As she took the last of her things from the case, she suddenly spotted Sebastian’s handkerchief—the one he’d so thoughtfully passed to her in the cathedral—nestling in amongst her tights. What was it doing there? And why hadn’t she given it back to him straight away, or given it to Pat to go into the laundry? She bit her lip. Well, she’d give that to Mia as well, when she saw her, she thought. There’d be no need for any explanations. But, as she picked up the handkerchief, she held it to her nose for a second. It could only belong to Sebastian, she thought…It had his distinctive smell—a mixture of aftershave or cologne and the pervasive fresh, sweet scent of country air and leaves and bracken. She stared across to her window, where the only sight she could see was the tall brick wall of the building next door…Why had she come home early? she thought. She could still be there in Cornwall, she and Benson could go for a gentle stroll before she sat down with Sebastian to one of Pat’s mouth-watering meals! No regrets, she told herself crossly. She’d made the right decision.
She switched on the television to distract herself, then stood back and looked around her with some distaste. The flat needed a good clean, she thought. It was time to roll up her sleeves and get stuck in. Energetic housework had been the time-honoured way she’d found usually lifted her from any feelings of ennui. She had to confess that for several weeks before Christmas when they’d been so busy at work, and had then gone on to one or two festive gatherings afterwards, she’d not spent much time at home at all. Certainly not enough to move furniture about and do some cleaning and polishing. Counting the weekend, she still had six days left before her holiday was finally over, so that ought to be long enough to bring the place back up to standard. She’d begin tomorrow.
She was about to unwrap the small packet of ham she’d bought for her supper from the deli nearby when the phone rang. It was Mia.
‘What are you doing at home?’ Mia demanded ‘You should still be on holiday!’
Fleur hesitated for only a second…She just could not go on with this deception, not with her friend, anyway. Although she would have to manipulate the truth, just a tad.
‘Oh hi, Mia. How…how did you know I was back?’ she asked—but thinking that there could only be one answer to that.
‘I rang home to talk to you, and was told by Pat that you’d been called back to work. Honestly, what a pain.’
Fleur took a deep breath. ‘Mia—look, I’ll come clean. The lab hasn’t been in touch at all. It was just that I thought…I got the impression that…’
‘What? Don’t tell me Sebastian was being difficult…’
‘Oh, no, no, of course not,’ Fleur replied quickly, ‘but I did think that I might be outstaying my welcome. He’s very, very busy with everything, and I began to think I was in the way…’ The words petered out as she tried to give a rational explanation. ‘And Pat has put in so much effort on my behalf—I’ve never eaten meals like it in my life.’ She patted her waistline as she spoke. ‘But it was a wonderful break, Mia, thanks to your kind offer that I should stay, and I felt so well the whole time. In fact, I’ve had to keep reminding myself to take those tablets.’
‘I think you were probably over-sensitive, Fleur, because Pat couldn’t stop going on about how much she liked you,’ Mia said. ‘Now, tell me everything. I hope Sebastian showed you around the area, took you one or two places…’
‘Sebastian was extremely kind,’ Fleur began carefully, sitting on the arm of her sofa and preparing herself for a long discourse. Mia liked all the details in Technicolor.
After making plans to meet up next week, they were about to ring off when Fleur said casually, ‘By the way, Mia, don’t tell Sebastian, you know, that I came back because I felt in the way…It’s best that he thinks I’m indispensable at work.’
‘OK,’ Mia replied cheerfully, though thinking that she’d jolly well find out what her brother had said, or done, to give Fleur the impression she was in the way.
Much later, curled up comfortably in her dressing gown, Fleur rang her parents. Philip answered the phone and his pleasure on hearing his daughter’s voice was tangible.
‘Hello there, Fleur! Well, my word, you are having a good break, aren’t you, dear? All raring to go back to work, I expect? What? Oh, yes, Mum and I are fine, enjoyed Boston, but it’s good to be back in harness. Holidays are fine but too much of it addles the brain.’
Fleur let him go on, interspersing everything he had to say with casual remarks of her own about Cornwall. ‘Is Mum there?’ she asked.
‘No, she’s gone next door. New grandchild staying there, I believe.’ He sighed, clearly mystified as to why anyone should be interested in babies. ‘When she’s stopped drooling, I’ll get her to ring you, OK? Thanks for the call, and all the best. Let’s hope for a successful year for all of us.’
Fleur snapped the phone shut, smiling faintly. Dad’ll never change, she thought—and anyway, would she really want him to? At least he was consistent—and he was never unkind. Everyone had their faults, but no one was all bad, she mused.
She decided to go to bed. She’d had a lengthy drive and the day had seemed incredibly long. Snuggling under her duvet, she lay there staring up at the ceiling for a moment…It felt quite strange to be back home amongst her own things and she realized how quickly she’d settled into Pengarroth Hall—she’d felt at home there straight away. She wondered whether Pat was still there, or whether she’d returned to her cottage to be with Beryl. That potato cake had been absolutely scrummy, Fleur thought sleepily—she’d have a go at doing that herself one of these days. What was the recipe again…flour and suet and sugar and…?’
With a start, she was brought back from almost-sleep by the ringing of her phone and she sat up quickly. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was eleven o’clock and she frowned—her mother wouldn’t ring at this hour because Philip always said that telephone calls from, or to, anyone should cease after nine p.m., other than in emergencies.
‘Hello?’ she said sleepily—and the voice that answered sent a rush of pleasure right through her.
‘Oh, good—you’re home, safe and sound,’ Sebastian said. ‘Good journey?’
‘No problems to speak of,’ Fleur replied, smiling. It was so good to hear him.
‘I haven’t disturbed you, have I?’ he said. ‘You weren’t asleep?’
‘No,’ she replied truthfully, ‘I wasn’t asleep—though I am in bed.’
There was a pause after that, and Fleur imagined him lounging there alone, probably in the sitting room, fingering a glass of red wine or a whisky. And Sebastian pictured Fleur’s graceful, feminine curves as she lay in bed, pictured her hair spread out on the pillow, imagined the creamy smoothness of her skin.
He cleared his throat. ‘Actually, I’ve been talking to my sister, so I knew you were home,’ he went on. He would like to have said that he’d wanted to hear her voice—but didn’t think that was a good idea. ‘But I thought I’d ring anyway,’ he added.
‘I’m glad you did, because now I can thank you again for my holiday, Sebastian,’ Fleur said. ‘I…I did love every minute of it.’ Well, not quite every minute, she thought, but most of them. ‘I think Pengarroth Hall and the surroundings are just…idyllic,’ she went on, ‘and if I were in your shoes, I’d be counting the days before living there permanently.’
He ignored that last remark because it only reminded him of the distance which would soon separate him from the city life he enjoyed, from the people he was close to…And from any chance he might have found to spend time with this woman—a woman who had slipped so effortlessly into his life and to such significant effect! He still had difficulty in believing it because vulnerable