The two friends talked until the small hours of the morning, and by the time Danny got back to her flat, she felt exhausted and able to sleep again.
But the next morning she’d not even had the energy to get out of bed. When Sara popped in to see how she was and found her still there, she’d cajoled Danny into getting up, and while she’d been dressing, Sara had made her a plate of food and then left after extracting a promise from Danny that she would eat the food and find something to do.
But Danny didn’t eat the food, and the only thing she found to do was go back to bed.
Ironically, her piece about celebrities was turning her into even more of a celebrity herself. It was going viral, racking up hundreds of shares and dozens of comments in the first couple of days. Soon, her phone was registering email and social media feedback so often she had to turn the sound off to get some peace.
Speculation was rife as to whether she was referring to a specific person. Despite her assertion that her comments were general and didn’t relate to any one person, her readers didn’t believe this and were soon caught up in a guessing game.
A number of editors of online publications, impressed by her passion and scathing wit, had contacted her to ask if she’d be interested in supplying them with gossip columns. She had no intention of responding to those, but she had also received a couple of emails from editors wanting to chat about the possibility of much more interesting, if less well-paid, work.
Even more disconcerting were the offers from morning television producers asking for interviews. Danny knew their instincts were right in thinking she had some gossip, but she couldn’t admit it or she would be hounded even more. She stuck to her story that it was just her general observations and, no, she would not be available for any interviews.
But most worrisome was a journalist turning up at her flat on Thursday morning, and although Sara intercepted her first and sent her packing, it was likely more would follow.
* * *
Sitting on her bed now and noting Danny’s pale, drawn face and hollow eyes when she told her about the journalist, Sara shook her head.
“This is not healthy, Dan,” she said biting her lower lip. “Maybe you should go away for a few days. Henry and Semina are still at Farthingale till the end of next week. I’d suggest you go there for a while, but I doubt you’d want to go back to the scene of the crime, hey?”
Danny’s permanently moist eyes brimmed over again, and Sara handed her another tissue.
“To be honest,” she whispered, “as hard as it would be to go back, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than bury my face in Bella’s neck and go for rides on her. But I wouldn’t ask Henry and Semina.”
“No need,” Sara interrupted briskly. “I already have. No, no, don’t get in a tizzy, I didn’t say anything about that disgusting man and his she-devil. Just that you have a bad flu and are being hounded by the press and need a place to hide and recuperate. They were wonderfully sympathetic and understanding, and said you are more than welcome to stay as long as you like, and they’ll leave you completely alone if that is what you want.”
Danny was still unsure.
“Why not give it a try?” Sara suggested gently. “George and I are happy to drive you over, and you can just turn your phone off and do whatever it is you like to do with horses: ride and groom and stuff. We’ll keep in touch via Henry, and George and I will come on Sunday. And you can come back any time you want. You won’t be a prisoner, just call me if you need a lift and we’ll come and fetch you. But I think it will be good for you.”
Danny gave a little uncertain nod, feeling slightly more convinced. Sara seemed so sure. Maybe she was right and getting out of her little flat, breathing country air, spending time with Bella, maybe that was how she could get Brandon Carlisle and his treachery out of her mind, and she could also lay low until her five minutes of fame was over and the press hounds were baying elsewhere.
Wrapping her arms around Sara, she hugged her tight.
“You’re such a good friend, Sara. I love you and am so lucky to have you in my life.”
Sara kissed her on the cheek and hugged her back. Then adopting a brusque maternal tone, she pushed Danny gently away.
“Come on then, girl. Get dressed and packed. I’ll call George and get him to come over and pick us up. Tell Sam you’re going off grid for a few days, and turn your phone off and get some real rest, hey?”
* * *
As Danny sat next to Bella’s stall the following Sunday evening, listening to her and King munching on the hot bran mashes she’d made for them, she already felt that the horses, country air and hospitality of friends might be starting to work their magic.
Henry and Semina had been the absolute souls of discretion and kindness. Not prying at all, they had simply ensured Danny had all she needed to be comfortable.
Conversation was kept light, and they either pretended not to notice her permanently red and puffy eyes or went along with the pretence that she was suffering from a nasty cold.
If she didn’t get out of bed for meals, someone ensured she had a tray in her room even though she was still not eating enough to keep a bird alive.
Danny was deeply grateful that she was not expected to answer any questions. How would it be possible to explain such grief for the loss of a man she’d met for the first time just two weeks ago? It sounded ridiculous even to her when put like that especially as she’d never really believed in love at first sight.
But it was more than just the loss of the man himself. It was the visceral emotion that had been hidden inside her which he’d uncovered and brought to the surface, breathing life into her deepest, darkest fantasies. For the briefest moment, she’d felt like she’d been opened up and her true spirit set free. She’d felt more alive and more truly herself than at any other time in her life, and it was glorious. A brilliant exciting life, the like of which she’d not dared dream could be hers, had mysteriously, inexplicably and magically fallen into her lap, and she was euphoric.
Then without warning, Vivienne had showed up with her terrible confession, and Danny had to try and shove the genie back into its bottle. The future Danny had believed could be hers had been cruelly dangled in front of her and then snatched away leaving her more bereft and desolate than she could ever have imagined.
Even so, she couldn’t cry twenty-four hours a day, and when she could stop for long enough, she spent time in the stables. She’d met Forbes’ actual replacement and liked him enormously.
She even managed a small chuckle when she discovered the friendly, round-faced jolly, local man was Stan Bishop. Where Sara had got ‘Clarrie Jones’ from was anybody’s guess.
Stan, as he’d said Danny should call him, had welcomed her offer of help and given her jobs cleaning saddles and bridles and other tack, mixing up feeds, and grooming the horses until their coats shone.
Sara and George had come for Sunday lunch to see how she was faring and take her home if she was ready. It had been suggested, though, that she stay on at Farthingale Cottage until Wednesday and then get a lift back with Henry who was making a day trip to London for business.
Sara said she thought that was an excellent idea as she wasn’t sure the odd journalist wasn’t still hanging around, and Danny was more than happy to stay in this little part of paradise with Bella for two more days before starting the task of picking up the pieces of her real life again.
Sitting on a hay bale, she was explaining all this to Bella, who occasionally twitched an ear and stamped a foot to show she was listening. Snuffling up the last few bits of bran and chaff, she stuck her head over the stall door to see if there might be any more.
Standing up, Danny put her arms around the mare’s neck and kissed her.
“Goodnight, beautiful girl. How’d you like to go to the lake tomorrow?” she asked, happy to take Bella’s toss of her head as a yes. “I have to go back sometime, and I want to face those demons and wash them away before I go. What do you th
ink, Bell?”
Bella replied by rubbing her forehead on Danny’s chest.
“Okay,” Danny laughed. “It’s a date. See you in the morning.”
* * *
Danny set off on her ‘ghost ride’, as she’d named it – putting her ghosts to rest – after breakfast the next morning. Henry and Semina were going out all day to visit friends who lived quite a drive up the coast, so Danny said good morning and goodbye then headed to the stables.
Stan wasn’t getting to work until ten, he’d already told her, but the horses had been in their stalls overnight, and Danny was quite capable of getting Bella ready herself. King could stay in the stable until she got back and then both horses would be turned out into their paddock together.
She was going to follow the exact route she and Brandon Carlisle, she refused to ever think of him as Jones again, had, but this was not a re-enactment. She wanted to reclaim the countryside and infuse it with a new memory. She was careful, therefore, to canter when she wanted to, to stop in different places and to pass straight by anything that reminded her of Brandon Carlisle.
It was such a lovely day, the warmth of the sun gently wrapping itself around her like a soft blanket. The meadows were ablaze with colour: bright yellow buttercups and cowslips, orange poppies the colour of her own hair, white daisies, and the more purple than blue, blue scabious. Filling the air with sound, bees buzzed among the flowers accompanied by the pretty songs of chaffinches and willow warblers, while yellowhammers announced over and over again to anyone who’d listen that they had ‘a little bit of bread and no cheese’.
Gradually, Danny could feel the glorious scents, music and colour of nature purging her memory. This is how she would remember her most recent ride on Bella: alone, happy and peaceful.
Turning off the road, she steeled herself for her greatest challenge. The lake. It was still quite early, but already three boys were playing on the pontoon in the middle while their parents lazed on fold-up chairs in the shade by their car.
She dismounted and led Bella past where the horses were tied last time, and past the tree where– She banished the thought from her mind.
“Come on, Bell. Let’s go round to the other side.”
She walked her horse further along the path to where another small sandy beach allowed easy entry into the lake and, after letting her quench her thirst in the lake, she tied Bella to a tree, loosened her girth and took the towel she’d brought out of her saddle bag. Planning a swim, she’d worn a bikini under the riding clothes she slipped out of and left with her towel near the water’s edge.
She shuddered at the coldness against her warm skin as she slipped into the water and swam towards the middle of the lake. A little way from the pontoon and the boys playing on it, she rolled over to float on her back. Luxuriating in the feel of the water against her skin, she gazed up at the sky and the fluffy clouds hanging in it like balls of cotton wool.
Although if she looked a little more closely at her heart there was still a giant crack in it, she was at least feeling more peaceful than she had since she’d first had the misfortune to run into Brandon Carlisle.
Leisurely, she swam back to shore and dried herself. One woolly cloud had covered the sun and the small breeze blowing over her was cool causing her to shiver slightly as she pulled her T-shirt on. As her head popped out the top, she saw the big, black horse coming around the lake. She froze, her T-shirt still scrunched in a pile around her middle. It was definitely King. Must be Stan coming to find her, she thought with a sudden panic. Something terrible must have happened.
But as King came to a halt, and the rider jumped off, threw his reins over a branch and strode towards her, she realised something terrible was happening right now!
“You,” she spat, wrenching her T-shirt the rest of the way down. “What are you doing here? Go away.” She grabbed the jodhpurs lying at her feet and, turning away from Brandon Carlisle, struggled to pull them on over her still damp skin.
“That’s right. Run away again.” His voice was hard and bitter. “I should have realized you wouldn’t have the guts to face me, Little Miss Hypocrite.”
He came closer. Stood right in front of her. His hands were shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, and his blue eyes were as dark as a moonless night sky. Blacker than ever, his wet hair was plastered to his head with sweat, and the telltale tic at his temple throbbed among the beads rolling down his forehead and into his scruffy stubble.
“What do you want of me?” Danny demanded, feeling tears threaten to spill over onto her cheeks and struggling to hold them back.
“I want to know what I did to you that was so dreadful that you would publicly come after me like that.”
Danny wrapped her arms around herself and stared at him, frowning, her mind unable to process that he was actually here and that he was angry.
“What?” he demanded. When she still didn’t answer, he turned and strode back to King as though he was about to leap onto him and ride away. At the last moment, he stopped, turned around and strode back, but continued to pace, his head down, back and forth in front of her.
“Well?” He tilted his head briefly sideways to look at her as he walked past.
Danny shook her head. “I have no idea what you are talking about or what you want. How did you even find me?”
“Why did you change your mind?” Reaching out, he grabbed her arms, then immediately let go again as though he’d been stung and shoved his hands back into his front pockets. “What happened? I thought we had something, and then you just cut me off and wrote that nasty piece about me. Is it true that was all you were after all along? A nasty story to get yourself five minutes of the fame you so loudly proclaim to despise?”
His eyes were like slits and he was staring at her, his body so tense she could see the bulging muscles in his arms. Her heart ached. Why did he have to be so attractive?
“I cut you off?” Danny’s voice rose shrilly in despair. She glared at him, then shrugged. “You know what? I’m over this. Thanks for the worst two weeks of my life, now I’d appreciate it if you’d just go away. I don’t care anymore. When Vivienne told me about the sick game you two play, I couldn’t believe it. It made me angry. Of course it did. You are disgusting. So, yeah, I wrote that blog. Strange how you knew it was you, hey?”
“What sick game?” he demanded angrily. “What did Vivienne tell you? When? What are you talking about?”
“I told you I don’t care anymore about you or Vivienne or your games or anything. I am sick of this awful roller coaster. I wish I’d never met you. Just go away and leave me alone. Why won’t you do that?”
Turning her back on him, Danny sat down on the sand by the lake and pulled her socks on. Brandon dropped to his heels beside her.
“Okay, well if you won’t tell me what Vivienne said to you, I will tell you what she said to me.”
“I don’t care,” Danny shrugged pulling on a boot.
“Too bad. I’m going to tell you anyway. I got back from Scotland yesterday, and Vivienne was waiting for me. She showed me your blog and the response to it. She said you’d played up to me to get a story to further your career, and when she called you to ask you to take the blog down, you laughed at her and told her you wouldn’t. And then she showed me the text you sent her: And tell Brandon to stay away and not contact me.”
Danny froze, her mouth and eyes open wide with shock. Her second boot on, she’d been in the process of getting up, but as Brandon’s words sank in, she fell back to the ground.
“What? That’s a complete lie. She told me you didn’t want to see me. That you’d been playing some sick game, and that you asked her to come and get rid of me.”
“What?” It was Brandon’s turn to look shocked. “How? Where? When did she tell you that? What did she say?”
“She came to my flat last Monday. She said your engagement to her was real and you were getting married any day. She said…” The memory of that terrible conversation was too m
uch. Bursting into tears, she drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face on her arms.
She felt him tentatively reach out for her, and when she didn’t pull away, he shuffled closer, sitting down and pulling her into his arms.
“Hush, baby,” he whispered as he stroked her hair. “Don’t cry. I’m here now. Tell me what that sick bitch said.”
Danny kept her face hidden. “She said you both regularly had ‘bits on the side’ and that was what I was to you. That there was no way a famous super star like you would be interested in a nobody like me.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” His arms tightened protectively. “But she was lying. Why did you believe her? How could you have thought that of me after I’d already given you a good spanking for not trusting me?”
“Because she told me the lines you use to seduce your conquests. Things you said to me. She repeated them to me word for word!”
“What lines?” His voice was cold and hard. Letting go of her, he stood up and prowled back and forth in front of her again. “What did she say?”
“Just the things you said to me in the garden at Henry’s – like how I was a strong and independent woman and about recognising each other and how you wanted to protect and cherish me.
She said you tell girls you fancy that stuff to get them into bed, and then, after you’ve had sex, she tells them the truth. And sometimes you do it for her, get rid of guys she’s had one-night stands with who want more.”
He stopped his nervous pacing in front of her, and she raised her head. Looking down at her, he rubbed his hand back and forth across his hair sending a sparkling shower of sweat into the air. Then he held out his hand.
“Come here.”
She took his hand and allowed him to help pull her to her feet. Putting his hands gently on her shoulders, he looked intently into her face.
“It’s lies, Danny. Lies. The idea that I would seduce women and then send her around to clean up after me is revolting.” He shuddered as his face contorted in a grimace of disgust. “What I told you was the truth. Firstly, it was a pretend engagement.”
Danny’s Secret Desire Page 18
