by Beth Good
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Daniel looked as though he had just walked out of some posh London office, not face-planted his airbag in a snowy Yorkshire ditch. He looked elegant and calm as he waited for Mr Smirthwaite to tow his car out of the ditch.
He came forward when Hannah cut the engine, shielding his eyes against the glare of her headlights. She turned them off immediately too. He looked puzzled at first, then she saw Daniel recognise her behind the wheel. She felt horribly cold, watching as the expression of astonishment on his face was swiftly replaced by a kind of … wary caution.
Had she totally overstepped her bounds by rushing out here to rescue him?
Now that she had arrived on the scene of his accident, she felt embarrassed. After all, he was safe and unhurt. He didn’t need to be rescued anymore, did he? So she had no reason to be here.
In the silence she could hear the ticking of her engine as it cooled off, and the windscreen began to fill up with snow, gradually concealing her from his gaze.
Hannah didn’t quite know what to do. She’d rushed out of her cottage, thinking only of getting to Daniel and making sure he was all right. But now she’d reached him, it felt like the biggest anti-climax ever. Like she’d made a fool of herself all over again.
Oh well, she thought. There’s no way to turn round easily. So I might as well brave it out.
She opened the driver’s door and stepped out into several inches of snow, sinking almost up to her knees.
‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered, feeling snow creep over the tops of her wellies and mash down inside them. ‘That’s all I need. The perfect end to the stupidest – ’
Daniel stopped a few feet away, staring. ‘Hannah? That is you, isn’t it?’
‘Yep, it’s me.’
‘But it’s New Year’s Eve. What on earth are you doing out here?’ His eyes narrowed on the strip of pink pyjamas just visible between the hem of her coat and the snowy top of her wellington boots. His voice grew dubious. ‘Are you off to a party somewhere? Because if so, you should turn around. It’s not safe driving weather.’
‘So I can see.’
Daniel grimaced, following her to the side of the road as the tractor began to back up noisily, heaving his snow-covered car out of the ditch.
‘Touché,’ he said drily. ‘Seriously though, where are you off to at this time of night?’
‘Here.’
‘Come again?’
‘Ivy said you needed help. So … here I am. To help.’
‘You … what?’
Falling snow had already coated his hair and shoulders, and Hannah’s feet were starting to freeze when he finally managed to say something coherent in response to that.
‘That’s extraordinarily kind of you,’ he started to say, and she hit him on the arm.
‘Don’t you dare!’
‘Sorry?’
‘Don’t bloody patronise me, you soft Southerner. You need help.’
He raised his eyebrows at her.
‘Okay, Mr Smirthwaite is getting your car out of the ditch. But once he’s done that, who’s going to see in the New Year with you?’ She raised her own brows in return. ‘Your great-aunt? Because Ivy goes to bed before ten on New Year’s Eve, I can tell you. And it’s past ten now, so she’ll probably be fast asleep on my sofa by the time I get back,’ she said, ‘snoring fit to wake the dead, and with Pepper curled up on her face.’
He looked bewildered.
‘I’m afraid I left her with a nearly full bottle of Prosecco.’
At last, he smiled, and Hannah felt almost limp with relief. Now there was the Daniel she knew. Not the aloof, elegant stranger who had spoken to her so politely when she first arrived.
‘Well, thank goodness you’re here to rescue me from a ten o’clock curfew, at least,’ he said. ‘Smirthwaite said I can leave my car here once it’s out of the ditch– ’ He barely had time to stifle a sneeze with his palm, so that she muttered, ‘Bless you,’ as he continued doggedly, ‘But until I can get it checked out by a garage, which could take anything up to a week at this time of year, I’m without a set of wheels.’ He paused. ‘Sorry about that sneeze.’
‘No problem.’
He met her gaze. ‘So, any chance of a lift home?’
‘Sure.’
Hannah tried to act cool as he collected his suitcase from the boot, thanked Mr Smirthwaite for his help, and then secured his car, which was now nestled in tightly beside the snowy bank. Quickly, she cleaned all the accumulated rubbish – sweetie papers and empty water bottles – off the passenger seat. She could have wished for a better car to whisk him home in. But at least it was dry, and not in a ditch.
By the time, he had stowed his case in the back and climbed into her car, he was wet and shivering, his face red-raw with the cold.
‘No hat?’ she said, glancing at his snow-covered hair.
‘No hat.’
Hannah clicked her tongue. ‘You can’t come to Yorkshire at this time of year without a hat.’
‘I’m beginning to understand that.’
‘You can always borrow one of my woolly hats during your stay,’ she said, and caught his wide-eyed glance. ‘Or Ivy’s, if you prefer. I think she has a nice crocheted one with a brim.’
He made a face. ‘Maybe Colin will have a hat I can borrow.’
‘Oh, didn’t Ivy tell you? He’s gone.’
‘Gone?’
‘Summoned back to Mother, Ivy said.’ Hannah held her breath, just in case, and then turned the key in the ignition. But the engine started smoothly again, and she gave an inward sigh of relief. ‘I thought she’d be upset. But on the contrary, she seemed quite pleased to be shot of him.’
Daniel roared with laughter. ‘Poor old Colin. Oh, to be a fly on the wall during that particular conversation …’
Turning up the heating so that hot air filled the inside of the car, Hannah performed a somewhat torturous nine-point-turn in the snowy road, then waved goodbye to Mr Smirthwaite, who was waiting behind her in his tractor. ‘Thank you, and Happy New Year,’ she called out, and heard the old farmer echo the greeting before the noise of his tractor revving up drowned them out.
The heater circulated the smell of wet wool and Daniel’s cologne: not an unpleasant mix. Hannah took unobtrusive breaths of it as she carefully headed back toward Abbey Villa and her cottage, about four miles away down winding country lanes. Mr Smirthwaite followed them home, chugging along on his tractor, which was a comfort to her, in case she skidded and needed digging out of a snowdrift herself. There were a few scary moments, in fact, where the car slid sideways over a refrozen patch of slush, and Daniel looked pale, clutching at the door handle.
Parking behind the cottage, she waited while he retrieved his suitcase, then led him inside through the back door. It was toasty warm inside, and Ivy was sitting on the sofa with Pepper on her knee, and the now empty bottle of Prosecco on the floor at her feet. The television was on, and she was watching a woman in a black silk suit playing a piano, but with the sound on mute, inexplicably.
She waved her glass at them as they came in. ‘Found him then, did you?’ She hiccupped, then clapped a hand over her mouth, clearly embarrassed. ‘Sorry ’bout that. Good to see you, Daniel. Glad you’re not dead. But I think maybe I … ought to g-go home. Must be long past my bed time.’
‘Hello, Aunty Ivy. I hope you won’t disappear just yet. I’ve only just arrived and I was hoping to see in the bells with you.’ Daniel bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Happy New Year.’
‘Dear boy. But you know, I really ought to go home soon.’
Grinning, he shed his wet coat, and draped it over the back of a chair to dry. Then heading straight for the fire, he warmed his hands and feet there, shivering dramatically. Hannah removed her coat as well, a little shyly, and watched the groove deepen in Daniel’s cheek when he saw her pyjamas.
‘Very stylish,’ he commented. ‘I have it on good authority that one should never go out in Yorkshire at this time of year wi
thout one’s pyjamas.’
Hannah giggled, and suddenly felt giddy with joy.
Daniel was back.
And even if he hadn’t come back specifically to see her, he was still here, in her cottage, talking to her, and best of all, within touching distance.
He sneezed again, and then frowned. ‘Perhaps you’re right, Ivy. I’d better take you home. It’s getting late, and I need a hot bath and a brandy after my little run-in with that ditch.’
But Ivy shook her head solemnly. ‘Can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘No hot water.’
‘Sorry?’
She carried on wobbling her head from side to side until Hannah worried that she would actually tip over. ‘Boiler’s broken. We can only have showers until it’s mended. Very quick showers.’ She hiccupped again. ‘In, out, then shake it all about.’
‘Ivy,’ Daniel said, staring at her, ‘are you … tipsy?’
‘Not that tipsy, my boy, not to know whether my boiler’s broken or not,’ she said tartly, and staggered up off the sofa, much to Pepper’s disgust. ‘So if you want a bath, you’d better have one here.’
Hannah felt his glance, and said hurriedly, her face a little flushed, ‘Why don’t you both stay here? Then we can see the New Year in together. I can even make coffee if you prefer not to drink any more.’ She took a peek at the clock on the mantel. ‘Midnight’s not far off.’
‘Thank you, Hannah,’ Ivy said with great dignity, struggling to find the arm-holes on her coat, ‘but I need my b-beauty sleep. I’ll be going to bed as soon as I get home. But that doesn’t mean you two can’t enjoy yourselves.’
Daniel looked a question at Hannah.
‘Why don’t you have a bath,’ Hannah said softly, ‘while I see Ivy safely across the road? There are fresh towels in the bathroom, and there should be plenty of hot water.’
‘Good plan,’ said Ivy, lurching towards the door. ‘You’ve still got your key, Daniel, haven’t you? Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Come on, Hannah, let’s brave the cold together.’ She paused at the door, her voice slurred. ‘Don’t come round too early, mind. I may need a … a bit of a lie-in.’
By the time Daniel came downstairs in a pair of pyjama bottoms, his hair damp and tousled, Hannah was curled up on the sofa with Pepper, watching the television. She had walked Ivy to her front door, and checked she was inside safely, with the lights on, before trudging back to the cottage. The snow had seemed cold and alien earlier, almost menacing. Now that Daniel was back, everything looked beautiful again. The crisp snow sparkled under the moonlight, and the treetops were brushed white everywhere she looked.
The cottage too seemed transformed by his presence. She had moved the dirty mugs, and the now empty snack bowls, and the cosy little room was lit by the flickering glow of the fire.
With a flourish, he produced a bottle of champagne and a box of chocolates, and then poured them each a glass of bubbly.
‘Where did that come from?’
‘Aha.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Actually, it was in my suitcase.’ Sitting next to Hannah on the sofa, he clinked his glass against hers. ‘To a fantastic year ahead. May we both get what we’ve been dreaming of.’
And what was that? she wondered mistily.
He leant in and dropped a light kiss on her lips. Hannah curled into the hard warmth of his body. It felt like coming home. Except she still wasn’t sure where she stood with him, or what he wanted.
‘I hope Ivy wasn’t expecting this champagne,’ she murmured. ‘Perhaps we should save the chocolates for her, at least.’
‘I brought them for you, Hannah. Not for Ivy.’
Hannah digested his words for a moment. ‘I thought you were coming up to visit Ivy.’
He looked at her intently. ‘I really came up here to visit you. Ivy must have guessed that. Why else would she leave us alone to see in the New Year together?’
‘She always keeps early nights.’
‘Not when there’s something to stay up for,’ he said firmly. ‘Look, she told me herself that she was partying with Colin every night of the cruise, well into the early hours. So staying up until midnight at New Year wasn’t going to be beyond her.’
‘Oh.’
Hannah couldn’t think of anything to say to that. So she concentrated on sipping her drink and watching what was happening on the television. But inside, her mind was racing.
I really came up here to visit you.
What did that mean?
On the screen, a squad of men in tartan kilts were preparing to play the bagpipes. Hannah liked bagpipes. She thought they sounded wild and lonely. She also liked men in kilts. Their knees always looked so sexy. Then she registered the time on the clock.
‘It’s nearly midnight.’
‘Oh no!’
‘You don’t want it to be next year yet?’
‘No,’ he said, grimacing at the television. ‘Bagpipes! I hate them.’ As the first screeching sounds started, he went on, ‘It’s agony. Who’s strangling the cat?’
‘Daniel, stop it!’ Hannah laughed and nudged him gently in the ribs. ‘You’re a philistine. Bagpipes are lovely. I like the sound they make.’
‘Pepper’s with me on this. He doesn’t look impressed.’
She looked round, and laughed. It was true. The cat’s fur had risen on the back of his neck at the first high-pitched squeal from the bagpipes, and his tail was puffed up and whisking crossly.
‘Seven. Six. Five. Four … ’
As the presenter and his audience counted down to midnight, Daniel gathered Hannah close, and she looped her arms around his neck.
‘Happy New Year, darling,’ Daniel whispered.
She lifted her face to his, and they kissed passionately. Behind them the television screen erupted into cheers, and the bagpipes started playing Auld Lang Syne.
Daniel groaned, breaking the kiss to mutter, ‘Not the bagpipes again,’ before pressing his lips against hers, one hand cradling the back of her head.
When he tried to kiss her again, Hannah drew back, a warning hand on his bare chest. For a moment, she was distracted by the smooth flexing of his muscles under her palm, and the crisp dark hairs, then belatedly recalled she had a question to ask.
‘Wait, please.’ She met his puzzled gaze. ‘What was the important thing you were going to ask me on Boxing Day?’
‘Ah.’ Daniel sat back, clearly hesitant.
Pepper, sick of all this kissing and shuffling about, jumped off the sofa. The rattle of the cat flap spoke of his disapproval as he went off to do more exciting things by the cold light of the moon.
‘Well?’
‘I was going to ask you if you’d come and live with me.’
Her eyes widened. ‘In London?’ When he nodded silently, she took a shaky breath. ‘Live with you in London?’ Goodness, that came out all squeaky. Trying to do better, her mouth opened and closed like one of the garden centre guppies, but it seemed speech had temporarily deserted her. Finally, she managed to ask, dreading the worst possible answer, ‘So … why didn’t you?’
Daniel grimaced. ‘I lost my nerve.’
‘You? Lost your nerve?’
He grinned at her doubting expression. ‘It does happen occasionally, trust me.’ He shrugged, looking away, the grin fading. ‘Ivy came back with her fancy man, breaking the spell we’d been under. Then I suddenly remembered how much you want your own business. You’d just got promoted at work, and I thought … ’
‘Yes?’
He swallowed, a hard red tinge spreading along his cheekbones, then finished in a rush, ‘That you’d be bound to say no if I asked.’
It dawned on Hannah that this man, this successful, highly-respected celebrity, was feeling vulnerable and insecure, and she got a funny sensation around her heart.
She emptied her glass in one go, and coughed, then sneezed as the bubbles went up her nose.
‘Bless you,’ he said.
Hannah put down her glass wi
thout saying anything, not meeting his eyes. She was thinking.
‘For god’s sake, Hannah … ’
‘What?’
‘Put me out of my misery. How about it? Would you like to move in with me,’ Daniel demanded, his gaze fixed on her face, ‘or … or not?’
Hannah stared at him wordlessly. Unable to take in the sheer enormity of his offer. Part of her was doing a happy dance, surrounded by shiny stars and champagne bubbles. Another part of her was pointing out everything that could go wrong.
She didn’t realise how long she’d been silent for until Daniel cleared his throat. He sounded bleak. ‘I take it the idea doesn’t appeal to you.’
‘It’s not that, honestly.’ Needing some space to think, to get the words right, Hannah jumped up and stumbled across to tend the fire. She poked at it, hoping he would mistake her hot cheeks for having stood too close to the flames, and then added some more coal to make sure of it. ‘It’s the long-term picture.’
‘Sorry?’
‘How would I fit in with all your friends, Daniel? Like those film people who came up to visit you when we first met? I mean, look at me. I’m not sophisticated like them. Not a party animal or an urbanite. I’m a country girl. Outdoorsy, always in muddy wellies or smelling of … Well, of manure.’ She paused. ‘What would I do in London?’
The key question, the one she was too afraid to ask, remained unspoken, because she was afraid of the answer. What do I mean to you?
‘Look at this.’ Daniel came over to stand beside her. He held his phone under her nose, and Hannah squinted at the picture on the screen. It was a photo of a decent-sized garden. A rather boring one, mostly lawn and overgrown shrubs, but it had potential.
‘This is where I live. It’s not something big enough to landscape, true. But it’s big enough to keep hens, and there’s a greenhouse where you can propagate seedlings.’ He swiped the screen, and a photograph of a luxurious shed replaced the garden. ‘Plus, there’s this. How about my shed for an office? It’s insulated and has a lovely little log warmer for heat. I used to go in there to think, but I’m out so often these days, it barely gets used.’ He looked at her. ‘It could do with a loving owner.’
