Chapter Twelve
What was a black Lexus doing parked outside the house, gleaming in the early afternoon sunshine?
Cassie glanced at the rental company sticker in the rear window.
Of course, it might not be anyone visiting them — there were quite a few cars parked on Cliff Road.
“Hi, Mum — I’m home,” she called as she opened the front door.
“Ah, here she is.” Her mother appeared in the doorway of the sitting room, a big smile on her face.
“You’ve got a visitor, love. All the way from Australia.”
“What . . . ?” Startled, Cassie dumped her shopping bag in the hall and dodged past her mother as six feet five of gorgeous blond Australian surfer dude rose from the sofa and held out his arms.
“Hey, babe!”
“Dougie!” She crossed the room straight into a big Dougie bear hug.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you, babe.”
“Oh yes?” She laughed up at him.
“You flew ten thousand miles just to see me?”
“Of course. Well, no,” he confessed, his sunny blue eyes smiling.
“I had some business in London. Then I thought, hey, why not pop down and see Cass while I’m here?”
“ Pop down? It’s almost two hundred and fifty miles.”
“Two hundred and fifty miles?” His curly blond fringe flopped as he shook his head.
“That’s no distance.”
“Dougie, you’re a walking cliché. Okay, it’s nothing for you to drive two hundred and fifty miles to get a pint of milk, but people who aren’t from Queensland regard it as a long way.”
“It’s a long way on your piddling little English roads, all bendy twisty,” he conceded.
“But it only took around four hours.”
“Bendy twisty? Didn’t you use the motorway?”
“Is that what you call it? Looked like a red-belly on the satnav.”
Cassie rolled her eyes.
“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
“That would have ruined the surprise.”
“I might not have been here,” she pointed out dryly.
“Yeah, well . . .” He shrugged those wide, handsome shoulders.
“I’d just have had to hang around.” He squeezed her hand.
“I was sorry about your gran, by the way.”
Her mouth quirked into a wry smile.
“Thanks.”
Her mother bustled in with a tray holding two mugs of coffee and a plate of bacon sandwiches.
“Here you go.” She set the tray down on the table beside Dougie.
“If you’ve eaten nothing but aeroplane food for the past twenty-four hours, you must be starving.”
“Actually, it’s usually pretty good food in first class,” Cassie remarked dryly.
Dougie just laughed.
Back in Australia he usually flew his own plane, but when he flew commercial he always took the best option.
“Where are you staying?” she asked.
“I thought I’d get a room down at that little hotel along the beach there. Looks like a dinky little place — cosy.”
“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Cassie’s mum insisted.
“You can have Paul’s room.”
His eyes lit up, though he had the decency to glance at Cassie to make sure she wasn’t horrified by the idea.
“Well, if it’s no bother, Mrs Channing — that’s very kind of you.”
“Of course it’s no bother. And call me Helen.”
“Well, good on ya, Helen. Bonzer!” He threw up his hand to give her a high five.
“If he’s stopping for dinner you’d better stick a whole side of beef in the oven,” Cassie warned with a quirk of dry humour.
“He can eat enough for three, even after a plate of bacon sandwiches.”
“Well, he’s a big lad.”
Dougie laughed with the easy good humour of one on whom nature had showered every blessing.
Cassie sipped her coffee.
“Anyway, back to why you’re here. You don’t seriously expect me to believe you drove two hundred and fifty miles just for the pleasure of my smile.”
His gaze was wide-eyed and innocent.
“Why wouldn’t I? Okay, okay, there is something,” he conceded with a mischievous grin that could melt a thousand female hearts — including, briefly, her own.
“But it’s a good something, right? I gotta go to one of these fancy black-tie shindigs you Poms are so fond of, but it’s a plus-one and I don’t have a plus-one.”
“Dougie, you could walk down the street and have a hundred girls falling over themselves to be your plus-one in less than five minutes.”
“Oh, Cass, come on,” he protested.
“I’m not that bad.”
“No — you’re that good. So what is this do?”
“It’s for the kiddies hospital — Great . . . Great Ormorond Street?”
“Great Ormond Street. How come you’ve got an invite there?”
“One of the guys I came over to meet with is one of the sponsors, so I need to show my best face. That’s why I need you. I don’t know anyone else in Pommyland, and I can hardly rock up at some fancy do with some Sheila I just pulled off the street, now can I?”
Cassie smiled, shaking her head.
“Fair enough. Okay, I’ll be your plus-one. When is it?”
“Saturday. I thought in the meantime you could show me round town a bit. You know, do the tourist thing. That is, if you haven’t got other stuff to do?”
“No, I don’t really.” And it would be good to get away for a while, so she wouldn’t have to risk seeing Liam with Annabel — at least until she had got used to the idea.
“Just one thing.” She held up a hand in stipulation.
“Separate rooms, okay? I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Cass! As if.”
“Quite. Well, if we’re clear on that, I’ll be your tour guide. Though to be honest, I’m really not familiar with most with the touristy places in England.”
“That’s okay, we can explore together. Why don’t we start right here? This looks like a right pretty little place.”
“There’s not much of it. You can see most of it from our front step.”
“That’s okay. Looks like a decent beach you’ve got — let’s go for a swim.”
* * *
“Come on then, kiddo. Have you had a nice time playing with Amy?”
“It was really really good. We watched Frozen and we had pink cupcakes.”
Kate laughed apologetically.
“They were hungry when they got in from school. I hope they don’t spoil her tea.”
“I doubt it.” Liam smiled fondly down at his little daughter.
“She seems to have a bottomless tummy. Say goodbye and thank you to Auntie Kate.”
The child ran over and threw her arms round Kate’s waist.
“Goodbye, Auntie Kate. Thank you — espeshly for the cupcakes.”
“Goodbye, cherub. Honestly, Liam, it’s a delight having her. She’s so polite and well-behaved — you’re doing a great job with her.”
“Thanks.” That felt good, though if he was honest, a large part of bringing up his daughter fell to his mother and his sister-in-law.
“Have you heard from Debbie?”
Kate smiled.
“She rang me when they got to the hotel. She’s over the moon. They have a fabulous room with a view of the Eiffel Tower. I’m so glad the money from that sketch of my mum meant I could give my girl the send-off she deserved. And I got a lovely big freezer too!”
“Good. You deserve it, both of you.” He took Robyn’s hand.
“Come on then, let’s get you home and have some tea.”
“Can I have scones?”
“On top of cupcakes?”
“Just one?”
He couldn’t help laughing.
“That child could wheedle for England! Let’s wait and see what’s for tea before we settle on scones, eh? There could be apple pie.”
“Oooh, yes!”
“No promises, mind. Anyway, cheerio Kate.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek.
“Bye-bye, Amy.”
A shy little smile.
“Bye-bye, Uncle Liam.”
The late afternoon sun was shimmering on the sea.
A couple of white-sailed yachts were skimming across the bay, and further out towards the horizon a large container ship was waiting to get into Plymouth Harbour.
“Can we walk home along the beach, Daddy?”
“If you like.”
Holding his hand, Robyn skipped along at his side as they crossed the road and walked along to the steps leading down to the beach.
There weren’t many people about — a few packing up deckchairs and picnic blankets to go home for tea, a couple of dog walkers with boisterous mutts racing after balls and frisbees.
“There’s Auntie Cassie!” Robyn bounced up and down, waving excitedly.
Yes, there was Cassie, wading up out of the sea like Venus reborn in her bright orange swimsuit.
With Adonis beside her — tall, tanned, and built like some kind of Greek god.
If Adonis ever wore lime-green budgie smugglers.
She saw them and waved back.
Liam set his jaw and lifted his hand briefly, then tugged at a reluctant Robyn.
“Come on, poppet. Grandma will have your tea ready.”
Fortunately, the child didn’t argue, though he realised a moment later that he was walking so fast that she was struggling to keep up with him.
* * *
“I love this pub. Look at those beams on the ceiling. I bet they’re real. in most pubs these days they’re just fake.”
Liam managed a smile, though the minute he’d opened the door he wished he had taken Annabel for a drink in the hotel after their dinner date, instead of coming down to the Smugglers.
He should have guessed they’d be there.
They were gathered round the pool table — Paul Channing with his latest girlfriend, Ollie and Lisa Cullen, and Cassie with the Greek god.
Fortunately, he wasn’t in his budgie smugglers.
He was wearing grey jeans and a sleeveless white T-shirt that showed off his wide shoulders, and now that his hair was dry it was a gleaming gold, flopping over his forehead.
He was laughing, showing a row of even white teeth.
His laughter and his voice were loud, booming over the music from the jukebox, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, but the beaming smile on his handsome face earned him a friendly reception.
“Who’s he?” Annabel asked, clearly impressed.
Liam shrugged.
“I don’t know. A friend of Cassie’s I suppose.”
Who was he?
The accent — and those budgie smugglers — suggested Australian.
And he’d come all this way to see her — that must mean it was pretty serious.
So she’d probably be going back with him.
Maybe she wouldn’t even stay for Tom and Vicky’s wedding.
And he’d watch her go, knowing that it had been inevitable that it would end like that.
The place wasn’t so busy now that the high season was over so Liam had an unobstructed view as the guy dropped an arm casually around Cassie’s shoulders.
“And she wins again! Any more of you Pommies up for a little bet on the next game?”
“If you’re going to try to con us into betting against Cassie, forget it,” Ollie Cullen asserted on a note of dry humour.
“We’ve seen how lethal she can be with a pool cue.”
A loud guffaw.
“Too right, cobber. You don’t play my girl unless you want your balls handed to you on a plate.”
Liam forced his mind away from the image of Cassie and the guy on the beach, making the effort to tune in to Annabel’s conversation.
She was telling him a very funny story about how she had fallen into a swimming pool on a photo shoot, in full evening dress, complete with diamonds.
“The wardrobe mistress was almost in tears, but the photographer thought it was hilarious. He got a load of shots of me, soaking wet, my hair all in rat’s tails. And would you believe it, that was the one the magazine published!”
He laughed.
Over by the pool table, the Aussie guy was telling his own funny story.
“So I was surfing off South Straddie. You can get some real awesome breaks up there — four, five metres and more. I’m coming down the barrel when I completely mullered out. So I come up, spluttering my guts up, and I can feel something tugging at my swimmers, trying to tug them off. I thought my luck was in, but when I look round it’s only a chuffing dolphin!”
“What’s the biggest wave you’ve ever surfed?” someone asked amid the laughter.
He grinned broadly.
“Eighteen metres.”
“ What ? But that’s . . . damned nearly sixty feet.”
“Sure is. Greatest ride of my life. And it wasn’t even in Oz — it was right here in Europe. Portugal — Nazaré, not too far from Lisbon. There’s a kind of off-shore gorge running out to sea. When the Atlantic swell hits it, it builds up to colossal heights. In the winter you can get a surf of thirty metres.”
“Surely no one’s ever ridden a wave that big?”
He laughed, loud and cheerful.
“Not yet, mate — the biggest one anyone’s taken would be around twenty-four, twenty-five. But you can bet your bottom dollar someone will. Oh boy, what wouldn’t I give to catch one like that.”
He was like a giant Labrador puppy, boisterous and happy and keen that everyone else should be happy.
Cassie looked happy too, her face lit up with laughter.
Liam took a long swallow of his beer.
He should be happy for her.
Well, at least he would try.
If this was what she wanted — this rumbunctious, roistering Aussie .
.
.
Meanwhile, he had to decide what to do about Annabel.
It had been a pleasant evening.
She was easy to talk to, and certainly easy on the eye.
But .
.
.
pleasant ?
That wasn’t nearly enough.
Well, she’d be leaving in a couple of days, off on another glamorous photoshoot in Fiji.
Although from what she’d told him, photoshoots usually weren’t all that glamorous, even in exotic locations.
Nevertheless, she’d be leaving.
He’d tell her before she left, explain .
.
.
Oh lord, not that trite ‘It isn’t you, it’s me’.
He’d have to find better words than that.
Over by the pool table Cassie was laughing, but he wouldn’t let himself even glance that way.
He drained his beer and smiled across the table at Annabel.
“Shall we go?”
* * *
They left at eight o’clock the following morning.
Dougie had always had the annoying ability to bounce out of bed like a March hare, however much he had drunk the night before.
And he had drunk twice as much beer as everyone else, while complaining cheerfully that it tasted like warm piss.
They drove up to the top of Cliff Road and round the roundabout onto Haytor Avenue, then onto the main road, leaving Sturcombe behind.
Maybe it would be better if she didn’t come back, Cassie reflected.
She could just fly off with Dougie — back to his water-sports resort on New Zealand’s stunningly beautiful South Island.
Fly back to New Zealand, and leave Liam to Annabel.
Would she make him happy?
She hoped so.
Though .
.
.
somehow she couldn’t see it.
Annabel didn’t seem the type to settle down in a sleepy South Devon seaside town.
Sooner or later she’d probably leave him — as she herself had done.
She had never stopped feeling guilty about that — she’d hate to see it happen to him again.
But maybe he just wanted a casual relationship, casual sex.
Though she couldn’t quite imagine that of him.
But then he was a man, after all — a very physical one.
She could still vividly remember the nights they had spent together in that hidden sandy cove when she was eighteen.
They weren’t the kind of nights you would ever forget.
Anyway, it was none of her business now.
All that was long past.
Sitting back in the comfortable leather seat of the Lexus, she watched the rolling green Devon countryside slide by.
Dougie had put on some Aussie hard-rock band she’d never heard of, and she tapped along with the driving rhythm on her knee, letting her mind empty of all thoughts and memories.
* * *
Liam sighed with relief as he pulled the Land Rover into the front yard.
It had been a long night and a long day, with three tricky births, but now three pretty foals were beginning to find their feet and three happy mares were recovering well from their efforts.
His dad came out of the kitchen as he parked the car beside the garages.
“How’d it go, son?”
“Touch and go at times, but we got there. Three safe arrivals.”
“Good. You’ve got a visitor.”
Liam’s heart thumped.
Cassie ?
“Name of Annabel.” His dad grinned.
“Where did you find a thoroughbred like that?”
“Oh . . .” He managed a smile.
“She’s Caro Gillard’s niece.”
He’d been supposed to take her out to dinner again, but he’d had to ring her to cancel when he’d got the second emergency call to a farm up near Bodmin.
By the time the third one had come in, he’d known he would be very late home.
He turned as he heard her voice at the door.
“Liam! Heavens, you have had a long day, you poor thing. Your mum said you got called out at one o’clock this morning.”
“That’s right.” He smiled wryly.
“I’m sorry about dinner.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She came across the yard, wobbling slightly in her high heels on the cobbles.
As she came closer she caught a whiff, and wrinkled her pretty nose.
“Oh, wow. You smell awful.”
“Sorry.” He laughed.
“I’ve spent most of the day up to my elbows in mares’ backsides.”
“Eeek!”
“It’s my job. Look, I’m starving. If you don’t mind waiting for about twenty minutes, I’ll change out of these things and have a shower, then we could pop over to the hotel and I can get something to eat.”
“Okay.” A flash of that pretty smile.
“I’ll meet you over there.”
He leaned forward carefully and brushed a kiss over her lips, then strolled round to the back door into the mud room, pausing to hose down his rubber boots at the tap.
He slid them off and carried them into the mud room to dry, then stripped off his shirt and jeans and dropped them into the big white butler’s sink, dousing them with cold water to wash off the worst of the muck before putting them in the washing machine.
He was cold, tired and hungry, but the hot shower went a long way to reviving him.
He was used to long days, often with no more than a sandwich or a packet of crisps to eat.
It was his life, and he loved it.
Especially days like today — the joy of seeing a new-born foal struggling to its feet and tottering over to take its first milk from its mother.
Stepping out of the shower he scrubbed himself briskly dry, then pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the pile beside the tumble dryer, laced up a clean pair of trainers, and stuck his head round the sitting room door to say hi to his mum.
“Did Robyn go down all right?”
“She was as good as gold. I showed her the photos of the new foals. She wants to know their names.”
“I’ll tell her in the morning.”
She nodded.
“Do you want something to eat?”
“No, thanks. I’m just going over to the hotel — I’ll get something there. I . . . need to talk to Annabel.”
“Okay, my luvver.” His mother’s voice conveyed nothing of what she was thinking, but he could guess.
She was always ten jumps ahead of him.
“Don’t be long. You hardly had any sleep last night.”
“No. We’re just going to have a quick drink. See you later.”
It was a pleasant evening, the warmth of the day lingering on the soft breeze blowing in from the sea.
The moon was waning, a silver crescent lazing back against the inky sky amid a million stars.
A perfect romantic evening.
But it wasn’t romance that he had on his mind.
He couldn’t let this go on any longer.
It wasn’t fair to Annabel just to let it drift until she left for her next photoshoot.
She was leaning on the reception desk chatting to Pete, the night manager, as he walked through the front doors.
She glanced up with a warm smile.
“Hi. I asked the kitchen to send something through for you.”
“Great — thank you. Coffee?”
“I’ll have a white wine please.”
As usual at this time of the evening the lounge was empty.
They settled at a table in the corner and Pete brought their drinks over, and a few minutes later the young sous-chef came in with a tray.
To Liam’s amusement he almost fell over his own feet as he gazed in open adoration at Annabel.
She smiled up at him warmly.
“Thank you.”
He burbled something incoherent, blushing to the roots of his hair, and stumbled away.
“You’ve made a conquest,” Liam remarked on a note of light humour.
She laughed, making a depreciating gesture.
He took the lid off his plate — cold beef slices, crispy golden chips, and a couple of grilled mushrooms.
“Perfect.” He picked up his knife and fork, and tucked in hungrily.
Annabel sipped her wine.
“Your mum showed me the photos you sent. Such sweet little foals.”
“They are.” He grinned.
“Makes it all worthwhile.”
“What are their names?”
“The little roan with the white blaze will be Chester. The other two don’t have names yet.”
“Chester — that’s a nice name.”
He ate in silence for a while — you really couldn’t have a serious conversation while you were eating chips.
At last he set the plate aside and picked up his coffee, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.
“Annabel, look . . . I’m sorry, but . . . this just isn’t working — you and me.”
“I know.”
He glanced across the table at her.
“You know?”
She smiled a little crookedly.
“I think I knew from the start that it wasn’t going to go anywhere. We aren’t right for each other — we have absolutely nothing in common.”
Relief flooded through him — and gratitude that she was making it so easy.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t be. It’s nobody’s fault. These things either work or they don’t. You can’t force it. It was probably silly of me to try to push it along by coming down here.”
“No, it was . . . I’ve enjoyed your company.”
“But nothing more. It’s okay,” she assured him.
“I could see it in your eyes from the start. Or rather, I couldn’t. I know how a man looks at me when he’s hooked, and you’ve never looked at me like that.”
“I should have.” He smiled.
“You’re very beautiful.”
“I know.” She laughed dryly.
“Good for me. I get paid a great deal of money to be beautiful.”
“You’re also a very nice person.”
“So are you.” Her eyes were warm.
“You’ve tried very hard to pretend that you were feeling something when you weren’t, just to make me feel okay. Thank you for that — even though it really wasn’t necessary.” She took another sip of her wine.
“My agency rang this afternoon. They’ve lined me up a shoot in Edinburgh on Friday. I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”
“Oh. I . . . don’t really know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything, except goodbye.” She put down her empty wine glass and rose to her feet.
“I hope you’ll find someone who is right for you – you really deserve to be happy.” She leaned over and kissed him briefly on the lips.
“Goodnight – and goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
He watched her walk away, then leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.
So that was that.
It had been a mistake to let himself get tangled up with her in the first place.
Finishing his coffee, he rose to his feet and strolled across the reception hall.
Pete was at the desk, working through the night audit, so he stopped to say goodnight.
“So she’s leaving then, your friend?” Pete was an inveterate gossip.
“That’s right. She was only here for a few days. She’s got a photoshoot in Edinburgh.”
“Ah. Pretty girl.”
“Yes.” Liam smiled.
“Very pretty.”
“Young Cassie’s left, too — with that Australian chappie. Big lad, blond hair. Name of Douglas Lee Campbell the Third. Done well for herself there. Billionaire, he is. Owns a whole string of water-sports resorts and things down Australia and New Zealand. Went off this morning, early, in that fancy car of his. Don’t suppose we’ll be seeing her back here now.”
“No . . . I don’t suppose we will. ’Night, Pete.”
He thrust his hands in his pockets and strolled out into the night.
So Cassie had gone — as he’d known she would.
It was probably just as well that she had left — before Robyn got too close to her.
Well, at least he was sure of one thing now.
He wasn’t going to let himself get involved with any other women, not for a long time.
From now on it would just be him and Robyn, and his family.
That was enough.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and found the app for the dating site he had used, and scrubbed it.
There — gone.