughed. ‘You could say that.’ She was always tickled by Florentina’s odd little outbursts of Italian, no matter how often she heard them. ‘I like it, though.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be lovely when you’ve finished. How long do you think it will take?’
‘I’m aiming for six months, though I realise that the best-laid plans don’t always… well, they become non-plans. I’d like to be in for Christmas, though, one way or another.’
Florentina gave a meaningful look at the skip, and at Lizzie’s filthy overalls. ‘It looks as though you could do with some help.’
The Mill on Magnolia Lane: A gorgeous feel-good romantic comedy Page 4
