We Belong Together

by Beth Moran

  ‘It was amazing, thanks,’ Daniel replied.

  ‘Adequate cleanliness?’

  ‘Faultless,’ I said.

  ‘Right then. Goodnight.’

  After that grilling, she headed upstairs, leaving us to find Dad, Grandma and Hope in the lounge room, watching the end of the ten o’clock news.

  Hope was fast asleep, curled up on a cushion beside Grandma and swaddled in Daniel’s T-shirt.

  ‘She’s been perfect,’ Grandma cooed.

  Dad nodded in agreement, clicking off the television. ‘Right then, we’ll leave you to it. Come on, Mother.’

  ‘I haven’t asked Eleanor and her friend about their evening, yet,’ she protested.

  ‘Well, go on then,’ he said, pointedly checking his watch.

  ‘How was your evening? Did you have a lovely meal?’

  ‘Yes, it was incredible,’ I said.

  ‘The company or the food?’ Grandma asked, throwing an exaggerated wink at Daniel.

  ‘Both were lovely,’ he smiled back.

  ‘Hygiene?’ Dad asked.

  ‘Five stars.’ I rolled my eyes.

  ‘One to add to the guest folder then.’

  ‘Not one to write one of your horrible reviews about,’ Grandma chortled, as Dad stood by the door, impatiently rocking on his heels. ‘Can you remember, she used to say such mean things about places! What a good job you moved to London, Eleanor, and started that nice blog instead before anyone found out!’

  My heart, as if it hadn’t been through enough excitement for one evening, shrivelled to a stop. I would have interrupted her, or changed the subject, but I was too blindsided to think, let alone speak.

  ‘We’d have been shunned throughout the whole town, wouldn’t we, Colin?’ she asked, gripping his arm as she shuffled through the doorway into the foyer. ‘I mean, I know all those things you wrote were true, but you didn’t have to tell everybody, did you? Our customers have the decency to complain to our faces, not spread it all over the paper.’

  Her words faded away as Dad led her upstairs, but they still hung in the air like a giant neon cloud, swirling in front of us.

  ‘Horrible reviews?’ Daniel had picked up Hope and now cradled her against his chest. ‘Your reviews are so positive I needed sunglasses to read them.’

  I shrugged, ignoring the nausea splashing about in my stomach. This was it. I’d been on a date with Daniel. We’d kissed and held hands. He thought inviting me to stay was the second-best decision he’d ever made. He liked me. He liked who I was now. Surely now was the time to tell him who I’d been, before things got more complicated? If this was going to become something worth building on, surely I had to be honest. I’d spent so many years with this double life, pretending to the world that Nora Sharp was a strong, confident, kick-ass woman, while the truth was I daren’t even admit to my own parents that I was her. The thought of laying it all out, having Daniel know, so I could finally talk about it, and more to the point, stop having to worry about whether he’d still like me if he knew, was almost irresistible.

  Almost.

  Because, at the same time… I’d been on a date with Daniel. We’d kissed and held hands, and it had been the best date I’d ever been on. If not the best night ever, full stop. For the first time in far, far too long, I thought I might have someone on my side.

  How could I tell him that I was that person who’d said such horrible things that businesses – maybe even lives – had collapsed as a direct consequence? That I’d been her right up until he found me in that ditch? And I couldn’t even pretend that it was a courageous decision to stop, given that it had taken a gruesome threat to push me into finally resigning.

  I couldn’t risk it.

  I couldn’t risk him.

  I was weak, and stupid, and so, so scared.

  ‘When I worked for the Cumbria Chronicle they wanted more balanced reviews. Some of the places I went to were terrible, and I was honest about it.’

  Ugh. I almost choked on my own hypocrisy.

  ‘Right. That’s fair enough, I suppose.’

  ‘Mmhmm.’ I nodded.

  ‘Do you want a hot drink? It’s still fairly early. I could put Hope down and we could… well. We could talk a bit more? Whisper so we don’t wake her up? Or maybe we could…’

  ‘I’ve had the most amazing evening, thank you so much but I’m honestly exhausted and a little bit tipsy, and Mum and Dad are going to be expecting me to help with breakfast service again. So if you don’t mind I think I really need to go to bed. Sleep. In the Pintail room. Sorry.’

  For the second time that day I ran away from Daniel Perry.

  26

  I spent a long, unpleasant night going over and over how much I hated myself before tumbling into dreams where I was Nora Sharp, writing the worst review ever about the Tufted Duck, and Damson Farm, my words spewing out in a torrent of hate until I realised, with a mixture of relief and disgust, that the reviews were actually all about me.

  An hour flipping hash browns and frying mushrooms before the sun had even come up was a good way to find some perspective. Throw in a mild hangover, my mother’s pragmatic instructions and a mix-up with the baked beans, and by the time Daniel and Hope emerged I was as ready as I was ever going to be to face him.

  ‘Sorry about last night. Again.’ I placed a stack of pancakes and various toppings on the table, and went back to fetch a pot of coffee.

  ‘No, I’m sorry. Again.’ Daniel squinted. ‘Did I totally misread things?’

  ‘No.’ I shook my head, my heart so confused it hurt. ‘I meant it about having an amazing time.’ I dared to peep at him from under my eyelashes. ‘Every time I have with you is amazing.’

  Oh, Eleanor, you are playing with fire. Where are you hoping to go with this?

  Maybe I was hoping to have some more amazing times, with a wonderful man, and see how it goes without overthinking it all! Maybe normal people don’t feel obliged to confess their worst secrets to a potential boyfriend on their first date?

  Maybe.

  Daniel was trying to play it cool, but a flush of pale pink had crept up the side of his neck.

  ‘So, what now?’ he asked, handing Hope a chunk of pancake.

  ‘Um, well, check-out is by eleven, but we don’t have to head straight home, we could go for a walk, or take a boat out on the lake? It’s probably warm enough for a picnic.’

  Daniel smiled. ‘Yes to all of those things. But what now for you and me?’

  To my relief, I managed not to splurt out my mouthful of coffee.

  ‘Um?’

  ‘I know it’s not cool to be applying labels after one date, but we have been living together for two months. I got virtually no sleep last night thinking about you. About us. About whether there was any chance of there being an us.’ He paused to smile at my mum as she strode past, flicking seamlessly back to me the second she’d moved out of earshot. ‘I’m not sure I can bear to go back home not knowing whether there’s at least a chance of being able to kiss you good morning, or stare at you across the dinner table, or ask if you want to stay up late and talk without you running away again.’

  Okay, so I had planned to be strong, play it cool, keep things casual. But come on! How could anyone fail to melt in response to that?

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes, there’s a chance?’ Daniel quirked up one side of his mouth. ‘Can you give me a percentage?’

  ‘Um… one hundred?’

  ‘I’ll take those odds.’ He ducked his head, concentrating on helping Hope with her breakfast, but I’d seen the joy shining in his eyes, and it perfectly matched the delight in mine.

  I shoved the twinge of unease deep down beneath my fluttering stomach, and finished my breakfast.

  It was a movie montage of a day. The sparkling lake reflected a sky the colour of forget-me-nots as we cycled into the town on bikes borrowed from the Tufted Duck’s tourist stash. Stopping for coffee by the shore in the spring sunshine, Hope’s eyes grew round w
ith delight as she jabbered at the ducks quacking around our table. Afterwards, we caught the ferry over to the western side of the Lake, where I knew every trail and bike track, only stopping for lunch once Hope was nodding off in her toddler seat. We ate sandwiches pilfered from the kitchen sitting in a clearing, our coats a makeshift blanket. The air was fresh and sweet, spiced with the scent of earth and trees. The sound of birds and boats drifted across like a long-forgotten mix tape from my youth. Being here with Daniel sent pure joy fizzing through my veins.

  And knowing he felt the same? The way he caught my eye and held it in the warmth of his gaze? The way that his hand kept brushing mine, how the spot he settled down on to eat meant that our shoulders were only millimetres apart… it was like an all-day internal firework display.

  If it hadn’t been for Hope cooing beside us on the coats, I’m certain that a lot more would have happened. But that was fine, the anticipation and gentle flirting was delicious.

  After dropping the bikes back, we loaded up the car and left for home. Even sitting beside Daniel in the car had my skin tingling. At one point, while waiting at a traffic light, he took hold of my hand and rested it in the space between the seats, and those endless seconds before he needed to let go and change gears felt like I was already home.

  We stopped at a roadside café styled as an American diner, sharing steaming bowls of chilli with a mountain of nachos while Hope methodically spread jacket potato and cheese all over her face and hair.

  Night had fallen by the time we arrived back at the farm, and returning to a cold, dark house gave the impression that we had been away far longer than two nights. I did an expert job of tucking a still sleeping Hope into her cot, praying the whole time that she wouldn’t wake up, and ducked into the bathroom to brush my hair, give my teeth a surreptitious clean and try to get my jangling neurones under control.

  The recent sleep-deprived nights and busy days had exhausted me, but there was enough adrenaline whizzing through my bloodstream to keep my senses wide awake.

  Daniel had lit a fire in the living room and switched on the artfully placed table-lamps rather than the main overhead light.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d prefer wine or tea?’ he asked, rising to his feet as I walked in.

  I checked the time on the clock above the fireplace. Just after eight. ‘Wine?’

  ‘Perfect.’ He picked up a full glass from the sideboard and handed it to me.

  ‘Sure enough, then?’

  Daniel smiled. ‘I lied. I was completely sure, I just thought you might be offended if I told you.’

  ‘Well, now I’m doubly offended that you must think there’s something wrong with me wanting a glass of wine to end a virtually perfect day.’

  ‘I’m going to assume you mean, “thank you for being so thoughtful and anticipating how much I would appreciate a glass of much-nicer-than-our-usual-supermarket wine, you are virtually the most incredible, considerate man I’ve ever met”.’

  ‘Assume away.’ I took a sip. It was indeed nicer than usual, so I took another one.

  ‘A virtually perfect day?’ Daniel’s voice had dropped to that soft rumble that caused my stomach to flip over. Instead of picking up his own glass, he took mine and placed it back on the sideboard, then stepped right up close to me and took hold of my hand. ‘Where did I mess up?’

  I managed to stifle my nervous giggle into a smile. ‘I cooked breakfast for a full house before you even got up. And as much as I’m used to it, a cursory two second goodbye from my parents still brings back painful memories.’ I lifted our clasped hands and gently bumped them on his chest. ‘The rest of it was perfect.’

  ‘So there’s nothing I can do to make it any better?’ His mouth was so close to mine I could practically taste the trace of wine on his breath.

  ‘How about you stop talking, and we’ll see if we can figure it out?’

  Being curled up on the sofa with Daniel was virtually perfect. All the times I’d imagined how well I would fit tucked up against his chest were now proven to be right. We sipped our sophisticated wine and kissed and chatted, and it was lovelier than I could have dreamed of.

  I say virtually perfect, because as beautiful as all this felt, my traitorous brain couldn’t stop thinking. It kept rewinding to the conversations I’d had with my family about the mystery caller. I knew it was one of the Alamis. Who else would call the Tufted Duck, several times, pretending to be a school friend?

  Now I was home, awareness of the phone hidden in my bedroom above, unchecked for a whole three days, loomed like a sinister shadow over my head. The more I tried to ignore it, and enjoy the rest of the evening – it wasn’t as though checking it now or later on was going to change anything – the greater the shadow grew.

  In the end, I fudged an excuse about wanting to get changed into something more comfortable. ‘Literally more comfortable,’ I warned Daniel with as light-hearted a smile as I could summon. ‘It’s not a euphemism for “something sexier that is in actuality far more uncomfortable”. I’m thinking a pair of leggings and a jumper.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks for the clarification. But having lived with you for two months, I was expecting your fluffy pyjamas and that ugly green sweatshirt.’ He tugged on a strand of hair. ‘It was when I started to find even the sweatshirt sexy that I knew I was in trouble.’

  How on earth was I supposed to resist falling head over heels for this man?

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ He followed me out, pulling me closer to snatch another kiss before I scampered upstairs.

  My shame expanded with every loving gesture Daniel gave me. The better things got, the worse I felt and I had no idea what to do about it.

  I opened the drawer and waited anxiously for the phone to warm up, heart thudding for entirely different reasons than it had a couple of hours ago.

  Two new messages. One sent on Monday, the day we left:

  Time we talked in person.

  Another this morning, at 4.30 a.m. It somehow felt worse that this had slithered into my phone when I was sleeping, even if it had been miles away from me, and switched off:

  See you soon.

  It was a threat. Meant to cause every hair to stand on end.

  A threat, no more real or present than the hundreds of promises to mutilate and murder Nora Sharp. No one who knew I was Nora had the faintest idea where I was.

  Unless they’d been staking out the Tufted Duck, and then followed me home.

  No! No. I flung off that preposterous notion with the contempt it deserved. No one would be that crazily obsessed with finding me. Nora Sharp had made one comment about the quality of restaurant entertainment. She had not been responsible for what happened to Layla Alami. Even if one grief-stricken woman thought it was worth giving up months of her life staking out a tiny B & B in Windermere for, the rest of the family would have intervened.

  I was pretty sure of it.

  Being sure of something in your rational head and getting the message through to your quivering, jellified limbs is another matter. I hastily swapped my muddy jeans and light-weight top for a pair of soft leggings and an oversized jumper, and did my best to stick on a suitable expression for one of the best nights of my life.

  I found Daniel poking another log onto the fire.

  ‘Hey!’ he smiled, nodding to where he’d laid out a pot of tea and a plate of cheese and crackers.

  ‘I know we had a massive dinner, but we skipped dessert. This was the closest I could find.’

  ‘It’s perfect.’

  He grinned.

  I waited until we’d settled down with plates and mugs before I spoke again.

  ‘These past few days have been fantastic. Genuinely. And I was serious about wanting to… be more than friends.’

  ‘That’s good, considering the number of times you’ve kissed me since we got back.’

  ‘But, well. You don’t have to try so hard.’

  He sat back, frowning. ‘What?’

  Oh crap. How w
as I going to do this?

  ‘What I’m trying to say is… this is still very new. There’s this whole added layer of complications because we share a house, and I sort of work for you and you’re a Director of Damson Farm Retreats. A lot of people would say it’s disastrous to even think about adding the hassle of a relationship on top of that.’

  ‘I don’t consider being in a relationship with you a hassle. Is that how you see it?’

  ‘No! No. But I don’t expect us to seamlessly transition into being a romantic couple without any issues, either. Even normal couples have stuff to work out as they go.’

  ‘So why is me trying hard a problem?’ Daniel shook his head, as if baffled.

  It took a moment to try to come up with the right words.

  ‘I don’t want us to add any unnecessary pressure, that’s all.’ I paused to rub my face. It would be a lot easier to convince Daniel of this nonsense if I believed it myself. ‘I guess I’m concerned we might rush this into being more serious than it is.’

  ‘So, what is it?’ Daniel’s voice was steady, but his eyes flashed with hurt. ‘Because from where I’m sitting, it was dinner, followed by a day out and a plate of cheese and crackers.’

  ‘And kissing.’

  ‘Are you saying you don’t want us to keep kissing?’

  I want us to keep kissing so much my face aches. I want to keep kissing you for the rest of my life.

  ‘No! No. I love this. I love kissing you. I loved dinner and our day out and the cheese. I think I’m saying that I’m scared by how much I love it, I’m scared that I don’t know how to do this properly, and so can we please stick with this while I take some time to catch my breath.’

  Daniel picked up his mug of what must by now be freezing cold tea. ‘Are you talking about sex? Because the leggings and jumper were enough of a hint.’ He gazed at me over the rim of his mug, and I was very tempted to peel off my comfortable clothes right there and then.

  ‘Um. Partly? I’m also talking about how we are and what we say to other people.’ I took a deep breath. The look in Daniel’s eyes coupled with the notion of sex floating about between us had rendered me more than a little flustered. ‘If we didn’t live or work together, we’d be at the casual dating stage about now. Can we keep it there for the moment?’