‘Let me take that,’ Nate said, reaching for it.
‘No, really. It’s fine.’
‘I’ll swap you for Bryan?’ he gave me a slight eyebrow raise. Without waiting for an answer, he slipped the lead off his wrist and over my own in the same swift motion as relieving me of the bag. Opening it momentarily, he placed the soup tub back in.
‘Something else in there smells really good!’
‘It’s a clementine cake.’
‘And what lucky villager is getting that?’
I fiddled with my hat for a moment as I watched Bryan’s little tail dance about in happiness as he scooted along, his toenails making a satisfying, soothing tappity-tap in the quiet of the morning.
‘Actually, that was for you too.’
I felt him looking at me but refused to turn.
‘You know there’s a supermarket a few miles away, and I have Holly’s car. You don’t need to do all this. I’m sure Gabe didn’t mean for you to go overboard—’
‘It’s just a cake.’
‘And soup. And dinners. All of which I can buy pre-prepared if I wish.’
‘True. But they’re not as good for you as the ones I make, and I’m happy to do it.’
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why are you happy to do it for someone who’s rude and unappreciative?’
I let out a sigh, flicked my gaze to his momentarily and then looked away again. ‘I enjoy cooking. Holly and I have baking sessions together sometimes.’
‘Not Carrie? I met her when I met Ned and I’ve heard Gabe talk about her loads. She helped save this little dude, didn’t she?’ he asked, pointing at Bryan.
‘She did, yes. And she’s lovely. But she doesn’t cook. She comes along too though and is our chief taste-tester. It’s nice.’
‘It sounds it.’
We walked along in silence for a few minutes. Gulls wheeled and screeched above us, and to our right, the sea swooshed gently, a calm, blue pool today in contrast with the steely grey fierceness of yesterday.
‘I’m not great with people, Sophia. As you’ll have noticed. I don’t have Gabe’s easy manner and I usually sit in an office, mostly on my own to do my work. Meetings are not social occasions. I say my bit but I can’t do all that chit chat stuff. My wife was the outgoing one. When she’s there, it’s her people want to talk to and be with, and that’s always suited me. Gabe and I have always been close but it got harder when I married Serena. Her and Gabe rubbed each other the wrong way. I think because he didn’t fall under her spell like most men do. But he’s my brother. And he’s a pretty good judge of character, as it turns out.’
I wasn’t entirely sure what to say. It was the most words he’d ever said to me in one go and a part of me didn’t want to break the spell. In my previous life I’d often been told I was a good listener, although I’d always thought myself a bit of a fraud when I felt the only reason I was good at listening was because most of the time I just had nothing to contribute to the conversation. Friends and relatives would be sitting there getting worked up at what, to me, seemed entirely insubstantial topics of absolutely no consequence and yet the fact that Melanie Farquar’s three-year-old had turned up at the gymkhana with the same colour ribbons in her hair as Cornelia’s little darling, having been specifically told what Cornelia’s ensemble was going to be, did not seem the end of the world to me. So I’d sit there, mostly listening. Making the right noises and nodding where I thought it appropriate, while all the time making sure to neither agree or disagree. This was their fight and I didn’t have the energy or inclination to get involved in something so petty and inconsequential.
Initially when they’d all begun turning to me to vent about every little moment of unfairness levelled at their darling child, I’d wondered at their lack of sensitivity. But they were just too wrapped up in their own world of privilege and one-upmanship. Eventually, as I’d begun to see the world I lived in with clearer and clearer vision, I stopped blaming them and just accepted that they weren’t doing it to be cruel. It just hadn’t occurred to them to think that knowing I would never be a mother myself might make it hard to listen to them banging on about the latest imagined infraction against their toddler.
But for now I was happy to listen. More than happy, actually. Nate’s voice was low, and smooth and the melodic quality to his accent made it all a very pleasant experience. Obviously I wasn’t happy that the subject was clearly one painful to him. He’d stopped and I looked up at him as we walked along in the chilly, crisp winter air.
‘Go on.’
The small part of his face that wasn’t wrapped up against the cold hinted at an embarrassed smile.
‘Nah. I’ve waffled on enough. I must be boring you to tears. I’m surprised you haven’t turned round already and left me to clean my own place.’
‘Don’t be so silly. It’s good to talk. And as you said, we got off on the wrong foot, so it’s nice to start again. And people generally get to know one another by talking, so I think you’re doing just fine.’
He gave a waggle of his head. ‘Maybe. I’m not sure they start by pouring their deepest, darkest secrets out in the first proper conversation they have with someone, though.’
Laughing, I bumped lightly against his arm. ‘If they’re your darkest secrets, I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.’
‘Oh?’ he asked, turning to me. ‘That makes it sound like you have something far more interesting to share.’
I glanced up briefly before focusing my attention back on Bryan’s slinky little body scuttling along, intent on getting back to a warm house that held a cosy dog bed, and a fireplace to snuggle down next to.
‘Hardly,’ I said, adjusting my scarf with one hand and hoping that the slight flush I felt on my skin could be put down to the cold rather than anything else. After all, I wasn’t exactly lying about anything. I just hadn’t given everyone – or anyone – all the facts about my life prior to Wishington Bay. To me, it was a different life. An unhappier life, and a separate one. And that’s how I wanted it to stay. It had nothing to do with who I was now and I didn’t want people looking at, or treating me, differently. I liked who I was now. I felt a part of things here and I was worried that might change if they knew the whole truth.
8
‘So, what’s your story?’ Nate’s deep tones interrupted my thoughts.
‘Huh?’ I squeaked, caught off guard. Thankfully a sudden gust of wind took my words and washed them out to sea, so any guilt that might have been interpreted in my tone at not having been entirely honest about my background was taken with it.
‘I said, what’s your story? How’d you end up in Wishington Bay?’ he asked again as he unlocked the door to the house and then stood back for Bryan and me to enter first.
‘Oh,’ I said, bending down to unfasten the little coat the dog had been tucked into. Bryan wriggled out and zoomed off to his water bowl and began lapping quietly. ‘Fancied a change. Got in the car. Stopped when I ran out of petrol. You know, the usual sort of thing.’ I repeated a story I’d told plenty of times now, and it was true. That was exactly what had happened. There’d just been a lot more drama and emotion wrapped up in the original exit than the casual tone applied to the tale suggested.
Nate stepped closer and began helping me off with my coat.
‘No need to look quite so surprised,’ he said, that hint of smile flitting across his face. ‘I know you think I’m an obnoxious grouch, but I was brought up with manners. Honestly.’
‘That’s not what I think at all,’ I replied, letting the coat slide from my arms, watching as he carefully hung it on a hook in the hallway.
‘Fibber,’ he grinned this time, as brief as a shooting star, his face lighting up in delight at the tease.
‘I’m not!’
‘OK.’ He didn’t look up from where he was now sat unlacing his boots, but I could tell from his tone that he didn’t believe me.
I pulled
off my own and snagged the bag Nate had been carrying across the hall towards me. Fishing out my indoor flat shoes, I pulled them on, ready to get started on work. But his reply was bothering me.
‘I really don’t think you’re a grouch.’
He sat up, his bright blue eyes fixing on me, and for a moment I lost the ability to think entirely.
God. Did he have to be quite so ‘good looking with a hint of vulnerable’? It really was quite inconvenient.
Nate tilted his head. ‘You planning to let me in on that conversation any time soon?’
I stuck my head in the under sink cupboard, ostensibly to grab the cleaning caddy that held all the paraphernalia I would need. The other benefit was that it took me out of the sightline of Nate for a moment while I got my head around the fact that he kept doing what he’d just done. I’d been married for over fifteen years and not once had my husband seemed to have a clue what was in my head. Admittedly, some of that had been my fault. After a while, I hadn’t wanted him to know. But with Nate I didn’t seem to have a choice. It was like the words were being projected on my forehead for him to read. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind me cleaning while you’re here?’
‘Yes. I’m sure. And full points for the swift change of subject.’
Bloody hell. This bloke didn’t miss a trick. Clearly denial wasn’t going to work so I just went with it.
‘Thanks.’
He gave me a look that leaned towards exasperation, but there was a hint of smile – if you looked hard enough.
‘I’m just going to pop some soup on to cook for tomorrow and then I’ll be upstairs, out of your way for a while.’
‘You’re not in my way. And you don’t need to keep feeding me. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t in your contract.’
‘Actually, I’m being cheeky and borrowing the soup maker to make some lunches for myself. As for the rest? Yes, it sort of was.’
His dark brows knitted together. ‘So Gabe thinks I’ve completely lost the ability to look after myself?’
‘Oh, stop being so paranoid,’ I said, flicking him with a duster as I passed. ‘If it had been left to Gabe, you’d have been next door completely fending for yourself. It’s Holly you have to thank for all the extra touches.’
He said nothing and I headed off into the beautiful, bright kitchen area. As I piled some carrots, potatoes and coriander on to the worktop, Nate appeared and lounged against the doorjamb.
‘I’ve barely met Holly. Just sort of in passing on Skype. She’s been very tactful and left me and Gabe to it.’
I glanced up momentarily from peeling the carrots. ‘She’s lovely. She and Gabe have been wonderful for each other.’
‘So I hear.’
I gave another glance and stopped.
‘Planning to let me in on that conversation anytime soon?’ I asked, repeating his own phrase back at him. He rewarded me with a smile that was more than his usual ghost of one.
‘I don’t know. Usually these things are reciprocal.’
I waved the knife in my hand before setting about chopping the carrots into chunks. ‘Believe me, you’re not missing out on anything in here.’ I rolled my eyes back in my head in an attempt to point at my own brain. The action seemed to amuse him and as smile lines crinkled round his eyes, his whole face changed. I was surprised at how pleased I was to see the transformation. Although as it only added to his attractiveness, another, more rational part of me was flapping about, blowing a panic whistle so hard that the pea shot out!
‘I’m not so sure about that.’
‘I am. So, what are those thoughts swirling round in your brain? They look far more interesting.’
He smiled again, then pushed himself away from the doorway and pulled out a stool from the worktop opposite where I was working.
‘I’m just a little surprised someone would go to all this effort for a person she hardly knows.’
I frowned at him briefly as I chopped the potato and added it to the soup maker. ‘You’re going to be her brother-in-law.’
‘Still…’
I shook my head as I measured the stock to add. ‘Remember what I said about Ned, and family?’
He nodded.
‘Holly’s the same. Even more so because you’re going to be actual legal family. Of course she’s going to want to make sure you’re comfortable. Plus she knows what it’s like to be unhappy,’ I added, pouring in the stock and setting the machine going. ‘Wishington Bay helped change her life for the better. I think she’s hoping it will work its magic on you too, and anything she can do to help that along, she will.’
He hadn’t replied and as I turned round from where the machine was plugged in, I saw his expression had closed off.
‘And you can knock that off too.’
His head snapped up. ‘Excuse me?’
‘That mean and moody, silent tough guy look. I’ve had enough of that. You have a lovely smile and you’re not such an arse when you’re being yourself so do us all a favour and be that chap.’
Silence.
I used to be pretty good at keeping everything in. Not saying what I thought. It wasn’t the done thing where I grew up. But since moving here, starting again, I’d rather lost the knack. It had been a relief to be honest. I was always careful to try to be tactful but occasionally my mouth ran ahead of my brain.
‘You’re big on honesty, aren’t you?’
I blushed, not just because Nate was studying me intensely. He was right. I was big on honesty, but I also knew I hadn’t been entirely honest with him – or anyone in Wishington Bay. And at his comment, the guilt of that gave me a good nip on the backside.
‘When it’s possible, yes.’
‘Are there times it isn’t possible?’
‘Occasionally.’
‘Such as?’
I swallowed, avoiding his eyes as I cleared up the detritus from the soup preparation. ‘Well, you always have to consider the situation, don’t you? People’s feelings, etcetera.’
‘And did you consider my feelings when you just called me a grumpy sod?’
Wiping the counter off, I gave a brief glance. ‘Those weren’t my words and you know it.’
‘No. In fact, you called me an arse.’
I shrugged. I had, so there was hardly any point in denying it now.
‘But I offset that but saying that you have a lovely smile. Which you do.’
‘And you reckon that makes it even.’
‘Pretty much.’
I risked a glance. His gaze locked onto mine. My confidence was wavering but I wasn’t about to show him that. ‘Don’t you think?’
Nate seemed to be considering the possibility.
‘It’s a long time since anyone’s said anything like that to me.’
‘What? Called you an arse?’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘Not being rude, but I kind of find that hard to believe.’
He considered me for a moment. ‘OK. Kind of rude, actually, but point taken, and I’m sure you’re right. I don’t suffer fools gladly and that can sometimes translate as being an arse, depending on who you speak to.’
‘That’s probably accurate but it doesn’t mean they’re right.’
‘True. But I was actually referring to the other part of your comment.’
I thought back. ‘The compliment part?’
‘Yes.’
I smiled. ‘Oh, come on. You do possess a mirror, right?’
He shook his head, but the expression remained. It was hard to define exactly, but as much as he tried to bluff, it was impossible to hide the sadness in those striking eyes.
‘You’re serious.’ My words were quiet and a statement, not a question.
He shrugged, the shadowy smile hovering round a mouth that was far too dangerous for me to concentrate on for too long. I met his eyes.
‘Nate…’
He waved a hand and pushed himself away from the counter. ‘It’s fine. It’s not even some
thing I think about. Blokes don’t really, do they?’
I wasn’t entirely sure about that. Some of the men I’d met thrived on compliments. Often fishing for and revelling in them.
‘You just took me by surprise. Even if you were just trying to balance out the insult.’ He gave the briefest of grins as he turned away.
‘I wasn’t!’
He turned back, the force of tone taking us both a little by surprise. His brows raised minutely.
‘I… wasn’t,’ I repeated, trying to make it a little more casual this time, although I think we both knew that ship had sailed.
His Adam’s apple bobbed and I could practically see the cogs in his brain working. Trying to compute. What had happened to this man to think he wasn’t worthy of the simplest of compliments? Or at least for him to have found himself in such a position that he no longer knew how it felt to receive one? Whatever had gone on between him and his wife, she’d clearly done a pretty thorough job.
‘Thank you.’
I smiled. ‘You’re very welcome.’ He fidgeted for a moment and I moved the conversation on quickly. ‘So, that should be ready in about twenty minutes. I’ll pop down and sort it out when it beeps. In the meantime, I’m going to make a start on the upstairs.’
‘I guess I should get on with some work.’
‘Your enthusiasm does you credit.’
He smirked at the sarcasm. ‘I know. Bad, eh?’
‘Not going well?’
‘I’m undecided at the moment. Some days I read it back and it seems OK. Other days I feel like I may as well just chuck it all in the ocean.’
‘Well, don’t do that. We’re very proud of our Blue Flag award so adding pollution won’t be appreciated.’
‘Duly noted.’
‘Is this the first book you’ve written?’ I asked, mounting the bottom stairs as he followed me out to the hallway.
‘No. I’ve written a few textbooks before. This is the first time I’ve ever had to try and make one entertaining, though.’
‘What’s it about?’
‘Air crashes.’
‘Oh. Not exactly the jolliest of subjects.’
Winter at Wishington Bay Page 6
