The Garden of Little Rose

by Suzanne Snow

  ‘Come on,’ he called, treading water as he gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Your turn.’

  Flora squirmed nervously as she backed away, glancing around wildly for an escape route. ‘No! You’re crazy, it’s freezing! I’m not going in there.’

  ‘Oh yes, you are,’ he shouted back, raising his voice above the waves swirling around him. She saw him swimming expertly back to the yacht. ‘It’s not that cold.’

  ‘No! I haven’t got anything to wear.’ Real panic was beginning to replace silliness, as she recognised his determination.

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she heard him say, and then the yacht was swaying in the water as he hauled himself back on board. ‘You don’t need anything. Do I have to come and get you?’

  ‘No! Don’t you dare!’

  ‘Are you daring me?’ he asked wickedly, and she drew in a breath as he dropped down the steps into the galley, where she’d retreated. Soaking wet, he was leaving salty water in his wake as he slowly walked towards her. ‘Could be dangerous, Flora. You already know that I don’t like to pass on a dare.’

  Flora recognised the implacability in his look and she made a dash for the door, not really expecting him to follow.

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ she called over her shoulder. But Mac was quicker, and she squealed as he easily caught her, pulling her against his wet body. His arms went around her waist and he tugged her backwards until they were on the deck again and laughing madly.

  ‘Okay,’ she gasped, every sense shrieking in delight as his damp skin pressed against her, and she reluctantly stepped out of his embrace. ‘You win.’ She climbed carefully over the rail and stared down at the water.

  Mac quickly hopped up beside her, grabbing her hand and tugging her into the sea with him. Flora was still screaming as she hit the water and disappeared underneath. Spluttering from the shock of the sudden chill hitting her body, she quickly swam back up to the surface, trying to grab her wet hair and tug it into submission as it fanned out around her.

  ‘You’re mad, it’s freezing!’ she yelled at him as he emerged once again, shaking his head and still laughing. She scooped water into her hands and flung it into his face as a punishment, and he dived back beneath the water, reaching out to grab her again. But this time she was ready, and she swam away quickly, hoping to warm herself, as well as putting some distance between them. But good swimmer though she was, she was no match for Mac, who powered easily after her.

  Flora was too cold and far too aware of him to remain in the water for long. She swam back to the pier, reaching for the ladder submerged in the water and hauled herself up onto the rickety wooden planks. Mac followed and she felt his eyes on her, suddenly very conscious of her wet shorts and white vest top, outlining every curve and concealing almost nothing. She knew that the light-hearted playfulness between them had been replaced by something much more serious.

  Water streamed down from her hair onto her back and the sand on the wood was soft beneath her feet. Flora wanted to cling to this moment and never let it go. She wanted always to remember the expression in his eyes as they gazed at each other, and she shivered, entirely aware of every sensation he was arousing. But with every minute that hurried away into tomorrow, the end of the unexpected evening with him drew nearer.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve made you cold.’ Mac closed the distance between them with one small step. ‘Come here.’ His hands were on her shoulders, smoothing her skin until heat was blazing through her body and the trembling was no longer because of the sea. He pulled her against his bare chest, spreading his fingers across her back and lifting her wet hair with his free hand. His chin was against her temple, the imprint of his stubble rough against her soft skin.

  She lifted her hand, about to touch his face, when a sudden awareness rose inside her and was enough to banish the perfect pleasure she found in his company. In less than two days she would have to leave the island. She would return to her real job and single life at Middlebrook, not this pretend thing – this foolish attempt at offering advice on a forgotten garden and trying to remain professional as her feelings for him grew day by day. Hovering unseen between them was Chloe, and Flora felt shaky as she tried to understand what all of this meant to Mac. He was not free to play these games and she was determined to take no further part. She stepped back abruptly, and he stared at her as his hands fell away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Mac muttered, and Flora could not offer a response, as she continued to back away from him. With every reluctant step she took towards the relative privacy of her cottage, the separation became more real as she left him behind, where he belonged.

  ‘What about Chloe?’ she asked him tightly, trying to contain her shivering now that he was no longer preventing the cold from claiming her body. ‘Don’t you think she would mind, about all of this, tonight? When did we forget that I’m only here because of the garden?’

  ‘Chloe and I, we aren’t really…’ He paused, an awkward lull in his explanation, but Flora was in no mood to be helpful. He swiped at the water still trickling down his face and added, ‘It’s not what you think.’

  ‘You’ve said that before. You’re either in a relationship with her or you’re not, Mac. And if it were me, I’d definitely like to believe that you wouldn’t be doing this with someone else whenever I wasn’t there.’

  ‘What is this, then, Flora? What would you call it?’

  ‘I know exactly what it is,’ she said hotly. She lifted her chin to glare at him furiously, fighting to contain the way her body still wanted to be gathered against his. ‘It’s nothing.’

  She spun around and walked away from him. All she could hear was the noise of the waves lapping onto the beach, as the tide continued to rise behind her and swirl around the boats at the pier. Lifting the latch on the front door, it took her a moment to recognise the sound of Mac’s hurried steps as he tried to catch up with her. She paused on the threshold, her heart slamming in her chest as she looked at him over her shoulder, through the darkening night. The low rasp of his voice and the words he spoke shocked her.

  ‘Actually, Flora, it isn’t nothing. It’s so much more and we both know it. But you’re going to have to trust me.’

  She was motionless for a few seconds, unable to break the tension. Trusting him was a step too far, and she only needed to recall the images of him with Chloe to remember the shock she had felt when Sophie had called her, the hurt and horror that Mac had deceived her and she had not seen it coming. Refusing to trust him, to give even more of herself beyond everything she already felt, would be her salvation in the days and weeks to come, when they’d be apart for good. She would cling to the knowledge that he couldn’t give her the one thing she needed above all else – and it would help, eventually. She offered no answer as she entered the cottage and banged the door shut.

  She couldn’t settle once she was alone inside the little house, and she strode from kitchen to bedroom and back again. Finally, she huddled in a chair beside the unlit fireplace, staring into the empty grate, only too aware that all attempts at professionalism between them had finally disintegrated. Shaken by how easily her body responded to him, she was finding it impossible now to pretend that everything they had shared meant nothing to her. She couldn’t be around him, couldn’t keep on hoping, when her ordinary life was waiting, far from here. The dare, the wedding, their kiss, this night, the island, seeing him with Tamsin – all of it had only made her fall more deeply in love with him. Eventually, an uneasy sleep claimed her, still folded awkwardly into the chair. When she awoke in the night, still in her damp clothes – another unwelcome reminder of Mac – she quickly changed into pyjamas and crawled into her comfortable bed.

  The morning sky had already been light for hours when she woke again, exhausted, at seven thirty. Her first thoughts, as she unwound herself from the bed, were of what had passed between her and Mac last night. She remembered their shared supper on the beach and their long, intimate conversation, but then ca
me the memory of the end of the evening. She drew in a breath as she recalled his final words and the undeniable truth in them that she’d chosen to ignore. She would be leaving tomorrow, and she didn’t want to go whilst everything was so unsettled between them, didn’t want to picture the shape of the coming days at Middlebrook when spending time with him would no longer be her reality. She had told Mel and Sophie that her silly crush, as she had once referred to it, would pass but now she knew that it had not and would not.

  She showered quickly, washing her hair twice to remove the sand and salt still tangled in it. She wasn’t hungry and just coffee served as breakfast, sitting at the small table and with only her thoughts chasing one another through her mind for company. The coffee brought an energy she really needed, and she gathered her things to leave for the day. She couldn’t find the key to the cottage and, after a few minutes of searching, it dawned on her that it had been in the pocket of her shorts last night. She found them on the back of a chair, with the rest of her damp clothes, and checked. The key was gone, and she sighed impatiently. She considered checking the beach, but the key was far more likely to be at the bottom of the sea after the swim with Mac.

  She went to look anyway, but the key had disappeared, as she had feared. She glanced at Mac’s cottage. The curtains were still drawn, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to wake him. It was an inconvenience and one she could do without. She also hoped he wouldn’t be angry about the key; after all, the cottages were pretty isolated and didn’t seem to present much of a security risk.

  The weather had changed from the glorious, late-spring sunshine of yesterday into cool grey clouds that blew crossly through the sky, threatening to keep the sun at bay and send rain to soak everything beneath them. Flora knocked on the door of Mac’s cottage, quietly at first, and then louder when he did not immediately respond. After a couple of minutes spent hovering outside, she was beginning to think that he had already left, as she couldn’t see the lane or his car from where she stood. Finally, she heard the door being unlocked and cautiously opened a few inches. Flora rolled her eyes, thinking his gesture a bit dramatic. What did he expect her to do? Crash in and leap on top of him? The thought was an unwelcome distraction and she rushed out a greeting to remove it from her mind.

  ‘Morning! Sorry to bother you so early. Really sorry, again, but I can’t find my key for the cottage. I think I lost it, in the sea.’ She swallowed, remembering their swim, his arms, that look, his words. ‘Do you have a spare I can borrow, please?’

  The door swung back to reveal the sitting room and her smile faltered, as her gaze took in Chloe Berkeley standing inside the cottage, looking impossibly stunning for such an early hour. Flora’s mouth fell open in shock and she felt a swift blush burn across her cheeks.

  ‘Oh!’ Chloe smiled, her eyes darting over Flora’s shoulder to check the beach. Flora saw her visibly relax, her shoulders dropping slightly. ‘Are you Flora?’

  Words hadn’t come to Flora yet and it was another few moments before she found some. ‘Yes, I’m the gardener, at Róisín. You must be Chloe.’

  None of the photographs she had seen of Chloe had done her any kind of justice. Chloe was smaller in person and much prettier, even when sleepy and dishevelled. Dark smudges beneath her eyes only emphasised the smoky-blue irises, and her hair was softer, less sharply cut and falling across one side of her lovely face. Smooth tanned legs made Flora feel even more faded and untidy, and she couldn’t help noticing how Chloe was completely unselfconscious, even in nothing more than a skimpy vest and shorts.

  ‘Yes, I’m so pleased to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  ‘Oh!’ That was another surprise and Flora saw Chloe glance back over her shoulder towards the bedroom.

  ‘Did you want Mac? He’s in the shower, I’ll call him.’

  ‘No!’ Flora’s tone was sharp, dreading the thought of seeing him now. She cleared her throat, trying to soften her abrupt response. ‘I just need to borrow his key for the other cottage, I can’t find mine. I’m meeting Maggie at the school soon and I wanted to lock up before I leave.’

  ‘Oh, here he is,’ Chloe said cheerfully, as a door was opened somewhere behind her. ‘Ready at last. I’m sorry, I don’t know where he keeps the spare key and I’m sure he’ll want to see you before you go.’

  Over Chloe’s shoulder, Flora was aghast to see Mac emerge into the sitting room, wearing jeans and pulling a T-shirt over his head. He looked uncomfortable as he approached the door.

  ‘Flora needs the spare key, Mac. She can’t find hers.’

  He quickly reached into a drawer in the kitchen and lifted out a bunch of keys. Flora saw him separate one and return the rest.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you two alone,’ Chloe said, turning away. ‘You probably have things to discuss.’

  Flora could have laughed at the truth of Chloe’s comment, but Mac seemed distracted, and every suggestion of the warmth and closeness they had shared was gone. She was instantly reminded of their first meeting at the hotel and it hurt to think that they were back to being strangers. Nothing could have chilled her heart more quickly than seeing him with Chloe as she moved gracefully around the cottage, slipping in and out of view and yawning, covering her mouth with a beautifully manicured hand.

  ‘I’m just going.’ Flora backed hastily onto the path, desperate not to be left alone with Mac. ‘It was nice to meet you, Chloe.’

  She saw Chloe raise her hand to say goodbye. ‘You too, Flora. Good luck with the garden! I hear it’s practically a jungle.’

  ‘Flora?’ Mac ignored Chloe, lowering his voice as he stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him. ‘I’m really sorry. I had no idea this was going to happen; I wasn’t expecting Chloe to turn up. Here.’ He ran a weary hand over his tired face as he passed her the key, and Flora noticed the shadows beneath his eyes. It wasn’t much comfort to know that he looked as distracted as she did. ‘Are you all right?’

  Flora’s composure was slowly returning, and it was easier, with Chloe there, to remain professional. She had no intention of letting him glimpse any of the love she had finally admitted to herself last night. She thought instead of the weeks ahead trying to forget him, realising that all they had shared on this magical island would be nothing more than conversations consigned to their past.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she assured him coolly. ‘I’m going to see Maggie before I go to Róisín and then I’ll keep out of your way when I come back. You and Chloe obviously don’t need me hanging around when you’ll want to be together.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ he told her impatiently, quickly reaching out to take her hand. Flora pulled free just as swiftly. Touching him was not going to help with the process of forgetting him. ‘We still need to talk. There’s something you need to know.’

  ‘Just forget it,’ she snapped, tired of the constant battle to restrain her own body around him, to always want what he could not give her. Her gaze was scornful as she glared at him. ‘The only discussions we need to have concern the garden. Beyond that, whatever you say or do has nothing to do with me. You really ought to be with your girlfriend now, Mac, not me. And don’t worry, I have no intention of telling her anything about your behaviour, which she might find… unfortunate, shall we say? But maybe you should.’

  Flora strode away from him and didn’t look back to see if he was still watching. Last night, her final day could not have come slowly enough, but now that Chloe was here with Mac, Flora suddenly couldn’t wait to escape the island. She grabbed her things from the cottage and locked it, stuffing the key into her bag as she strode up the hill to her car.

  Maggie was pleased to see her when she reached the school, and Flora spent a couple of hours with her, walking around the work in progress and helping to draw up plans and ideas for it. She was sorry she would not be here to help in the future, especially since the garden reminded her of Tamsin. Flora’s unhappiness grew when she thought of the little girl trying to find a way to make a g
arden without any of the help that she could have given her. She refused Maggie’s offer of an early lunch and excused herself to return to Róisín for her final visit.

  When she arrived, the builders were banging in the house and Flora let herself into the peacefulness of the garden. It was so familiar to her now and she made her way down to a narrow gap in an overgrown hedge, where once had stood wrought-iron gates leading to a thin strip of shell-covered beach and, beyond it, the turquoise sea. The tide was rising fast and she stepped over the rough shoreline, turning to photograph the house and garden from the lowest point of the landscape. When she had finished, she sank down onto a dry patch of sand and powered up her laptop to make notes. Downloading the photographs she had taken would have to wait for Wi-Fi when she returned home.

  Oblivious of the approaching water, she sat for a while, lost in unwelcome thoughts of leaving this extraordinary place – the beauty of the island and its people – and returning to Middlebrook. In the end it was Mel who had been proved right, not Sophie; it would have been better for her if she hadn’t come back to Alana. Flora realised that much as she loved the garden and had wanted to learn its secrets, she had done it partly to test her feelings for Mac and his for her. She knew she had allowed herself to believe that perhaps everything between them could have been different, that all she had glimpsed in his eyes really was true.

  Until this morning. Now Chloe was settled in his cottage and their relationship felt horribly real, no longer confined to online images. Flora could make up the headlines herself – she didn’t need a magazine to do it for her: the beautiful, successful actress and her adoring architect boyfriend, pictured together playing in the surf on the secluded island he called home. Just the thought of such images stung. She snapped the laptop shut and stood up decisively. Tomorrow wouldn’t do – she would leave today.