Meet Me at Willow Hall

by Carla Burgess

  ‘When did you finish it?’

  ‘He was supposed to come to my mum’s sixtieth birthday party but he let me down at the last minute. Said he was stuck at work. It was a big deal because he hadn’t met any of my friends or family.’

  ‘Really?’ Anthony looked astounded. ‘I need to talk to this man, get some tips from him.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He kept you hanging on for months while avoiding spending any quality time with you, and managed to avoid meeting your friends and family. That’s quite a genius manoeuvre. How did he do that? Can I have his number?’

  I knew Anthony was joking, or at least I hoped he was, but his words stung and I felt a frisson of anger pulse through me. ‘He has a big personality and he’s hugely generous. But I can’t give you his number because I don’t have it any more. I made a point of deleting it when we split up.’ I put my knife and fork down and reached for my wine. ‘It also requires your girlfriend to be gullible and slightly mad. I mean, I must have been mad, mustn’t I? I even agreed to get married abroad, knowing my dad won’t fly. What was that all about? I have no clue.’ I took another gulp of wine and blinked away the sudden tears from my eyes. ‘It’s funny because I’d never been taken in by men’s bullshit before. Patrick was the first man I ever really cared about and he played me for a fool. People warned me our relationship didn’t make sense but I wouldn’t listen. I suppose I wanted to believe him.’

  Anthony reached for my hand with a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ I looked at his kind eyes and was unable to imagine him taking advantage of anyone’s trust. ‘Anyway, I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. I feel so ashamed of myself for being taken in by him like that.’ I picked up my knife and fork again as Anthony removed his hand from mine. ‘Suffice to say, it is not a genius manoeuvre to string people along like that and leave them feeling duped.’

  ‘Is that how you feel? Duped?’

  ‘Pretty much. And used and stupid. When I finished with him he said he didn’t want to leave it like that and that he’d phone me and we’d talk everything through. And guess what? He didn’t phone. So, even though I said the words “It’s over”, I still feel like he had the last laugh by making me wait for a phone call that never came. It’s like he’s play-acting all the time. Everything that comes out of his mouth is a lie.’ I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about him. This must be very boring for you.’

  ‘Not at all. It’s my fault, after all. I did ask you about him.’

  ‘That’s true.’ I smiled at him. ‘What about you then? How did your last relationship end?’

  He looked startled for a moment. ‘Oh, err, with me leaving, I expect. That’s usually how they end.’

  ‘Were you living together?’

  ‘Oh God, no. Nothing like that. Like I said, I just like to move around.’

  ‘Does that have to mean leaving everything behind, though? Like you said before about me and Patrick, London isn’t the end of the earth, so if you’re staying in the UK, surely it’s easy enough to carry on seeing someone?’

  ‘Not if you work all the time, it isn’t.’

  ‘But didn’t we already discuss that your colleague John is happily married?’

  He laughed. ‘I suppose I’ve never met anyone I wanted to keep in touch with like that.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ve never been in love?’

  He cleared his throat and shrugged. ‘Define love.’

  I gaped at him. ‘You’ve never been in love? How old are you? Thirty-five?’

  He shrugged a shoulder. ‘Thereabouts.’

  ‘How have you managed to get to thirty-five and not fall in love? Are you a robot or something?’

  Laughing, he put his knife and fork together on his plate before pushing it away. ‘I don’t want to fall in love. I generally leave before it gets to that stage. Love is time-consuming and painful.’

  ‘It’s also wonderful and exhilarating and joyful.’

  ‘Says the woman who’s had her heart broken.’

  ‘But I will love again.’

  ‘Wow! You said that like it’s a slogan or something. Have you had that printed on a T-shirt?’

  I laughed. ‘Just think about all the women whose hearts you’ve broken in your time.’

  ‘Funny, I’m pretty certain I haven’t broken any hearts.’

  ‘I bet you have, Anthony.’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Even if you don’t think you have, I bet you have. Just look at you. On top of being handsome and intelligent, you have beautiful manners and seem really kind too. Not that I know you, of course. But you seem lovely.’

  ‘Maybe that’s the problem. Women don’t want a lovely man with beautiful manners. Women want a bad boy in motorcycle leathers.’

  ‘Erm, not really.’ I looked up as the waitress came over to take our plates.

  ‘Do you want another drink?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t.’

  ‘Go on. I’ll walk you home.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that. It’s only up the road.’ I felt slightly flustered as I looked up at the waitress. ‘I’ll have another wine, please.’

  Anthony ordered his drink and then turned back to me. ‘You kind of proved my point with Patrick.’

  ‘What point?’

  ‘About women preferring bad boys. You said you’d never met anyone you cared about before Patrick. He didn’t exactly treat you well, did he?’

  ‘He did when he was with me. And the boys I’d seen before weren’t super nice or particularly horrible, they were just immature. Patrick was older, so maybe I just prefer older men.’

  ‘He didn’t treat you well, Rachel. You never knew where you were with him. And he didn’t meet any of your friends and family. I’m pretty sure I’ve met at least some of the friends and family of every girl I’ve ever been in a relationship with. And I’m always upfront about the fact I’m not looking for anything long-term or serious.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. I’m not out to mislead anyone or make false promises.’ He scratched his face and looked at me. ‘I wouldn’t like to think I’d broken anybody’s heart. That’s just sad.’

  I smiled at him. ‘You’re very sweet. And that’s exactly why I find it so hard to believe that nobody has fallen in love with you.’

  He rolled his eyes, looking embarrassed. ‘Anyway, this is getting a bit deep. Let’s change the subject now.’

  ‘Okay. What do you want to talk about?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He laughed. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

  ‘Me? We’ve talked enough about me. Why don’t you tell me about you? You’re the new boy in town.’

  ‘I’m really not that interesting.’

  ‘I disagree. I think you’re quite fascinating, actually. You have a very bizarre attitude to relationships and I’d like to know why.’

  ‘Ah, but we’re not talking about that any more.’

  I leaned my elbows on the table and smiled at him. ‘Let’s start with your family. Are you an only child?’

  He hesitated for a moment, a smile playing on his lips as he looked at me through narrowed eyes. ‘No. I have a younger brother.’

  ‘How much younger?’

  ‘Three years.’

  ‘Is he married?’

  ‘Yes. And he has two children.’

  ‘Aww, so you’re Uncle Anthony. Are they cute?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘You like kids?’

  ‘I love kids.’

  ‘But you don’t want any yourself?’

  ‘No. Look, what is this? The Spanish Inquisition?’

  ‘I’m just making conversation.’

  He laughed and took a sip from his drink. ‘Yes, I love my niece and nephew but I don’t get to see them very much.’

  ‘You mentioned your mother before?’

  ‘Yes. I have a mother.’<
br />
  ‘Are your parents divorced?’

  ‘Look, I know what you’re doing, you know. You’re trying to find out about my relationship issues by asking about my family. You can save your pseudo-psychological analysis of me for another time, thank you. My family are great. Now, are you an only child?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought so.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’re bossy and like to get your own way.’

  I laughed in disbelief. ‘Oh, really? How would you even know that about me when we’ve only just met? Besides, is that what only children are meant to be like?’

  ‘I have no idea, I’m just winding you up.’ He sat back and laughed. ‘What do you like to do in your spare time?’

  Shrugging, I ran my finger around the top of my wine glass. ‘I don’t really have that much free time with running the shop, and when I get home I’m tired.’

  ‘But you’re only twenty-six. You can’t just work and sleep.’

  ‘I don’t. I watch TV in between.’

  ‘Don’t you go out dancing?’

  ‘No. All my friends are settling down with their boyfriends and can’t afford it. Besides, how did you know I was twenty-six? I didn’t tell you, did I?’

  ‘I think your dad mentioned it.’

  ‘Oh.’ I frowned. That was odd. Why would my dad be telling the new tenant how old I was? But then I suppose he might have been talking about me running the shop. ‘Anyway, what’s this about dancing? Who says dancing these days? Clubbing is the word.’

  ‘Dancing sounds nicer. I like dancing.’

  ‘Can you dance?’

  ‘Of course I can dance!’ He looked offended at the very notion that he might not be able to.

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you fancy yourself as a bit of a Fred Astaire? We should call you the dancing detective.’

  ‘Ha ha, I like that.’ He looked like he was going to say something else but changed his mind and took a sip of his beer instead.

  I smiled at him. ‘What’s the time?’

  ‘Nearly eight.’

  ‘Already? I should go.’

  ‘Why? Is your Horlicks calling to you?’

  ‘No, but my bed is. I’ve got to be up at five to go to the flower market.’

  ‘Five? That’s crazy! I can’t believe you have to go that early. What time does your shop open? Nine?’

  ‘Half past eight.’

  ‘So, why do you have to be up at five?’

  ‘Have a shower, get dressed, put my make-up on, then I drive there, choose the flowers, have a chat, drive back, make up any orders.’

  ‘Can’t you get them delivered?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, get them delivered.’

  ‘I like to go and see what’s there. They always have new things in. It’s exciting.’

  Anthony frowned at me. ‘But, do you really need to go tomorrow? Couldn’t you get them delivered? Just this once?’

  ‘For a policeman, you’re a really bad influence, you know!’

  He grinned. ‘Is that a yes?’

  I looked at his smiling face and decided I’d much rather have an evening out with a handsome man than get up at five and start work early. ‘Well, I suppose it’s not essential that I go tomorrow. But I’m not sure about going dancing. How about we just go to another bar?’

  ‘Okay.’ He turned and called the waitress over for the bill. I got my purse out of my bag but he waved me away. ‘I’ll get this as a thank you for coming out with me tonight.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that. It’s my pleasure, honestly.’

  ‘No, let me. Please.’

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read this book – we hope you enjoyed it! If you did, we’d be so appreciative if you left a review.

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  Acknowledgements

  To my brilliant editor Charlotte Mursell and the HQ Digital team for all of their hard work in the making of this book.

  Massive thanks to the wonderful book blogging community who give their time to read and review so enthusiastically, especially Kaisha (The Writing Garnet) and Rachel (Rachel’s Random Reads), although there are many more that have made me smile with their supportive words.

  Thank you to all my lovely author friends on Facebook and Twitter who are always on hand with advice and support.

  Love and thanks to my husband, Ian, and children, Isobel, Tom and Cassie for keeping me anchored to the real world, as well as to my wider family for cheering me on. Special thanks to my dog, Barney, for making me venture out into the fresh air once in a while.

  To the builders Chris, Louis and Jayjay who worked on our conservatory. Thanks for the use of your name (only), Jayjay!

  And huge thanks to you, the reader, without whom there would be no point writing these words. May you all live happily ever after.

  One of the characters in this book suffers from cardiomyopathy, which affects around 1 in 500 people in the UK. For more information about this condition, please visit www.cardiomyopathy.org

  About the Author

  CARLA BURGESS was born in Solihull and now lives in Chester with her husband, three children, dog and bearded dragon. Her love of books was sparked when she borrowed Ghost Ship to Ganymede by Robert Swindells from her primary school library and devoured it in one night. It was just after this that she started writing her own stories and inflicting them on family and friends. She began her working life as an editor on a trade magazine where she dreamed of writing about romance instead of tubing, but still felt privileged to be working with words. She has a degree in English literature and psychology, and loves animals, the countryside and the sea. Carla’s debut novel, Marry Me Tomorrow, released in 2016, became a bestseller. For more information about Carla, you can follow her on Twitter @MsBear123 and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/‌carlaburgesswriter/

  Also by Carla Burgess

  Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

  Stuck With You

  Marry Me Tomorrow

  If you enjoyed Meet Me at Willow Hall, then why not try another sweeping historical from HQ Digital?

  About the Publisher

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