New Hope for the Little Cornish Farmhouse

by Nancy Barone

  He sighed. ‘I love you, Nina, but now I understand why I could never fully reach you. You love him too.’

  Yes. I did. I loved Jack. With every part of me. I could no longer deny it.

  ‘I don’t want you to be unhappy, Nina.’

  I wiped my eyes again and looked up at him. ‘C-can you ever forgive me, Luke?’

  His face was sombre as he cupped my chin and kissed my lips for one last time. ‘Go. Go to him, that lucky sod.’

  ‘Ohhhh…!’ I threw my arms around him and kissed the side of his face. ‘You’re learning British expressions now? Oh, Luke!’

  ‘But if you ever change your mind…’

  ‘Oh, Luke, you’re the best! I do love you.’

  ‘Ah, Nina?’

  I pulled away, sniffling. Had I got snot on his shirt or something?

  ‘Before you go, you might want to use some make-up remover or something. You got a little… stuff around…’

  ‘What?’ I said, as I pulled out my compact mirror.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ I looked like the bloody Joker. And there was lipstick all over Luke’s shirt. I dabbed at it with my sleeve and then turned around towards the fields. Jack was now ploughing another heart around his message.

  Luke shook his head. ‘The bugger’s thorough, though, you gotta admit it.’

  ‘I love you, Luke,’ I cried, hugging him again.

  He sighed. ‘I love you too, babe. But I understand it just wasn’t meant to be. Now go.’

  ‘Oh, my word!’ Deirdre said in the background. ‘He’s adding an arrow through his heart! Awh, the poor lad!’

  Chloe turned to Jess. ‘I guess that’s the end of that, Jess. We won’t legally be related. But you and I will always be blood sisters.’

  Jess squeezed her arm and grinned. ‘Definitely. You okay, Dad?’ she asked on second thought.

  Luke took his daughter by the shoulders. ‘Nina and I are both okay with it.’

  ‘Well, then what the bleedin’ ’ell are ya waitin’ for?’ Alf shouted into my ear. ‘Go!’

  I looked around me and all I could see were the beaming faces of my support system cheering me on, telling me I was making the right decision. And in my heart, I knew they were right.

  ‘Car! I need a car,’ I panted, and a sudden burst of cheers echoed throughout the church as Father Briarley shook his head and crossed himself.

  ‘Go, go, go!’ Emma cried, pushing her keys into my hand, while Alice hung on to me like in a tug of war.

  ‘Nina, no! Are you nuts?’ she shrieked.

  ‘Yes, Alice!’ I shrieked back. ‘I’m nuts! But now at least I know what I want!’

  And who I wanted. It had taken me three years to realise it. Maybe I had been testing him, familiarising myself with the idea of him being in my life, I don’t know. All I knew was that when I had heard Jack was leaving, my heart had hurt so much I thought it would shatter into a million pieces. And now I knew why.

  I scooped up my haute couture and made a mad dash for Emma’s van that was still full of wedding paraphernalia, wedding presents and oh my God, what was supposed to have been my wedding dress.

  As I drove up to the top of Crooked Hill, my heart in my mouth, I saw Jack stop the engine, jump off his tractor and make his way towards the edge of the field. All this time I’d had the perfect man right under my nose and failed to see the wood for the trees, as he always said.

  ‘Jack!’ I cried. Really cried, tears gushing down my cheeks all over again. I could barely see where I was going.

  He looked up, and froze, and oh, the look on his face!

  ‘Nina…? What are you doing here? It’s your sodding wedding day.’

  ‘A sodding wedding you tried to ruin!’ I cried.

  ‘Did I manage?’

  ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

  ‘Are you here to give me a bollocking?’

  ‘Absolutely. Why didn’t you ever tell me before?’

  ‘I did – but you told me to never do that again.’

  ‘You should have explained things to me!’

  ‘You never gave me the chance!’ he shouted.

  ‘Well, here’s your chance!’ I shouted back.

  ‘Nuh-uh,’ he said. ‘The ball’s in your court, now. It’s your move.’

  ‘What is this, a game of chess?’ I quipped through my tears.

  ‘An extremely long one, Nina. I’d like to kiss you and marry you before I turn eighty. Do you think that might be possible?’

  ‘Then go ahead and propose,’ I challenged.

  He took my hand and guided me through a gap in the hedgerows.

  ‘Is this your idea of a proposal?’ I asked. ‘A romp in the hay?’

  ‘No,’ he said as we emerged to the other side. ‘But this is.’

  I turned from him and started. And there it was, in the lower field, ploughed into the earth, another message:

  Will you marry me?

  I gasped. ‘How did you know I’d say no to Luke and come up here and see this?’

  His eyes twinkled as he grinned and ducked to look into my face. ‘I didn’t. But I thought I’d pull out all the stops just in case. Did I do good?’

  I turned to look at the message again and ran to his tractor.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he called after me.

  ‘I’m giving you an answer,’ I shouted over my shoulder as I scrambled up onto his tractor in my Versace. ‘Jack! How the hell do you start this thing?’

  ‘A verbal answer would suffice,’ he said, as he ambled over, stretching his arms up towards me. ‘What do you say, Nina? Will you let me love you for the rest of our lives?’

  In response, I stepped down from the tractor and he caught me, just as he always did, Jack. My Jack. ‘Yes, Jack! I’ll marry you!’

  ‘Not so fast, Nina. First, let me hear you say it.’

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. ‘Okay. I love you.’

  ‘That’s it? Try a little harder.’

  ‘Okay.’ I took his hands, my heart beating like never before. ‘I love you, Jack Marrak. I love you like I’ve never loved any other man in my life and it’s taken me much too long to realise it. But I don’t want to waste another second. You make my knees shake, but you also make me stronger, if that even makes sense, and I’d be thrilled – and honoured – to marry you.’

  At that, he pulled me into his arms and delivered me another one of those knicker-melting kisses that made me dizzy with excitement.

  ‘What did Luke say when you left the church?’ he asked as an afterthought.

  ‘He’s okay with it.’

  ‘Oh, how nice for us all,’ he said, half sarcastic, half relieved.

  I punched him lightly. ‘You like him.’

  ‘I do,’ he admitted. ‘But I don’t like him enough to give you up, thank you very much.’

  ‘Jack, why the hell did you not say anything after Luke left for California?’

  He shrugged. ‘I figured I had time. But then, after I kissed you, I realised I had scared you away.’

  ‘Because I thought you were sneaking around with Emma. And I thought that our kiss was just, you know…?’

  He cocked his head. ‘Emma?’

  ‘I know, I know,’ I said, hiding my eyes. ‘She told me about Paul. I misread the situation.’

  ‘I’ll say. So you thought that kiss was just the heat of the moment?’

  ‘And then, you never said anything again,’ I said.

  ‘Because Luke arrived and swept you off your feet…’

  ‘Not exactly. I was in absolute hell after you kissed me.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘Silly. I was just so confused about us. You were my best male friend. All this time, you’ve been watching over me.’

  ‘What does that tell you? I wanted to win you, fair and square, even if Luke was around. I wanted you to choose me because you wanted me, not win by default.’

  ‘Default? Oh, Jack…’

  ‘I’m no Hollywood star, nor a gentleman, Nina,
’ he said. ‘I don’t know how to make small talk and I don’t know what the right fork is and what wine goes with… beef bourguignon.’

  I smiled. ‘Neither do I, Jack.’

  He took my hand and guided it to his heart. I could hear it beneath his shirt, pounding in overdrive, as with his other hand he caressed my lips.

  ‘I love you,’ he said with solemnity. ‘I didn’t even really understand love before you, but I do know that I can’t imagine life without you. I love the children. I want to marry you and be there for all of you. I can’t promise you Hollywood lights, but I can offer you all of me, my attention, my loyalty, everything that I am. I will love you forever.’

  ‘Forever sounds good enough,’ I sighed happily, resting my hand on his chest, still stupefied by the truth that had been staring me in the face all this time. My destiny had not been written in the stars after all, but carved into a small corner of a Cornish field.

  Epilogue

  Los Angeles, one year later

  In the movies, time and season jumps are the norm, which, while practical for the screen, is a real shame, because fictitious characters don’t get to enjoy every moment of happiness, every smile, every laugh and every loving caress like real people do.

  Fictitious characters only appear to love their newlywed husbands, or rejoice at their son’s first real run across the green fields on a hot summer’s day, or bask in the warmth of their daughter’s embrace. And yet, movies are what I do now, while other times I just write my novels from my desk by the dining room window.

  As the crowds gathered outside the theatre for the premiere of Written In The Stars, Jack squeezed my hand. ‘How are you feeling, love?’ he whispered into my ear as he smiled for the cameras on the red carpet. He loved being taken for Mr Conte, and even more, he loved spoiling us all rotten.

  ‘A bit nauseous,’ I admitted, caressing my huge tummy.

  His eyes followed my hand and his eyes widened. ‘The baby? Is it coming now?’

  I laughed. ‘No, silly. It’s just stage fright. I have no idea whether the audience is going to like the film or not.’

  ‘They’ll like it, stop fretting and enjoy Hollywood for once,’ came Luke’s voice at our side, his daughter Jessica on his arm, radiant in a blue dress.

  Luke raised a glass to me. ‘You look beautiful tonight, Nina, you and your bump.’ He clapped Jack on the back. ‘Nice work, man.’

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ Jack answered.

  Jessica smiled and turned to Chloe. ‘I told you it would all work out. Dads are the best.’

  Chloe eyed Jack, and lifted herself on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘They sure are, Jess…’

  ‘Mum!’ called Ben. ‘We have front-row seats and our names are on them!’ And as I watched, he jumped over them with great agility, just like Roberto Benigni had done when he won the Oscar for best foreign film.

  Our French surgeon had performed a miracle on my baby. In the space of three months, he was up and really running like mad, signing up to all the sports Northwood offered, excelling in each and every one. I had always known that he could do anything he wanted, my boy. And it had been worth the tears, the anguish and the wait.

  ‘Look over there, is that… Oh my God!’ Chloe cried. ‘Is that Kate Winslet? Sitting next to… Jude Law?’

  Luke shrugged. ‘They do star in the main roles, don’t they?’

  Jack grinned down on me with enormous pride. ‘You did it, my love.’

  ‘We did it, Jack. I wouldn’t be here without you.’

  ‘And me,’ Luke butted in, raising his glass.

  ‘To love and friendship!’ Jack toasted, his arm firm around me.

  ‘To love and friendship,’ we all echoed.

  To think that only a little over a year ago, I had been a practically destitute, single mum killing herself to survive. And now I was a happily married woman, full-time writer, and a mum of almost three. If you didn’t count Minnie and Callie.

  Nina Conte Marrak lives in her newly renovated farmhouse on the outskirts of a beautiful Cornish seaside village with her husband, three children and dogs Minnie and Callie. Her first novel, Written In The Stars, has been made into a motion picture, while her subsequent books, The Chocolate Wardrobe Girls and Storm In A D-cup have already been optioned for the screen by Hollywood actor and producer, Luke O’Hara. Nina is currently working on her fourth novel.

  The End

  And because I promised you earlier, here it is, my mum’s recipe for Sicilian Arancini:

  Ingredients

  1 kg of rice

  1 hard-boiled egg, diced

  Ground beef, fried in finely chopped onions and just a touch of tomato sauce. (You can use what’s left for a Bolognaise.)

  Peas, 250 grams

  Breadcrumb, toasted in a pan with a touch of olive oil

  Olive Oil for deep-frying

  Procedure

  1. Boil a kilogram of rice (leave it al dente) and place it to drain on a wide surface until it is dry and at room temperature.

  2. Flatten two ice cream scoops of rice onto the palm of your hand. If they’re too sticky, put a drop of olive oil in your palms. Gently curve your hand up to create the first half of your rice shell.

  3. Having mixed together the egg, beef and peas in quantities and proportions according to taste, place them in the centre, and wrap another scoopful of rice to close the arancino, rolling it gently so that it has a pyramid shape.

  4. Once ready, roll in the breadcrumbs so they are coated, and then deep-fry or bake until orange.

  Buon Appetito!

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks go to, first and foremost, my lovely editor Rhea Kurien, who ‘got me’ from the very start, is always available, and is an absolute dream to work with. You are the best, Rhea!

  Thanks also go to Hannah Smith, Vicky Joss and Nikky Ward at Aria Fiction for pulling this one off while in times of lockdown.

  Also many heart-felt thanks go to Jade Craddock who guided me through all sorts of industry mysteries!

  Thanks to my family on both sides of the pond, and particularly my Mum and sister Lidia, along with Natalie, Dean and Becky.

  Massive thanks to my dear friend Michéle for taking me to Cornwall. We know what amazing memories we have of that time.

  And always, thanks so much to my dear old friend Alex Husic who spent hours on end with me in the 90s under that old mulberry tree eating, drinking and fantasising about this very moment. And who even designed my website.

  Last but not least, many thanks to you, Dear Reader, who took a chance on this book. Whether it was the gorgeous cover or the fantastic setting, I thank you for taking me on, and I hope to see you again on a new journey!

  Nancy Barone

  About the Author

  Nancy Barone is literally all over the place, in body and heart. She’s an Italian-Canadian author of romantic comedy who lives in a farmhouse close to the Mediterranean sea but returns to the UK every time she can.

  In her spare time she manages to work as an English teacher in a tiny Sicilian fishing village, and join her British husband on long walks with their dogs on the beach, all the while savouring Mayan chocolate and ricotta ice cream.

  She also has the gall to classify her visit to Cornwall as ‘research’ for her novels.

  Nancy loves to receive your messages – drop her a line anywhere here:

  Website - www.nancybarone.com

  Twitter account - NancyNBW

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