Blackberry Picking at Jasmine Cottage

‘Oh, I’ll certainly do my best.’

They grinned at each other. Then he remembered the wine. ‘Open it now, finish it later?’

She smiled back at the question in his voice. She’d fallen in love, and she felt happier than she could ever remember being. But she also knew they had to keep this as low key as they could for Maisie’s sake, now she was back.

Lucy knew only too well how it felt to be abandoned by somebody you loved, what the upheaval from your family home could do to you. At least Maisie’s dad loved her, both her parents loved her, and her move to Langtry Meadows was to a lovely welcoming place. Nothing like the nightmare Lucy had experienced.

When she was not much older than Maisie, she’d been sure that nobody loved her. She’d thought her dad had abandoned her, and that her friends hated her. She’d lost her dog, her home, and her mother was working every hour she could to scrape a living. Lucy’s whole world had crumbled. Which was why, when she’d graduated, she’d buried herself in the anonymity of a city.

But she’d learned recently that the truth was far more complicated. Wasn’t it always? That her mum had feared for their lives, and fled her domineering and brutal husband. That starting a brand new life, severing all their ties had been what had saved them. Even though for years it hadn’t seemed like that.

Maisie’s situation was quite different. But Lucy knew that the little girl needed as much of her father’s attention as work allowed. For now, she had to be there for support, a helping hand, not her father’s lover. Which would be confusing, more than confusing as she was also going to be Maisie’s teacher.

Tonight though was special. They’d agreed that they needed to distract Maisie from the fast approaching start of term. Charlie and his daughter would stay with Lucy in the cottage, then in the morning they’d make a picnic together, before heading off on an adventure.

‘Sounds nice.’ She grabbed a corkscrew. ‘Is she okay?’ Lucy kept her voice low, even though Roo was barking and Maisie was squealing excitedly.

Charlie shrugged. ‘She’s been a bit subdued.’ The smile dropped from his face, the fan of laughter lines she loved so much faded away. ‘It’s my fault, she’s probably spent far too much time with Mum and Dad this summer and in between I’ve let her see too much of her old friends, and not got her to mix with the kids here.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ She chided him gently, wishing she could take the worry away from his eyes. ‘Everybody is away over the summer anyway, and she needs to know her old friends are still there for her, young kids need to feel secure, it helps them cope with change.’ She glanced down. ‘I lost all my friends when I moved.’ It had been horrible, she’d come to terms with it, discovered why it had been that way. But she could still remember how it felt. The hurt. The feeling of being cast aside – and even the logic of knowing it wasn’t actually like that couldn’t rewrite the memories. Which was why she had to resist the temptations of the gorgeous Charlie Davenport, and make sure they did this right.

‘I know.’ He put a warm hand over hers, squeezed, and brought a lump to her throat.

‘We can chat later, when she’s in bed? Come up with a plan.’

He laughed then, a warm, deep laugh and looked straight into her eyes. More tempting than a box of her favourite hard caramel chocolates. ‘You and your plans, you haven’t got a colour coded spreadsheet in mind, have you?’

‘Of course.’ She took his lead, moved on from the difficult topic that she was sure occupied most of his waking hours. ‘So, how’s the puppy?’

‘She’s not got parvo.’ His words were muffled, as his head was in the cupboard. ‘We’ll have to keep her in a few days, but then she’s all yours. So, what are you going to call her?’ He reappeared, holding two wine glasses.

‘All mine?’ She frowned.

‘You are keeping her, aren’t you?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, if you can’t I suppose I can get Sally to ring the dogs’ home, but they won’t be keen with all the care she’ll need, she’s really poorly. Needs some TLC and building up.’

‘Stop.’ Lucy held up a hand. Okay, she had been thinking about keeping the pup, after all hadn’t it been one of her thoughts as she’d stood in Jasmine Cottage? But it had just been a passing thought. ‘Just stop, I know exactly what you’re playing at. I’ll look after her for now, okay? Then we’ll find another home. And you can stop smirking.’

He grinned, and poured the wine. ‘You were really upset when Elsie Harrington told you that somebody else wanted that podgy retriever pup of hers.’ His tone was a gentle tease.

‘No I wasn’t!’ The last of Elsie’s litter of puppies had been adorable, and for the first time in years she’d actually started to wonder if a dog in her life might not be a bad thing.

‘You were. You got your sulky face on.’

‘I don’t have a sulky face.’

‘You did that I can cope, leave me alone, thing.’

‘Charlie!’

His grin broadened until the dimples appeared at the side of his mouth. ‘It’s okay,’ he leant forward, his broad, suntanned forearms resting on the table, ‘I know you’re a soft touch under that strict school teacher exterior.’

‘You’ll be getting detention if you don’t behave.’

‘Oh, yes please, now you’re talking.’ He chuckled, and the shiver of goosebumps shot down her arms again.

‘Stop being naughty!’

‘I can’t help it when you’re around.’ His gaze grabbed hers, held her, for a moment serious, and she couldn’t miss the meaning.

‘You’re bad.’

‘You make me that way.’ The husky tone made her wriggle in her seat. ‘You’re in so much trouble later.’

‘Promises, promises.’

‘You betcha.’ He touched the tip of her nose with one warm finger, shook his head then pulled away reluctantly and turned his attention back to the wine. ‘I know you didn’t want to give Elsie her puppy back, even though you wouldn’t admit it.’

Lucy tried to scowl, but he was right. He knew her too well. She’d grown quite attached in the few days that she’d looked after Elsie’s dog Molly, and her puppy. She was fairly sure that Elsie had been plotting to persuade her to home the dog, but when a neighbour was devastated by the loss of her own Labrador, Elsie had felt she had no choice but to offer her Podge, as Lucy had named him. But she’d decided it was for the best.

A tiny, malnourished runt of a puppy with mismatched eyes and an aptitude for projectile vomiting wasn’t for the best. Even if she couldn’t stop thinking about the animal.

‘She’s stopped being sick now.’ Charlie grinned, as though he’d read her mind.

She sighed. ‘I haven’t really got time though have I? Being sensible. Term starts in a few days, and there’s bound to be tons of work to do, and parents evenings and …’ and possibly a new home to renovate.

‘She’ll be good company for you.’ His voice was soft, but it hung between them. The unspoken agreement, she’d be company for her because he couldn’t be right now, he had Maisie. ‘Sometimes it’s better not being too sensible.’

‘I have got all the other animals.’

‘The other animals aren’t yours, they’re Annie’s. And anyway, a dog is different.’ He was right. A dog was different. The sound of Maisie and Roo filtered through from the garden. She’d played with her own dog Sandy when she was that age, and she’d been heartbroken to leave him behind when they’d moved. She’d sworn she’d never get attached to an animal in that way again. But maybe now was the right time.

Things had changed since she’d moved to Langtry Meadows. She’d changed.

‘So?’

She shook her head at him, but couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips. It was the right time. ‘Piper. I’m going to call her Piper.’

‘Let’s drink to Piper then.’ He raised his glass, his eyes seeming to assess her, and it was there, that moment when she knew that whatever happened, she’d always love him. She gave herself a mental shake. ‘You look like you need a drink, are you okay?’

‘Well actually,’ this was a brilliant time to concentrate on the other big issue, and distract herself, and her urges. ‘I’ve had a bit of a strange day.’ She sighed.

He was studying her, looking serious. ‘What? Has something else happened?’ His voice was soft, concerned.

‘My house, the one in Birmingham?’

‘Oh no, it’s not been trashed or anything?’ He put his drink down, laid a warm hand over Lucy’s.

‘No, no, it’s not that.’ She hadn’t been able to believe the response when she’d rung the agent who was letting her house out, within the space of an hour she’d had a return call, and an email confirmation in her inbox. ‘The people who are renting it from me might want to buy.’