* * *
✉︎ From Stevie
I’d be delighted to. Of course it’s not over-stepping the mark. We’re friends, right? This is the sort of thing friends do for each other. Just text me when you’ve set up any appointments x
Friends? My heart sank at the affirmation that it was purely platonic. What was done was done. I’d had my chance and I’d blown it.
‘It’s nice,’ Stevie said two nights later.
‘Nice?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘Nice is a word you use to describe a puppy or a cake. It’s not the word I’m looking for to describe my future home. What’s wrong with it?’
‘It feels a bit… soulless. It’s beautifully decorated, but there’s no character to it. It’s a perfectly functional three-bed semi, but I see you in something older. I don’t think that new-builds are really you.’
‘My last house was a new-build.’
‘I know, but I think Seashell Cottage suits you better.’
In the second property, I turned in a circle round the kitchen. ‘I like the kitchen. It’s nice.’
Stevie laughed. ‘Nice? Yes, it is nice. It’s functional. It’s clean. It’s well-decorated…’
‘But…?’
‘It’s just not you, Elise. As a house, it works perfectly. But as a home…? I just don’t see it as the place of your dreams.’
We said goodbye to the estate agent and sat in Bertie for a while.
‘What made you choose your last house?’ Stevie asked.
‘Pure practicalities. It was brand new so we could just get on with life and our careers without worrying about DIY.’
‘Did you love living there?’
I shrugged. ‘I thought so, but now you’ve got me wondering. What you said about a house versus a home… well, I think it was just a house which was why selling up hasn’t really bothered me. Sorting our stuff out was emotional because of all the memories but, since moving out, I’ve missed my marriage and my friendship, but never the house.’
‘Why don’t we look at some older properties? You might be surprised.’
On Monday evening the following week, I had three back-to-back viewings lined up for older houses in very different styles, starting with a three-storey four-bedroom terraced house near town. Stevie was right about the feel of the property but I realised that three storeys, no garden, and no off-road parking wasn’t the most practical option.
Property two was in a village called Cranton, about ten minutes west of Whitsborough Bay. It was pitched as, ‘A charming cottage, ideal for a family, in need of a little TLC.’
‘A little TLC?’ Stevie whistled. ‘Who are they kidding? It needs complete gutting. In fact, it needs knocking down and starting again.’
Even the estate agent looked embarrassed. ‘I’ve not actually viewed this particular property before.’ She shuffled some papers together, keeping her eyes cast down. ‘Of course, the price does reflect the state of the property. You’re getting a lot of property for your money.’
It had potential and would make someone an amazing home. But that someone wasn’t me, not on my own with a baby. ‘Sorry, but it’s a no,’ I said to the agent. ‘I work full-time and I’m single. I can’t take on a project like this.’
The final viewing was a 1930s semi. Stevie took my hand as we walked towards the front door. I liked the feel of my hand in his. It felt comfortable. Natural. Home. But I didn’t like the house. It reminded me of my Auntie Maud’s. I hadn’t liked her. Like Mother, she’d been a drinker and her house had smelled of whisky, pickled onions, and damp dogs. She didn’t even have a dog. I clung onto Stevie’s hand as an old man showed us round. He told us that he’d lived there for sixty years but his wife had died after Easter and he’d made the decision to move into a home. I didn’t want to live in that house with the air of sadness, death, and memories of my auntie.
‘Drink?’ Stevie said as we walked down the drive towards Bertie.
‘Good plan,’ I said, trying not to feel too disappointed at having no serious contenders.
I drove to The White Horse in Little Sandby.
‘I’ve never been in here before,’ I said. ‘Am I right in thinking it’s under new ownership?’
‘About eighteen months ago. The new landlord and lady are brilliant. They’ve completely refurbished it and turned it around. The last lot drank their profits, I think, and their food was rubbish so they gradually lost all their trade. These two have worked magic.’
My stomach grumbled loudly.
‘Have you eaten?’ Stevie asked.
‘Not yet. You?’
‘Not since lunch. How about we get some tea and we can plan your next house-hunting move?’
‘I haven’t taken enough of your time already this evening? You’re not sick of me yet?’
Stevie’s eyes took on such a tender look as he said, ‘I could never get sick of you.’ My legs went a bit wobbly.
We placed our orders then took a table overlooking the beer garden, which was lit by a combination of spotlights, solar lights, and fairy lights. Very pretty.
I turned my gaze from outdoors to the inside of the pub. ‘It’s nice in here. You’re lucky to have a local like this.’
‘I know.’ Stevie smiled. ‘I try to support it whenever I can.’
I laughed. ‘I bet you do.’
He took a sip of his lager. ‘We’ve seen five properties now. Am I right in thinking you’ve ruled out the new-builds and prefer the older ones?’
‘Yes. Definitely. You were so right about older houses being more me.’
‘Imagine that all the properties we saw today were done out in your taste, ready to move into, which did you like best?’
‘Definitely the cottage. I could see the potential, but I haven’t time to do anything with it. Even if I made an offer tomorrow, I’d be at least seven months pregnant before it goes through then I reckon there’s several months of work to be done.’
‘So we need to find you something like the cottage, but already refurbished.’
I screwed my face up. ‘Financially that may be out of my reach.’
‘There’ll be something out there,’ he said. ‘I’m sure of it.’
‘Fancy selling your cottage? I’d love to live there.’
‘Would you really?’
‘Of course. It’s gorgeous.’ As I said the words, I could picture us all living there together, watching cartoons with baby bean in the lounge while the log-burner glowed, dining in the kitchen and, well, I’d seen his gorgeous bedroom and I could just imagine… ‘Is it hot in here?’ I fanned my face. ‘I’m just going to the ladies. Back shortly.’
Leaning against the sink, I tried to regulate my breathing. I had to stop fantasising about Stevie. He wasn’t interested.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked when I returned to the table.
‘Pregnancy flush. Sorry about that.’
‘I was worried about you. You dashed off so quickly.’
‘I’m fine, but it’s nice knowing someone cares.’
We gazed into each other’s eyes, butterflies going mad in my stomach. Stop it, Elise! He lost his baby then his wife left him. Taking on another man’s baby isn’t exactly a much more appealing proposition, is it?
‘The vegetable fajitas?’ a waiter asked.
‘Me,’ I said.
The moment was lost, but the electricity was still there. It crackled all evening, it fizzed in the car, and it took all my willpower not to lean across and kiss him when I dropped him back home later. Despite my best efforts to just think of him as a friend, my feelings for Stevie kept getting stronger and stronger. Damn!
36
Commitments at school over the next few weeks meant I couldn’t squeeze in any more viewings before Christmas but, at lunchtime on the last day of term, I received a call from the estate agent to say a cottage in Cranton had just come back on the market and they could squeeze me in for a viewing late afternoon. With an early finish at school, I decided to go for it. Stevie wa
s working to a deadline so couldn’t join me but said he looked forward to hearing all about it at Sarah and Nick’s wedding the following day.
The estate agent, Laura, unlocked the front door to the cottage and ushered me into the hall out of the wind and rain. ‘The people who were buying it have lost the buyer on their house so have had no choice but to pull out.’ She rested her golf brolly against the doorframe as she shut the door to the elements. ‘Shall we…?’
I followed Laura round the two-bed cottage, then she left me upstairs to tour the property again on my own. It really was lovely. Although there were only two bedrooms, they were both large doubles and definitely provided plenty of space for baby bean and me. With careful planning, the lounge was big enough to house a desk and shelving units at one end, and there was an open-plan kitchen-diner, which had been refitted a few years previously.
‘What do you think?’ Laura asked when I found her in the lounge.
‘It’s a lovely cottage but I’d like my friend’s opinion. I’m seeing him tomorrow so I’ll come back to you.’
After Laura pulled away, I sat in Bertie for some time, staring at the cottage while the rain pelted against my windscreen. It was perfect. It was smaller than I was used to, but it certainly had enough room for the two of us. It had character and warmth. It didn’t need any work. I even liked the colour scheme so wouldn’t have to worry about painting. It was in a village I loved at a price I could afford. So what had stopped me from scheduling a second viewing immediately or even making an offer?
My phone beeped and my heart raced at the sight of Stevie’s name on the screen:
✉︎ From Stevie
How was it? Do we have a winner? Xx
That was what was stopping me: Stevie, and the recurring image of baby bean and me living in Bramble Cottage with him.
Lying in bed that evening, I stared at my bridesmaid dress hanging from the top of the wardrobe and listened to the rain battering against the window. I hoped that the weather forecast was right and that the storm was going to pass. Even if it didn’t, it would still be an amazing day. I was so thrilled for Sarah that she’d finally met the man she wanted to marry, and I was excited about the prospect of spending the day in Stevie’s company, even though it could lead nowhere.
Tears pricked my eyes as I stood by the church entrance beside Callie and Clare, watching Sarah stroll along the winding path beside her dad. Pride flowed through me at the sight of my best friend looking so radiant and beautiful on the day she’d dreamed of for so long.
Her dress was perfect. A band of crystals across the sweetheart neckline and a band round the waist added elegance to what could have been a fairly simple bodice. Layers of light tulle sparkled with more crystals and the netting parted in the middle to reveal a panel of the lightest champagne tulle, which complimented our bridesmaid dresses perfectly. The effect was completed with a sparkling tiara and a long veil to below her waist before the dress opened out into a long train.
She stopped when she reached us. ‘My face is already aching from grinning. I think I’ll be in serious pain later.’
Clare reached forward and adjusted Sarah’s veil. ‘So all the champers you down at the reception will be for medicinal purposes to dull the pain?’
‘Sounds like a great excuse to me,’ Sarah said. ‘Are we all ready?’
‘Ready,’ everyone chorused.
‘Is my train spread out properly?’
‘It’s perfect,’ Callie said.
Sarah slipped her arm back through her dad’s. ‘Let’s do this!’
‘The Trumpet Voluntary’ started. Sarah turned round and grinned at us, then stepped into the church. We’d agreed between us that, as there was no chief bridesmaid, we’d walk down the aisle behind Sarah in alphabetical order by first name so I was last to step into the church. As we slowly made our way down the aisle, I smiled at the adoring looks Sarah drew from both sides of the congregation. I nodded to Jess and Lee, each holding a sleeping baby, and smiled at friends and relatives of Sarah on the bride’s side of the church. Experiencing that sensation of being watched, I looked to my right instead… and straight into Stevie’s eyes. Oh wow! Serious thunderbolt situation.
I couldn’t concentrate throughout the service. I kept stealing glances across at Stevie looking ravishing in his navy morning suit. Each time I caught his eye, explosions set off in my stomach again. It was the suit. It was only the suit. And hormones. Yes, the suit, the hormones, the excitement of the day and a tiny sip of bubbly had turned me giddy. That’s all it was. But as we posed for photos outside the church, stood so close to each other that I could feel the heat from his body, I knew it was more than that. And I knew I had to push my feelings aside.
Starting tomorrow.
37
It was like Sarah’s birthday all over again when our meal arrived. Brie tartlet. I looked at Clare just as she looked at me. We both cried, ‘Brie!’ then cracked up laughing. I’d had so much in my head over the last few months that I hadn’t given the food choice a second thought.
‘What’s for mains?’ Clare asked.
‘I can’t remember.’ I grabbed the menu and groaned. ‘Field mushrooms stuffed with roasted Mediterranean vegetables and topped with goat’s cheese. I can’t eat goat’s cheese either. Damn! I’m starving.’
‘Pudding?’
‘Tart au citron with raspberry coulis. At last! Something that’s safe to eat.’
‘I hope you like veggies,’ Clare whispered. ‘And bread. Yummy!’
‘Are you okay?’ Stevie knelt down beside me after they’d cleared the starters away with my brie intact. ‘You didn’t eat your starter.’
‘I can’t,’ I whispered. ‘It’s soft cheese.’
‘Of course. Stupid me.’
‘I can’t eat my main either. Thankfully there’s no soft cheese in my dessert.’
‘Poor you. You can have my dessert too if you like.’
‘That’s really sweet of you but I should be able to fill up on vegetables.’
‘Just looking out for you and baby,’ he whispered. That intense gaze was there again and my stomach flipped. What would he do if I kissed him right now?
Before coffee was served, Stevie excused himself and Clare immediately turned to me. ‘You and Stevie,’ she said, in a hushed tone.
‘What about us?’
‘You like him, so you do. And, when I say like, I mean fancy the arse off him. So will you be making your move tonight?’
I pointed to my stomach. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think he fancies the arse off you too and that the baby should make sod all difference to you getting together.’
‘But it does. It makes a massive difference. I know he liked me before, but he’s made it pretty clear since that he just wants friendship. The minute he knew about bean, things changed.’
Clare shook her head. ‘Bollocks. People don’t switch off their feelings that easily. Believe me, Stevie still adores you, but if I’m not mistaken, you made it clear that you just wanted friendship so he’s probably holding back because of that. He might be worried about scaring you off if he tries to push for more.’
Could she be right? I’d been very clear that friends was the only thing on offer the day of the surprise visits. But I’d also said in the car that he’d have stood a chance if I’d never fallen pregnant. What I hadn’t made clear was that he still stood a chance. What if that was why he’d fled? What if it had taken him all his courage to ask me the question then I didn’t expand the answer to give him any encouragement? What if he’d been waiting for a sign from me all this time?
‘He’s coming back,’ I said, spotting Stevie in the distance.
‘Think about what I’ve said, won’t you? Give him a sign and I guarantee he’ll act on it.’
‘What sort of sign?’
‘I don’t know. Just something to encourage him that you see him as more than a friend.’
Once the coffees had been served, the conversati
on turned to what everyone was planning for Christmas and New Year. ‘What will you do, Clare?’ Philip asked.
‘Absolutely nothing. Christmas is family time. As far as I’m concerned, I have no family. Therefore I don’t do Christmas and I’ve always hated New Year.’
Philip’s face fell. I bet he wished he’d never asked. Although Clare sounded like she couldn’t care less, I detected a slight shake in her voice and I really felt for her. My mother was a waste of space, but at least I had Jess and Dad. What must it be like to have nobody?
‘What about you, Elise?’ Philip asked.
‘I’m going to my sister’s for Christmas.’ I pointed in the direction of the table where Jess and Lee were. ‘Can’t wait to spend it with my baby niece and nephew. My dad’s across from Spain at the moment, so he’ll be there too. Should be lovely. As for New Year, I haven’t really thought that far ahead. What about you?’
We chatted round the table about our plans. Ben tried to convince Clare to join him for a party at a friend’s house on New Year’s Eve, but she was having none of it. He suggested she come to Whitsborough Bay and have Christmas with him and his parents, but she wouldn’t hear of that either. ‘It’ll be strange with no Sarah,’ he pleaded, but she stood her ground. I hoped she wasn’t going to be lonely. It was her decision, though, and I could imagine it was frustrating having everyone nag you into trying to enjoy an occasion with which you really didn’t feel at one.
‘What are you doing, Stevie?’ I asked.
‘I’ll go to my Uncle George’s. He’s the one who had the minor op a little while ago. He’s the only family I have left now so we always spend Christmas Day together. Don’t know about New Year yet either.’
Finding Hope at Lighthouse Cove Page 27
