This was exactly what her challenge was about, she told herself, as she left her sewing room and ran upstairs to get ready.
As she drove into town Liberty gripped the steering wheel to stop her hands shaking. What if he was gorgeous and she got completely tongue-tied? What if he took one look at her and walked away? What if they had nothing in common and nothing to talk about? She’d tried to prepare some questions, but each time she thought of one, she ruled it out because it sounded dull or judgemental or just plain silly.
Oh, this was such a bad idea. She wasn’t interesting or confident, and she wasn’t any good at cracking jokes. Carys had been the bubbly, outgoing one. She could bond with strangers within five minutes and have a roomful of people laughing their socks off. Liberty didn’t have that gift. It took her a long time to get to know anyone, which was why she missed Carys so much. With her best friend, she didn’t have to try. She could just be herself.
She did her best to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. It was just lunch, she told herself. Even if it was a disaster, it wouldn’t last more than two hours. Once she’d parked the car and found the restaurant, she paused outside the door, taking a deep breath and smoothing her dress. It was black velvet with red flowers, which she’d been told brought out the colour of her hair, and she’d picked her favourite high-heeled suede boots, which always made her feel a million dollars. She was satisfied with her appearance, but the urge to turn and run was still strong.
Think of the challenge, Lib. Think of how wonderful it would be to meet The One. And even if you don’t meet him, just doing this will shake up your routine and earn you a tick in your orange book.
‘Fake it till you make it,’ she whispered to herself. It had been Carys’s catchphrase and it made her smile.
Holding on to that thought, Liberty drew back her shoulders and went in.
Merde, merde, merde. Alex strode out of the town hall into the icy wind and stamped down the steps, cursing under his breath. What a damned waste of time that had been. Unfriendly, unhelpful staff, who’d been about as much use as a bandage on a wooden leg. He’d hoped they would at least be able to get his search started, if not provide him with information on the births recorded for the autumn and winter of thirty years ago. But no. They’d apologised, but without the child’s name they couldn’t help him. And there’d been no record of anyone with his surname: he’d made sure of that by checking page after page himself and wasting most of the day.
He took a deep breath, glaring at the passing traffic while he regrouped and planned what to do next. He rolled his shoulder and winced. The pain was a crushing weight and he found it ironic that the wrist injury, which had ended his career, barely hurt at all. He tried to knead the ache out of his shoulder, but it was difficult to reach and impossible to apply enough pressure. Sighing, he pulled out his phone. The journey here and having to grit his teeth against the pain were taking their toll and he’d had enough.
The team doctor answered on the third ring. ‘Alex?’
‘I’ve run out of painkillers,’ he said. ‘Can you email me a prescription?’
A long silence followed. Alex frowned.
‘Alex,’ the doc said. His tone was careful. ‘I’m not your doctor any more. You’re not part of the team. I can’t treat you.’
Alex could have kicked himself. He hadn’t even given it any thought, just hit speed-dial. ‘Who should I see, then?’ The doc had been treating him since he was a kid when he’d first signed with the team as a teenager.
‘You need to register with a family doctor. Where are you – Paris?’
‘No. England.’
‘England? Oh. I can’t help you there. Let me know when you’re back in Paris and—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said quickly. Heat rushed to his face. ‘Forget it.’
‘Alex, I—’
He hung up before his humiliation could be prolonged any further. Then he thumped the seat of his bike and cursed. How could he have been so stupid?
It was nine p.m. when he got back to the cottage but that call was still at the front of his mind. Would the doctor tell the rest of the team? Alex could picture their incredulity, their amusement, their pity. And none of this was helped by the fact that this afternoon’s efforts to find his sister had yielded nothing. He’d visited another office, checked through the records himself again, because as soon as he told people he didn’t have a name, they were reluctant to help. They had a point: it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
He shut the front door quietly. He was in a dangerous mood. It was best for everyone if he kept to himself.
Liberty was in the lounge. The fire was burning and a quick glance told him she was watching a comedy film and hand-stitching a quilt. Her dog stopped barking when he recognised Alex and greeted him with a lick. Alex jerked his hand away and muttered a curse beneath his breath.
‘How did you get on?’ she said, and came into the hallway. ‘Did you find the town hall?’
‘Yes.’ He pulled off his boots. They were wet and sticky with mud.
‘Were they able to help?’
‘No. No luck there.’
‘Oh dear.’ She threw him a look of sympathy. ‘So what will you do?’
He unzipped his jacket, hung it next to her coat, and shrugged. He could really do without the barrage of questions.
‘You could try the church records. I could call the vicar if you like, make an appointment for you.’
‘It’s fine. Thank you.’ He was trying to be polite, but he wished she’d stop interfering.
‘Right.’ She glanced behind her at the kitchen. ‘I made chicken curry. Would you like some?’
‘No, thanks. I had something while I was out.’ Not that he’d been impressed by the Greek restaurant in town. He’d never eaten such tasteless tomatoes, and what they called pitta bread hadn’t even faintly resembled the genuine Greek version.
‘Oh.’ She tried to hide it, but she was evidently disappointed.
He followed her into the kitchen where she took a dish out of the oven and spooned curry into a bowl. He frowned. Had she been waiting for him to eat her own dinner? He felt a twist of guilt. On the other hand, he didn’t want to get drawn into sharing meals or anything else. He poured himself a glass of water and flinched as a sudden shaft of pain fired through his shoulder.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Liberty.
‘Nothing,’ he said through gritted teeth. It felt as if a metal spike was stabbing him. He didn’t have the energy or the patience to answer her questions.
‘What do you have planned for tonight?’ she continued, as she poked a fork into her food.
‘I have things to do.’ He started to leave.
‘Would you like to watch a film?’
He stopped in the doorway. He’d rather stick pins in his eyes than watch the rom-com she’d had on earlier.
Perhaps he should make this clear, once and for all. He didn’t need an interfering landlady questioning him all the time and trying to intrude in his life. He was fiercely protective of his personal space. He needed – wanted – to be alone. Especially now, while he came to terms with the monumental change of direction his life had taken.
Taking a deep breath, he turned around. ‘Listen, I don’t know what Luc told you, but I don’t want to watch movies, and I don’t need meals or help with what I’m doing or anything else. I just want a room and a bed.’
As soon as he’d tracked down his half-sister and resolved things with her, he’d be out of here.
Liberty stared at him. Then her eyes narrowed and glinted angrily. ‘I see.’
‘I’m quite happy to look after myself.’
Her expression was stony. She reminded him of a purebred horse, tall and dignified. ‘Yes. You’ve made that perfectly clear,’ she said, and stalked away into the lounge.
Chapter Four
Oh, my goodness, how cringeworthy had that been? Liberty sat alone on the sofa, mortified and angry. She ate her
meal in quick, snatched mouthfuls, furious that she’d waited all evening to eat with him, only to have her offer thrown back in her face. For goodness’ sake, she’d only been trying to be welcoming. There was no need to be so rude and arrogant and – and—
She gave up trying to find the words, and pictured instead his dark scowl. What had she expected? Men who raced motorbikes were hardly known for being friendly, were they?
Actually, she had no idea. She knew nothing about racing of any kind.
She heard Alex moving about upstairs, then it went quiet. She carried on watching the film she’d started (she’d been offering to pause it and start a new one with him, for Heaven’s sake!) but she wasn’t really paying attention any more. He’d been so sniffy about watching television, yet she’d like to bet he was watching a film right now up there by himself.
Picking up the remote, she gave up on her film. She was too ruffled even to sew. She glanced at her watch. It was a little earlier than usual, but taking Charlie for a walk seemed like the best way to get rid of her frustrations, so she called the Labrador, put her boots on and stamped outside into the night. She’d had a rubbish day, not just because of this tiff with her grumpy, rude lodger. Her blind date had been disappointing, too. He’d been a nice guy, but there’d been no chemistry.
James, the chef, had spotted her as soon as she’d walked in. (The advantage of having red hair: it was distinctive.)
‘Sorry. Sweaty palms,’ he’d said, wiping his hand on his trousers as he stood up, then shaking hers. ‘I’m so nervous.’
She’d laughed. ‘I’m nervous too.’
They both sat down and he tugged at his collar. ‘This tie is strangling me. I don’t normally wear clothes like this.’
‘You wear a chef’s whites?’
He nodded. He was overweight, and Liberty noticed the beads of sweat accumulating on his brow.
‘Do you mind if I take it off?’ he asked.
‘Course not.’
His hands shook as he pulled at the tie and unfastened his collar and she realised he was terrified. Curiously, her own nerves shrank and she did her best to put him at ease. ‘Where do you work? Is it near here?’
He named a smart hotel on the other side of town. ‘I enjoy it there, but it’s hard work. I rarely get evenings off and my social life’s really suffered. That’s why I’m doing this dating malarkey. Trying to get out more. I’m a bit out of practice, though. You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t know what to say or the right questions to ask.’
Liberty laughed. ‘This is my first time on a blind date so you don’t need to worry. I’m no expert either.’
But he continued to look worried, and as the conversation progressed it became clear that a lot of his anxiety was centred round his appearance. ‘I didn’t always look like this,’ he told her. ‘But working with food makes it difficult.’
At the end of their lunch they said goodbye, but Liberty knew she wouldn’t see him again. She liked him, but there was no zing of attraction. In fact, what she felt most was sympathy for him, and that was hardly the basis for a relationship. It was disappointing, but it was only her first date, and hopefully there’d be plenty more.
She trudged through the woods, breathing in the refreshingly cold night air and enjoying the calm that spread through her with every step. That date might not have been successful, but it had been a confidence-booster. It had made her glad that she had no hang-ups about her appearance. Apart from her hair colour, she was ordinary-looking, but now she appreciated how blessed she was to be tall and slim and have no trouble finding or making clothes that suited her. And spurred on with new confidence, she’d already arranged another date for Friday night.
When she got back, the house was still quiet. She topped up Charlie’s water bowl and settled him for the night. ‘Sleep tight, gorgeous boy,’ she said, as she patted his head. ‘See you in the morning.’
Warily, she climbed the stairs and brushed her teeth quicker than usual, not wanting to linger in the bathroom in case she crossed the arrogant Frenchman on the landing. Then she got ready for bed. Normally she would have lounged in her pyjamas and slippers all evening, and she really missed that. She’d made so many concessions for her lodger, and for what? She patted her quilt straight and absently traced the quilted cable pattern with her fingertip. Despite her efforts today to be friendly, Alex Ricard was not good company, and she was so disappointed.
Why disappointed, Lib? What did you expect – another friendship like the one you had with Carys?
It was then that she realised she’d secretly hoped there would be at least the spark of friendship with her new lodger, if not more. Someone to watch movies with and chat with over supper. Something like the closeness she’d felt with Carys.
Oh, you stupid girl. What were you thinking – that you could replace your best friend? How ridiculous.
Liberty sighed. She’d never had a stranger lodge with her before so she had no idea how it worked to share a house but lead completely separate lives. How would they each cook their own meals in her small kitchen, for example? She and Carys had agreed that if one cooked, the other washed up, and it had worked well: they’d enjoyed eating together and it had been harmonious. Things with Alex, however, were awkward and prickly and made her feel uncomfortable. And it was all complicated even more by him being Luc’s friend. She would have had lower expectations if he’d been a complete stranger.
She sank back into her pillow and pulled the quilt up higher to ward off the chilly night air. She hated living alone, she thought, as she turned off the light, but she wasn’t sure that sharing with Alex was any better.
A while later Liberty was woken by the squeaky floorboard on the landing. She listened groggily, half expecting to hear the bathroom door. Instead, there were light footsteps on the stairs, the front door closed, and then the harsh growl of his motorbike made her start.
Wide awake, she jumped out of bed and pulled the curtain back, only to catch a glimpse of his tail light disappearing round the corner. Liberty frowned. What the hell was he doing at this time of night?
Alex sped along the main road. It shouldn’t have surprised him that it was deserted at this time: this was the back of beyond, not the city where life happened around the clock.
After he’d gone up to his room, he’d scrolled through emails and done a little more research on his laptop in the hope of finding a new lead to his sister, then given up and switched off for the night.
But the ache in his shoulder had kept him awake. He’d tried everything: pacing his room, rolling his shoulder to loosen the muscles, listening to soothing music through headphones – nothing had worked. So he’d scooped up his keys and gone out.
Now the night air washed over him like iced water, but he didn’t mind. He needed this: the adrenalin, the pounding in his ears. Previously, his days had been filled with training and riding, testing himself and his bike to the limit. Then, suddenly, nothing.
How would he fill the void in his life where racing had been?
He couldn’t. It seemed impossible, and despair sucked him under.
But as kilometre after kilometre of tarmac whipped by, his thoughts quietened. The speed calmed him, concentration on the road distracting him from the pain. He focused on learning the bends and the straights as he used to learn tracks. There were no chicanes or hairpin corners, but he automatically memorised the roundabouts, junctions and possible flashpoints. He soaked up the solitude and the darkness. They asked no questions, they didn’t judge. It was a relief to be in the moment.
When he got back to the cottage, the pain had dulled, the ugly thoughts dispersed, and his body was weak with exhaustion. He was ready to sink into bed and embrace the respite of sleep. He closed the front door silently, but the dog heard and came scampering into the hall to greet him. Alex led him back to his bed, made sure he was settled, then crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. It was one thirty and he was conscious that Liberty was probably asleep.
‘Do you have to ride that thing so late at night?’ she snapped. ‘You’ve probably woken the whole valley with that noise.’
He climbed the last step and drew level with her. ‘I didn’t realise there was a curfew here.’
‘Of course there isn’t, but you could show a bit of respect for those of us who have work in the morning.’
The guilt crept back. He went on the defensive. ‘I had to go out.’
She folded her arms. ‘Oh, really? At this time?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why? What on earth was so urgent it couldn’t wait until morning?’ A thought seemed to occur and her brows knotted. ‘You weren’t looking for drugs, were you?’
He was shocked, and her suggestion raised his hackles even more. ‘If I’m going to be interrogated on my movements, then I’ll move out first thing in the morning.’
‘You know what? Maybe you should! I’m not sure I want to share my house with someone who has such little thought for other people.’ She stamped back into her room and slammed the door.
Wednesday, 3 December
Alex heard the front door shut as he got up the next morning and guessed that Liberty had gone to work. Through the bathroom window he watched her start her old 2CV. In front of the cottage there was a wide clearing, yet she manoeuvred the car as slowly and carefully as if she were navigating through heavy traffic. He felt relief that he’d missed her – and guilt too.
She’d caught him off guard last night, springing out of the darkness, and then that barb about drugs – was that really the kind of man she thought he was?
But that was no excuse. He regretted what he’d said, how he’d lost his temper.
He’d been on a short fuse ever since he’d arrived here and somehow she seemed to light it each time they met, he wasn’t sure why. He pictured her mane of richly coloured hair and deep brown eyes, but it was her parting shot that preyed on his mind: I’m not sure I want to share my house with someone who has such little thought for other people.
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