Page 15 of Sunny Skies and Summer Kisses

‘I can imagine.’ Anoushka had seen for herself how scathing Lady Davinia could be when someone annoyed her.

They ambled on, the conversation flowing easily. Gabe told her more about his sisters, recounting tales of how it had been growing up in such an exuberant household, and the mischief the six of them had created for their patient, long-suffering parents. ‘It was the girls who were the naughtiest, especially our Saoirse – she’s a couple of years older than me and was a right little rascal. Whereas I lived up to my name and was an absolute angel – well, mostly,’ he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. ‘Clodagh was a real bossy-britches – still is actually – while Grainne and Roisin where a right pair of tomboys, always getting into scrapes. Mairead was the quietest; gave the least bother, she always had her head in a book. Apart from the time she thought it’d be hilarious to fill my guitar with water. That didn’t go down well at all, I can tell you.’

Anoushka’s face was aching, she’d been laughing so hard. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so relaxed, and had, tentatively at first, allowed herself the indulgence of enjoying Gabe’s company. It didn’t mean they were anything more than friends, she told herself. He was easy to be around, made no demands of her, didn’t make her feel like she was doing something wrong, or that his mood would snap and he’d become suddenly angry. There was no trace of the stress that had lurked whenever she was with Damon. She hadn’t realised until now that her body had been on high alert around him, adrenalin primed, ready to surge at a moment’s notice. There was no wonder she’d felt exhausted. Damon had sapped away her energy and her happiness. And there was no wonder the feeling of relief at being free of him was so great.

It felt good to share anecdotes of her own family with Gabe too, the most recent one being how they’d lost little Lottie and had spent ages hunting around the house and the garden, only to find her curled up, sleeping soundly with Ethel and Mabel in their basket in the utility room. ‘She looked so cute, snuggled up with them, my parents didn’t have the heart to move her.’

Gabe’s ensuing hoots of laughter warmed her heart. She hadn’t shared that particular story with Damon, knowing his reaction would have been very different. He considered pets in the house to be unhygienic. Hearing that Lottie had actually ventured into the dogs’ bed would have been met with disgust and disapproval in equal measure and he’d have lectured her about it for ages after. He wouldn’t have seen it for the sweet story her family thought it was.

‘So, can I ask how things are going with your dance classes? Are you still holding them in the village hall?’ Gabe asked as they moseyed down the stony track that led to Fower Yatts Lane.

It was the easiest thing in the world, walking along and talking to him like this. No one would ever guess as to his fame and success, and she’d never seen a hint of arrogance or starry behaviour; he always seemed perfectly happy to blend into the background, act like he was one of the locals. And he always sounded genuinely interested in what she had to say; there was never any need to brace herself in anticipation of negative comments, ridiculing her decisions, mocking her, like there had been with Damon. It was easy to forget Gabe’s fame, and all its implications, up here on the moortop. She felt completely at ease with him. In fact, today, she found her spirits soaring, felt a welcome lightness in her heart. In truth, if she was completely honest with herself, she’d say she was really rather enjoying being in his company.

‘Hmm. They’re going really well, but I’m desperate to find somewhere permanent to set up my own studio. I’ve just spent the morning trying to find something suitable but had no luck. It’s okay in the village hall, but it really limits how many classes I can run.’ She went on to explain how Kitty and Jimby had an old stone outbuilding they thought might be suitable for conversion into a studio – as part of the trust their parents had left them, the pair owned various properties in the village together with the land associated with Oak Tree Farm. On closer inspection, it had turned out to be impractical for a whole variety of reasons. Anoushka had felt utterly disappointed.

‘It’s a shame you hadn’t got in there quick when the new units came up for rent at the castle’s old estate offices. I daresay they would’ve been ideal; some of them are pretty big.’

Anoushka pulled a regretful face. ‘I know; they were snapped up before I had the chance. I’m just keeping my fingers crossed something comes up soon.’

‘I’m sure it will; I’ll keep my ear to the ground for you.’ He smiled across at her.

‘Thank you.’

‘And can I just say, I think it’s great you want to set up a studio here; it’ll be another great resource on the doorstep of the surrounding villages; something else to attract families to settle here rather than having them head for the towns. It’ll help stop the little cottages from being turned into holiday homes, standing empty for months of the year like so many places in the countryside.’

‘Thanks.’ Anoushka turned to him and smiled, a feeling of warmth rushing through her. It surprised her how happy it made her that they were on the same wavelength. ‘That’s one of the reasons I want to do it here. Plus I’ve seen the way Mum and Vi’s wedding dress business is thriving. Even though it’s off the beaten track, they get clients travelling for miles to have one of their designs. Their success proves it’s possible to make a go of things out here. And Lady Caro renovating the old estate offices is brilliant in helping support that.’ She paused. ‘Plus, I like the idea of having my own business; being independent, not having to rely on anyone else.’ Her time with Damon had galvanized that view, making her more determined than ever never to be beholden to anyone. She knew he would eventually have worn her down, made her give up her dreams of having her own dance studio, yet somehow making her believe it was what she wanted. It sent a shiver running through her.

Gabe nodded, absorbing her words. ‘I get that. And have you got a name for it? This shiny, new dance studio?’

Just then, a rabbit darted out of the undergrowth, stopping Bob in his tracks. He stood frozen, one paw raised off the ground in a classic gundog pose as he watched its white bobtail disappear into the heather.

‘Rabbit take you by surprise, did it, fella?’ Gabe chuckled. ‘And, I have to say, I’m liking that stance; you definitely look the part.’ Bob looked up, wagging his tail before resuming his nose-to-the-floor investigation. Gabe turned back to Anoushka. ‘Where were we? Oh, yeah, you were about to tell me the name of your dance studio.’

She went on to tell him how, after racking her brains, she’d come up with a whole tranche of ideas, from A.R.C. School of Dance – ‘A.R.C. are my initials.’ – to Moorland Dance Studios, which she felt sounded too rural. ‘I don’t want people thinking I just offer country dancing or folk dancing lessons,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘And with the A.R.C. option, there’s the slight problem of the way it sounds if you say it quickly. ‘A.R.C,’ she said, by way of demonstration. ‘Sounds a bit too much like “arsey” for my liking; I’m not so sure “Arsey Dance Studios” would attract many pupils.’

Gabe gave a great roar of laughter. ‘Fair point. Though I, for one, would be intrigued to find out what a course of “Arsey” country-dancing lessons had in store,’ he said, making her giggle.

‘I’m not so sure I’d get many takers. Anyway, I finally settled on Danskelfe School of Dance. I figured even if I don’t get a place in Danskelfe, my studios will still be close enough for it to make sense. Plus, I thought sharing a name with the local castle might add a certain kudos to my dance school.’

‘I can see the logic in that. And I think it’s the perfect name; sounds very professional.’ He smiled across at her.

‘Thank you,’ Anoushka said, doing her best to ignore the ripple of something delicious his smile had sent rushing around inside her.

‘So, can I ask what does the “R” in your initials stand for?’

‘Rose; it stands for Rose,’ she said. ‘It was my dad’s choice. He tells a rather corny story that it’s because he thought I looked like a little rosebud when I was first born, so thought Rose would be the perfect middle name. Anoushka was my birth mother’s choice.’ She felt suddenly self-conscious sharing this personal detail with Gabe.

‘Rose,’ Gabe said, softly. ‘Rose.’ He repeated himself as if delighting in the sound. He turned to her. ‘That’s a beautiful name; it suits you. So, I guess it’s official, you’re a genuine English Rose.’

Her heart fluttered and she felt her face grow warm with another blush. She fixed her attention to the ground as they negotiated a steep stretch of the path. ‘Oh, I’m not so sure about that. Anyway, how’s the recording going?’ Time to get the focus well and truly off her!

‘It’s going grand, thanks. Written a whole load of songs too. This place inspires me beyond belief. It’s captured my heart like nowhere else ever has.’

Anoushka couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, cursing herself when she caught his eye. ‘Yeah, it’s a pretty special place,’ she said, trying to ignore the somersault in her stomach.

‘It is. Makes it harder to leave; makes me dread going back on the road. I’ve only got another week here, then I need to head back down to London, got to prepare for the tour; s’just a small one, a few dates around the UK, but…’

Anoushka got the feeling the “but” carried a lot of weight. She waited for him to finish his sentence, his mind clearly mulling over something.

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