Page 5 of Sunny Skies and Summer Kisses

It wasn’t until she’d moved back home after finishing her degree that she’d been able to sense that things weren’t right. One Sunday, after much pleading from Anoushka who’d been worried Kitty would be hurt if he refused yet another invitation, Damon had reluctantly accompanied her back to Lytell Stangdale. She’d been keen to properly introduce him to her family, sure they’d love him just as much as she did. But she’d been disappointed, and a not a little angry, to find they didn’t seem quite so taken with him. She’d done her best to ignore how he’d held court over one of Kitty’s delicious afternoon teas at the kitchen table of Oak Tree Farm, boasting about his achievements, belittling Ollie’s “small-town business” as he’d called it, mocking Jimby’s profession as a blacksmith. ‘Is there really still a need for them?’ he’d said with a snigger, adding, ‘I suppose there probably is in the arse-end of nowhere.’ The glances exchanged between her dad and Kitty had nettled her. At other points in the conversation his charm offensive had been in overdrive but she could see it hadn’t sat well with Kitty whose reserved nature had clearly felt uncomfortable with the lashings of compliments Damon had layered upon her. ‘Beautiful and an amazing cook too; not difficult to see why Ollie fell for you, Kitts,’ he’d said making Kitty visibly squirm, her face flushing. His over-familiar use of her step-mum’s nickname had made Anoushka cringe.

Later, when Damon had left, and Anoushka was sitting on the sofa in the living room with thirteen-year-old Lily stretched out beside her, her stepsister had asked, ‘Noushka, why do you like Damon?’

‘Why do I like him?’ Anoushka’s brow had creased at such an odd question. ‘I like him for lots of reasons. Why do you ask, Lil?’

‘Hmm. Just wondered, that’s all.’ Lily hadn’t taken her eyes away from the TV screen.

‘Do you like him, Lils?’ Anoushka had asked warily.

A long pause had followed as Lily considered her answer. ‘Well… he’sokay, Isuppose. He’s, kind of… not the sort of boyfriend I thought you’d have.’

‘Oh? What kind of boyfriend did you think I’d have then?’

Lily had scrunched up her face. ‘Well… sort of… nice… like Gabe—'

‘Damon’s a prat,’ seventeen-year-old Lucas had said, walking into the room, bringing the smell of fresh air with him. He’d been playing football in the garden with Ollie and little sister, Lottie. ‘He really fancies himself. And I can’t stand the way he talks to you and takes the mickey out of Ollie and Uncle Jimby. He’s a right dickhead.’

‘Lucas!’ said Kitty, who’d been passing by the door.

‘Well, he is. Gabe’swaycooler and he’s mint at football.’

‘I agree with Lukes, Gabe iswaycooler, and he talks to us like he’s interested, unlike Damon,’ Lily had said, stealing a look at Anoushka.

‘Well, I think that’s really unkind. You haven’t given him a chance.’ Anoushka had felt hurt by their words. But something deep inside her knew they were right.

She couldn’t pinpoint when he’d changed, when the acts of control had started to creep in; it had all been so gradual. Damon had skilfully operated below the radar. His criticism had been so subtle at first she’d hardly noticed, before slowly becoming more blatantly passive-aggressive, spiteful even. ‘Why do you dress like that?’ he’d asked one day. ‘Don’t you think you’d look better in something more sophisticated? More flattering? I’m not saying you looktartyper se…but maybe you could do with toning it down a bit, look lessflirtatious?’

‘You think I look flirtatious?’ she’d asked, shocked. It certainly hadn’t been the look she’d set out to achieve; she’d just thought she dressed like the other girls her age. Granted, some of the skirts and dresses she wore did show a little more leg than they would on her friends, but that’s because she was so tall in comparison. And it wasn’t as if the skirts were that short anyway. She’d been comfortable with her style until then and certainly wouldn’t have described it as tarty or flirtatious. The next thing she knew, he’d started to buy her clothes that were more befitting of a woman twice her age, sulking if she didn’t wear them, accusing her of not being grateful for his “thoughtful” gifts. That had led to direct accusations of flirting with other men.

‘I’ve seen the way you go on with that tall lad, flicking your hair around and fluttering your eyelashes at him,’ he’d said one afternoon when he’d met her after a dance class at the studio in York.

‘Who?’ she’d asked incredulously.

‘You knowexactlywho I mean – unless you behave that way with every man you come into contact with – the one with the Scottish accent who always seems to be hanging around you. Can’t keep his hands off you.’

‘What? You can’t mean Jamie, surely?’

‘That’s him.’ His eyes had narrowed. ‘Jamie.’

Anoushka had shaken her head vehemently. ‘You’ve got it so wrong; I don’t flirt with Jamie. He’s a mate and he’s certainly not interested in me. And besides, he’s tactile with everyone.’

Damon had snorted. ‘Yeah, right. And you expect me to believe that when I’ve seen the way the pair of you carry on with each other.’

She’d turned to him, exasperated. ‘Damon, you’ve got to believe me! You’re way off the mark. There’s nothing going on between Jamie and me. He’s in a relationship with Felix. He’s gay.’

Her reply had rendered him speechless for once.

Later, he’d criticised her decision to stay in Lytell Stangdale after finishing her degree, rather than move permanently to York. ‘Why would you choose a stagnant place in the sticks, where everyone knows your business, over a bustling city with everything you need on your doorstep?’ he’d said, his top lip curling in disgust. He’d been working on her to move in with him and had expected her to cave.

‘Because Lytell Stangdale has everythingIneed,’ she’d said. ‘And besides, York’s not that far away.’

Ever since she was a young, dance-crazy girl Anoushka had set her heart on starting her own dance school in the village where she’d grown up. And since she’d returned home, she’d tested the water by running twice-weekly dance classes for local children in the village hall, offering ballet, tap and disco – Saturday mornings and Wednesdays after school, which had been the only regularly available slots the much-in-demand venue could offer. The plan had been to start off small and see how things went. She boosted her earnings by helping out at Romantique, the wedding dress design company her step-mum and Violet owned.

That had been nine months ago. She’d been in her element and was pleased to find it quickly became a roaring success, with parents asking if she’d consider running classes for older students too. And when other locals had started making enquiries about dancing classes for themselves, she thought she’d burst with excitement. ‘I quite like the idea of doing a bit of ballroom, lovey,’ Little Mary had said. ‘Aye, pet, and I wouldn’t mind shaking my booty to a bit of that disco stuff,’ Big Mary had said in her lilting Wearside Geordie accent, giving a shake of her hips when the pair had stopped Anoushka outside the village shop one morning. It had warmed her heart and had meant the next stage of her plan could be put into action far sooner than she’d anticipated: to find a suitable premises to have her own studio, enabling her to run as many classes as possible.

Her excitement hadn’t lasted long once she’d shared her news with Damon over drinks one night at a bar in York.

‘And I always thought you had ambition, Anoushka. Drive. Just goes to show how wrong I was,’ he’d said with a snort, throwing cold water over her happiness.

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