Page 100 of A Colourful Country Escape
As she reached the edge of grass, she breathed a sigh of relief and ducked under the archway. But oh … Everything seemed different in the first part of the enclosed gardens.
It was the smell that hit her first. Rich and flowery like a true summer’s day. Mrs Carrington-Noble’s flowers were usually lined up with precision in their stark white coats. But other than the odd hanger-on, watching forlornly with its petals drooping, most had been replaced. Bright yellow sunflowers burst up towards the sky, with orange and purple gerbera dancing at their feet. So much colour. Who had sanctioned it?
Conscious of her lateness, Lexie hurried onwards, into the orchard with its apple-laden trees, past the cottages and Tom’s veg. Finally, she arrived at the old wooden gate.
‘Oh help,’ she heard herself say as her hand hovered, ready to push it open. At least this one was unlocked. Should she take that as a good sign? She blew out a chestful of tense air and nudged her way through.
It was cooler in the secret garden, with all the shady growth. The wildflowers were just as before, although something else was going on. She could hear soft jazz music playing – a piano and saxophone drifting gently on the breeze amid the birdsong. And the trees. She stopped to look. They’d been decorated with bunches of sunflowers, and the branches twinkled with fairy lights. It felt almost enchanted.
She crept onwards, the ground pillowy beneath her bare feet. Rich and mossy like a green velvet carpet. Her heart was pounding. Could this all be for her? What if … But, no. She’d had enough of second-guessing. Assuming she wasn’t worthy. She must keep going.
‘Oh.’ She hopped on one foot. She’d trodden on something. A shiny blue packet with gold swirly letters. She picked it up and smiled, a tingle of warmth spreading through her. It was a fortune cookie. As she looked ahead she saw a small trail of them, leading towards the kissing seat. She couldn’t see the seat yet, but she knew it was there, beyond the overgrown shrubbery.
Lexie picked up the packet, her hand shaking. Dare she believe that Ben had good things to say? Wherever he was, he probably thought she wasn’t coming. Would he have done this every Saturday until she arrived? A small part of her wanted to test the theory. But now she was here she couldn’t wait any longer. She collected the fortune cookies as she rushed onwards to the bench.
Chapter 52
‘Ben?’ Lexie called out, unable to see him. A small radio was playing music. The jazz she’d heard when she’d crept into the secret garden.
And then she noticed it. The kissing seat. It had changed.
She knelt to inspect it, stroking its wooden surface. It was beautiful. Each slat had been painted a different shade, like the colours they’d seen in Morocco. The spices, the rugs, the sparkling glass. Was this the new range of shades she’d inspired? But Morocco …
She should be proud to see these new colours, though her stomach was heavy. She still didn’t know what had happened there between Ben and Cynthia. And would the Carringtons still be working with the Fortescues? She stood up and took a dizzy step backwards.
‘Lexie.’
She looked up to see Ben, pushing through the undergrowth in a fitted shirt the colour of the blue in his atlas eyes. He looked different too. More stubble, but in a rugged way, and his dark hair was definitely longer and more ruffled. Lexie couldn’t stop her heart from leaping.
‘You’ve got foliage in your hair,’ she said, her mind suddenly empty of anything useful.
He looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitching in that way she’d grown to love. ‘Your dress is tucked into your knickers on the one side. And I won’t ask where your shoes are.’
She laughed and tugged at the wayward material, her heart bouncing. She’d always adored their banter, even when she’d convinced herself she didn’t. But small talk was the easy part. It was the big talk that was coming. And if they couldn’t jump that fence …
‘Oh God, Lexie, I’ve missed you.’
They stood either side of the kissing seat and he took a step closer. She battled the temptation to bound over the seat and into his arms. They had to communicate. She had to be sure.
‘Where did you go? And why?’ he asked, his forehead creased. ‘I looked everywhere for you. I was distraught. You fled the country.’
‘We had a date.’ She was talking to the bench, but she knew she should look at him. She took a deep breath and met his gaze. ‘But you were with Cynthia. And then your phone was off. You didn’t arrive.’
An emotion rippled over his face. Lexie tried desperately to read it. Was it sadness? Guilt?
‘You saw me with Cynthia? How?’ He scratched his head, a piece of foliage falling to the floor.
‘You could at least sound sorry.’ Lexie felt a wave of nausea rising. ‘You were hugging her in her shiny dressing gown on your balcony.’ She let the fortune cookies she’d gathered drop to the ground, suddenly not bothered what they might say.
‘No, Lexie. No. It was nothing like that. Jesus. With Cynthia? Hell. OK, it must have looked bad.’ He moved swiftly around the bench and took her by the shoulders, his fast breath warm against her cheeks. ‘I’d forgotten she was even there; it was so comparatively unimportant. I was in shock when she turned up, and I sent her away within minutes.’
Lexie scrutinised every movement of his face, which was just inches from hers. Those eyes which had always fascinated her seemed so genuine. But she was confused.
‘You were holding her. That silky robe.’
His forehead creased, as though trying to remember. ‘She said she’d just got back from the spa, or something. I really didn’t care about her outfit. Look, I’d just been speaking to my mother on the phone. She told me … ’ He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. ‘She told me she has a serious illness. She might be dying, Lexie. I would have embraced a grizzly bear at that moment. And I certainly wouldn’t have felt anything untoward about it.’
‘Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I … ’ Lexie’s eyes began to prickle with tears as she looked into his. She’d never seen them so pained, and she had no doubt they were sincere. ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God. I got it so wrong. How could I have left you in that moment? Is she OK? Are you?’
