by Liz Eeles
I wander to the end of the winding track that leads to the cottage and look along the lane but I obviously didn’t chop-chop quickly enough because Daniel’s nowhere in sight. He’s got such long legs that he walks really quickly. With a sigh, I start walking as quickly as I can, away from Honeyford and towards the farm that supplies Luna with the vegetables she can’t source from her own garden.
The lane is narrow and quiet and lined with trees. A light aircraft is droning overhead and a small bird is hopping along a Cotswold-stone wall that’s covered with moss. There’s a smell of hot, parched earth and honeysuckle in the air. And I’m rushing to catch up with a man who thinks I’m an idiot who’s terrible with kids.
I stop and squint into the distance. Nope, no sign of him. Malcolm always saunters along but Daniel obviously strides out. I puff on up the lane, almost running now, and rush around the corner, straight into the path of a dark figure who steps out from behind a tree.
‘Hell’s bells!’ I yell, instinctively putting my hands up kung-fu style.
Daniel slowly shakes his head. ‘Are you following me, Mrs Morgan?’
My heart rate starts returning to normal as Daniel tilts his head towards my still-raised hands. ‘I presume you’re planning to karate chop me to death.’
I lower them, feeling ridiculous. ‘Will you please, for the love of all that’s holy, stop making me jump. There’s only so much my heart can take.’
Daniel twists his mouth into a sardonic smile. ‘I’m sorry if I startled you but I don’t like being stalked.’
‘I’m not stalking you,’ I splutter.
‘And yet, here we are,’ says Daniel, his eyebrows shooting up and almost meeting his hairline. He’s got a point. The last time he startled me, I was in his bedroom rifling through his bedside table.
‘It’s Luna’s fault. She suggested I should go out for a walk and catch up with you. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Something about getting it on with Mother Earth.’
‘That does sound like my mother,’ he admits.
‘I wasn’t trying to intrude on your walk, anyway. I just wanted to speak to you about Caleb.’
Daniel’s face clouds over. ‘Please tell me you didn’t chase me along the lane so you can tell tales about him.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘My son mentioned that you shouted at him for climbing the oak tree.’
‘I didn’t shout at him like that, and I don’t tell tales on anyone. I’m not a child, for goodness’ sake. I saw Caleb in the tree and I thought he might fall. That was all. I wasn’t telling him off. I was worried that he might hurt himself. I’m just not great at talking to kids.’
‘You think?’ murmurs Daniel, but his face softens. ‘I apologise for thinking the worst about you. Thank you for looking out for Caleb, but he wouldn’t have fallen. He’s been climbing that tree for years.’
‘I figured as much, but he was upset and I thought he might lose his concentration and fall.’
Daniel stops scuffing his shoes and looks up. ‘What was he upset about?’
‘I don’t know. I did ask but he wouldn’t say. That’s why I was following you – so I could tell you that something’s bothering Caleb, and he’ll probably talk to you about whatever it is. That’s all.’ A silence stretches between us. ‘Well, I’ve told you now, so I’ll leave you to your walk and head for home.’
I’ve turned around and started walking back the way I came when Daniel calls out. ‘I was walking to the lake, if you fancy walking with me.’
I stop and look back over my shoulder. ‘There’s a lake?’
A faint smile plays across Daniel’s full mouth. ‘There is. Well, don’t get your hopes up because it’s more of a pond really. But it’s a big pond. With dragonflies.’ When he moves his arm, I think for a moment he’s about to hold out his hand, but he’s simply brushing a smudge of dust from his thigh. ‘Would you like to see it?’
I hesitate because I’ve delivered my message and I should head back to Starlight Cottage. Malcolm wouldn’t approve of me wandering off to a lake with a handsome man. He doesn’t approve of walking for the sake of it – he always takes the car.
‘OK,’ I reply, before I can change my mind.
Daniel waits for me to walk back to him before setting off again at a cracking pace, with me scurrying to keep up.
After a while, he veers left into a bank of trees dripping with blossom and I follow behind him. It’s cooler in here, with patches of sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy. A twig under my foot cracks with the sound of a rifle shot, and two tiny rabbits shoot out of the undergrowth and across my path.
Isn’t it funny how life can change so quickly? That’s what strikes me as I walk along behind Daniel, with birds singing above us. Not so long ago, everything was normal. I lived with a man who ran a restaurant and my actions were largely ruled by what he wanted. In return, my life was predictable, ordered and safe. Then, I put my head above the parapet, took over a failing bookshop and opened a café. And now, only a couple of months later, I’m walking through a wood with a man who’s… dangerous. Not physically dangerous. But when I’m with Daniel I feel uncomfortable and slightly out of control – not my usual sensible self at all. It’s obviously best if I keep out of his way, and yet I’ve deliberately sought him out this evening.
But I can hardly run off now, so I put my head down and follow in his footsteps, between the trees. After walking in silence for a few minutes we emerge from the undergrowth into a large clearing. Banks of trees are reflected in a circular lake that’s dotted with blooms of green algae. It’s perfectly peaceful here. An oasis of calm amid the maelstrom of everyday life.
Daniel stops walking and opens his arms wide. ‘This is rather grandly known by the locals as Honeyheaven Lake, though you might conclude that it’s more of a stagnant pond.’
‘It is rather pond-like,’ I agree, shading my eyes to look at the trees growing on the opposite bank. Branches are trailing in the water and a sudden breeze sends ripples across the surface.
‘How did you know that Caleb was upset?’ asks Daniel, in one of the swift changes of subject I’m starting to get used to.
I brush blossom from my hair and watch as it floats to the ground. ‘He looked distressed and he was hiccupping as though he couldn’t catch his breath.’
‘He does that when he’s been crying. I could tell something wasn’t right with him, but I thought it was you. Sorry.’ Daniel sighs and runs a hand across his jaw, which is dark with stubble. ‘I’ve no idea what’s wrong with him. Caleb keeps things from me sometimes because he wants to protect me. It’s daft really when I should be the one protecting him.’ A tremor of emotion passes across his face and he turns away, as though he’s embarrassed.
‘Why don’t we stop for a minute and have a breather in the sunshine?’ I suggest, gently.
I wander over to a fallen log near the water’s edge and sit down. Daniel follows and sits beside me with his arms crossed. I’d love to know more about Caleb but I don’t have the courage to ask. Daniel’s such a private man and I can’t imagine he’d want to open up to a virtual stranger.
So we sit in silence for a while, watching electric-blue dragonflies skimming the lake, and swallows swooping and diving above the trees.
It’s perfectly peaceful until I rub my fingers along the rough bark of our makeshift seat and a glossy fat beetle scurries out. Eew! Spiders might top my hit list of creatures to avoid but beetles come a close second.
Malcolm’s used to me leaping about and yelling when anything with more than four legs comes close. He’s very good at removing scary creatures. But I don’t want to act like a total prat in front of Daniel, so I grit my teeth and sit still, apart from pulling my top firmly down over the waistband of my trousers – bugs crawling up my jumper would prompt a meltdown.
‘How’s your job going?’ I ask after another couple of minutes, watching the beetle disappear into the long grass that’s curlin
g around the log.
‘OK. Good, I guess. It’s just a job, isn’t it? I get there at half past eight and leave at half past five and it helps me to care for my son and it helps Luna to pay the bills. Starlight Cottage is a bit of a money pit.’
‘I bet. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why don’t you call her Mum?’
‘I do, sometimes. But she likes us using her chosen name. She says it helps to distance her from her shadow self.’
‘Her what?’
Daniel shrugs. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’ When he gives a sudden smile, his face lights up. ‘She’s always been interested in magic and alternative stuff. But it really ramped up after she lost my dad five years ago. She changed her name, moved to the cottage and opened the shop. She reinvented herself.’
‘I’m really sorry to hear about your dad. I lost my mum a few years back and my dad at the end of last year.’
‘That must have been tough,’ he says, softly. ‘Losing the people you love is hard.’
‘Yes, it is.’
We both sit for a while, watching a duck and two tiny ducklings swim past. Their bodies leave a clear trail in the water where the algae has been pushed aside.
‘What was your mum’s name before she became Luna?’ I ask when the silence overstretches.
Daniel taps the side of his nose. ‘That would be telling and she’d have to kill you if you found out.’
I laugh. ‘Muriel? Evelyn? Gertrude?’
‘Does she look like a Gert?’ snorts Daniel.
‘Nope. She looks exactly like other-worldly Luna, goddess of the moon.’
When Daniel grins, the furrow between his eyebrows softens and he looks less fierce. ‘She does. And she’s happy now, which is all that matters, whatever her name is.’ He looks at me sideways. ‘What about you?’
‘My name’s always been Flora.’
‘You know that’s not what I meant. I wondered how you were coping without Malcolm.’
‘Oh, you know,’ I say, taken aback that Daniel has bothered to remember my husband’s name.
‘No, I don’t know or I wouldn’t have asked.’
Crikey. Daniel’s conversational style is so different from Malcolm’s that it keeps taking me by surprise. Malcolm is all bonhomie and jokes and schmoozing, while Daniel cuts through all that and is just… well, blunt.
I shake my head. ‘I’m not sure. The shock of discovering Malcolm had been… you know. That’s worn off a bit. I feel more numb about it now, as though it happened to someone else. It helps that I’m keeping busy in the shop and café, and getting involved in the Charter Day celebrations. Millicent, who belongs to our book club, knows S.R. Kinsley and is going to ask him to do a reading and talk in the shop on the day.’
‘Wow, the S.R. Kinsley? That would be a real coup for Honeyford. I’ve read all of his books.’ Daniel seems genuinely impressed and I mentally cross my fingers that Millicent will come up trumps.
‘It’s not confirmed, but I’m hopeful. Actually, I’m hopeful about the whole event. We’re doing a bake-off in The Cosy Kettle, the café book club want to join the parade through the town, and I’m desperate for it all to be a great success.’
‘Why?’ asks Daniel, shifting round on the log so he’s facing me. His knee is pressing against mine until I move my leg.
‘To promote my business.’
Daniel tilts his head to one side and waits, as though he knows I’m not telling him the whole truth. Damn him and his loaded silences; I feel compelled to leap in and fill them.
‘I want to be a part of the local community and I think contributing to Charter Day and making a success of things might help people think of me as being one of them. It gets a bit lonely when you don’t feel a part of something.’
Daniel nods. ‘Honeyford’s a very close-knit place and it takes a while for people to really accept you. Luna can tell you all about that.’ He picks up a stone and hurls it towards the pond. It plops into the water and green circles ripple away from the impact. ‘So has your husband been very involved in the bookshop?’
‘He’s supportive,’ I say, because that’s what I always say about Malcolm, even when it’s not entirely true.
‘That’s good.’
‘It is good.’
We both stare across the water as white puffs of cloud bubble up behind the trees, and the truth bubbles up inside me.
‘OK, I’ll tell you,’ I blurt out. ‘The restaurant is Malcolm’s thing. I took on the shop and invested in the café and he sees them as my hobby, really. I don’t think he approves.’
‘Hobby? Have you supported him with the restaurant?’ asks Daniel, apparently unfazed by my torrent of truth.
‘Of course.’
‘Yet he hasn’t supported you with your business venture? That sounds rather unfair.’
He’s right. It is unfair. But Daniel criticising Malcolm – a man he doesn’t know – doesn’t seem fair either. My husband is more than a career-obsessed adulterer. He can be kind and caring and supportive or I’d never have stayed married to him for twenty years.
I take a deep breath. ‘Malcolm does take an interest in my business. He’s texted that he’s coming into the shop tomorrow to talk to me.’
‘How good of him,’ murmurs Daniel.
‘He’s a very busy man,’ I protest. Though not too busy to have an affair with a member of his staff, says the little voice in my head.
Maybe my face gives away what I’m thinking, but Daniel runs his hands through his thick hair and his shoulders slump. ‘I’m sorry. Your life and your marriage are none of my business and I shouldn’t be critical. I’m afraid my mouth runs away with me sometimes, even when I try not to be blunt.’
‘Perhaps you should try harder?’ When I raise an eyebrow at Daniel, he hesitates and then laughs. He looks completely different when he’s laughing – less weighed down by the woes of the world.
‘Do you know, I wasn’t always like this.’ He closes his eyes and lifts his face towards the sky that’s fading from perfect azure to pale blue as the sun slips lower. ‘I changed after Emma died. I shut down and, even though it’s been years and Caleb and I are getting on with our lives, I sometimes think I haven’t fully come back. What I’m trying to say is, I can be a bit of an ass at times.’
A muscle in his jaw is pulsing and, when he swallows hard as though it’s taking every ounce of energy he possesses to keep himself together, my indignation fades away.
‘It’s all right. It must be hard, getting over what you’ve both been through.’
‘It is. And I would imagine that the break-up of a marriage is also very difficult.’ He clears his throat. ‘By the way, do feel free to tell me any time that you can’t believe I could ever be a bit of an ass.’
‘I will… bear that in mind.’
When he grins at me, he suddenly seems more dangerous than ever.
I stand quickly and brush bits of bark from my trousers. ‘Hadn’t we better be getting back before it gets dark? Or Luna will send out a search party.’
Daniel slowly gets to his feet and stretches his arms above his head. ‘I guess so, though Luna would just look in her crystal ball to find out where we are.’
Has Luna really got a crystal ball? I wonder as Daniel walks off. Oh, come on, Flora. Of course she has.
When I fall into step beside Daniel, he glances down at me and says gruffly, ‘Thanks for telling me Caleb was upset. I’ll have a word with him about it.’ Then he heads back into the wood, with me following behind, along the narrow path that’s edged with trailing ivy.
Our walk back to Starlight Cottage is mostly silent, apart from the occasional bit of small talk. I’m tempted to talk about Day of Desire – to tell him I’ve read it and loved it and deliver the critique that he requested. But that would only remind him of me snooping around in his bedroom, so I decide to save that conversation for another day.
Chapter Eleven
Becca is stressing out about the Honeyford Bake-Off. She
was excited about it at first and I was relieved to hand the arrangements over to her. Callie is spending so many hours at the hotel coffee house now and most of my time is taken up in the bookshop. But Becca has started pacing today, which is a bad sign. She almost wore a groove in The Cosy Kettle’s painted floor when her anxiety levels shot up just before the café opened. And now she’s pacing in front of me in the shop – up and down, past the till and ‘Fiction A-C’.
She’s also gone for her anxious goth look today, which always hints at inner turmoil. She’s dressed head-to-toe in black and has dyed her short hair navy blue overnight. It’s harsh against her pale skin, making her look anaemic and unwell.
‘Becca, what’s the matter?’ I ask, one eye on the door because I’m expecting Malcolm any second and my stomach is turning somersaults.
‘Nothing, not really. Aren’t you going to eat your snack?’
Becca says ‘snack’, I say mid-morning blowout. I stare at the tall vanilla latté and the huge slice of strawberry cake that Becca’s plonked in front of me. The sponge is drenched in strawberry syrup, sandwiched together with fresh cream, and studded with plump red fruit. At this rate I’ll regain every pound I’ve lost since my marriage imploded, and then some. Malcolm would not approve. He’s packing a bit of extra weight himself but he always tuts if I so much as look at anything sweet.
‘Would you rather have a profiterole instead or a cherry tart?’ she stutters. ‘Or you could have a cream scone, but I know you love strawberries and I thought you’d prefer this. I should have asked rather than just assuming you—’
‘You assumed perfectly because this is exactly what I’d have chosen,’ I say quickly, before Becca’s anxiety can spiral even more. Normally a woman of few words, she becomes more loquacious when her stress levels soar.
I take a small bite of the cake to please her, and then another one because it’s absolutely delicious. The rose-pink sponge is so light it almost dissolves on my tongue. I refused Luna’s home-made bread this morning because I couldn’t face breakfast, but I’m suddenly ravenous.
