by Kate Hardy
‘But even you,’ she said. ‘You wanted me to be something different.’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve never asked you to change the way you dress. Actually, I happen to like the way you dress. You’re incredibly cute. Especially with those sassy slogans on your T-shirts.’
‘I don’t mean that.’ She looked away. ‘That morning... I was so happy, when I woke in your arms. And then you called me Emma, and I knew it wasn’t me you really wanted. You wanted her. And I can’t be her. I just can’t.’
His intake of breath was audible, and she winced. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound as bad as it did.’
‘It sounded bad,’ he said, ‘and it is bad, because it’s not fair. Other than Emma, you’re the first woman I’ve slept with in more than a decade. And you know I’m an owl, Alice. You can’t even talk to me until I’ve had two cups of coffee in the morning, because I’m so not a morning person and what comes out of my mouth won’t make any sense. Yes, I miss my wife. I loved her so much and we were happy together. But she died, Alice. She’s not here any more and nobody can bring her back. She wouldn’t want me to spend the rest of my life, alone and grieving—though that was exactly what I was doing until I met you. And then you started changing things. You changed the way I see things, showed me that there’s still light in the world and I need to stop trudging along in my lonely little rut and reach for the sunlight. You showed me there are butterflies. That I can stop existing with boxes around me, that putting flowers everywhere makes life better.’
He stood up. ‘Come with me. There’s something I need to show you. And I don’t care that it’s raining and I don’t care if you trudge mud all over my floor—or—’ He waved one hand in seeming exasperation, clearly failing to find the right words. ‘Oh, just come with me, Alice. Please.’
She followed him out into the garden. And then she saw what she hadn’t noticed when she’d walked into his house: that the right-hand far corner of the garden wasn’t a neat manicured lawn any more. He’d dug a flower bed.
‘It’s a flower bed,’ she said.
‘No. No, it isn’t.’ He shook his head and took her hand. ‘Look closer.’
She walked across the lawn with him, and then she realised.
He’d planted nettles.
‘You’re making a wild corner.’
‘It’s a nectar guide. An Alice guide,’ he said. ‘And I got it wrong because you can’t see it properly at this angle. You need to see it from my bedroom window—and I don’t want to tell you to go upstairs and look at it because I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.’ He pulled his phone from his pocket, flicked into the photo app and selected a photo. ‘Here.’
She stared at it.
The flower bed contained a heart shape. And written in nettles were the words Hugo Loves Alice.
‘You love me,’ she said in wonder.
‘Yes. I love you enough to change my garden for you—and do you have any idea how hard it is to find baby nettles?’
‘How did you do it?’ she asked.
‘I spent the whole of yesterday digging various people’s allotments and taking out weeds—in the rain, and just so you know I refused to move the thistles on the ground that they’re important butterfly food sources—in exchange for baby nettles,’ he said. ‘I brought them back from Sussex in seed trays donated by my mother. And I spent the whole of today using Jacob’s second-best spade, fork and trowel to make a proper bed for them and planting them. In the rain. Because I didn’t know how else to tell you how I feel.’
‘You love me,’ she said again, not quite taking it in.
‘Yes. I love the real you. The scientist who sends me nerdy facts and teases me about my shoes and worries about ticks. The woman who has slogans on her T-shirt and mad hair. The woman who sees beauty and teaches other people how to see it, too. You’re like those Morphos you showed me at the butterfly house—all quiet and hiding in the background, like they are when their wings are closed. And then you start talking about your subject, and you open up, and you’re stunning—just like a Morpho flying. I can’t take my eyes off you. And I’m not saying that because I’ve got any hidden agendas. I love you and I want to be with you. I know I messed it up and I hurt you, and I’m sorry. But I really do love you, Alice.’
‘I’m sorry, too,’ she said. ‘I let my past get in the way. I didn’t give you a chance to explain. I thought I knew best—and I don’t.’
‘I’m glad you realise that,’ he said. ‘Because I think we’ve got a future. Just we both need to compromise a bit.’
‘Yes.’ She looked at him. ‘I love you, too, Hugo. Even though you’re posh and you’re a walking clothes horse, you’re... You’ve shown me things, too. Beautiful structures, the way the light gets in. The way you feel about glass and staircases, that’s like the way I feel about butterflies. You get me, and I get you. And I hurt you as much as you hurt me, by being proud and stubborn and too scared to take a chance on you. I’m sorry.’
‘We’re both going to have to work on communication, in the future,’ he said. ‘But, for now...’ He cupped her face in his hand, dipped his head and kissed her. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘And now I think we’d better go back inside before we’re both completely soaked.’
Once he’d closed the glass door behind them, he drew her back into his arms. ‘If you don’t want to take Barney’s money, that’s fine. We’ll find another sponsor.’
She kissed him. ‘Why do I feel there’s a “but”?’
‘Because there is one,’ he said. ‘He hurt you. He owes you a massive apology. And we could make something good happen out of something bad.’
‘How?’
‘Take the money. Except you’ll be the one to take it and make very sure he knows who you are. And that you’ve won, because you’re the one who’s made a real difference to the world—to your students, to the butterflies, and to me.’
Could she?
Should she?
‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘I’m here if you want to bounce ideas. Whatever you decide, that won’t change how I feel about you. I love you; my family and my best friend think you’re wonderful; and I maybe need to work a little harder until you think I’m good enough to meet your family.’
‘You’re good enough,’ she said. ‘I think they’ll see you the same way Ruth does. And she thinks you’re fabulous, by the way.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘So we get to start again?’
She shook her head. ‘We don’t need to start again. You were right the first time. We just need to communicate a bit better in future.’
‘So was Jacob right and I should’ve written that message in proper flowers?’
She laughed. ‘No. You were right to say it with nettles. Give my butterflies somewhere to lay their eggs and for their caterpillars to feed. It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever, ever seen.’
‘You,’ he said, ‘are weird.’
She grinned. ‘Takes one to know one...’
* * *
Two days later, Alice headed to Rutherford and Associates, walking hand in hand with Hugo, wearing her favourite T-shirt and jeans and hiking boots.
‘That looks like battle gear,’ Hugo said.
‘It is,’ she said. ‘I don’t need to dress up or have a posh accent; it’s who I am and what I can do that’s really important. I’m a butterfly specialist—so I’m going to look like one.’
‘You’ve missed a few words out, Dr Walters,’ he said. ‘You’re also brilliant, brave and generally fantastic.’ He kissed her lightly. ‘I’m going to loiter in the coffee shop across the road. Call me if you need me—but I don’t think you will. You’re more than good enough on your own, just as you are.’
Ten years ago, she wouldn’t have believed him. Maybe even earlier in the summer she wouldn’t have been sure. But now, she knew he was right. She was g
ood enough, just as she was.
She took a deep breath. ‘I’ll come and find you when I’m done.’
Five minutes later, she was in Barney’s office.
‘Thank you for coming to talk about the project, Dr Walters.’ Then he peered at her. ‘Alice?’
She inclined her head. ‘You remember me?’
His face suffused with colour. ‘Yes.’
‘The oik. Your Yorkshire version of Eliza Doolittle.’ She made her accent that little bit broader. ‘But it isn’t what you look like or what you sound like that matters, Barney. It’s who you are. How you treat other people. How you behave.’
He stared at her.
‘It’s all right. I’m not going to start a fight. I don’t expect you to apologise.’ She looked at him. ‘I don’t need your approval or your apologies, because I already have the respect of people who actually matter.’
‘So why are you here?’ he asked.
‘Because,’ she said, ‘you offered sponsorship for the butterfly house. And I’m looking at this purely as a business transaction. Yes, I could take the moral high ground and refuse your money—but then we’d have to find another sponsor, and I’d rather spend my time on other things. So I’m here to accept your money. And I wanted to do it in person so you know I’m not intimidated by you or your family or your friends—not the way I was at Oxford.’
He looked at her. ‘I wasn’t very nice to you.’
‘No, you weren’t,’ she agreed.
‘I didn’t know you were involved in this project.’
‘Does that mean you’re withdrawing your offer?’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘No. It doesn’t. Please, take a seat.’
She did so. ‘So why did you offer us the sponsorship?’
‘My clients want green investments, so it makes sense for us to sponsor something involving ecology,’ he said.
‘Why the butterfly house?’
‘Because I have a daughter. Daisy’s four years old and she loves butterflies,’ he said. ‘I wanted to do something for her, too, something she could be proud of when she grows up.’
So maybe Barney had changed.
He shifted in his seat. ‘When she’s older, if anyone treats her the way I treated you at Oxford, I’ll want to tear him apart with my bare hands. I know you said you didn’t want an apology, but you deserve one.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Alice. I’m not who I was back then, either. I hope I’ve grown up, become a better person.’
She hoped so, too.
‘I’ll match my company’s sponsorship personally. In the circumstances, that’s the least I can do.’
She hadn’t expected that. ‘Thank you. Obviously you’ve had the information from our PR people, but I think you need to know exactly what we’re doing.’ And she talked him through the project, everything from Viola’s work through to Rosemary’s, to the design Hugo had made for the butterfly house and the kind of educational resources they were going to offer. As she talked, her confidence grew. And she wasn’t The Oik any more. She was Dr Alice Walters. Professional. Good at what she did.
‘That,’ Barney said when she’d finished, ‘sounds amazing. My clients are going to be thrilled.’ He smiled. ‘And so is my daughter.’
Alice knew she could walk away now, triumphant. Or she could do something better: she could build a bridge. ‘We’re re-wilding the garden over the summer as well as building the butterfly house. Bring your daughter to see us, with her mum. She can help to plant something, and then she’ll always know that she helped make a difference to that little corner of the garden.’
‘I’d like that,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Alice.’
She stood up, and reached across the desk to shake his hand, knowing that finally she had closure on her past. ‘You’re welcome. And thank you for sponsoring our project. You’re helping to make a difference.’
Then she walked over to the coffee shop to meet Hugo.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked when she sat down opposite him.
She nodded. ‘I faced him. I wasn’t sure if I was more angry or worried that he wouldn’t take me seriously—but then I realised that you were right. I make a difference. It’s not just what I do at work, it’s who I am as well.’ She smiled. ‘And he apologised.’
‘Good. That was long overdue.’ He leaned over and took her hands. ‘And I’m guessing he’s going to give us the money Pav asked for and a bit more.’
She looked at him, shocked. ‘How did you know?’
‘Because you, my love, were going to talk to him about the project. And when you talk about butterflies, you sparkle and you light up the room. You’re amazing and you’re irresistible.’
Hugo valued her for who she was. Loved her for who she was. And that made her hold her head that little bit higher. Finally, she’d moved on from being the oik Barney’s set had laughed at. She was herself. She was enough.
‘We don’t have to accept his money,’ Hugo said, when she didn’t say anything. ‘This is your project. You make the call.’
‘It’s your project too. And Rosemary’s, Viola’s and Emma’s. It’s teamwork.’
‘But you,’ Hugo said, ‘are my priority.’
And how amazing that made her feel. He was putting her first. ‘We’ll accept it,’ she said. ‘Because this gorgeous architect I happen to know taught me the value of building things with good foundations. His daughter likes butterflies. I told him to bring her to the house and she can help plant something.’
‘Great idea.’ He inclined his head. ‘Congratulations on nailing the deal.’
‘With your support.’
‘I didn’t do anything.’ He shrugged. ‘I just sat here, drinking coffee.’
‘You were here as my backup if I needed you.’ She stole a kiss. ‘You believed in me. More than that, you’ve taught me that I’m OK with who I am.’
‘My brilliant, gorgeous butterfly specialist.’ He kissed her back. ‘I love you. And I can’t wait for the future.’
‘My brilliant, gorgeous architect. I love you, too. And we’re going to build the butterfly house. Fulfil Rosemary’s dream.’
‘And,’ he said softly, ‘our own. You, me and the future.’
‘You, me and the future,’ she echoed.
EPILOGUE
A year later
‘I WONDER WHY Philip Hemingford wants to see us in his office,’ Hugo asked Alice as they walked through Chelsea together.
‘Last time we had an appointment with him, he practically had to referee a fight,’ Alice said. ‘When you thought I was a gold-digger.’
‘And you thought I was a vain clothes horse.’
She looked pointedly at his shoes. ‘Says the man with handmade Italian stuff on his feet.’
He laughed, and kissed her. ‘And who was it who found me that suit on our honeymoon, Dr Grey?’
‘You looked cute in it,’ she said with a grin.
Hand in hand, they walked into the solicitor’s office. He was already waiting for them.
‘Lovely to see you both,’ he said, shaking their hands in turn. ‘Thank you for the invitation to the opening of the butterfly house next week. I’m looking forward to it.’
‘Pleasure,’ Alice said.
‘So what can we do for you?’ Hugo asked.
‘I have a letter from Miss Grey. You’ve met the conditions for it to be given to you,’ he said.
‘A letter from Great-Aunt Rosemary? For both of us?’ Hugo looked confused.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have any idea what’s in it?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘None at all. Miss Grey was a bit of a law unto herself.’
‘Perhaps we should ask you to read it to us,’ Hugo said. ‘And we promise not to shout at each other.’
The solicitor gave a small smil
e. ‘I’m glad to hear that.’ He opened the letter and scanned it.
‘What does she say?’ Alice asked impatiently.
My dear Hugo and Alice,
If you’re reading this, then I know my dearest wish has come true. I’ve been trying to get you to meet each other for months, but whenever one of you was at the house with me the other one wasn’t.
The only way I could think of to get you to meet was to change my will. I knew you’d have to be at the solicitor’s, and I hoped that if you worked together—with you in charge of the garden and the butterflies, Alice, and you in charge of the buildings, Hugo—you’d see the same that I do. That you’re perfect for each other.
I know you’ve both suffered a lot in the past, and I think you’ll make each other very happy.
Congratulations on your wedding, and I do hope you’ll forgive an old woman for interfering.
With much love to you both,
Rosemary
Hugo and Alice looked at each other.
‘Matchmaking from beyond the grave,’ Hugo said.
‘And she was right. We’re perfect for each other,’ Alice said. ‘If she hadn’t changed her will and put in those conditions, we probably wouldn’t have met.’
‘We wouldn’t be married,’ he said.
She rested her hand on the almost imperceptible bump of her stomach. ‘I have a feeling that this little one’s going to be a girl. And I also think her name should be Rosemary Viola Emma Grey.’
‘Rosemary Viola Emma Grey,’ Hugo echoed, and his eyes were full of love.
* * *
If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Kate Hardy
One Night to Remember
Soldier Prince’s Secret Baby Gift
Finding Mr. Right in Florence
A Diamond in the Snow
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Dream Vacation, Surprise Baby by Ally Blake.
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