‘I will, Mum.’I’d really have to make the effort and get out to see them, next year sometime, perhaps.
Mum rummaged around in her handbag and pulled out a wad of pink tissue, handing it over to me. ‘While I remember… a little present for you. Don’t get excited, it’s only something very small, but I saw it and wanted you to have it.’
I carefully unwrapped the tissue and pulled out the prettiest glass angel intricately decorated with silver filigree, hanging on a silver thread. ‘Oh Mum, that is so sweet.’
‘Well, I was out doing some shopping and came across this lovely display of decorations and had a bit of a moment realizing that we wouldn’t be with you over Christmas.’ Oh, that thought stopped me in my tracks. Christmas was still a couple of months away, but with mum and dad being away, it would mean spending my first Christmas without them and most likely by myself.
‘I saw this and thought how lovely she was. When you’re dressing the tree this year you can hang her up and be reminded of us both. Although we won’t be able to be here with you in person, we’ll definitely be here in spirit.’ She held the angel up high in her fingers. ‘And hopefully she’ll be a guiding light to you over the Christmas period and maybe bring you a bit of luck too.’
‘That’s such a lovely sentiment,’ I said, a warm glow filling my tummy. ‘I will definitely be thinking of you both when I put her on the tree.’
A sudden thought occurred to me.
‘What will you do about the house? Do you want to rent it out now? I could always find somewhere else to stay if you like. There’s plenty of room at the pub.’
‘No, not at all. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like, you know that. We just don’t want it standing empty, so if you do decide to go back to London or move in with your new boyfriend,’ she raised a mischievous eyebrow at me, ‘then just tell us and we can let the property agency know.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up on the boyfriend front,’ I said, laughing.
‘Come on,’ she said, pushing up her chair and coming over for another hug. ‘I can’t wait to get into my own bed. And we have a very busy day tomorrow.’
‘We do?’
‘Oh yes, shopping, lunch, afternoon tea and cake, and probably a glass of wine or two thrown in for good measure.’
‘Oh Mum, it’s so lovely having you home.’
Twenty-Two
‘What do you think to this?’
Mum, true to her word, had dragged me out of bed far earlier than was necessary on a day when I had no dogs to walk or pub shifts to attend, and whisked me off to the shopping centre. Still I didn’t really mind, not when our first port of call was the best coffee shop in town where we sat and chatted over delicious French pastries. Afterwards, we hit the shops and Mum insisted on equipping me with new jeans, sweatshirts, knickers and socks, before we’d moved onto the baby section of a big department store where we’d been stuck for the last two hours with Mum oohing and aahing over a never-ending selection of baby-grows and dresses and soft toys.
‘It’s lovely, but haven’t you already bought one just like that?’
‘Have I?’ Mum laughed, looking down at the collection of carrier bags in her hands. ‘A little one can’t have too many clothes.’
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, trying to join in Mum’s enthusiasm. I wasn’t a keen shopper at the best of times. Unlike Mum, who would be guaranteed a place on the national team if retail therapy was ever declared an Olympic sport. My legs were aching and my head was fuzzy, probably from the events of the previous evening. Images of Max taunted me all day long, him leaning down over me, kissing me, wrapping his strong arms around me – had all of that really happened? In the cold light of day it seemed like a glorious dream. Even his delicious scent haunted me as we walked through the perfumery department, my nose chasing out snatches of his aroma. Probably just as well Mum had brought me out shopping or else I’d have spent my entire day mooning around the house getting myself into a state of heightened anticipation for my date tonight.
Over a lunch of smoked salmon sandwiches and a glass of wine, Mum told me more about their hectic lives in Dubai, the friends they’d made and the events they’d attended, confirming what I already suspected, my parents had a much more active social life than I could ever aspire to. It all seemed a million glamorous miles away from the peace and quiet of Little Leyton. Mid-story, Mum paused, looked at me as though suddenly remember something important, before quizzing me on my future plans. ‘Have you thought what you will do if you lose your job at the pub?’
I shrugged, taking a sip from my cool glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Really, I didn’t want to have to face that eventuality. ‘Not sure yet. I might try and find some more doggy clients, expand the business, provide more training sessions. Or more likely, I’ll probably go back to London and find another job in the city.’
‘Is that what you really want to do?’
‘It’s what I’m trained to do.’
‘That’s not what I asked, Ellie.’
‘I know.’ I stretched my legs out beneath our table, looking out at our fellow shoppers as they passed by. I couldn’t get anything past Mum. She had that special mother’s instinct of knowing if there was a problem and getting to the nub of any issue. In a jiffy. ‘Well, it seems the most sensible thing to do,’ I said, not meeting her eye.
She reached across the table and took hold of my hand. ‘You must do want you to do. Follow your dreams. Do what excites you.’
‘Do you really think so? I trained so hard to qualify as an accountant. It was what I always wanted to do, you know that, and you and Dad were brilliant at seeing me through it all, supporting me emotionally and financially. It seems a waste to turn my back on it now.’
‘No, you mustn’t think about it like that. We supported your education because we wanted you to be in a position where you could make your own choices. And not to have to take the first job that came along because that was the only one you were qualified to do or because you desperately needed the money. No one can take your degree away from you now. That’s yours to use as when you want to. And as a fully qualified accountant, you’ll always be able to get a job if you need to. Taking some time out for yourself, being here, it’s a good idea. I know you’re working just as hard as you were in London, but it’s good to get a different perspective. Who knows, you might decide you want to go and do something different, train in a different area. Or else you might want to stay in Little Leyton serving pints and looking after dogs. There’s no right or wrong way.’
‘And you really wouldn’t mind if I did that?’
‘Of course not. If it makes you happy then we’re happy too. As a parent that’s all you want for your children, their happiness and their health.’ Her knowing smile gave me a nice fuzzy warm glow inside and relief flooded through me at the knowledge that I would have mum and dad's support whatever I decided to do.
‘Oh Mum, thanks so much for saying that. For being so understanding. I’m enjoying being back in the village more than I could have imagined, but there’s part of me that feels guilty that I’m letting you down somehow.’
‘What? Never! Anyway, more importantly,’ she curled her fingers around the stem of her glass and tipped back the last of her wine, ‘tell me, what are you wearing for your date tonight?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ll find something in my wardrobe,’ I said, waving a hand, trying to sound dead casual, as though I had the whole situation under complete control. When in fact the complete opposite was true. Where Max Golding was concerned, I had little self-control. Just the thought of him sent butterflies fluttering around my stomach and ripples of anticipation to every nerve cell in my body. Deep breaths, I told myself. Get a grip, I reaffirmed. I hated it. That feeling of free-fall. As though nothing could stop me now. My body was working to its own agenda, responding involuntarily to just the memory of Max’s touch, his delectable kisses, my head unable to erase the tantalizing images of those moments we s
hared.
‘Hmm, well I don’t think jeans and hoodie are going to cut it,’ said Mum, her disapproving face on. ‘Let’s go and find you something pretty.’
‘Mum, I’m all shopped out,’ I said, uncertain whether I could face another marathon shopping session.
‘Nonsense. Stamina, that’s all you need. Come on,’ she said, as though we were going off to do battle. ‘Let’s go and do this.’
*
Max picked me up from the house at seven-thirty, arriving with a bunch of beautiful flowers which he duly handed to Mum. Honestly, I swear her knees almost buckled, she certainly blushed, flicking her hair behind her ear.
‘Oh Max really. You didn’t need to do that. They’re so beautiful though,’ she said, lifting the blooms to her nose to inhale their lovely scent.
‘Well we didn’t meet under the best of circumstances, did we?’ he said with a wry smile. ‘And as I’m whisking your beautiful daughter away for the evening I thought it was the least I could do.’
‘That’s so very thoughtful of you, Max,’ said Mum, positively beaming.
Clearly the charm-o-meter was turned up high. Still, I’d given myself a stern talking-to after my teenage day-dreaming this afternoon. As charming as Max was I wouldn’t allow myself to be swept away by the occasion. It was still early days for our relationship. I needed to keep a level head, get to know Max better, the man behind the smooth façade, and not be distracted by his good looks.
‘You look absolutely stunning.’ Max turned to greet me, planting the lightest of kisses on my cheek, and my insides whirled as our eyes met for the briefest moment, all my good intentions flying straight out the window. In black moleskin trousers and white open-necked shirt, his strong broad frame was visible beneath the crisp fresh fabric, his body looking even better than I remembered. Was that even possible?
I brazened it out, channelling all my innermost self-confidence. Max wasn’t to know I was a quivering wreck inside. ‘Thank you.’ I smiled a bright smile, returning his kiss on his cheek, getting a whiff of his masculine earthy scent. Definitely all man.
If the look on Max’s face was anything to go by then it had been a good decision on Mum’s part to buy me a new outfit. She’d picked out a floral wrap dress, something I would never have chosen for myself, only trying it on because Mum had actually manhandled me into the changing room, insisting I give it a try. I couldn’t hide my surprise when I greeted my reflection in the mirror. The dress fell in soft folds around my body, skimming my curves; it was feminine and flattering in all the right places and surprisingly comfortable too, without being too out-there or looking as though I was trying too hard. Good old Mum.
Now with the three of us stood in the hallway, the dress was definitely working its magic. I felt sexy and flirty, although that probably had more to do with the man standing in front of me rather than the new dress. I was grateful to Mum just for being there. To provide a foil to the sizzling tension emanating between me and Max. I wasn’t imagining it. It was real, palpable, tangible, filling the air with its presence. If not for Mum, I think we might have dispensed with the formalities and picked up where we’d left off the previous night; falling onto the sofa, kissing, cuddling, exploring…
No, no, no! Hadn’t I told myself I needed to keep a cool head. To ignore the wilful longings of my body and instead concentrate on getting to know the man behind all that gorgeousness. How hard could it be?
Twenty-Three
As it happened, very hard indeed.
Outside, instead of Max’s battered old Jeep waiting for us there was a little sporty number, or rather a sleek silver dream machine, parked on the kerbside. Max opened the passenger door with a flourish and saw me inside. Immediately I felt as though I’d been transported into the depths of a romance novel and Max was about to whisk me off to… where exactly?
‘Look I have a confession to make,’ he said, slipping his seatbelt on. ‘I couldn’t get us booked in anywhere for dinner. I’ve tried everywhere within a ten-mile radius. What I didn’t realize is that it’s the county show this weekend and every hotel and restaurant in the area has been booked for weeks.’
‘Oh yes, of course it is. Well it doesn’t matter.’ To be honest I wasn’t hungry, not for food at least. My appetite had clean deserted me and I was running on nervous energy – at the moment I had plenty of it. ‘Let’s just go for a drink somewhere.’
‘No, I promised you dinner so that’s what you shall have, madam. Chez moi. If that’s okay with you? Although I promise you, hand on heart, this isn’t an elaborate ploy to drag you back to my man cave. There’s no ulterior motive.’
I laughed, my heart flipping as I looked at his profile. Strong, imposing, impressive. My stomach performed a loop-the-loop manoeuvre and I was beginning to severely doubt my chances of keeping my head tonight. As for my heart, I suspected it was already lost. I turned to look out the window, waving goodbye to Mum.
‘Well only if you’re sure?’ Excitement trickled through my veins at the thought of visiting Max’s house, and a touch of nervousness too. ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’
‘No trouble at all. Besides, I love cooking. It’s one of my favourite things to do.’
Well, in the circumstances, there really was only one polite answer to give.
There is something about a man who knows his way expertly around a kitchen that is extremely sexy. Seeing Max in his own home, totally at ease with himself as he poured two glasses of cool white wine, opening cupboards and putting pans onto heat, just confirmed how completely self-assured and competent, how utterly captivating this man was, especially so in the comfort of his own surroundings.
Braithwaite Manor was unlike any other property I’d been inside before. There was a grandeur about the place that could make me believe I’d stepped back in time to another era, an altogether more glamorous and sophisticated age. I made a mental note to keep my mouth closed as I found myself gaping in awe as Max showed me round the ground floor. He spoke proudly of how he’d transformed the derelict crumbling mansion into a warm inviting home, retaining the magnificent splendour of the original house, yet at the same time, breathing new life into the stately old home. Everywhere you looked you could appreciate the workmanship that had gone into the extensive renovations of the rooms; polished wooden floors, intricate detailing in the cornices of the high ceilings and beautifully carved decorations in the exquisite surrounds of the fireplaces. The imposing hallway had a lavish wide staircase with a galleried landing above and a huge central glittering chandelier.
‘Oh my goodness, it’s like something out of Gone with the Wind. I can just imagine Rhett scooping up Scarlett in his arms and waltzing up those stairs. It’s so…’ Romantic. I stopped myself right there. Sent that thought packing. Yesterday was one thing, but who knew what might happen today? And if it did, where would that leave us then? Max had said he hadn’t stopped thinking about me, but was that just an itch that needed scratching? Was I strong enough if this turned out to be just a heady reckless fling to be able to walk away with my heart intact? Would the thrill of one night with Max be worth the inevitable aftermath?
‘…so, so magnificent!’ I said, managing to salvage the moment.
Max gave me a sideways glance as though he hadn’t the first idea what I was talking about, which was just as well really.
He took me into the vast drawing room at the rear of the property, which had tall Georgian windows offering panoramic views of the valley. Despite the sheer scale of the property, it still felt like a proper home with plenty of warm touches such as colourful cushions, vibrant rugs and bold paintings, which gave a welcoming and comforting vibe. Was that Sasha’s influence? I wondered. I suppressed a sigh. She kept entering my head, taunting me with her memory. I could just imagine her wafting around here, totally at home in these beautiful surroundings.
There was a huge farmhouse table in the kitchen, but it looked as though we wouldn’t be sitting there for our dinner. In a
small turreted bay, with cushioned seats fitted in the curve of the window overlooking the garden, Max had chosen to dress a small round table with a heavy white linen cloth, fairy lights suspended overhead and an array of sparkling tea lights at its centre.
‘Wow! This all looks amazing. Honestly, I’m overwhelmed,’ I said, my head not knowing which way to turn first. ‘It’s all so beautiful.’
‘Good. I’m glad you think so. That was very much the intention.’
‘This is what you do for a living then, presumably,’ I said, gesturing at the workmanship around us. ‘Make beautiful houses.’
‘I guess you could say that. New developments mainly, but some individual properties too. I still get excited about finding an old run-down property and being able to transform it into something special. This though,’ he held up his palms to the ceiling, ‘was very much a personal project. I had a great team of guys working with me, but I was very much involved in the design of the project and in every aspect of the build on a day-to-day basis. I still like to get my hands dirty when I can.’
‘Amazing! Where did you learn to do all this? Was your dad in the building trade?’
He gave a hollow laugh. ‘My dad? No, he didn’t know one end of a screwdriver from another. He was an academic, highly respected in his field, so we travelled a lot when I was growing up, as Dad had various university placements around the world.
‘Were you very close to him?’
He paused a moment, as though considering the question. ‘Not really. I admired him, everyone did. From an early age I was told what a brilliant man he was, what an amazing intellect he had, but I wasn’t like him at all. I was a sporty kid who wanted to be outside all the time, running riot. I don’t think dad really knew how to relate to me.’
‘Well, I’m sure he’d be very proud of you now if he could see all this.’
Max shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ He paused, a wry smile on his lips. ‘Probably not.’ There was a wistful tone to his voice. ‘Gramps, Noel, was the one who nurtured my love for making things. In the summer holidays I would come and stay with my grandparents and I’d spend so much time with Gramps in his shed, helping him on different little projects or just watching him work with his hands. Making cupboards, building a bird table, fixing the gate to his allotment. He always gave me something to do and I used to love those long summer days. His toolbox was like a treasure chest to me. I would take the tools out one by one and examine them. Just the feel of them in my hands brought me so much pleasure.’ Max pulled out a couple of colourful plates from the oak dresser. ‘Anyway, it looks as though dinner's ready to be served.’
Christmas at the Dog & Duck Page 18
