She placed a gentle kiss on his lips. ‘I don’t trust myself.’
*
If Saturday was an unexpectedly enjoyable dream, then Sunday turned into a miserable nightmare.
It started out well enough. Charles asked Hettie about the wedding, teased her about Steve and demanded to know what information she was withholding (most of the evening and especially the kisses). To her relief, he gave in gracefully with his loveable, boyish grin and proceeded to show her what he’d been up to while she was being romanced.
They ate lunch in the sunshine on the back patio – so far, so good – and then Charles glanced at his watch.
‘I have to leave in an hour or so. How about a game of tag? Work off lunch?’
‘Tag?’
‘Why not? You used to love it when we were kids.’
Hettie was about to point out that they weren’t kids anymore, but the wistful look in his eyes stopped her.
‘Fine. But I’m not as quick as I used to be. I need a head start. Count to ten first.’ She eyed his long legs. ‘Make that twenty.’ Without waiting for a reply, she was off, streaking across the sloping, overgrown lawn like a hare.
When Steve appeared twenty minutes later, Hettie and Charles were embroiled in a red-faced tussle on the grass at the back of the house, Charles pinning her underneath him as she wriggled to get away.
‘Tagged you!’
‘Didn’t!’
‘Did!’
‘Didn’t – Oh! Steve!’ Hettie brushed hair back from her face in an effort to appear civilised. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘Clearly.’
Hettie took in his expression. It wasn’t friendly.
‘I’ve spent ten minutes searching the house for you,’ he said curtly. ‘I was getting worried. The screaming didn’t help.’
‘Ah. Sorry. We were –’ Still out of breath – crikey, she’d allowed herself to get unfit lately – Hettie wafted a hand vaguely.
Releasing her, Charles picked up the slack. ‘Reliving childhood memories. Playing games.’
‘Games. Yes. So I see.’
‘I’d better get ready.’ Casting a quick glance at Hettie, Charles skirted widely around Steve and scarpered into the house.
‘I assumed he’d have already gone.’ Steve’s voice was tight.
Hettie frowned. What on earth had come over him? ‘He’s about to go.’
‘What time are you setting off for London?’ It sounded more like a police interrogation than a question from a friend.
Disconcerted, Hettie mumbled, ‘In a couple of hours. Did you come for a reason?’
‘I came to say goodbye.’
‘Well, I’ll be back next weekend, I suppose.’ Hettie’s good mood had dissipated rapidly. It felt like there was a wall of ice between them. ‘Steve, what’s wrong? Is it – is it to do with last night?’
‘It’s not about last night!’ His outburst startled her. ‘Well, yes, it is. But it’s more about that cousin of yours.’
Hettie stared at him. ‘What has Charles got to do with anything?’
‘Don’t you know?’ Exasperated, he said, ‘You and I have been getting pretty close, Hettie. Especially last night. But whenever Charles is around, you’re giggling and hugging and – I don’t know how to even begin to describe what that was just now.’
‘It was a game of tag.’
‘It all looks rather familiar to me.’
Hettie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you jealous of him?’
‘Would that be so unnatural?’
Taken aback, Hettie lost her cool. ‘It would be stupid.’ But even as she said it, she realised he was serious. ‘Steve, all those tales I told you about my childhood holidays here with Charles… Did I ever suggest there was anything other than affection between us?’
‘Childhood is one thing. Now you’re adults. Very affectionate adults.’
‘Yes, but that’s rather different to what you’re suggesting. I can’t believe you’re so upset about it.’
‘I thought we had a connection, Hettie. Something special.’ He dragged in a long breath. ‘OK. I accept that the jealousy is stupid, but I can’t help feeling it. What you and Charles have is solid and unbreakable. What you and I have is new and fragile. It’s hard, the idea of you going back to London while I fade into a distant memory.’
‘You know I’ll be back for the odd weekend. Besides, I – I had no idea you felt that way.’
Steve threw his arms out in frustration. ‘What did you think?’
‘I thought we were becoming good friends.’ With tingles whenever you smiled at me. A racing pulse whenever you laughed with me.
‘You never had a relationship born out of friendship?’ Steve demanded. ‘Isn’t friendship the best basis for a relationship? And what about last night?’
Ah. ‘I suppose I put that down to the moonlight and music.’ Although she’d spent a restless night reliving it.
‘That’s all? Was it in my imagination, the attraction between us?’
‘No! It’s there for me, too. But…’ Hettie sighed. ‘I didn’t think you’d want it to go anywhere. We’ll be living separate lives again soon.’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘We should have talked. And I suppose I didn’t know what I wanted.’
Hettie’s heart thudded against her ribcage. ‘Does that mean that you know now?’
‘Maybe. But I’m not sure it makes any difference. You’re leaving, and I’m staying.’
A hollowness gnawed at Hettie’s insides. ‘Wouldn’t we keep in touch?’
‘The odd e-mail or text? That’s not what I had in mind, Hettie.’
‘Then what?’ Hettie almost shouted, frustration getting the better of her.
‘Look, I’m glad we’re friends. But I want more than that. After yesterday, I hoped you did, too. Long-distance relationships are hard, though, and we’d both have to be committed. I get the impression you’re not so keen. So, I guess it can’t be helped.’ He shook his head. ‘It can’t be helped.’
And without giving her a chance to reply – not that she had any idea what she would say – he turned on his heel and left, shoulders sloping, chin down to his chest.
‘Well!’ Hettie slid onto the nearest chair, her head reeling.
Steve was right about one thing – it was no use envisaging a relationship. What he was wrong about was her perceived indifference. She’d loved his company. Her responses to his smile, his laugh, over the fortnight she’d been in Haven Bridge should have warned her well before they danced together that he was becoming more than a friend.
When Charles came downstairs with his bags, he didn’t say anything, for which she was grateful. After waving him off, she packed her own stuff on automatic pilot.
The drive back to London was too long a time to be alone with her thoughts.
And the following week back in London was too long to be without Steve. At work, she managed to ignore the pangs by keeping busy. The evenings were another matter. Chatting with her flatmates over cups of tea, watching TV, trying to concentrate on reading a book… The way she usually spent her evenings paled when she remembered the warm laughter and animated chatter she’d shared with Steve at Alex’s house.
*
The following weekend saw Hettie once more at the house in Haven Bridge. All the hard work she’d put into sorting things out meant it didn’t feel lived in any more. Alex’s presence was already fading. And Steve’s.
He hadn’t been in contact all week, despite the fact they had things to discuss with regard to Alex’s estate. She’d even e-mailed Charles to see if he’d heard anything as co-executor. He’d said not and asked if everything was OK. She’d lied and told him it was.
But it wasn’t, and here she was spending her Saturday mooching unproductively about the house. Huffing, she put the kettle on for yet another so-called soothing cup of chamomile tea that soothed nothing at all.
A knock at the door made her jump.
‘Cooey! Hope you don’t mind, H
ettie, dear.’ Miss Moonshine breezed in, today in tight jeans that showed off her svelte figure, a vest-tee covered with a giant flapping man’s shirt, and her favourite biker boots.
‘Miss Moonshine. What can I do for you?’
‘I was passing, so I thought I’d pop in. I wondered if you could give me any idea how much more junk Alex has let me in for?’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘A cup of tea would be nice. And a chat.’
Uncomfortable under her gaze, Hettie turned back to the kettle.
She knew. The woman knew something was wrong. It was like she had a sixth sense.
Hettie carried the tea to the sunroom, and they sat genteelly sipping from the old china tea set like ladies in an Oscar Wilde play.
‘How did the wedding go last week?’ Miss Moonshine’s voice was casual, but her hazel eyes were sharp.
‘Very well, thank you. The dress was perfect. Oh, wait. I still have your earrings.’ Keen to avoid interrogation, Hettie ran upstairs to retrieve them.
‘Thank you,’ Miss Moonshine said as Hettie handed them over. ‘I have a customer with a reserve on them.’
That was a shame. Hettie might have bought them for herself. Ah, well.
Miss Moonshine clicked her tongue and put her teacup down. ‘Isn’t there anything you want to talk about, Hettie?’
Caught like a rabbit in headlights, Hettie stuttered, ‘Like what?’
‘Like how you’ve been getting on with Steve like a house on fire and now you’re conflicted because you think it could go somewhere, but it can’t because you live so far apart and neither of you is in a position to do much about it?’
‘You can’t know that.’
Miss Moonshine gave her a look. ‘Any idiot with eyes could see the attraction between you two. As for the rest, put it down to logic or intuition – whichever you believe in more – aided by the way Steve has been stomping along the street past my shop every day, temper and misery emanating off him.’
‘Ah.’ Hettie sighed. ‘Anyway, there’s no solution.’
Miss Moonshine wagged a finger at her. ‘Rubbish. You could start out with a long-distance relationship. Test the water.’
‘I’m not sure either of us wants that, Miss Moonshine. Too tiring. Too painful if it doesn’t work out. Even more painful if it does.’
‘Why could neither of you move?’
‘Steve’s not a city boy. I couldn’t expect him to go back to something he hated. And it’s taken him time to build up a reputation here. It would be unreasonable to expect him to start all over again.’
‘I understand that. But do you love London so much?’
Hettie fell silent for a moment. ‘I thought so,’ she finally said. ‘But it’s so nice here, the way people know each other and nod to each other on the street. It feels comfortable. Still, I do love my job.’
‘Couldn’t you find something similar here?’
‘Vacancies like that will be few and far between,’ Hettie said.
Miss Moonshine reached into her bag, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over. On it were online links to two admin vacancies at the University of Bradford.
When Hettie merely stared at them, Miss Moonshine filled the silence. ‘Would it be so hard for you to change course a little, Hettie? Perhaps it’s time to decide what matters to you and to chase after those things instead of the things you’ve conditioned yourself to want.’
‘Maybe.’ Hettie’s voice was small. ‘Maybe.’
*
Steve didn’t come to the house at all that day. Hettie still felt sick at the way things had been left between them the previous weekend.
She couldn’t resist looking up the links Miss Moonshine had given her. One job wasn’t her area of expertise. The other was. It would be a pay grade higher, too. Even so, Hettie wasn’t sure she wanted to uproot herself on the faint promise of a romance. What she did know was that moving to Haven Bridge appealed in its own right, and that was important. If she did move, and it didn’t work out between her and Steve – a possibility, despite Miss Moonshine’s predictions – she had to want to be there for herself.
Sleep was elusive that night.
*
Hettie was steeling herself to phone Steve the next morning, hopefully to clear the air between them, if nothing else, when there was a knock at the door.
That was a bad sign, she thought, as she opened it to find Steve standing there. He’d always let himself in before.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
The awkwardness was painful.
‘Coffee?’
‘Please.’
She made them both a strong one, and he followed her to the sunroom, perching awkwardly on the edge of a cane chair.
‘I came to apologise for last Sunday,’ he said. ‘I lost the plot a bit.’
Hettie shook her head. ‘You said things that needed to be said. If you hadn’t, I would have gone back to London not knowing how you felt.’
‘But I was abrupt. I left so suddenly because I didn’t want to say anything I’d regret.’ He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small package wrapped in tissue. ‘I brought you a present.’
‘Thank you.’ Hettie unwrapped the tissue to reveal the silver and amethyst earrings Miss Moonshine had lent her for the wedding. ‘You bought these?’
‘You looked so beautiful that night, and they suited you so perfectly, I couldn’t imagine anyone else wearing them. I thought you might like them as a reminder of your time here.’
And of me. His unspoken words hung in the air between them.
‘They’re beautiful.’ Hettie fingered the hammered silver and the smooth polished stones, knowing they were her favourite piece of jewellery already. A jolt of happiness ran through her fingers, as though sent by the stones themselves.
She closed her eyes as Miss Moonshine’s words came back to her. ‘Would it be so hard for you to change course a little, Hettie? Perhaps it’s time to decide what matters to you and to chase after those things instead of the things you’ve conditioned yourself to want.’
Hettie reached out to take Steve’s hand. ‘What would you say if I told you there’s a vacancy at the university in Bradford?’
Steve stared at her, hope in his eyes. ‘I’d say, “Go for it”.’
‘I might not get it.’
‘You can only take one step at a time, Hettie. You’re really thinking of moving up here?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know I wouldn’t ask you to do that for me, don’t you? I couldn’t bear the idea you might move here for us and then be unhappy.’
‘I’m doing it for me. Haven Bridge is where I want to be. As for “us”?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Steve, we haven’t known each other long…’
‘That doesn’t make any difference, if there’s something there. You know there is. I know there is.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Even Miss Moonshine knows there is.’
A sudden thought came to Hettie. ‘You know, Alex had an awful lot of relatives he could have chosen to be executors. I assumed he chose Charles and me because we loved the house so much. But… Steve, you don’t think he did it because he was trying to get you and me together, do you?’
Steve smiled. ‘Would you put it past him?’
Hettie thought about it. ‘No. But it was a heck of a long shot.’
Steve moved across to sit next to her on the sofa. ‘Well, I for one am glad he played it.’ Pulling her close, his hand curled around the back of her neck and his other arm tightened around her waist. ‘Go for the job, Hettie,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘Move up here. Give us a chance. You won’t regret it, I promise.’
As his lips closed over hers, his heart beating steadily against her own, Hettie knew he was right about that.
She would have no regrets.
The End
Author Bio As a child, Helen Pollard had a vivid imagination fuelled by her love of reading, so she started to create her own stories in a notebook. She still prefers fictional wor
lds to real life, believes characterisation is the key to a successful book, and enjoys infusing her writing with humour and heart. Find out more about Helen
Miss Moonshine Says, ‘Go!’
by
Angela Wren
Saturday
In the early morning sunshine, Charlotte’s gleaming black bodywork shone. There was just something about a rally day and the sight of the 1936 4-4 two-seater Morgan that made Maddie’s heart beat faster. Strictly speaking, the Morgan was her dad’s car, but she had worked on it alongside her father since she was a teenager. Now, at the age of 28, Maddie was co-owner with her dad of a repair and bodyshop that specialised in work on old vehicles. Business was good, and that same business enabled Maddie and her dad to take advantage of tours and rallies like The North Yorkshire Oldies’ Tour of the Dales. At least, that was how it was supposed to be.
Maddie broke into a steady trot, her eyes focused on the car in its designated spot in the paddock. To everyone else in Haven Bridge, the paddock was just the station car park – used every working day of the week by commuters.
I hope Raych makes it on time, Maddie thought, as she drew level with the car. As always, she circled it, patted the bonnet and let a self-satisfied grin spread across her face.
‘Well, old girl, it might be just you and me today, if Raych doesn’t get here.’
A tall, athletic man in overalls and a padded jacket strode from the officials’ table across to one of the cars a few spaces away.
Maddie moved swiftly around her open-top car, releasing the fastenings on the cover that protected the interior. Once folded, she laid the cover on the passenger seat, before reaching behind for the two small ramps that would enable her to get under the vehicle to check the suspension and brakes. She placed the ramps in front of the wheels and drove the car slowly into position. Then she pulled her arms out of her dad’s black, full-length driving coat and left it on her seat. Another reminder that her father couldn’t be there.
With the car up on its portable ramps, Maddie quickly located the spanner she needed for the checks on the brakes and suspension. She glanced across the paddock. The man in the overalls was now standing beside a car she also recognised, talking to someone else. Yup, that’s him, she thought. She lowered herself onto her trolley and pushed herself under the car to begin her usual work.
Miss Moonshine's Emporium of Happy Endings: A feel-good collection of heartwarming stories Page 16
