“I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing in the kitchen.”
“In what way?”
“About life and relationships.”
“We were talking openly. You didn’t say the wrong thing at all.” He turned on the sofa so he was facing her and rested his left arm along the back. His fingers were just a few centimetres from her shoulder. “Tell me more about you, Camilla. Why did you become an accountant?”
“I’ve always loved numbers. I like how they make sense, how they work together and there’s always a right answer.”
“Unlike life?”
“Exactly. You can’t always predict how people will act or how circumstances will pan out but numbers won’t let you down. Well, having said that, they do let some of my clients down but that’s more to do with the success or failure of their ventures, savings and so on. But numbers are numbers and there’s always a clear solution.”
He nodded. “I get that. You never wanted to be anything else?”
“I went through some of the usual dream careers when I was younger. At one point, I think I wanted to act and at another I wanted to be a dancer but after Dad left, all that faded away and I became more practical and focused. I wanted a career that I could control, hence working for myself, and that would always earn for me. I’ve worked hard to build my own business and I’m proud of what I’ve achieved.”
“Good for you.”
“Thank you. Did you always want to be a vet?”
“Yes. Bit of a cliché I guess, but from about six, I knew how much I loved animals and wanted to work with them. I was a bit of a geek growing up. I studied hard, wasn’t big on partying or drinking. I like beer, wine and a good whisky but while the lads in uni were big on going out and drinking until they could barely stand, I preferred to go for a meal or to the cinema. Don’t get me wrong, I did go out and drink but not as much as them and if I could avoid it or persuade them to try something else, I did. We were in London, after all. We had so many things on our doorstep to see and do, and drinking wasn’t the most exciting one I could think of. Then I met Danni – she was a year behind me – and life changed anyway. I don’t regret being with her because there’s no point, is there? It’s just a waste of emotion and I don’t want to waste any time on it. I try to live in the present and to plan for the future.”
“What plans do you have?”
“I have places I’d like to visit. I want to go to New York, China, Italy…”
“New York is incredible.”
“You’ve been?”
“Twice.”
“Recently?”
“Two years ago. I went with a friend who was out there for a business trip and wanted some company and I went on a hen weekend with a girl, or woman now, from school. I didn’t know her really well but she wanted to make up the numbers. To be honest, while they were getting drunk, I sneaked off for cheesecake at Times Square and went to Central Park to see all the landmarks.”
“Lucky you.”
“Why haven’t you been?”
“Never the right time.”
“Well we must go!” Camilla’s eyes widened as she realised what she’d said.
“We?”
“Oh… I wasn’t presuming anything there, Tom. It’s the wine.” She put her glass on the table. “It’s making me say way too much.”
“I’d love to go to New York with you. When were you thinking?”
“Uh…”
“I’ll just get my diary.” He made to get up then slouched back down again. “You should see your face.”
Camilla covered her cheeks with her hands. They were scorching.
“I’m not backtracking. I’d love to go again and if you haven’t been then I know my way around. I could show you the sights… sometime.” She added the extra word just to offer him a get out clause, in case he was feeling a bit trapped.
“Sometime… that would be lovely.”
A snuffling from the doorway diverted their attention and Camilla looked up to see HP shuffling in, his ears slouching and his eyes half-closed.
“Hello, boy. Did you have a good nap?” Tom asked.
HP responded by stretching and yawning, then he approached the sofa and stared at the space between Camilla and Tom.
“He wants to come up.”
“He comes on the sofa?”
“It’s why I bought a low one. So he can get on and off without hurting himself. I always put a blanket down for him though, to save the material from his fur. He moults a lot.”
Tom reached down next to the sofa and produce a grey faux fur throw that he draped over the cushion then HP jumped up next to him and sat between them, alternately staring at Tom then at Camilla.
“He’s funny isn’t he? It’s like he knows what we’ve been talking about.”
“He’s an intelligent dog. He’s been great company and I’m really glad I adopted him.”
“How did you end up homing him?”
“An elderly client passed away. His son bought HP for him but never helped train him. When the old fella died, HP was a bit overweight and under-exercised. The son brought HP into the surgery and asked if I knew anyone who’d want him. I just couldn’t see him go anywhere else. Bulldogs take quite a lot of daily maintenance with their nose rolls and skin conditions and although HP has been lucky in that respect, he still has to be properly cleaned and I keep an eye on his diet too. He’s a greedy sod and would keep eating until he burst.”
Camilla rubbed HP’s ears and his thick neck and his tongue slipped out the side of his mouth as he gazed at her with his big brown eyes.
“He’s lovely.”
“I think so. And it seems he likes you too. Let me get some more wine.”
They spent the next hour laughing and chatting and Camilla slipped into an even more relaxed state than she’d thought possible when HP snuggled down with his large head on her lap. He was soft and warm, his gentle snoring almost hypnotic, and all her previous wariness of him drifted away. HP was a big and powerful dog, but he was also a total softy and his approval made her feel kind of special, as if the fact that he trusted her enough to sleep on her showed that she was a good person.
When Tom leaned forwards to put his empty glass on the table then took Camilla’s from her hand, she had to swallow her disappointment.
“It’s getting late,” she said, wanting to say it first so he didn’t have to, although the thought of returning home alone now didn’t seem at all pleasant.
“I’ve had a lovely time.”
“Me too.” She looked down at HP. “I hate to move him.”
“He’d sleep there all night if you let him.”
“I think I might lose all feeling in my leg though.”
“You would.”
Tom gently shifted HP so Camilla could move but as she did so, the dog opened his eyes.
“Sorry, boy, but I have to go home. See you soon.” She pressed a kiss on his head and he closed his eyes again.
“Thanks for a lovely evening, Tom.”
“And thank you. It was great to have some human company.”
They walked through the cool hallway to the front door and Tom helped her into her coat then he leaned forwards and he seemed to be about to kiss her. Camilla instinctively closed her eyes and pursed her lips but the kiss didn’t come. Instead, she realised as she opened her eyes, that he had, in fact, just been reaching around her to open the door.
She coughed and stretched to hide her embarrassment. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed though? Perhaps…
“Good night then.” She turned to step outside but felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Camilla.”
“Yes?”
“Turn around.”
She did so slowly, willing herself to stay calm.
Tom’s eyes were dark as they roamed her face, his lips slightly parted. He reached out and stroked her cheek gently. The moment was filled with tension and electricity and every fibre of Camilla’s body was alert, her heart was poundi
ng and she longed for him to pull her close and kiss her.
But he didn’t.
His touch on her cheek was soft as a butterfly’s wings and he was close enough that she could feel his heat, yet he wasn’t quite pressed against her. His scent was of ginger and sandalwood, mellow yet spicy, and she breathed it in, wanting to carry it home with her.
“I should walk back with you.”
“No need.” Her voice came out as a squeak.
“I should. I’ll grab my coat.”
“It’s only five minutes and I’ve lived here all my life. Besides, I’m trained in self defence.”
“You are?”
“Yes, didn’t I tell you?”
“No. And you didn’t look like you were when HP… you know… at the Halloween party.”
“I wouldn’t use it on a dog. But if anyone attacked me, I’d take them down.”
He shook his head. “You’re quite a woman, you know?”
“Thank you.”
“But I do need to walk you home. I’ll worry all night if I don’t come with you.”
Camilla shrugged. She didn’t need to be walked home but it also meant that she could spend a few extra minutes with him, so she’d go along with it.
Tom pulled on his coat and hat then stepped into his boots. He’d been wearing thick socks around the house even though he’d insisted that Camilla could keep her boots on.
“What about HP?”
“I won’t even try to get him out for a walk now. He’d be appalled.”
Tom held out his arm and Camilla slid hers through it then they walked the short distance to her cottage. The air was crisp and the ground was frosty and she was glad of Tom’s arm to steady herself.
When they reached her cottage, she paused by the gate.
“Would you like to come in?”
“I would, but…”
“Not tonight.”
“Not tonight. But I would really like to see you again.”
“You have my number.”
“And I know where you live.”
“You do.”
She smiled at him. “Night then.”
“Night.”
Then before she could overthink it, she raised onto her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips before turning and hurrying to her front door. She unlocked it, pushed it open and rushed inside, closing it behind her before she could see his expression.
And she burst into laughter, because careful, controlled Camilla had just done something she would never normally do. She’d let her guard down and enjoyed a man’s company. She’d felt things she’d never felt before that had been roused by his gentle touch, his warm brown eyes and his compassion. She liked the way he made her feel.
It was, she realised, as she removed her coat and boots then plodded up the stairs, a very nice feeling indeed.
9
The next day, after returning from a meeting in London, Camilla went straight to her mother’s house. There were things she needed to ask Jackie and they couldn’t wait. Even over lunch with one of her most important clients, she’d found herself drifting back to her discussion with her father when he’d told her that he had tried to stay in contact with his daughters. Had he been telling the truth?
She let herself into Jackie’s and called out, as she always did, to let her mother know she was there. It was five-thirty and the house was dark, which wasn’t that unusual as Jackie often worked on if she was needed, or if she got chatting to one of the people she cleaned for, but she usually left the lamp in the lounge on a timer.
She walked through the downstairs and there was no sign of life, so she went to the bottom of the stairs.
“Mum? Are you home?”
She heard a bang and someone swearing then a door upstairs creaked open.
“Camilla? Is that you?”
“Yes, Mum. Were you in bed? Aren’t you well?”
Jackie appeared at the top of the stairs, tying her dressing gown belt. Camilla flicked the switch on the landing light and stared up at her mother who was shielding her eyes in the brightness.
“God, Mum, what’s wrong? Is it the flu? You look terrible.”
She slipped off her coat then hurried up the stairs.
“Come here.”
She wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulders then led her towards her bedroom.
“You get right back into bed and I’ll go and find some paracetamol and make you a cup of tea. Actually, I’ll go to the shop and get you some juice if there’s none here. You look like you need some PENIS!”
In the doorway to Jackie’s bedroom stood Laurence.
Wearing nothing except for an expression of horror.
“Flipping heck, Dad, put it away!”
Camilla closed her eyes to prevent herself seeing the part of her father that she had never, ever wanted to see.
“Camilla!” her mother squeaked. “I’m so sorry, love. You weren’t meant to find out like this.”
“Is it safe to open my eyes?”
“Yes, love.”
Laurence stumbled out of the doorway, now clutching a towel around his middle.
“Camilla. Hello, sweetheart.”
Camilla gasped as she realised what was going on.
“I’m so slow!” She smacked her forehead. “You two are… oh… oh no!”
She released her mother and rushed back across the landing then down the stairs. In the hallway, she froze, not quite sure what to do next. She wanted to run out of the door and never come back, but that wouldn’t be very mature. Even as a teenager, she wouldn’t have done that. So, instead, she did the grown-up thing and went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
When the kettle had boiled, she poured water onto the tea bags she’d put in the pot, then gently swirled it to allow it to brew. There was always comfort to be found in familiar actions and right now she needed comfort. After she’d splashed milk into the mugs, she poured the tea in then dropped three sugar cubes into her own mug. She didn’t usually take sugar in her tea, but she was in shock and wasn’t that what they recommended on TV when someone had experienced a trauma?
She carried the mugs to the table in the dining room and sat down. The garden beyond the window was inky black so all she could see was her own white face. She got up and pulled the curtains then sat back down and sipped her tea, wincing as it scalded the tip of her tongue.
“Camilla.” Jackie entered the room, now dressed in jeans and a jumper, closely followed by Laurence who wore jeans and a t-shirt with a picture of a water slide on it and The Biggest in Benidorm beneath it in neon writing. How inappropriate in light of what she’d just seen, crossed Camilla’s mind.
They pulled out chairs and sat down stiffly, as if it was a formal meeting.
“Are you all right?” Jackie eyed her daughter
Camilla stared at her parents with their flushed cheeks and shiny eyes.
“Yes, I’m fine. A bit… surprised, I suppose, but you’re both adults so I guess what you get up to is your own affair. Only… it’s bit… strange isn’t it?”
Jackie and Laurence looked at each other then back at Camilla.
“Why strange, love?” Jackie asked as she cradled her mug. Camilla noticed that she’d had her nails painted. Her mother rarely bothered with getting a manicure or pedicure, rarely ever had her hair cut at the salon, claiming that there was no need as who was going to look at her anyway.
“Well you two… Dad’s been gone twenty-five years and as soon as he returns, you jump into bed with him?”
“We didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did.” Jackie reached over and took hold of Laurence’s hand where it rested on the table.
“Sex doesn’t just happen, Mum. It takes effort.”
Jackie’s cheeks flushed a darker shade of red and Laurence lifted her hand and kissed it.
“Camilla,” he took a deep breath, “I have feelings for your mother. And I think she does for me.”
“How can you know that? You’ve been
back for five minutes, Dad. If there’s anything between you, it’s nostalgia, surely?”
Camilla crossed her arms. Didn’t these two realise that they were behaving like irresponsible teenagers?
“Look love, we know we’re hardly Romeo and Juliet here, but even at our age, we still have sex… romantic feelings.”
Camilla wrinkled her nose.
“Don’t pull that face, Camilla.” Jackie frowned. “It’s like you think sex after forty is gross or something.”
“It’s not that!” Camilla slammed her hand on the table. “I know people can have sex all their lives and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. What’s wrong here is that Dad left us a long time ago. You were broken. You told me and Dawn, time after time after time that he was a bad man. In fact, you told us that all men were bad and that they couldn’t be trusted. You fell apart after he left and we had to pick up the pieces. It was heartbreaking.” Her voice trembled at the memory. “But you did get better… well, you never let it go entirely, but you got on with life. And now… he’s here for three days and you’re in bed with him?”
Jackie nodded. “After your dad left, I was ill. I did fall apart. And I am so sorry that you had to take care of yourself and Dawn. You took care of me too, I know. I should have been stronger but I loved this man and he broke my heart. But…” Jackie glanced at her ex husband. “It was, as you keep saying, a long time ago and seeing him again made me realise that I’m over it.”
“You are?”
“Yes, Camilla. But I also realised that I am still very fond of him and that I fancy him like mad. I haven’t… you know… had any lovers since he left.”
“Mum!”
“And it was nice to just let things take their natural course. We had a drink at the pub at lunchtime then came back here and well…” Jackie giggled.
“Camilla, I know it’s a bit of a shock but all I can ask of you is that you give us some time.”
“Time for what, Dad?”
“To see where this goes.”
“But you were just basically dumped by your much younger wife. How do you know this isn’t a rebound thing?”
Laurence shook his head. “This isn’t. If anything, every relationship I had after your mother was my way of trying to replace her. I never felt I was good enough for her and that one day she might leave me for someone better. I was trying to prove my worth, I guess. And in Benidorm, nothing seemed as real as it does back here in Heatherlea.”
Winter at The Cosy Cottage Cafe_A deliciously festive feel-good Christmas romance Page 6
