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Christmas at Butterfly Cove: A delightfully feel-good festive romance!
Sarah Bennett


A perfect Christmas read!’ Jessica’s Book BizAll she wants for Christmas…When talented artist Nee Sutherland returns to Butterfly Cove for her sister’s wedding, it’s only a matter of time before she has to face her own bridegroom – Luke Spenser – the man she impulsively married, then left in the middle of the night.Nee hasn’t picked up her paintbrushes in months, a part of her is broken. She knows Luke might never forgive her, leaving him was the biggest mistake of her life – but could coming home for Christmas be the best decision she’s ever made?Maybe all she needs is a little Christmas miracle…A delightfully feel-good festive romance, perfect for fans of Trisha Ashley, Rachael Lucas and Hilary Boyd.Don’t miss Spring at Lavender Bay, the enchanting first book in Sarah Bennet’s new series, ‘Lavender Bay’, available February 2018!Praise for Sarah Bennett:‘I think Sarah has topped my author discovery of 2017 list with this final book in the Butterfly Cove series!’ Straight Shootin Book Reviews‘A delight to read…Sarah Bennett has leapt onto my auto-buy list!’ Nicola Armstrong (NetGalley reviewer)‘I loved, loved, loved this book!’ Moohnshine’s Corner‘An excellent feel-good festive read.’ Nicola Clough (NetGalley reviewer)‘An excellent feel-good festive read!’ Vanilla & Spice Books‘A delightful and engaging read. An emotional journey I’ll never forget.’ Urban Book Reviews‘A sweet, feel-good contemporary romance…definitely sigh-worthy!’ My Humble Opinion‘I am already looking forward to my next trip to Butterfly Cove!’ Rachel’s Random Reads (top 1,000 Amazon reviewer)







All she wants for Christmas…

When talented artist Nee Sutherland returns to Butterfly Cove for her sister’s wedding, it’s only a matter of time before she has to face her own bridegroom – Luke Spenser – the man she impulsively married, then left in the middle of the night.

Nee hasn’t picked up her paintbrushes in months, a part of her is broken. She knows Luke might never forgive her, leaving him was the biggest mistake of her life – but could coming home for Christmas be the best decision she’s ever made?

Maybe all she needs is a little Christmas miracle…

A delightfully feel-good festive romance, perfect for fans of Trisha Ashley, Rachael Lucas and Hilary Boyd.


Also by Sarah Bennett (#ulink_a8c18b09-a861-5dd4-935c-079d8d7ece27)

Sunrise at Butterfly Cove

Wedding Bells at Butterfly Cove


Christmas at Butterfly Cove

Sarah Bennett






ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES


Contents

Cover (#u2d69ebec-9cb3-59db-b9a8-b52c96fae4b5)

Blurb (#ue406d9b8-74ef-5e9c-9e5b-0332c610b7d5)

Book List (#ulink_4d26d77f-180c-5ce2-adb1-35e8db9cb222)

Title Page (#uafb27b67-87bf-5f89-8477-b62afc40766e)

Author Bio (#u4a881354-5094-5464-82b2-2d43e444efd9)

Acknowledgements (#ulink_c1872681-4aaa-5d40-a9d2-413e6838e5e8)

Dedication (#uc3772712-c559-59f1-ade5-fc7309f8718c)

Chapter One (#ulink_201c0ce6-678d-5a23-a2ba-191ad6a0646f)

Chapter Two (#ulink_e15795f2-3e63-5c21-863d-4ccc20b77233)

Chapter Three (#ulink_e78f1b6e-492b-56b6-b528-c814876c7e8b)

Chapter Four (#ulink_09ed8692-ec2a-5215-8e5a-c022a33844e2)

Chapter Five (#ulink_17604782-a7fc-5598-b30c-34574a1159a9)

Chapter Six (#ulink_9994e2b5-d757-5735-9ada-08ffb642e450)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)

Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


SARAH BENNETT has been reading for as long as she can remember. Raised in a family of bookworms, her love affair with books of all genres has culminated in the ultimate Happy Ever After: getting to write her own stories to share with others.

Born and raised in a military family, she is happily married to her own Officer (who is sometimes even A Gentleman). Home is wherever he lays his hat, and life has taught them both that the best family is the one you create from friends as well as relatives.

When not reading or writing, Sarah is a devotee of afternoon naps and sailing the high seas, but only on vessels large enough to accommodate a casino and a choice of restaurants.

You can connect with her via twitter @Sarahlou_writes (https://twitter.com/@Sarahlou_writes) or on Facebook www.facebook.com/SarahBennettAuthor (https://www.facebook.com/SarahBennettAuthor)


Acknowledgements (#ulink_39d18436-13f4-5065-8987-7cbd084a2178)

What a crazy, incredible year it’s been – I can’t quite believe we’re here. Huge thanks to everyone who has bought, read, reviewed and supported this trilogy, you are making my dreams come true.

As ever, I couldn’t do this without the support of my husband. Thanks, bun x

Mum, what would I ever do without you? I can’t wait to raise a glass to toast my newest release with you x

To my gorgeous editor, Charlotte Mursell. Working with you is an absolute pleasure. With you at my back I know I can only grow as an author – long may it continue x

Special shout-out to all the bloggers who have helped make my first publishing foray such a resounding success. Your enthusiasm, dedication and kindness is a gift I am incredibly grateful for *insert hug gif here*

And finally, my thanks to you, the reader. This may be our last visit to Butterfly Cove, but don’t be sad because we’ll be able to spend 2018 together in beautiful Lavender Bay!


For M.

We might not be together this Christmas, but you’re the happy ending worth waiting for.


Chapter One (#ulink_2c1af000-719d-591d-a064-2edfbd6a08fd)

Nee Thorpe stared at the brown oblong of modelling clay sitting on the workbench in exactly the same spot she’d dropped it two hours earlier. The tactile material had always been her favourite medium to work with, but these days the earthy scent of damp clay did little more than bring bile to the back of her throat. After a month staying with her sister, Mia, and her new husband, Daniel, she’d run out of excuses as to why she wasn’t working on anything. Daniel had recently opened a set of bespoke artist studios in the old barns adjacent to his wife’s guesthouse in the idyllic coastal village of Orcombe Sands – known to the local population by the far prettier nickname of Butterfly Cove. They were still taking regular bookings, even this late in the season, with sun-worshippers giving way to the hardier walkers who wanted to make the most of the outdoors before winter set in and kept them closer to home.

Perched on the edge of the cove, at the head of a private beach, Butterfly House had provided a welcome haven for Nee’s tattered spirits. It had also become the new hub of their family. Her middle sister, Kiki, had relocated to the village in the spring, finally escaping her disastrous marriage. With her two small children in tow, she’d not only made a new start, including running the latest family enterprise – a beautiful little teashop and gallery in what had recently been a scruffy-looking garage block – she’d also found a new love in the shape of Daniel’s best friend, Aaron Spenser. Nee swallowed. She should be thrilled Kiki had found happiness with someone who would finally treat her in the way she deserved, and in truth she was. She would just have preferred it if Aaron hadn’t been the elder brother of the man whose heart she’d broken, smashing her own to pieces in the process.

Desperate for a distraction, anything to avoid the lump threatening to choke her every time her eyes strayed to the formless block of clay on the worktable, Nee rinsed her still-clean hands at the sink then pulled the studio door shut behind her. Soft music drifted from the open door of the space next door, accompanied by a deep baritone hum which was enough for her to identify the occupant. Bryn was a broad-shouldered, softly spoken car mechanic who also produced the most delicate, ethereal watercolours she’d ever seen. He was staying for a week and appeared to be relishing the calm serenity of the cove. Not wishing to disturb him, or to be caught up in an awkward discussion of what she was working on, or wasn’t working on as the case may be, she tiptoed past his door then hurried down the corridor to escape onto the gravel driveway which separated the barns and the house.

A quick glance towards the teashop put paid to her hopes of drowning her sorrows in a cup of tea, and she checked her watch. If she was quick, she might still catch up with Mia and Kiki in the kitchen. Tuesday was turnaround day at the guest house, and in addition to running the teashop, Kiki helped out changing the beds and cleaning the rooms.

Opening the back door, she paused to toe off her shoes and caught their familiar voices deep in discussion over arrangements for Aaron’s upcoming birthday. Circumstances had led to her middle sister and her two children sharing a nearby cottage with Daniel’s best friend. After a shaky start, the two had finally admitted to feelings that were obvious to everyone around them, and they were a picture of domestic bliss. The kids adored Aaron, and it sounded as though they wanted to throw him a surprise party.

‘It’s such a sweet idea, especially when you think they came up with it themselves. I just wish things weren’t so awkward, with…you know.’

Awkward. Nee stopped short at the word, her call of greeting frozen on her lips. Heart dropping with a knowing premonition, she waited anxiously for Mia’s response.

‘I know.’ Mia sounded sympathetic and resigned in equal measures. ‘But we can’t keep ignoring the situation.’

Kiki sighed. ‘You’re right, but I don’t want them thinking I’ve manufactured a situation to force them to face each other. But how can we possibly have a party for Aaron without Luke there?’

Nee sagged against the cool plaster wall, shivering from more than the cool air gusting through the open door behind her. The soft, familiar voices of her sisters continued their discussion, but she couldn’t make out the words over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Tightness filled her lungs and the walls of the cloakroom seemed to constrict around her. She had to get out. Had to get away. Reaching blindly for a jacket, she spun on her heel and fled across the grass. A bitter voice whispered in her ear. That’s right. Run away, just like you always do.

Nee huddled deeper into the padded jacket she’d borrowed from the row of pegs beside the backdoor at Butterfly House. The sleeves hung past the tips of her fingers, and the material smelled faintly of the kind of citrusy scent that spoke of aftershave rather than perfume. She hadn’t stopped long enough to examine her choice, just grabbed for the first one her hand reached as she flew out of the kitchen and into the beautiful, sprawling garden behind the guesthouse. Her headlong flight carried her down the flagstone path to the short flight of steps leading to the beach. Only once her shoes sank into the soft, pale sand did she slow her frantic pace.

The thick fleece collar blocked the worst of the wind howling in across the open water, and she narrowed her eyes against the sting of sand whipped up by its fury. The approaching storm transformed Butterfly Cove from a seaside idyll into a wild, desolate space. The normally gentle waters churned and roiled as though a monstrous beast twisted below the surface. Gone was the peaceful blue blanket she’d grown accustomed to over the summer, replaced by a murky, green-grey morass. Dark clouds scudded across the sky, and the first icy drops of rain hit her raw cheeks. It had to be rain because, after the past few weeks, Nee was sure there wasn’t a tear left inside her.

The rain fell harder – fat, cold drops that soon plastered her short blonde hair flat against her skull. Her face began to ache, a combination of the harsh bite of the wind and the desperate clench of her jaw. Everything was such a bloody mess, and she had no one to blame but herself. Luke had committed no sin, unless falling in love with her could be considered a sin. A bubble of hysteria formed a tight knot at the top of her chest. He would probably consider it more of a curse. And who would blame him when she’d done the unthinkable and left him alone in their marriage bed without a word.

Her decision to leave had made sense at the time. They’d acted impetuously; wouldn’t be the first couple to confuse a heady rush of lust with something deeper. Better to make a quick break, go out on a high before the humdrum reality of life crept in and shattered their perfect fantasy. The hurt would fade, leaving behind fond memories of a foolish summer of love. All perfectly sensible and rational conclusions, and every one a complete and utter lie. The moment she’d seen him staring at her across the platform, the one hope she’d clung to, that Luke had moved on without her, had been destroyed. She’d put her own ambition before his heart, and ruined both their lives in the process.

‘One cannot make true art without first suffering, my dear.’ The only voice she hated more than her own guilt intruded on her thoughts, and Nee raised her hands to her temples. She squeezed her fists into the sides of her head, as though applying the right amount of pressure could force him back into the skittering darkness of her deepest subconscious. It didn’t help. The moment she let her guard down, he was there.

Staring out across the tossing waves, Nee could almost sense him reaching out across the miles to drag her back across the ocean. ‘I won’t come back. You can’t have me!’ She shouted her defiance. The wind swooped to snatch her words away, stealing her strength with it. Dropping to her knees on the wet sand, she lowered her head and acknowledged the truth. Devin Rees had stolen the most important thing from her, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind.

Even if Luke could be persuaded to give her another chance, what could she offer him? She stared down at her shaking hands. Short nails edge with raw skin. Stubby fingers bereft of any traces of dark clay. An artist who couldn’t create – was there a more pathetic kind of creature? Putting pen to paper to help her niece make the place cards for Mia’s wedding had been an exercise in torture.

Staying in Butterfly Cove, watching week in and week out as her former peers descended on Daniel’s studios to paint, carve, sculpt and hammer beauty from nothing had become an exercise in self-flagellation. The thought of sitting in the sweet, cosy warmth of Kiki’s new teashop, gorging on slabs of cake which were masterpieces in their own right, as the visiting artists added new pieces to the planned gallery collection, might just break her.

There was nothing here for her. Mia and Kiki tried their best to help her, but she kept them at arm’s length. She didn’t want their sympathy, feared even more turning it into something harder, colder, if they discovered the reason she’d left Luke. They would continue to love her, of that much she was certain, but Kiki’s loyalties were already divided between her sister and the brother of the man she loved. The conversation she’d overheard earlier had made it crystal-clear. It hurt Nee to be the cause of any distress to her middle sister, who’d borne the brunt of so much already. But it hurt even more to watch her unfolding joy and contentment in the arms of the man who reminded Nee of everything she’d lost.

No. Not lost. Thrown away. Lying to herself had caused this ugly mess. There could be nothing but truth from now on. Nee would not become a millstone for her sisters to bear. They’d been happy before she’d shown up, would be happier once she left again, regardless of how much they would protest otherwise.

And, most important of all, she owed it to Luke.

She’d usurped his place here in Butterfly Cove and it was time to give it back. Never one to indulge a sulk for long, Nee gave herself a mental kick in the arse and forced her cramped body to stand. The lower half of her jeans were soaked, and her bones ached from the cold and rain soaking her skin. She folded down the collar of the coat, the once-cosy fleece now wet and clinging unpleasantly to her cheek. Shoving her frozen hands into the depths of her pockets, Nee trudged across the beach towards the beckoning warmth of the guest house.

A hot shower and a change of clothes did wonders for her outward appearance, though they couldn’t help much with the growing coldness inside her. Telling herself she needed to leave was one thing, but where the hell could she go? Not back to London, that was for damn certain. She’d find herself making excuses to hang around the places Luke liked to go, the way she had in the intervening weeks between her return from New York and her fateful decision to attend Mia’s wedding. Perhaps the answer lay in finding somewhere new…

Energised by the idea, she hurried down the remaining stairs and into the private sitting room Mia had created away from the guest spaces. The large wooden bookcase in the corner was stacked high with myriad different books, and she knew her brother-in-law had an old atlas somewhere around. She’d seen him pouring over it with Kiki’s little boy, Matty, the other weekend. Bursting into the room, she pulled up short. A white-faced Kiki clung hard to Mia’s hand while their older sister frowned and nodded at something the person on the other end of the phone pressed to her ear was saying.

Kiki glanced up and Nee could see the tear tracks on her cheeks. ‘It’s Mum,’ she whispered.

A wave of relief washed over Nee, followed swiftly by a sharp stab of guilt. Of the three of them, her relationship with Vivian was the most fractured, having never known the kindness and care she’d been capable of before her alcoholism had dug its claws deep. The two women sitting opposite her had, to all intents and purposes, raised her. Given her more than enough love to buffer their mother’s neglect and their father’s indifference. She crossed the room to sit cross-legged on the carpet in front of them, placing a hand on Mia’s knee in silent support.

Kiki leaned towards her. ‘She’s taken a turn for the worse,’ she whispered.

‘What else did the doctor say, Dad?’ They both turned towards Mia, who was staring off into the distance, uttering soothing noises as she listened to George’s response. The curve of her shoulders increased, as though the words she heard had a physical weight to them. Nee patted her leg, wishing there was something she could do to help. Mia sat up straighter, spine going ramrod-straight. ‘Okay. I need to sort a few things out and then I’ll be up first thing.’

Nee closed her eyes. Mia to the rescue, just like always. She dug her fingers into the rich pile of the carpet beneath her. An image of the sitting room, all warm creams and soft browns with splashes of rich red, filled her mind’s eye. She thought about the other rooms, the stylish bedrooms, the cosy warmth of the kitchen, each one a testament to the beautiful home Mia had built from the ashes of her past. Love and laughter infused every corner of the guesthouse. Just a few short weeks since their beautiful wedding, Mia and Daniel should be on their honeymoon, but they’d postponed it to throw all their energies into the guesthouse and studios. They had enough on their plates as it was without facing the prospect of spending time apart so soon.

Decision made, she opened her eyes. ‘I’ll go.’


Chapter Two (#ulink_c4298fbb-5ae5-5973-aa7c-4d2b35a0f4fa)

Luke Spenser tapped on the frame of the kitchen door to get his mother’s attention. She glanced up with a quick smile, then finished sliding the roasting tray into the oven. ‘Beef,’ she said before moving to the sink to rinse her hands, turning her back to him in the process. ‘It’s your brother’s favourite.’

A quick handful of steps carried him to her side, and he leaned down to brush a kiss against her cheek. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

She looked at him through veiled lashes, and he wondered what was going on inside her head. Aaron had been tight-lipped about his visit home a couple of weeks’ previously, other than to say it had gone better than he’d expected. It would take time to bridge the gap between the two of them, but at least they were both trying. And Luke couldn’t ask for any more than that.

When Cathy had called, asking if he’d come down for an early birthday lunch for Aaron, he’d been happy to accept. Happier still when his dad had taken him to one side and told him it had been her suggestion. He squeezed her shoulders in a quick hug, noting the tension in her stiff frame. He kissed her cheek again. ‘I thought I’d take Aaron down the road for a pint. It’ll get us out from under your feet for a bit.’

He didn’t miss the flicker of relief in eyes. ‘That’ll be nice. I don’t suppose you’ll get much time together now he’s settling down with Kiki.’ There was a hint of a question in her tone, and he wondered whether she knew he hadn’t been back to Butterfly Cove since Mia and Daniel’s wedding. The work to convert the garages into the teashop had been straightforward enough that no one had questioned his absence. Daniel had called him a couple of times to clarify a point with the designs he’d drawn up, and Aaron had brought an album full of photos from the grand opening last weekend.

‘Things are really picking up at work, and now the last of the conversion works are finished, there’s no need for me to visit Butterfly Cove so often.’ He forced a laugh. ‘Besides, although it’s lovely down there in the summer, I’m not sure I fancy staying somewhere so exposed to the elements now the weather’s on the change.’

Cathy reached for a tea towel and dried her hands before turning to face him. ‘It sounds lovely, from what Aaron has told us. I hope to see it one day.’

‘Give it time, okay?’ He knew with things still so delicate between them, Aaron was unlikely to bring the old and new parts of his family together.

His mum tilted her head to one side and studied him carefully. ‘Is that what you’re doing, too? Giving things time?’

Damn it. Aaron must have told them about Nee. He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Don’t. Okay?’ His tone brooked no argument.

She opened her mouth, caught the glare he threw at her, and closed it again with a nod. She glanced at her watch, breaking the tension between them. ‘I’m aiming for half-two for lunch. No crème de menthe.’

Luke shook his head and laughed. ‘You’re never going to let that go, are you?’ His parents had gone away for the weekend, leaving a twelve-year-old Luke in Aaron’s care. With nearly five years between them, his brother had seemed impossibly grown-up. When Aaron snuck a couple of friends round for drinks, Luke hadn’t wanted to miss out. He’d raided the drinks cabinet, a bottle of the mint liqueur the first thing his hand closed around.

Aaron had nursed him through his first, and, to this day, worst hangover, and though shaky, he’d been able to face his parents when they returned on the Sunday evening. Aaron’s hours on hands and knees, scrubbing at the bright-green stain on the peach bathroom carpet had proven less successful. Despite Luke’s protestations, his big brother had taken the blame. And Cathy had been all too happy to let him. She’d refused to leave them alone in the house for years afterwards, making it clear she couldn’t trust Aaron to be responsible. The fact she could make a joke about it now was little short of a miracle.

Cathy placed her hand on his chest, smoothing a non-existent crease from the front of his navy T-shirt. ‘Your dad and I are here, if you need us.’

He covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. ‘I know, Mum. I’m fine, though. It’s water under the bridge.’ Releasing her fingers, he walked away before she could read the lie on his face. His thick, grey hoodie hung over the bottom of the banister, and he shrugged it on as he called up the stairs. ‘Pub?’

‘Pub!’ Aaron’s enthusiastic response was followed by the thunder of footsteps on the landing above. His brother jogged down the stairs, a wide grin on his face. ‘You’re not as thick as you look, are you, Spud?’

‘Wanker.’ Luke aimed a punch at his brother’s arm. Aaron clutched his arm, staggering down the hall with an exaggerated cry of pain.

Their father appeared from the living room with a folded copy of The Sunday Times in his hand. He gave them both a playful swipe with the paper. ‘Silly sods, the pair of you. Don’t be late back, all right?’

Aaron pulled his jacket down from where he’d hung it neatly on a peg. The contrast between the care he took to do everything right and Luke’s own casual disregard struck him anew. Things might be thawing, but it would be a long time before Aaron would feel completely comfortable in what should be the safest of spaces. Luke shrugged off the tinge of melancholy. ‘You coming with us, Dad?’

Brian shook his head. ‘I’ve got a date with a vegetable peeler, and then I’m going to check out the apple trees, see if I can talk your mum into making a crumble for pudding.’ There was a small cluster of fruit trees at the end of the garden, cookers, not eaters.

Luke’s mouth watered at the thought of hot crumble and custard. It was another of Aaron’s favourites and he knew then his dad’s casual comment was to try and play down how much work Cathy was putting into the planned lunch. ‘Sounds great. I’ll see if they’ve got a couple of bottles of that Cabernet Mum likes. It’ll go nicely with the beef.’

‘Good lad.’ Brian hooked his arm around Luke and drew him close for a quick hug. He did the same to Aaron, adding a kiss to his cheek. Their dad had always been demonstrative, no stiff-upper-lip backslapping or awkward handshakes, and both his sons had carried that naturalness and warmth into adulthood.

Luke had seen it in the same gentle interactions between his brother and Matty, his girlfriend’s young son. For someone who’d been adamant about not wanting children of his own, Aaron had taken to Kiki’s little ones with alacrity. It pleased Luke to see. His brother had a heart as big as a lion’s and lived to care for others. At least one of them seemed capable of forging a successful relationship with a Thorpe sister.

Two of them, if he included Daniel. Recently, and sickeningly happily, married to the eldest of the three sisters, his brother’s best friend was close enough to be considered blood. Which left Luke and Nee, and their marriage that wasn’t. Bollocks.

Feeling the heavy weight of his brother’s arm slung around his neck, Luke allowed Aaron to steer him off the street and onto the flagstone patio in front of the King’s Arms. ‘Penny for them,’ Aaron said, although he probably had a pretty good idea where his brother’s thoughts had strayed to.

Luke couldn’t get Nee out of his bloody head. Every time he closed his eyes, her pale, strained face swam into view. Too pale, too thin, like she hadn’t been taking proper care of herself. He hated how much her miserable appearance bothered him, and his voice came out harsher than he intended. ‘They’re not worth a bloody penny.’ He took a breath and softened his tone. ‘Come on, I’m parched.’

They kept the chit-chat light as they waited for Tony, the convivial landlord, to pour their pints. They’d known the red-cheeked man since they’d had to be lifted onto the bar-stools to see, excited at the idea of a glass of pop and a packet of crisps. He added the cost of two bottles of red to their tab, and promised to drop them at their table shortly. Given a choice, Luke would rather have stayed at the bar. Less chance of Aaron raising any awkward topics in front of others. Aaron ignored his suggestion, leaving him little choice other than to follow his brother to a small, round table perched in the corner beneath a collection of horse-brasses ubiquitous to every country pub he’d ever set foot in.

Hoping to head Aaron off at the pass, Luke searched for a neutral topic of conversation. ‘How’re the kids?’

A slow, easy smile spread over his brother’s face, his mega-watt grin as Kiki called it. ‘They’re brilliant. Just amazing. They surprise me every day. Matty’s settling in at school far better than we might have hoped, given all the upheaval he’s been through.’

There was no mistaking the pride in his voice at the boy’s progress and Luke grinned at him. ‘Still stargazing?’

Aaron rolled his eyes. ‘I think we’ve got the next Professor Brian Cox on our hands. Now the nights are drawing in, he’s out there with his telescope every evening the skies are clear enough. We’ve been through every programme he can find on catch-up. I’m not sure he grasps the depth of some of the science, but you should see his eyes when the images of galaxies come up.’

Luke sipped his beer. ‘Can you imagine Dad out there with him? They’d be partners-in-crime, for sure.’ A shadow crossed Aaron’s face and he could have kicked himself. He hadn’t meant anything by it. Brian Spenser loved astronomy and had passed his interest down to both his sons. ‘Sorry. I didn’t think. I understand why you’re taking things slowly in that direction.’

Aaron shifted on the bench beneath the window, throwing his arm along the back of the seat as he settled back to study him. ‘What do you think about it all?’

‘Mum? I don’t know what you said to her, but it’s definitely had an impact. You know she’s making roast beef and Yorkshire puddings for lunch? And apple crumble.’

A faint blush edged his brother’s cheekbones. ‘She didn’t need to go to so much trouble.’

Luke made a rude noise. ‘‘Course she bloody did. Don’t tell me you’re letting her off the hook already! You want to milk this, mate, for as long as you can.’

Aaron shook his head, mouth twisting in amusement. ‘You’re incorrigible.’

He preened. ‘It’s a skill, don’t be jealous.’ They burst out laughing.

His brother took a deep draft of his beer, amusement fading. ‘We’re thinking about having them down for a weekend next month. Mia and Kiki have already set their hearts on some huge family Christmas, so we’re thinking it would be a good idea to introduce them to the children beforehand.’

‘Christmas? It’s months away. Who the hell is thinking about Christmas?’ Luke sputtered.

‘It’s exactly ten weeks today,’ Aaron said in a way that told Luke he’d been subjected to more than one conversation on that point. ‘It’s the number-two topic of conversation between the ladies of Butterfly Cove.’ The way he eyed Luke, it was obvious what subject was at the top of the gossip hit parade.

Luke stared into the depths of his beer, knowing the amber liquid held no answers, but hoping Aaron would get the message and not press the point. Aaron cleared his throat, and Luke braced himself for the worst. What he heard instead shocked a laugh out of him. ‘There’s a surprise birthday party for me next weekend.’

‘I thought the clue was in the word ‘surprise’?’

Aaron chuckled. ‘Charlie told me about it. Made me promise to keep it a secret. I had to cross my heart and everything.’ Luke could picture him doing exactly that. The little girl hung the moon and stars for his brother. He had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with Aaron being able to indulge his love for Disney films.

‘Well, I’m sure it’ll be a hoot. Show me your shocked face – you can’t spoil the surprise.’

Aaron gurned at him, contorting his face into evermore ludicrous expressions until Luke held a hand up in surrender. ‘Stop, stop, for God’s sake, before I do myself an injury.’ He clutched a hand to his aching ribs, marvelling at his brother’s ability to lift his mood.

‘I don’t know what you’re laughing at,’ Aaron sniffed. ‘You’ll have to pretend you don’t know anything about it when Kiki calls to invite you.’

And, he was even better at blindsiding him. Knowing the way those bloody women schemed, they’d probably cooked up the idea of the party just to try and force him to go down there. ‘I’m not coming to Butterfly Cove.’

‘Luke…’

The ever-present simmer of anger in his gut boiled over. ‘Leave it!’ Damn. None of this was Aaron’s fault, not Kiki’s or Mia’s either. There was only one person responsible for turning his life upside down.

Again.

He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘Sorry.’

His brother hunched closer across the table. ‘You have to speak to her sometime, bro. I don’t know what happened to her in New York, but she’s a mess.’

His temper spiked again. ‘And how is that my problem?’

Aaron gripped his forearm. ‘She’s your wife, Luke. For better, for worse and all that.’

He’d heard enough. He loved Aaron, but if he didn’t shut the hell up, Luke would say something unforgivable. He stood up, lifted his glass and drained the last third of his pint. ‘We’d better get back.’ He left the table without another word.

He was a couple of hundred yards up the road before Aaron caught up with him. Falling into step, he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. ‘We heard your argument, Kiki and me. After the wedding.’

Luke stopped dead. ‘What?’

Aaron faced him, one shoulder lifted in an apologetic shrug. ‘Outside the barn. We didn’t mean to. We were in the shadows at the side of the building.’

What the hell had they been doing lurking in the dark like that? It had been the night Aaron finally opened his heart to Kiki and… oh. The embarrassed flush on his brother’s face spoke volumes. He raised an eyebrow at him and the redness darkened.

‘Yeah, anyway. We weren’t snooping, but we heard what Nee said, about leaving you being a mistake. She sounded pretty sincere to me. Can’t you at least give her a chance to explain?’

A car approached, and they stepped onto the grass verge to let it pass. As soon as the road was clear again, Luke started walking. He didn’t want to think about the wedding. Didn’t want to think about how delicate and slight Nee had looked, the aching sorrow in her voice when she’d tried to talk to him. He heard Aaron’s footsteps behind him. Without looking around, he held up a hand in warning. ‘No more. The subject is closed.’

He couldn’t give her a chance to explain, because then he’d have to admit to the true source of his anger – himself. For all his protestations, he didn’t care why she’d left. He just wanted her back. And what kind of an idiot did that make him?


Chapter Three (#ulink_5ecbd256-9c20-5c07-9cb8-08602fa02c7c)

It had taken all her powers of persuasion, but Nee had eventually convinced Mia and Kiki she was the best person to travel home to help their dad. She’d made sure not to give any hint leaving Butterfly Cove was anything more than a temporary arrangement. A bit of space away from everyone would hopefully give her time to think, and to come up with a plan for what she would do now her art was lost to her.

She had other reasons too. So many things had moved on while she was away, and running to catch up was exhausting. Her sisters had reached a compromise with their father over the past and were moving forwards. Nee had watched him at the wedding, especially with the little ones, and hadn’t been able to stifle a bite of jealousy when he’d balanced a laughing Charlie on his feet and danced around the marquee with her. She rolled her shoulders to shrug off the unwelcome reminder. Nee had never been a jealous person, never doubted her own worth and importance to the people in her life who mattered, until…

The announcer called her station and she watched the people around her stand and sway their way between the seats towards the door. She remained seated. Her suitcase perched in the rack by the corridor door, hemmed in on all sides. What was it that made people so desperate to be first off? She’d never been on a train where people didn’t start queueing five minutes before arrival. Nor on a flight where someone didn’t pop their seatbelt open before the indicator light turned out. Once that first click sounded, a wave of others invariably rippled around the cabin. As if once one person had disobeyed the rules, it made it all right for them too. You could always spot the Brits in those situations by their guilty glances, as though they expected to be told off.

The platform came into view through the window beside her and Nee watched the people crammed by the door and counted silently in her head, three, two, one… The train jerked to a halt as the driver applied the brake, sending one unprepared passenger staggering into the person in front of him. A domino ripple of bumps, pushes and glares followed. She shook her head. Every time. As soon as the crowd thinned, she slipped from her seat to join the back of the group, pausing to haul her case down from the rack as she passed it.

A tall, dapper figure waited for her on the platform, and she couldn’t help the small smile on her lips. Rain or shine, George Thorpe would be dressed in his usual uniform of pressed trousers, smart shirt and a jacket or buttoned-up cardigan. Today, he’d added a black woollen coat and a dark, felt trilby hat. He moved towards her, then stopped, an uncertain expression on his face. He removed his hat, turning the brim in his hand in a nervous gesture. ‘Hello, Eirênê, how was your journey?’

She popped up the handle on her rolling suitcase, and closed the gap between them. ‘Fine, thanks.’ They did an awkward little dance when he tried to take the case from her, and she hung on to it. ‘Leave it, I can manage.’

George shrugged awkwardly. ‘The car’s not far.’ He settled his hat upon his head, checking the brim was straight. No jaunty angles allowed.

The silly thought made her smile, and she made sure he saw it as she gestured in front of her. ‘Lead on, MacDuff.’ He started a little at her words, and she frowned. It was one of those things she’d always said, picked up unconsciously from somewhere long ago. A memory tickled the back of her mind, of a smiling, happier-looking George lining his three daughters up in a row. Nee could feel herself bursting with pride at being put at the front of the line. ‘Lead on, Macduff!’ George had ordered, and they’d marched down the front path. Where they’d been going was lost to her now, but the long-discarded memory reminded her things hadn’t always been doom and gloom.

Traffic was light, and they made quick progress through the town, the dark saloon purring through the streets. Gentle strains of classical music drifted from the speakers, negating the need for either of them to make much small talk. There was no denying the air of tension between them, though. Nee swallowed a sigh. Between her father’s natural reticence and her own resentment towards him, the next few days were likely to be a struggle. One of them would have to make the first move, and somehow, she couldn’t imagine it would be him. Time to break the ice.

‘Matty’s settling in well at school. Still a bit shy, Kiki says, but he’s coming out of his shell nicely. There’s even talk about him joining the local cubs. They’ve got a taster session coming up. The teashop opened last weekend, did you hear?’

George drew to a halt at a set of lights and half-turned in his seat. ‘That was quick.’

She nodded. ‘The conversion works didn’t take long, and we all pitched in with the decorating.’ She might not be able to find the inspiration to create something of her own, but she’d wielded a brush and roller easily enough. They’d found some pretty stencils at the local DIY store, and Nee had added bright, summer flowers and a spray of butterflies to one crisp, white wall. It was the closest she was likely to come to having anything of hers on display.

Breaking away from those thoughts before she slipped into another spiral of melancholy, she continued the conversation, although George had turned his attention back to the road. ‘If the weather picks up next week, they might entice a few half-term visitors looking for a bite to eat. Mia’s guests are going to be directed there and there’s enough people using the studios to make it worth their while being open.’

‘Ah. That makes sense, I suppose. I’ve rather lost track of dates now I’m not working.’ His voice sounded a little wistful. George had left the job he loved at the local university, making way for Kiki’s ex-husband to succeed him, in exchange for his agreement to a trouble-free divorce. It had been a remarkable sacrifice for a man who’d attached his entire self-worth and image to his career. His passion for ancient Greece and its history had trumped everything, including the needs of his wife and daughters.

‘How are you coping with retirement, Dad?’ she asked as he turned into the driveway and parked before the smartly painted garage door. He didn’t immediately answer, choosing instead to exit the car. Nee sighed and followed him out. Perhaps she should have stuck to less difficult topics.

Waiting while her dad retrieved her case from the boot, she studied the familiar red-brick edifice of her childhood home. Ruthlessly weeded borders sat beneath the front windows, and there was not a hint of moss on the path dividing the tightly clipped lawn. With its neat net curtains and tidy paintwork, it presented a perfect façade to the outside world. How many other houses in this quiet street hid the kind of dark secrets that lay behind the innocuous-looking front door? Letting George manage the burden of her luggage this time, she squared her shoulders and followed him inside.

Braced for the floral-sweet scent of her mother’s perfume, and an onslaught of memories, Nee smelled only lemon furniture polish and the rich gravy of some kind of stew. It was as though the house had already shed Vivian’s presence. ‘You made dinner?’ George had never been one for that.

He placed her case at the foot of the stairs, then hung his hat and coat on one of the hooks by the door. ‘I asked Wendy to make something nice for you. I thought you might be hungry.’ He raised a finger to her cheek, stopping just short of touching her skin. ‘You look tired, my dear.’

The unexpected tenderness of his tone and the concern shining in those dark-brown eyes that matched her own broke through the wall she’d tried so hard to maintain. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. ‘I’m tired, Daddy. So bloody tired.’

‘Come here.’ George opened his arms and she stumbled into them, breathing in the familiar scent of his soap as she started to cry in earnest. It was like a dam had broken within her, and all the tension of the past few weeks came pouring out. Her throat hurt with the force of the ugly sobs racking her body.

Her father’s hands settled on her back, patting her with the tentative gestures of a man unused to offering such comforts. Her heart gave a funny little flip. He was trying so hard to do right by them all. She hiccupped a few breaths, forcing herself to regain a bit of control. The wool of his cardigan clung damply to her cheek. Poor George – she was making a terrible mess of it. Easing back, she raised her arm to scrub her face.

‘Use this.’ George offered her a perfectly folded handkerchief.

Her breath hitched in a little laugh and she mopped at her face. ‘Sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m supposed to be here to help you.’

He rubbed the top of her arm. ‘Maybe I can do something to help you a little bit too. God knows, it’s past time I acted like a father should.’ She nodded, fearing any attempt to speak would set her tears off again. He checked his watch. ‘It’s still early. Why don’t you go and lie down for an hour and then we can see about dinner?’

‘Okay.’ Nee reached for her bag, but he shook his head.

‘Leave it. I’ll put it outside your door in a minute.’

Obeying meekly wasn’t a feature of Nee’s skill set, but she didn’t have the energy to protest that she could manage for herself. Right now, she wasn’t sure that was entirely true. Letting George fuss over her wouldn’t do any harm, might give him something else to focus on. And it spoke to a quiet, yearning part of her heart she hadn’t realised existed, having grown up convincing herself she didn’t need to lean on anyone.

She started to climb the stairs, stopping before her foot touched the first tread when she realised she still had her outdoor shoes on. Some things were too deeply ingrained, it seemed. Toeing off her shoes, she tucked them beneath the coat pegs then padded upstairs in her socks. Exhaustion dogged her heels and by the time she reached her old bedroom, she could do little more than shed her jeans before crawling under the floral quilt.

Heavy-eyed, she stared at the old band posters scattered between paintings of trees, animals and birds she’d applied directly to the pale-yellow paintwork. It was exactly as she’d left it six years previously, ready to take on the world and make her mark. Only things hadn’t worked out quite how she’d planned. The world had left her scarred and scared, whilst she’d made barely a ripple.

She closed her eyes against the prickle of fresh tears. Twenty-four was too damn young to feel this old.

Whether the emotional overload had got to her, or it was just the sheer comfort of lying in a bed her body knew every inch of, Nee slept like the dead. Dark shadows had crept into the corners of her room, and when she checked her watch, more than two hours had passed. Feeling groggy, but much calmer for the rest, she donned her jeans, retrieved her case from the hallway and swapped her wrinkled top for a clean one. A quick splash of water on her face and cleaning her teeth chased any lingering drowsiness away. The smell of dinner drifted up the stairs, and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

The door to her father’s study stood wide. Well, that’s something that’s changed in this house, at least. George’s study had always been a private sanctorum, not to be entered by little girls with grubby fingers who might cause chaos in a space dedicated to order. Feeling every inch that little girl, Nee made sure her toes didn’t cross the brass door plate which divided the pale-green hallway carpet from the navy of the study.

George bent over a large, leather-bound notebook, filling the lines with his neat script. Several textbooks lay open across the dark wood of his desk, each secured with a paperweight. The faint strains of Radio 4 drifted from a digital radio on the bookcase behind him. He glanced up in surprise at her light tap on the doorframe. ‘Oh, hello, Eirênê, I didn’t hear you come down. Feeling any better?’

She nodded. ‘Much, but you shouldn’t have left me so long. Aren’t you hungry?’

Capping his fountain pen, George glanced at the small carriage clock on the corner of his desk. ‘I didn’t realise the time. Got caught up in…’ He cast an embarrassed wave over the papers in front of him and she couldn’t help but smile. He was never not going to get caught up in his books.

She braced a hand on the doorframe and leaned forwards, trying to read the titles on a small stack of books. ‘What are you working on?’

He sat back in his chair. ‘You can come in, you know.’

‘Old habits,’ she said, taking a couple of steps inside.

‘You were always my little rule-breaker on everything but that.’ A shadow crossed his face, but he forced a smile. ‘To answer your question, I decided to try and write a children’s version of some of my favourite Greek legends. The book I found for Matthew about the origins of the constellations was a bit dry for a seven-year-old. I’m hoping to have some new stories ready for my visit at Christmas.’

Her stomach twisted at the happy expectation in his tone. Christmas had been a tightrope of hope and disappointment growing up. One of the few times their mother roused herself from her room and re-engaged with the family. Embracing the chance to be the perfect hostess, Vivian threw herself into the performance, decorating the house, planning meals and buying gifts. Nee and her sisters would receive new dresses to be worn, and for the next twelve months the mantelpiece would carry the image of a family which didn’t exist for the rest of the year.

She could still feel the flutter of excitement, the shake in her hands as she forced herself to carefully unwrap the beautiful stack of presents under the tree, trying to do everything just right to keep Vivian happy. There would always be something, though. A little hiccup, an insignificant incident most people wouldn’t think twice about. But Vivian would dwell upon it, pick it over until it overshadowed everything else. She would inevitably retire to bed, and their father would disappear into his study, leaving the three of them to watch television and try to play board games without someone there to teach them the rules.

It was only as she grew older that Nee became aware of the extent of her mother’s drinking, and the excitement of opening presents was overtaken by waiting with trepidation for the first morning sherry to be poured. She’d begun to rebel against it at twelve, becoming the catalyst which would shatter the pretence. At fifteen, she’d refused flat-out to participate, not knowing it would turn out to be the last Christmas they would all be under the same roof. A year later, Kiki and Mia were both married and making their own homes, leaving Nee caught in the spiralling tragedy of her parents’ unhappiness.

Angry. She’d been so angry with them both for as long as she could remember. Looking at George now, a grey shadow of his former self, face lined with the pain of all those years, she let it go. However bad things had been for her, how much worse must it have been for him, for him and Vivian both, to have spent thirty years tied to someone you loved, but couldn’t make happy.

She hoped this year he would find some peace, and spending time at Butterfly Cove with everyone might be just the thing to bring it to him. Just a shame she wouldn’t be there to witness it. She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about it, because then she’d start thinking about the reason why she wouldn’t be there, why she couldn’t be there. Luke. ‘Come on, Dad, let’s eat.’

Feeling stronger after the hearty stew and a decent night’s sleep, Nee decided to seize the bull by the horns and visit her mother after breakfast the next morning. George had offered to accompany her, but she couldn’t be sure of her reaction and didn’t want to risk the fragile peace they’d begun to build. She’d left him with a cup of tea in his study to continue working on the stories for Matty.

Although her father had tried to prepare her for the changes in Vivian, her first sight of the birdlike figure lost in the harsh whiteness of the bed stole Nee’s breath. Strands of wispy, almost-colourless hair straggled around her mother’s face. The knotted hanks were so far from the gleaming coiffure of her memories that she knew little of the woman she’d known remained. Making her way quietly into the room, Nee noted the potted plants and bright accessories scattered around, and felt a quiet appreciation for the owners of the home for trying to minimise the institutional feel of the place.

The bed, though, was like those found in every kind of hospital. They’d positioned it where Vivian could look out of the window to the gardens below, although whether she had any awareness of the view remained to be seen. Memories flooded her mind of all the times she’d seen her mother supine on the couch beneath the window of her bedroom at home. The picture of delicate, ethereal beauty, almost professionally weak and wan. Helplessness had always been Vivian’s stock-in-trade – a damsel in distress, unable to cope with the pressures of life. That façade had fooled many, but not Nee. She remembered too clearly the cynical glitter in her mother’s eye as she twisted poor Kiki round her little finger.

A ghost of the anger she’d nurtured for so long against her parents began to stir in her stomach. If either one of them had faced up to the basic realities of life, then it wouldn’t have been left to Mia to try and raise a baby sister when she’d been little more than a child herself. Kiki, too, had done her best for Nee, offering every ounce of love in that big heart of hers to ensure she never lacked for affection. She clasped a hand over her stomach to try and settle the beast stirring within. Sometimes it felt like she’d been angry for ever.

The tempest of emotions had served her well in the past, bringing a fire and passion to her earliest artwork that caught the attention of teachers and, later, college tutors. Feed the fire, they’d urged her, so she’d tapped the well and poured it forth into every line drawn, every handful of clay moulded. She developed a reputation for dark, brooding pieces and the juxtaposition with her sweet, elfin appearance had intrigued more than one patron. Whispers had rippled through the art world of a bold, bright new star-in-the-making and she’d been encouraged to dream big.

Her dreams had crystallised into the ultimate goal for a young sculptor – a chance to study under the tutelage of Devin Rees, the mercurial, undisputed master of their medium. Even applying for a place at the Reinhold Institute had seemed like the ultimate act of hubris, and when her submission had gone unanswered for months, Nee had shrugged it off. London was more than good enough for her, and she’d thrown herself wholeheartedly into the trendy art scene, determined to make her mark. She’d found a group of like-minded souls, and had been out celebrating a friend getting signed by an agent when a fallen angel with the devil’s smile walked into her life.

She hadn’t known it was possible to be so happy. Luke filled every dark and lonely place inside her with a passion so raw, so intense, it consumed her every waking moment. Finding out how much she’d missed out on as a child, he’d made it his mission to spoil her. A trip on the London Eye, a magical sunset safari tour at the zoo, where they’d ridden the kiddies’ train and eaten huge whippy ice-cream cones, lying back in the Planetarium as they travelled through space and time. So many cherished memories crammed into a couple of magical months.

He’d taken her to his favourite place—the beautiful garden created in the magnificent ruins of St Dunstan’s in the East—and when he’d dropped to one knee in the shadowed corner beneath an elegant stone arch wrapped in vines, the only word on her lips had been yes. Drunk on champagne, love and the euphoria of becoming Mrs Luke Spenser, she’d believed herself satisfied with the path her life had taken.

Then the email with a plane ticket and an eight-hour deadline had arrived.


Chapter Four (#ulink_5cffeca4-ca0e-59ab-a963-4253c62f2257)

Having moped around his flat for a couple of days, it had been on the tip of Luke’s tongue to refuse Kiki’s invitation when she called him about Aaron’s ‘surprise’ party. She’d confessed the adults all knew Charlie had let the cat out of the bag, but the children were so excited about the prospect, they’d agreed to keep up the pretence. Much as he might have liked to see the growing bonds in his brother’s new family, he hadn’t wanted his presence to be a wet blanket.

Poised to decline, his words froze on his lips when Kiki said quietly, ‘He misses you, Luke. We all miss you. Please come.’

Once he’d agreed to attend the party, there was no getting around the fact he would be coming face to face with Nee again. Aaron had been right; they needed to resolve things between them. For the sake of both their families. He had two choices – forgive her, or let her go for good. Leaving him had been a mistake; she’d said as much during their brief, anguished exchange at the wedding. He’d already admitted to himself he still wanted her, had spent the last twelve months waiting for a call, an email, anything from her and then let his bloody pride get in the way. If she thought it was a mistake, that meant she wanted to try again, didn’t it? God, he hoped so.

Feeling lighter and more hopeful than he had in weeks, not even the rain lashing the small platform at Orcombe Sands station could dampen his mood. Hunching down into his thick jacket to try and avoid letting the rain inside his collar, Luke shouldered his bag and splashed across the small gravel car park towards a familiar blue hatchback. Tugging open the back door to throw in his bag, he stopped short as a mournful howl greeted him from the small plastic crate on the seat. He ducked his head into the car and met Kiki’s worried brown eyes as she stared at him over her shoulder. ‘Who’s your friend?’

‘This is Tigger. He’s Aaron’s birthday present from the children.’

A tiny, pink-tipped nose poked out through the bars in the front of the crate, and Luke forgot the rain soaking his back as he started to laugh. ‘You’ve bought him a dog?’

Kiki shook her head, a look of despair on her face. ‘Don’t. Just don’t. I can’t believe I let the kids talk me into it.’ She cringed as another heart-wrenching noise split the air. ‘He’s been like that since I picked him up half an hour ago. I was supposed to collect him tomorrow, but the shelter’s short-staffed so they asked if I could do it this afternoon because Saturday is always their busiest viewing day.’

‘Poor fella, he’s probably scared.’ Luke dumped his bag on the far side of the back seat, then unhooked the catch securing the crate closed. Reaching inside, he scooped out the tiny brindle puppy and the soft, blue blanket he was huddled in. Unzipping his coat, he tucked the dog inside then jumped into the front passenger seat. A pink tongue peeked out to lick the underside of his chin as he secured the seatbelt around himself, and Luke was instantly smitten. He tried to lift the puppy out to get a better look at him, but it squirmed in closer to his body, so he decided to leave it where it was. At least the howling had stopped.

Kiki blinked at him. ‘Are you some kind of dog-whisperer?’

He shoved the damp curls off his forehead and gave her a wink. ‘Just irresistible,’ he said, making her laugh. ‘So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?’

She peered through the rain-soaked windscreen as though seeking out some blue sky. ‘I’m opening the tearoom as usual, but closing early after lunch to get everything set up. If the weather stays like this, I won’t get many customers, but there’s usually a few of the guests who wander in for a bite to eat. Mia is winding down the guest house for the winter, so she’s only got one couple staying, but the studios have a few guests. Leo’s back down for a few days, so he’s coming to the party too.’

Luke grinned. ‘I bet he’ll love that.’ The artist was both a client and friend of his brother, and had taken something of a shine to Kiki when he’d first stayed at the studios for their grand opening weekend.

Kiki’s tut didn’t cover the slight colour rising in her cheeks. ‘Behave yourself.’ Flicking the wipers onto their highest setting, she negotiated her way across the car park, avoiding the biggest puddles under which potholes lurked.

‘No chance.’ He settled back into his seat with a smirk; winding Aaron up was his duty and teasing him about Leo fancying Kiki would be too good an opportunity to pass up.

The car bumped over the curb as they exited the car park, causing the puppy to whimper and squirm inside his jacket. Lowering the zip, Luke adjusted the blanket until the little dog rested across his lap. Black button eyes blinked up at him and a pair of typical French bulldog bat ears twitched. ‘Oh God, he’s adorable.’

Kiki flicked a glance across at him when she paused at the crossroads leading to Honeysuckle Cottage, the chocolate-box home she shared with Aaron. ‘I know. The children were smitten the moment they laid eyes on him. Charlie cried when she realised we couldn’t bring him home immediately.’ She turned left into the lane, sticking to the centre of the quiet road to avoid more deep puddles. ‘Thank goodness we passed the inspection from the shelter, or I’d have had a mutiny on my hands.’

They pulled into the short driveway and Kiki parked as close to the front door as possible. Even the miserable weather couldn’t dim the beauty of the place. Luke lifted the puppy up to show him the pretty white cottage with a thatched roof. ‘Hey, fella. What do you think of your new home?’ Tigger yipped, a funny little high-pitched sound, and a trickle of warmth slid down Luke’s wrist and into the sleeve of his coat. ‘Gee, thanks,’ he said as the tang of dog pee filled the air.

‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry.’ Kiki’s apology might have been more convincing if she hadn’t been laughing quite so hard. Luke tucked the uncontrite dog back into the blanket and, shielding him with one half of his coat, ducked out into the rain. Kiki dashed out to join him, but her key had barely scraped against the lock before the front door swung open to reveal two giggling, very excited children.

‘Did you get him?’ Matty barely spared Luke a glance as he fixed his sparkling eyes on his mother. Luke grinned and pulled aside the edge of his jacket to show the wriggling bundle.

‘Yes. Shh, not so loud or you’ll spoil the surprise.’ Kiki pressed her finger to her lips and tried to herd the children further into the hall so she could close the door against the driving rain.

‘Surprise?’ Inevitably, the commotion had drawn Aaron from his study. Hands in the front pockets of his jeans, he stared in bemusement at the impromptu party before him. ‘I guess you guys really missed Luke, huh?’

Caught red-handed, it was too late for Luke to tuck the puppy out of sight. The dog began to squirm in earnest and worried about dropping him, he sank to his knees and placed the blanket on the red-tiled floor. The puppy yapped and wriggled free of the soft material, his tiny claws skittering on the tile as he took a couple of cautious steps forward. Charlie made a grab for the pup, but Kiki held her back, whispering to the little girl to be gentle.

Aaron crouched down. ‘Who’s this then?’ He extended his fingers towards the puppy and it gave them a tentative sniff, then a quick lick.

Matty hunkered down beside him, keeping his voice low to match Aaron’s. ‘This is Tigger. He belongs to you.’

Luke watched his brother glance from the boy next to him to Kiki. She raised her shoulder in an apologetic shrug. ‘I asked the children what they wanted to give you for your birthday, and they were adamant.’

Matty put his hand on Aaron’s knee. ‘Remember when we were at the beach and that man let us play with his dog? You said you’d always wanted a dog when you were my age, but you weren’t allowed one at home. You have a new home with us now, and we decided you should have whatever you want.’

Luke coughed around the big lump forming in his throat and he caught a suspicious glint in his brother’s eyes. ‘That’s very kind of you both.’ Aaron’s voice came out so rough it sounded like he’d been gargling rocks.

Matty leaned in closer to his side. ‘And we didn’t want you to be lonely. When Charlie goes to school, you’ll be all on your own during the day. Now you’ll have Tigger to keep you company.’

Tigger yipped, like he was accepting the responsibility, and wiggled his bottom in the air. Moving slowly, Aaron scooped the puppy up in one big hand and lifted him close against his chest. ‘Hello, Tigger. Hello, good boy.’ He touched a finger to each of the dog’s little ears then let Matty give him a pat. Mindful of her mother’s soft warnings, Charlie edged closer, giggling when Tigger licked her hand with a tiny pink tongue.

They painted such a picture of domestic bliss, Luke felt like an intruder amongst them. Tightness spread across his chest, and he pushed to his feet. ‘I’ll grab my bag.’ He held his hand out to Kiki for the car keys. ‘Just the crate from the back, or is there anything else?’

She smiled up. ‘There’s a few things in the boot.’

Aaron shifted his weight, like he meant to get up. ‘I’ll give you a hand, Spud.’

He waved him down. ‘No, stay put. No point in both of us getting soaked.’

By the time he’d hauled in his bag and about a ton of doggy essentials, the others had decamped to the kitchen. A zesty-chemical smell rose from a shiny patch on the floor tiles and Matty was busy spreading sheets of newspaper by the back door. Tigger had obviously made his mark again. Shrugging out of his wet jacket, Luke held it up to Kiki. ‘Any chance of sticking this in the wash?’

‘Of course.’ She nodded to the sleeve of his sweatshirt, ‘You might want to add that too.’

Luke examined the wet cuff ruefully. ‘How can such a small dog have such a big bladder?’ The soft patter of liquid on newspaper was the only response.

With the kids finally ushered upstairs by Kiki, Luke and Aaron finished tidying up the kitchen and settled at the table, each with a beer in hand. On the right side of a double helping of chicken stew and dumplings, Luke was drowsily full and grateful he’d changed his mind and decided to come for the weekend. He raised his bottle towards his brother. ‘Happy Birthday, Bumble.’

Aaron clinked beers with him and grinned with a hint of smug satisfaction, ‘It bloody well is at that.’ A snuffling sound came from the big basket they’d corralled behind a temporary barrier made from a laundry rack with cardboard sellotaped around the bottom half of the rungs. ‘I still can’t believe they got me a dog.’ He sounded pleased as punch about it.

An image of his big, strapping brother walking the tiny puppy on a lead came into Luke’s head and he covered the laugh welling in his chest with a swig of beer. He was sure Aaron would take to looking after this new addition to his household as well as he had the rest of it. The affection he held for the children showed in every look, every small, reassuring touch he shared with them. And as for him and Kiki… Luke’s heart fluttered at the prospect of once again sharing a love like that. ‘It suits you.’

Aaron cocked an eyebrow in query so Luke stretched his arms out wide. ‘This. Domestic bliss. A lovely woman, two point four kids and now a dog. You’re a cliché, mate.’

His brother shook his head. ‘Not sure about the point four. Two seems to suit us just fine, and it’s two more than I ever expected to have. Besides, I don’t even know if Kiki wants any more…’

Luke opened his mouth to point out that people, adults, normally had serious conversations about things like that before they took the plunge and settled down together, then shut it again with a snap. Considering he’d married a woman based on little more than a bone-deep knowledge she was meant to be his, he didn’t have leg to stand on when it came to commenting on the relationships of others. ‘You’ve got plenty of time to sort things like that out. You’re not that old.’

‘Cheeky sod.’ Aaron tapped his fingers against the glass bottle in front of him. ‘Things happened pretty fast, you know.’

He laughed. ‘I know.’ He cocked his head at the gurgle of water passing through the pipes overhead. Sounded like bath time was over, but it would take Kiki some time yet to get the children settled down for the night. He had Aaron to himself for a few more minutes at least. Enough time to ask the one question pounding in the back of his head. ‘So, how is she?’

His brother relaxed back in his chair, the expression on his face making it clear Luke’s attempt at sounding casual had been a miserable failure. ‘I don’t know.’ He held up a hand when Luke would have jumped in. ‘Physically, she seems better. Lord knows, between Mia and Kiki, she can’t turn around without being fed. Last time I saw her, she’d lost the worst of that gauntness from her frame.’

‘Last time?’ His brother and Kiki spent almost more time at Butterfly Cove than they did at home, so how long could it have been?

‘Shit. Kiki didn’t tell you?’ Aaron looked stricken.

His gut clenched, and a sick, familiar dread crept up his spine. ‘Tell me what?’

Aaron puffed out his cheeks. ‘Nee’s up with their dad. Vivian took a turn for the worse and, well, given how things were between you two at the wedding, Nee thought it would be best if she steered clear of the party tomorrow.’ He frowned and rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. ‘Sorry, Spud. It all happened rather suddenly. I know Kiki’s hoping it will mend a few fences between George and Nee, and it certainly took the pressure off her and Mia feeling one of them had to go up there.’

Forcing himself to unclench his painful grip on his beer, Luke placed the bottle carefully on the table. Everything Aaron said made perfect sense – Nee would certainly have had no expectation of his attitude towards her having changed after their brief encounter at the wedding. She was also the most logical choice of the three sisters to make the journey, and yet he couldn’t shake off the feeling she’d run away from him.

Again.

Well, that was something he would have to deal with in due course. He’d let her go without a fight once before. There was no way he was going to do it again. Right now, he needed to get the conversation back on track. He met this brother’s worried gaze and shook his head. ‘Forget about it. I’m sure everyone sighed in relief at not having to deal with the two of us together in the same small space. I also can’t blame you for not wanting to even mention her name to me, given the way I bit your head off at Mum and Dad’s the other week.’

Aaron reached across the table to give his forearm a quick squeeze. ‘I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in. I’m getting as bad as Madeline.’ They both grinned. The older woman was a huge favourite of theirs, even if she did have a tendency to interfere. His brother’s expression sobered. ‘Kiki’s still worried about her, though. As I mentioned before, it’s obvious something happened in New York, but Nee won’t talk about it, no matter how hard they try to persuade her to open up.’

Luke frowned. The pale, haunted woman he’d seen in September had been a mere shadow of the bright, sparkling girl he’d fallen head over heels in love with. What could change a person in so short a time? ‘I don’t even know why she went there in the first place.’

‘She got a placement at the Reinhold Institute.’ Kiki’s soft voice came from the doorway and they turned to face her. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Charlie wanted a drink.’ She held up a yellow plastic beaker.

The name meant nothing to Luke, but the way Kiki said it, it sounded like a big deal. Making a note to Google it later, he took a sip of his beer as he tried to corral his racing thoughts. Even in the short time they’d been together, it had been clear to him Nee was ambitious about her art career, and with good reason from the feedback she’d been getting. If this place was as prestigious as it sounded, then of course she would have wanted to go.

Had she thought he would try and stop her? Luke’s stomach churned at the idea. Had she understood so little about him she believed him to be some misogynist who expected his wife to put aside her own desires and needs for his? As if he would chain her, the freest of spirits, and try to make her less than the very best she could be!

He looked from Aaron to Kiki, flinching at the sympathy written clear in their expressions. He needed to get out of there and think. Standing abruptly, he grabbed the back of his chair before it could topple backwards. ‘I’m off to bed.’

The soft murmur of their voices followed him down the hallway. He rolled his eyes, imagining them exclaiming ‘Poor Luke’ and other pointless expressions of pity. Pity him? No! Better pity Nee, because she had no idea what was coming.

She’d obviously thought the worst of him; it was damn well time he showed her his best. People had always underestimated him – mistaken the easy-going face he showed the world for shallowness or a lack of feeling. But they’d missed one vital detail in their casual dismissal of him. Once he set his mind to something, nothing would deter him. When Aaron had gone up to London, Luke had applied himself to his studies, ensuring he attained the grades needed to win his own placement at the same university. He’d had his fair share of fun during his degree course, but never so much to cause him to miss a class, or risk the prestigious placement he’d set his heart on.

His mother had done her best to infuse her own misplaced resentment of Aaron into her beloved boy, and he’d set his face against her. Stubborn little sod, his brother had always called him, and Luke took it as a badge of honour. Nee was his wife, and until the moment she stared him in the eye and told him it was over, he would fight with everything he had to reclaim her.

The following afternoon, Luke paused on the threshold of the teashop, and grinned. If there was one thing the Thorpe sisters knew how to do, it was how to throw a party. Balloons and streamers hung from the exposed beams, adding bright spots of decoration to the light, airy room. Another swirl of colour caught his eye, this time a beautiful swirling mural on the whitewashed wall. Butterflies and flowers danced around a bright ribbon, leading the eye naturally to the glass-fronted counter dominating the top end of the space. Clusters of white-pine furniture were dotted around the room – the tables draped in red-and-white-checked cloths and bright-red bows decorating the backs of the chairs.

Cheers and laughter rang around as the waiting guests yelled ‘Surprise!’ and Aaron did his best to look shocked as they swarmed towards him offering hugs, kisses and neatly wrapped presents. Inviting smells drifted from a buffet table near the counter, and he edged past his brother’s shoulder to take a better look. He shook his head at the sight – finger sandwiches, fondant fancies, sausages on sticks. Even a rabbit-shaped jelly wobbled at one end of the table, surrounded by little jelly bunnies.

Turning back, he surveyed the room. Aaron’s mega-watt smile was bright enough to illuminate half of Blackpool pier as he accepted the greetings and congratulations of their friends and family. Hopefully, things would continue to improve between him and Cathy and then everyone who mattered to Luke could be together again.

Well, almost everyone.

A sudden rush of annoyance dimmed his mood. Nee should be there. If he could put things behind them and act like a grown-up, why the hell couldn’t she? He was the wronged party in all this. His stomach soured and he dropped his half-full plate on the edge of the buffet table – appetite gone. Footsteps came from behind him and Luke forced a smile to his face. This party was important to Aaron so he needed to stop sulking.

Daniel waved a cheese and pineapple stick at him in greeting. ‘This is the best party ever, mate. There’s a Black Forest gateau in the fridge for later, too.’ His eyes glazed a bit as he mentioned the rich chocolate dessert.

Luke shook his head. ‘Yeah, if you’re five maybe.’ He hadn’t meant to sound like a miserable git, but damn it, he’d had it all laid out in his head how the weekend would proceed, and she’d put the kibosh on it by buggering off to her dad’s. So much for not sulking.

His friend gave him an appraising look. ‘What’s crawled up your arse?’

Sighing, he shook his head. ‘Nothing worth worrying about. Come on, let’s party!’

And they did, Butterfly Cove-style. It wasn’t just the buffet that was nostalgic; Mia and Kiki had lined up a host of old favourite games. A very competitive pass-the-parcel saw Richard expelled from the circle for holding on to the gift-wrapped box for too long. Musical chairs proved little short of carnage – Luke wouldn’t be the only one to bear a few bruises come the morning. And the current game of statues looked to be going the same way. Insults and outrageous comments flew from those already disqualified as they tried to sabotage the handful of people remaining.

‘Been skipping those gym sessions again, Spud?’ Aaron cat-called him. Git.

Luke gritted his teeth against the urge to suck in his stomach and held still. Apparently not satisfied with his failure to distract him, Aaron crouched down to the puppy at his feet and gave him a little push in Luke’s direction. From the corner of his eye, he watched Tigger scamper over to sniff at his shoe. Don’t you dare… The puppy shuffled his rear end, and Luke’s nerve broke. Scooping Tigger up before he could even think about cocking a leg, he carried the little dog out of the teashop and plonked him down on the ground. Aaron’s laughter followed him out of the door and he span around, checked the kids weren’t looking, then flipped his big brother a rude gesture before pulling the door closed behind him.

A cold wind whistled through his long-sleeved T-shirt. Shivering, he stepped out of the shade and into a patch of sunlight, enjoying the autumn warmth while the puppy scampered and sniffed from place to place. The door creaked behind him and he glanced round to see Madeline slipping out to join him. Even with her cheeks flushed from the games, her hair hung in an immaculate curtain against her cheeks. Hooking an arm through his, she smiled. ‘They’ve broken out the Twister mat so I thought I’d hide out here with you.’

‘I’m not hiding.’ His automatic retort earned a small sniff of disbelief. ‘Well, not much,’ he conceded.

Mads tugged on his arm. ‘If we go for a stroll, we’ll both look less like we’re hiding.’

Keeping to the sunny patches, they took a turn around the garden. Luke kept a weather eye on the puppy as he gambolled from bush to bush, tail wagging like he was in seventh heaven.

‘So, have you spoken to her?’ The foul mood which had settled over him blew away on the freshness of the breeze, and might have stayed away had Madeline only kept quiet.

Luke sighed. He could act the fool, pretend he didn’t know who she was talking about, but what would be the point? It would only postpone the inevitable. ‘I planned to, this weekend.’

‘Ah.’ Madeline loosened her hold on his arm to adjust the length of twine holding some flopping stems to a stake. ‘We should have cut these back last weekend, but they’re too pretty.’ Tightening the string did no good, and the wilting flowers continued to droop. Crouching down, she gathered a handful of them. ‘There’s a pair of secateurs in the shed. Get them for me, will you?’

Irritation itched beneath his skin. ‘That’s all you’ve got to say to me about the situation? One bloody syllable and now we’re on to Gardener’s World?’

Sitting back on her heels, Madeline raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she stared up at him. ‘There’s a roll of green sacks in there too. Fetch them as well, there’s a good boy.’

Luke stomped across the lawn towards the shed and yanked the door open with more force than was strictly necessary. Damn it, he needed to stop being so damn touchy over everything. He should be grateful if Madeline had nothing else to say on the matter of him and Nee. She’d stuck her nose in enough with his brother’s relationship, and Daniel’s before that. Luke didn’t need her help, didn’t need anyone else’s help. He just needed to talk to Nee, clear the air and everything would be fine. He’d decided to forgive her, so there was nothing else to be said about it.

With a deep breath, he swallowed his temper and returned to Madeline’s side with the tools, and a pair of flowery gardening gloves he’d found on the shelf. ‘Thank you, darling. Hold these, will you?’ She nodded towards the limp stems.

Crouching beside her, Luke did his best to keep the shiny toes of his brogues from sinking into the wet soil of the flowerbed. He grasped the flowers where she indicated, holding them taut whilst Madeline snipped them short. She moved on to the next cluster, and he trailed at her heels, doing a damn good impression of Tigger. ‘I’ve decided to forgive her.’

‘That’s nice, dear.’ Madeline deadheaded a few more blooms, chucking the discards in the sack he held open for her. ‘What exactly are you forgiving her for?’

He frowned. What kind of game was she playing now? ‘For leaving me, of course.’

‘Of course.’ She moved to the other side of the bush, snipping as she went. ‘I thought you said you hadn’t spoken to her since the wedding.’

‘I haven’t.’ Luke huffed out a breath. ‘Look, Madeline, coy doesn’t suit you. Just spit it out, will you?’

Straightening up, she dropped another handful of beheaded flowers into the sack, then met his gaze. ‘If being coy doesn’t suit me, then being a fool suits you even less. It’s not much more than a month since you couldn’t bear to be in the same space as Nee. You’ve not spoken to her since, and yet you’re happy to forgive and forget?’

He ground his teeth. ‘I love her.’

‘And Richard loved me, but I still wanted to throttle him when he went behind my back and got a vasectomy. He did it for the best of reasons, and that just made it so much worse. I tried to swallow my resentment and anger with him, and it almost destroyed us.’

If a fly had chosen that moment to buzz over he’d probably have swallowed it, so low had his jaw dropped. There were few certainties he’d stake his life on: the sun rose in the East, Marmite was revolting, and Madeline and Richard had the happiest marriage in the world. To hear her speak of such things shook him to the core. ‘You always seemed so happy together.’

‘And we are, darling, but things might have been different if I’d carried on trying to ignore the elephant in the corner.’ Madeline rested a hand on his chest. ‘Richard hurt me, whether he meant to or not. With the noblest of intentions or not, he hurt me. If I hadn’t found someone to talk to about it, I don’t know where we’d be. Certainly not as content as we are now.’

Her hand pressed hard over his heart for a couple of beats. ‘Nee hurt you. Whatever her reasons. And if you don’t acknowledge that, it’ll fester away and eventually poison everything.’ She lifted her hand, returned it to brush a few spots of dirt left behind by her gardening gloves, then smiled at him. ‘You mean the world to me, and I want more than anything for you all to be happy.’

A scratchy feeling rose in his throat, and Luke had to swallow around it. ‘I know, Mads.’ He shut his eyes briefly against the feelings her words stirred up. ‘I’m scared. Scared I won’t be able to cope with the truth. When I saw her, I knew I’d do anything to get her back and it made me so angry – at myself, not her. It just kept going round and round in my head, so I decided to ignore it instead.’ He laughed. ‘I’m an idiot.’

Madeline patted his arm. ‘We’ve all been fools for love, sweet boy. I’m always here and ready to listen, or I can recommend a service I’ve used in the past. I know Kiki benefited from their assistance recently.’

Had he agreed to talk to somebody then? He ran back through their conversation in his mind, but couldn’t pin down when his position on it had shifted, only that it had. The lid was off the box now, and if he tried to shove it back on without facing his fears, he would be doing both himself and Nee a disservice. If he truly wanted to try and make things work with her, he needed to be on completely solid ground, and the only way to achieve that would be to do as Madeline suggested. He just wasn’t sure if he could talk to her about the jumble of emotions inside him; nor did he feel comfortable with the idea of pouring his heart out to a total stranger.’

Whether his expression gave his hesitancy away, or whether she was just a bloody mind reader, Madeline offered him a sympathetic smile. ‘Maybe you could find someone a bit closer to home. I’m only suggesting you think about it, that’s all.’ Stripping off one of her gloves, Madeline dug into the pocket of her neat slacks and produced a neatly folded tissue. ‘Dry your eyes and let’s go and eat a couple of obscenely large slices of that gateau.’

Luke blotted his cheeks, unaware he’d been crying until she mentioned it.

‘Everything all right, Spud?’ Luke spun round to see Aaron watching them from a few feet away, a frown of concern etched between his brows. He recognised that look, knew Aaron was in full big-brother mode, ready to step in and fix whatever the problem was. Tigger scampered out from beneath a bush to crouch at his master’s feet, tail wagging. Keeping his eyes fixed on Luke, Aaron bent down to stroke the puppy’s head.

The tightness in Luke’s chest eased. He had his family and friends around him, and they would do everything within their power to help him and Nee. All he had to do was reach out to them, and make sure he did everything he could to help himself. Tucking the tissue away, he hooked his arm around Madeline’s shoulders and pulled her into his side. ‘Everything’s fine, Bumble, thanks to a certain meddling old bag.’

A sharp elbow dug him in the ribs. ‘That’s Fairy Godmother to you, cheeky bugger.’

‘Oof!’ Luke staggered away clutching his side as though she’d delivered a much harder blow, almost bumping into his brother in the process.

Aaron hooked an arm around his neck, tugging him into a half-hug, half-headlock. ‘You would tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes, of course…’ He cut off the instinctive response, and swallowed. ‘Actually, I could do with a chat later, if you have time?’

Shifting his hold, Aaron brushed a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘Always got time for you, Spud. You know that.’

Yes. He did.


Chapter Five (#ulink_62ce39fd-d36d-506f-8ca1-53aaa6eafb94)

When the end came, it was surprisingly quick. Nee had finally settled into a routine with her father only to be thrown into the bureaucratic nightmare brought on by Vivian’s death. Even for someone with little in the way of personal assets, the world seemed determined to thwart them at every turn. George battled valiantly with solicitors, banks and all the other institutions who demanded a ridiculous amount of detail before they would accede to close accounts and update their records. Nee said a silent prayer of thanks for his meticulous record-keeping as she did her best to relieve him of as much of it as she could. An air of eerie acceptance had settled over her dad. True, he’d never been the most demonstrative of men, but his preternatural calm worried her more than if he’d broken down in tears.

Arrangements for the funeral had been made with a sympathetic undertaker, and the others would be heading up from Butterfly Cove in the morning for the service at the local crematorium the day after. Much as Nee wanted to be the one to shoulder the responsibility, in her heart it relieved her to know Mia would soon be there with her. Her doughty, capable sister would pick up whatever balls Nee dropped.

She sighed as the tinny, cheery music in her ear flipped back to the original track. She bet Mia wouldn’t have spent so long on hold. ‘Come on, come on,’ she muttered into the phone.

‘Thank you for calling Middleworth’s. My name is Sonia, how may I assist you this morning?’

Stunned that for once her impatience had been rewarded, it took Nee a moment to shake off her wool-gathering. ‘Hello. I was talking to one of your colleagues about cancelling an account?’

Keys clicked, the familiar sound of fingers skittering over a keyboard. ‘I’m sorry to hear you are thinking of leaving us. Can you give me the account number in question?’

Nee ground her teeth. ‘I’ve been through all this once already. Can you transfer me back to…?’ She glanced down at the notepad in front of her. She’d been given the bloody runaround so often over the last few days, she’d taken to writing every single detail down. ‘…Colin.’

‘I’m sorry, he’s on another call. Can you give me the account number in question, please?’

Fighting the urge to scream, she took a deep breath and reeled off the number, again. More clicking, then, ‘Thank you, Mrs Thorpe, I have your details on the screen. Can you please confirm the first line of your address, and the postcode, please?’

Nee stared at the automated clock on the phone. Ten bloody minutes she’d been on the phone and they were back to this again. She clung to the final shreds of her temper and tried to keep her tone even. ‘As I told your colleague, I’m not Mrs Thorpe, I’m her daughter—’

The rep cut across her. ‘I’m sorry, I’m only authorised to speak to the account holder. Data protection, and all that.’

Her fake-sympathy snapped something inside Nee. ‘Well, unless you’re a fucking clairvoyant, you’re out of luck because we’re cremating her tomorrow.’ She regretted the words the moment she’d said them. It wasn’t this poor girl’s fault, it was the same damn ‘computer says no’ system every so-called customer services department seemed tied to. ‘Sorry, I’m sorry, that was completely unnecessary of me. My mother died recently, and I’ve already been through all of this once with your colleague. I just want to close her account.’

‘There are no notes on the system regarding your request. I can only go by the information in front of me.’ The defensive tone from the operator made her feel lower than a snake’s belly. ‘Do you have probate on your mother’s estate?’ the woman continued.

Nee sighed. She’d banged her head against the probate brick wall several times already. ‘No, we don’t have it yet. It’s only a store card, for goodness’ sake. You must be able to see from your records that it hasn’t been used in months. I’m just trying to spare my father the upset of receiving any more blank statements like the one that arrived in the post this morning.’

‘I’m sorry, but our procedures require a copy of the probate certificate before we can terminate this account. We cannot act on a phone request, as we have no proof of your identity. I’m sure you understand.’

Because people randomly phoned and cancelled store cards belonging to strangers all the time, no doubt. All at once the fight left her, leaving her bone-tired. ‘Can you at least mark the account so no more statements are sent out?’

The line went quiet for a moment. ‘I’m sorry. Mrs Thorpe didn’t authorise anyone to act on her behalf, but I have requested a copy of the account closure form to be sent out to the address listed. It details the steps to follow.’

It was the best she could hope for, apparently. ‘Okay, thanks. Sorry again for being rude.’

‘It’s fine. Thank you for calling Middleworth’s.’ Nee stared at the phone, not quite knowing whether to laugh or cry, then placed it very gently back into its cradle. It was that, or smash the wretched thing against the wall.

The sharp ring of the front doorbell jarred her and she rose from her perch on the bottom step of the stairs. ‘I’ll get it,’ she called towards the half-open door of her father’s study. Let it not be another bloody casserole.

Vivian’s death had drawn the most unlikely of people out of the woodwork, some driven by a true sense of duty and concern, most jumping at the chance for a bit of rubbernecking into the sideshow of grief playing out behind the neatly trimmed hedges of number thirty-two. Neighbours her father had never met beyond the nod of a head took turns ringing the bell, offering a few words of bland comfort and a plate of something. No doubt the presence of one of the long-missing daughters of the house had set tongues wagging behind the twitching net curtains. Not that Nee could have cared less what they had to say for themselves.

She paused before the door to squint at the blurred outline of a figure through the privacy glass set in the wood, but the frosted ridges made it impossible to discern much. Taking a deep, composing breath, Nee fixed the politest smile she could muster and turned the latch. Bold as brass, and twice as bloody gorgeous, the last person she’d expected to see gave her a lopsided grin. ‘Hello, Mrs Spenser.’

Luke? He looked well; still carrying the summer tan he must have picked up at Butterfly Cove. The sun looked to have added a few paler highlights to his wayward blond curls, but the melting heat in his dark-brown eyes was as familiar as ever. Never one to consider herself the fainting type, Nee had to grip the edge of the doorframe until her knuckles turned white to stop herself from sliding to the floor. ‘You… you’re here?’

‘I heard about your mum,’ he said, as though that explained anything at all.

His breath condensed in the air and she became aware of the November chill leeching in through the open door. Acting on autopilot, she stepped to the side. ‘You’d better come in.’

Catching a hint of the clean, sharp scent of his aftershave as he passed her, she closed her eyes against a sudden rush of memories. Luke, nuzzling the spot just beneath her ear as he whispered some private jest to her. The untidy sprawl of his limbs taking up more than his share of the bed. The wink he’d given her when they broke for air after sharing their first kiss in an alley next to The George, less than an hour after setting eyes on each other.

The ground shifted beneath her, the way it always did when he was near, and the brittle shell she’d wrapped herself in over the past few weeks spider-webbed with cracks. A painful knot formed at the top of her breastbone and she tried to swallow it down, knowing if she let it out she’d start crying. And maybe never stop.

A gentle brush against her cheek forced her to open her eyes as Luke cupped her cheek. ‘I’m only here to help, nothing else, okay?’ He sounded so sincere, so forthright and honest, so Luke, she wanted nothing more than to tumble headlong into the comfort he offered.

‘I need you.’ Her lips could barely form the words, but it was enough. He reached past her to quietly close the door and then he was there – all reassuring warmth and that big, solid frame that seemed shaped to perfectly enfold her own. A hint of the crisp, winter air clung to the soft wool of his coat beneath her cheek and she breathed deeply. The scent of disinfected death that had infused every breath for what felt like weeks vanished in that first fresh inhalation.

She’d tried so hard to hold it all together, to tell herself she owed Vivian no tears, no regrets. God, she’d become so good at lying to herself about everything. The spiderweb of cracks shattered and the first wave of grief burst through, would have taken her to the floor had he not been there to hold her up. But he was there. How, why, she didn’t know, didn’t care. Her world narrowed down to one square foot of pale-green carpet beneath her feet and the feel of him against her.

Noises came from her throat, ugly and raw, as she cried. And, God, she cried. For the little girl who’d never known a mother’s proper love; for the loss of her art, snuffed out by the bitter realities of life; for all the promises the man holding her embodied that she’d discarded. Luke said nothing – just wrapped her in his arms and absorbed it all, standing sure.

A quiet cough, the familiar noise of her father clearing his throat, sounded nearby, and she would have raised her head had Luke not stroked his hand over her hair and urged her closer against him. ‘Hello, Mr Thorpe,’ he said, his deep voice vibrating under her ear. ‘I was very sorry to hear about your wife’s passing. I thought you both might need some help over the coming days.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Luke. I must say it’s good to see you, again. Nee’s been doing a wonderful job of sorting things out, but another pair of hands certainly won’t go amiss. It… it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it’s still difficult.’ There wasn’t even a ripple of surprise in her father’s voice, like her estranged husband turning up out of the blue was the most natural thing in the world. That familiar cough of his came again. ‘Right, well, I think I’ll put the kettle on. Will you have something, Luke?’

‘Cup of coffee would be brilliant, thanks, Mr Thorpe.’

‘I think we’re past time for you to call me George. Coffee’s only instant, I’m afraid, we’ve run out of pods for the machine. Lots of visitors, you see. Everyone’s been very kind. Come on through to the kitchen when you’re both ready.’

Laughter sputtered through her tears at their exchange of mundane pleasantries, as if she wasn’t falling to noisy pieces in front of them. She grabbed for the laugh, tried to hold on to it and bring herself back under control, but now acknowledged the grief wouldn’t be denied. Luke pressed a kiss to the top of her head. ‘Take all the time you need.’ She nodded, all she could manage before the tears swamped her again.

When she finally felt able to lift her face from the now-sodden front of his coat, she’d lost track of time. Limp, exhausted, like she’d cried for a week. Luke tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, an infinitely tender gesture, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. Silence hung between them as he waited her out, broken only by the faint strains of her father whistling along to some classical tune on the radio. China rattled against wood, followed by the metallic clink of cutlery. If her dad was laying the table still, they couldn’t have been standing there as long as she’d thought.

Inertia held her in its claws. She should move, step back and at least give Luke a chance to take his coat off. But if she broke the moment, she’d have to deal with all the bitter truths she’d just wept out on his shoulder. That was the trouble with life. It didn’t wait for you to catch your breath, didn’t care if you were ready or not, it just kept coming at you. Move. Drop your arms. Take a step back. Her fingers clung stubbornly to the back of his coat, her feet glued to the spot.

A loud grumble rolled from his midriff, and Luke chuckled as he continued to smooth his hands up and down her back. ‘My stomach smells whatever your dad’s toasting.’

‘Probably crumpets.’ She’d made a trip to the supermarket that morning, anything to get out of the house for a little while. They hadn’t needed much—mostly refills for the coffee machine, which was the one thing she’d forgotten, of course—so she’d wandered aimlessly up and down the aisles grabbing random things that wouldn’t take much thought and even less effort to prepare. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had crumpets, but they’d appealed to her enough to end up in the trolley.

He gave an exaggerated groan. ‘Have pity on a man. Next you’ll be telling me there’s strawberry jam to put on them.’

‘You always had such a sweet tooth.’ She saw him in her mind’s eye, covers pooled at his waist, Sunday papers strewn across the bed as he munched his way through a mountain of jammy toast and endless cups of coffee. His breath whispered against her cheek, and it would be so easy to turn her head, to seek out his lips and pretend the past year had been an aberration. But this wasn’t one of those time-slip stories. She couldn’t wish herself back to another point in time and tread a different path.

Tasting the bitterness of that truth on the back of her tongue, she stepped back. His arms lingered, a brief resistance to her attempt to retreat before he let her go. And so he should. Luke might be here with the best of intentions, but she didn’t deserve the easy comfort of his presence. People didn’t just forgive and forget, and even if he believed he was different in that, she wasn’t the hopeful girl he’d fallen in love with. ‘Let me take your coat, and we’ll see what Dad’s rustled together for tea.’

He ducked his head, trying to catch her eye, but she fixed her gaze at a point over his shoulder as she held out her hand. Tension filled his frame for a moment, before he released it on a sigh and quickly unbuttoned his coat. She busied herself with hanging it on the row of hooks, fussing at the soggy mess she’d made on the front until he caught her hand and pulled it away. The firm grip on her fingers told her he wasn’t about to let go in a hurry, so she chose to ignore the way her palm slotted perfectly into his as she led him down the short hallway.

The gilt-edged frame of a mirror caught her eye, but she ignored that too, knowing she’d see nothing good in it. Her eyes itched, that awful dry-burn which came after too many tears, and the skin around her nose felt raw. Fixing the best smile she could muster on her lips, she entered the kitchen, pausing when she saw the feast laid out on the table. ‘Oh, Dad, this looks brilliant.’

George shrugged a little awkwardly. ‘It was no bother, and I thought Luke would probably be hungry after his journey.’ He turned to Luke who was pulling out the chair next to the one she’d chosen, ‘You came up on the train? The service from London is pretty good, I find.’ Another attempt by her dad at polite small talk, she assumed, because she might not have seen him for a few years, but he’d always been a creature of habit and trips to the capital weren’t something she ever remembered him making.

Luke nodded. ‘Euston’s pretty easy access for me, too, which helped.’ He reached for the mug George held out to him. ‘Thanks. Nee’s right, this looks great.’

George passed a mug of tea to Nee then took a seat opposite. ‘Please, help yourselves. I didn’t know what you would want, so I put a bit of everything out.’ His smile faltered. ‘Everyone’s been very generous, we’ve more food than I know what to do with. If you’d prefer something hot…’

He made to stand, but Luke waved the hand already gripping a crumpet at him. ‘No, no. This is perfect, honestly.’

Nee added a dash of milk to her tea and watched in silence as the two men filled their plates with a selection of sandwiches, cold meat and, in Luke’s case, a slab of fruit cake to go with the crumpet already dripping in jam. He paused, the crumpet inches from his mouth, fixing a determined look on her. ‘Eat something.’ Order given, and it was most definitely an order, he stuffed about half the crumpet in his mouth and closed his eyes with a happy sigh.

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse him, a tiny spark of heated indignation breaking through the suffocating weight of sadness blanketing her, but two things stopped her. Firstly, she was bloody starving for the first time in days. Secondly, he’d come when she hadn’t known she needed him, when she’d given him no reason to ever want to be near her again.

Helping herself to some fruit and cheese, she ate in silence as Luke told her dad about the newest addition to Aaron and Kiki’s family, and the ‘surprise’ party they’d thrown for his brother the previous month. It sounded like he’d had a great time with everyone, reinforcing her decision to leave Butterfly Cove as the right one, even if it caused a pang of regret at the same time.

He cut himself another slice of fruit cake, adding a thinner piece to her plate at the same time. Raising an eyebrow at his presumptuous action got her little more than a cocky grin in return. Damn him for knowing how much she loved fruit cake – they’d treated themselves to a Fortnum’s one as part of their homemade wedding supper. Memories of that day swamped her, bringing the fresh sting of tears to her eyes. His smile faltered and she bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the waterworks. ‘I’m okay. Thanks for the cake.’

‘I’m being bossy, sorry.’ He didn’t try too hard to look contrite, whatever his words.

‘It’s fine.’ She didn’t examine her own motives for acquiescing so easily. Being taken care of was too bloody nice.

‘In that case, when you’ve finished that, I’ll make you another cup of tea and you can take it up to bed with you.’

Give a man an inch… ‘I’m going to have a bath.’ A pathetic little rebellion, but she wouldn’t let him push her around too much.

He nodded. ‘Fine. Bath, then bed.’ She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep the corner of her mouth from twitching in amusement.

‘I think we could all do with an early night,’ her father interjected with a slightly desperate attempt at diplomacy. ‘There’s clean bedding in the airing cupboard so it won’t take me two minutes to make up one of the other rooms, unless…’ George trailed off, colour rising in his cheeks.

Oh. God. He couldn’t possibly think she and Luke would be sharing a room, could he? Nee gaped at her father, feeling her own blush heat her skin. Luke surely wouldn’t expect it…

She didn’t dare wait for him to respond. ‘I’ve already made up Kiki’s bed ready for tomorrow, but Luke can use Mia’s old room.’ Her elder sister had decided to stay with Pat and Bill, the parents of her late husband. They remained close and had welcomed Daniel into their family with a graceful ease few possessed. The couple would be spending Christmas with their other children and grandchildren, so Mia wanted to catch up with them while she could. Kiki’s children were staying home with Madeline and Richard, who had also agreed to look after the couple of artists staying at the studios until Mia and Daniel returned. No one had mentioned Luke to her when they’d been making arrangements, and she wondered whether they even knew he’d shown up. They’ll find out soon enough when they arrive.

Needing to escape, she pushed back her chair. ‘I’ll make up the bed while my bath is running.’

The bland expression on Luke’s face told her nothing. ‘Thanks. I’ll fetch your tea up in a minute.’


Chapter Six (#ulink_a0c62b5f-5816-5f5f-8f09-1c3d67a02453)

Luke waited until he could hear the water running upstairs, then stood and began to clear the table. George rose and began to work beside him silently, although Luke could tell he had something on his mind. He refilled the kettle, wiping down the spaces on the kitchen table as the older man cleared them and bided his time. Now he’d set his mind to things, he had all the patience in the world. Nee was his, until the day she said otherwise, and nothing would stand in the way of that. He’d had a long chat with Mia on the phone before he’d travelled up, and though she’d issued a number of outrageously dire warnings to him, she’d eventually come onboard with his plans.

The kettle bubbled and steamed and the loud click of the automatic cut-off switch set Luke into motion, rinsing their cups out, going through the familiar ritual of tea-making. ‘Coffee?’ he asked George, with a quick glance across to him.

‘Tea, please. I think I’ll take it upstairs with me, if you don’t mind?’ George brushed a few imaginary crumbs off the front of his neatly buttoned cardigan, then set his shoulders in a way that told Luke he’d made up his mind to speak. Abandoning the tea for now, he put his back to the kettle, giving his father-in-law his full attention. Face to face, he could see the girls had inherited their brown eyes from him, as well as a certain stubbornness around the jawline.

George folded his arms with a sigh. ‘I’m probably the last man with any rights to behave like a protective father, but I’m going to anyway.’ Luke nodded. He’d learnt about the difficulties within the Thorpe family over the past year, as neither himself nor Nee had spoken much about their backgrounds during their madcap courtship. ‘She’s lost all her spark, my poor girl, and I need to know whether that is down to you.’

A reasonable assumption, given all the man knew was that his daughter had walked out on her husband. ‘She wasn’t like this last summer, I swear. Kiki thinks it’s to do with whatever happened in New York. Has Nee said anything to you about it?’

‘Not a word. She spent most of her time at the care home, before, you know…’ A tight, painful expression crossed George’s face. ‘I went when I could, but I had to sit outside the room to avoid upsetting Vivian, and it didn’t seem fair to leave her alone.’

Luke tried to imagine the agony of it, especially for someone as self-contained as George. The excruciating embarrassment as people speculated and gossiped about the man who couldn’t even enter his wife’s room. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss.’ Such inane, pathetic words, but they were all he had.




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