He turned to Denise. ‘Do you mind if I disappear for five minutes and fetch it?’
‘What’re you waiting for? Run and get it. Quickly.’
Daniel ran through the gallery, past the dining table and skirted the huge Christmas tree.
‘Hey, Daniel,’ someone called.
‘Can’t stop. Something very important has come up,’ he shouted, taking the stairs two at a time.
He pushed open his studio door and ran to his desk. Papers fell on the floor as he searched manically for his phone. He opened drawers, rummaged inside and slammed them shut again. He lifted paperwork, rifled through sketches and opened boxes of paints. He turned his head left and right, looking around the room helplessly. He had an idea. He dialled his own number from the landline on his desk. He could hear his mobile ringing. Damn, it was in his suit trousers after all. He must have missed it in the panic.
‘Come on, Tess. Come on, Tess,’ he chanted, as he tapped out her number.
‘You have reached the Orange answer phone…’
‘Fuck!’
Chapter Forty-Three
It had been the worst journey south Tess had ever experienced. Still wearing her party dress, she’d only taken the bare essentials from Rose Cottage before leaving. Her emotions were fragile, fuelled by impossible fantasies. She’d only been driving for ten minutes when she’d had to pull over. Her vision had glazed as if the windscreen had been smeared with Vaseline. Her tears weighed heavy, quivering on her eyelashes until they’d spilled down her cheeks. No amount of cheek wiping and sniffing had stopped them. Tess had pulled into a farm entrance where she’d fallen forwards onto the steering wheel, her whole body shuddering with uncontrollable sobs.
She could mend a broken pastry case and nurture a soufflé to dizzying heights. Why couldn’t she sort her own life out? Why couldn’t she see past the surface of a man’s character? Perhaps she expected too much. Maybe she should buy that little teashop in Padstow and start again. Life would be simpler and free from heartbreak and deceitful men. But even that was impossible now. Her mother had informed her there was now a sold sign stuck to the agent’s board.
The grey smudge of Nottingham with its pavements covered in a rash of gum could go to hell. And so could Blake and Daniel.
Tess had called her parents to say that she would be driving through the night and not to wait up. Naturally, hearing how upset she had sounded, they had re-stoked the fire and waited for her until the early hours of the morning. When Tess had arrived, she’d cried bitterly, explaining that a man had broken her heart.
At four in the morning, Tess lay on her bed in her parents’ house listening to the relentless waves hushing up the beach. Rain tapped against her window like irritated fingers as she turned her pillow over in order to find a dry patch that hadn’t been dampened by tears.
Exhaustion eventually lulled her tormented mind to sleep. She dreamed of her little cottage flooding, turning everything she valued into soggy flotsam. Her dream then moved to the beach at Watergate Bay, where she and Daniel were walking along the water’s edge. A huge wave had knocked them off their feet, but when Tess had recovered and stood up, Daniel had disappeared.
As Tess slowly drifted back into consciousness, she experienced a few glorious sleep-dazed seconds, when her thoughts were filled with Daniel and the exhibition. Slowly, the sound of waves drifted into her senses and reality stung her. She opened her eyes, reliving the shock while staring at the ceiling.
Sunshine spilled in through a gap in the curtains and once again tears pricked at her swollen eyes. She flung herself on to her stomach and buried her face into her pillow, trying to erase the vision of another woman in Daniel’s arms. It didn’t help. The image still taunted her. She turned to look at the clock. It was nearly noon.
Tess plodded wearily to the bathroom, for once ignoring the view behind the curtains. She turned the thermostat up a little in the shower, peeled off her nightclothes and stepped under the spray. She stood still and let the hot water sting her body. Maybe a little physical pain would cancel out her emotional chaos. When Tess’s body was lobster-pink, she wrapped herself in a comforting towel and perched on the edge of the toilet. As she sat there, she could hear voices in the kitchen below her and the sound of the cups chinking. Her parents must have heard her get up and were making a pot of tea. She felt bad that she’d bought her anguish to her parents’ peaceful house and decided to try hard to be strong for them today. She dried herself and dusted her body with her mother’s freesia talcum powder. Back in her bedroom she pulled on some jeans and a warm polo neck sweater. Switching on her hair dryer, she blasted the dampness out of her hair and tied it back into a loose ponytail. Some rouge helped to brighten her pale face, but her eyes still looked sad and swollen.
Tess trudged downstairs, breathing deeply and forcing a smile for her parents before opening the kitchen door. Inside, her mother and father shifted guiltily at the table. Had they been talking about her?
‘Morning, darling.’ Her mother smiled.
‘Hello, Tessie,’ echoed her father.
‘Morning. Is everything all right?’
‘Everything will be fine, you’ll see,’ said her father, taking a sip from his mug.
Tess noticed a third mug and presumed it was for her. She reached to pick it up but it was lukewarm and half empty.
‘Oh,’ said Tess. ‘Have you had a visitor?’
‘I’ve had two cups,’ said her father.
‘A neighbour popped round,’ said her mother at the same time. Flustered, Celia looked at her watch and then at her husband.
Her father clarified the situation. ‘I’ve had two cups and Mrs Tulley popped round.’
Tess looked from one to the other of them. They were fidgeting uncomfortably. She hoped they weren’t planning some neighbourly get together in order to cheer her up. That would be the last straw.
‘How are you feeling this morning?’ asked her mother.
‘Numb, but okay, thanks.’ Tess saw her mother look at her watch again.
‘Are you going out, Mum? I’ll keep you company. It’ll keep my mind occupied.’
‘No, darling, no plans.’
They really were acting very strangely this morning, thought Tess. She walked over to switch the kettle on. Perhaps she’d been selfish coming down here and spilling out her troubles. She’d upset their peaceful weekend and orderly routine.
Tess poured boiling water into her mug and dunked her tea bag up and down a few times before dropping it in the bin. She cradled her cup between her hands and sipped the hot liquid. She noticed her father whispering to her mother. Before she could ask them if they were expecting visitors, her father turned to her.
‘Tess, would you pop upstairs to your bedroom window and tell me what you think of the new garden layout?’
‘What. Now?’
‘I really would appreciate your opinion.’
So that was it. They were going to keep her mind occupied with gardening. At least it was better than a neighbourly gathering.
‘I will, Dad. Can I get some toast first?’
‘If you could just pop up now, because I’m just off to the garden centre.’
I really have disturbed their peaceful existence here, thought Tess. She trudged back upstairs. They were acting so strangely. She walked towards her large bedroom window, pulled open the curtains and looked down into the garden. Strange. It didn’t look any different. What did he mean by a new garden layout? The lawn, the line of white stones defining the boundary to next door, the washing line, the shed and the picket fence with the little gate. It all looked the same. Feeling confused, she glanced up to look out to sea for the first time that morning. It was blustery, but sunny. The beach was empty, except a few dog walkers and a handful of hardy surfers. She was looking forward to taking Padders for a walk on the beach later.
She spotted a dog bouncing over the waves. It looked just like Goya. Her heartache stabbed her again and tears threatened at the th
ought of Daniel’s lovely dogs. They’d be with their mistress now. She pressed her nose against the cold glass. That’s funny, she thought. That other dog looks like Gogh. Her breath misted the window, so she wiped the glass with her sleeve.
Her eyes focused on the middle of the beach. The two dogs had now stopped next to a man who was bending to pick something up. She screwed up her eyes to see clearer. No, the man wasn’t picking something up. He was drawing in the sand with a stick and the brown dog was trying to take the stick off him. Tess surprised herself by smiling at the scene. The man was trying to complete a circle.
By now she was totally engrossed and opened the window to see without hazy glass obstructing her view. She could see now that it wasn’t a circle; it was a heart. A giant heart. Her stomach lurched when she read the words written inside it.
Daniel loves Tess.
The man stood up and waved in her direction. She recognised the dark hair blowing around his handsome face.
How? When? She started to shake. Why was he here? What about Dee Dee? She waved back then dropped her hand quickly. She was mad at him. He’d lied. What should she do? She turned to her cupboard, turned to her handbag and turned back to the window. She didn’t know whether to find a coat, find her shoes or cry. A scream of excitement escaped her mouth then she grabbed something from her handbag and ran downstairs. Her parents were standing arm in arm at the kitchen doorway, smiling indulgently.
‘I knew you were up to something, I just knew it.’ Tess laughed, pointing at them.
She ran to the front door, opened it and disappeared into the winter sunshine. Padders ran after her as her mother shouted, ‘You haven’t got any shoes on.’
Tess ran the length of the lawn, tore open the gate and sprinted down the steps onto the beach. She continued to run, slowing down as she got closer to Daniel. She stopped a short distance away from him, suddenly feeling wary. Why was he here?
‘Hello.’
‘Hello, Cinderella. You fled the ball.’
Tess looked at her bare feet and dug her toes into the cold damp sand.
‘I missed you,’ he said.
She spoke quietly. ‘I went upstairs. I heard you tell Dee Dee that you loved her.’
‘I do.’
Tess’s head jerked upwards and looked into his eyes. She raised her voice. ‘Then why are you here?’
‘Because I’m in love with you.’
Tess frowned. ‘I don’t understand. I saw you both together. In each other’s arms.’
‘You saw me hugging my sister. You heard me talking to her on the phone.’
‘Your sister? I didn’t know you had a sister.’
‘I’ve spoken of her often. My twin. I told you Den lived in London and was ill.’
Tess slowly raised her hands to her mouth in disbelief. ‘Den is your sister? I thought Den was your twin brother.’
Daniel smiled and took a step closer to her. ‘Sorry. She’s always been called Den by family members, and friends call her Dee Dee. If you’d waited and listened to the rest of the phone call, I told her that I couldn’t wait for her to meet you.’
Tess covered her face with her palms.
‘I wish you’d waited and spoken to me first.’ He took another step closer.
She lowered her hands. Her heart was racing. Her mind was spinning with this new information. They were now four steps apart.
‘How is she?’
‘She’s doing great.’
‘That’s wonderful.’
‘It is. It was a wonderful evening until you disappeared. I wanted to dance with you.’ He took a step closer. ‘Touch you.’ Another step. ‘Make love to you all night.’
Tess wondered how she was standing, how she was breathing.
‘I love you,’ he continued. ‘Ever since the moment I saw you looking so vulnerable in The Royal Oak. I think about you when I wake up, throughout the day and last thing at night. I have a fantasy that one day, when you’re ready, you’ll live with me at The Rookery. We’ll wake up every morning together, I’ll open a permanent gallery and you’ll run a teashop there. I know you’ve always wanted to bake… and I just want to make you happy.’
Tess felt dazed. She was standing on Harlyn Bay. The sun was shining. Three dogs were playing together and running around them in circles. Daniel was standing in front of her declaring his love and asking her to live with him.
‘Tess? You’re very quiet. I’m not frightening you away, am I?’
Tess made a noise that was half laugh and half sob. ‘I love you too, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy in all my life.’
With one last step, he wrapped one arm around her waist and kissed her. Tess felt his warm lips cover hers as she pulled him closer. They clung to each other, their bodies pressed tightly together. He tasted of sea salt and coffee. His jumper was soft, his body was hard and he smelt of fresh air. She could hear his breath, fast and urgent as they stood on the tip of the heart drawn in the sand. Eventually, they slowly pulled apart.
‘I feel so stupid. I’m sorry,’ said Tess.
‘It was just a misunderstanding. I wouldn’t have met your lovely parents or got to see where you grew up, if I hadn’t followed you.’
‘I suppose. Oh, I’ve got something for you.’ Tess pulled a silver and blue package from her waistband. She handed it to Daniel. ‘Happy birthday, for yesterday.’
Daniel unwrapped his gift and smiled when he saw the little carved wooden ark. ‘Thank you, Noah. It’s perfect.’
A froth of bubbles and cold water trickled over her toes and Daniel’s shoes as the tide came in.
‘What is it with us and floods?’ said Daniel, lifting her into his arms.
* The End *
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Thank you!
Dear Readers
Thank you for choosing to read You’ve Got My Number out of the numerous wonderful books currently on the market today. I loved creating all my characters but Tess and Daniel were my first couple, so they're very special to me. I’m still in love with Daniel and miss visiting The Rookery!
If you loved You’ve Got My Number and have a minute to spare, I would be so grateful for a short review on the page or site where you bought my book. Your help in spreading the word is hugely appreciated. Reviews from readers like you are invaluable and make a huge difference in raising a book’s profile. It makes authors very happy to see that you’ve enjoyed their books.
Thank you
Love Angela x
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About the Author
Angela Barton was born in London and grew up in Nottingham. She is married with three grown up children and a gorgeous Springer she calls her ‘hairy daughter,’ (who also features on the cover of You’ve Got My Number). Passionate about writing both contemporary and historical fiction, Angela has won and also been shortlisted for several writing competitions. She reads avidly, makes book-related jewellery, always with a cup of tea to hand. Angela is a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and Nottingham Writers’ Studio.
Angela writes for both Choc Lit and Ruby Fiction.
For more on Angela visit:
www.fontsandfiction.blogspot.co.uk
www.twitter.com/angebarton
www.facebook.com/angela.bartonauthor
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Introducing Choc Lit
We’re an independent publisher creating
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You've Got My Number: Warm your heart this winter with this uplifting and deliciously romantic story! Page 27
