Twelve
For one brief and wonderful moment Hanna had thought Russell was going to kiss her when he’d dropped her off yesterday evening. But, of course, he hadn’t. Had she been imagining the looks he had given her throughout that glorious day? Or were those looks of empathy, not of something else entirely? Did he feel merely friendship and compassion for her, even though she was sure she had seen a hint of something more in his eyes?
She’d considered inviting him in, but an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach had stopped her. She didn’t want to push her luck, and having him in her cottage on a sultry summer evening, or sitting in the garden with him, drinking chilled white wine, and watching another beautiful sunset like the one the night before, might have made her forget herself. She might have asked him to stay. And if she’d done that, there was a very good chance he’d have run in the opposite direction.
The only thing she really knew for sure about Russell’s love life was that he was in love with Hope for some time. She’d heard that he’d had girlfriends in the past and, unlike Griff, some of Russell’s had lasted for more than a few weeks. One or two had lasted for a couple of years. Also, unlike Griff, no one mentioned Russell having one night stands. Griff, on the other hand, seemed to attract women like moths to a flame, and most of those women got burnt. But, of course, that had been because Griff had been in love with Grace for most of his life, and no other woman had ever meant anything to him.
Russell had told Hanna yesterday that he was completely over Hope. He hadn’t said he’d met someone new. Did that mean he was free to fall in love again? And would he? Or would he decide it was time he played the field? Would a hook up with Hanna, even for one night, be something he might consider?
But she didn’t want one night of sex with him. Although if that was all she could get, would she say no? She wanted more though. Much, much more. And that, of course, was the problem. She wanted him to love her. To want her. To need her. To be unable to imagine his life without her by his side. That’s how Griff felt about Grace. Could Russell ever feel that about Hanna?
Or would he always just think of her as a friend?
Or worse still, someone to pity?
That thought deflated her a little, but she soon pulled herself together. She had today to look forward to.
Russell had sent her a text last night to wish her pleasant dreams. Which had worked, because she’d spent all night dreaming about him. He’d also said in his text that he’d pick her up around eleven a.m., which was later than she’d hoped.
But the sky was blue, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, what more could she ask for? For now, at least.
Russell looked gorgeous and the sight of him had taken her breath away for a second as she’d opened the front door. His golden blond hair seemed to shimmer in the sunlight even more this morning, and those beautiful blue eyes sparkled so brightly when he looked at her, that she had to look away. She quickly took in how his navy blue trousers hugged his hips, and how his pale blue T-shirt clung to his perfect torso. She was sure she could see the outline of a perfect six-pack beneath that cotton T-shirt and for a moment all she could think of was peeling it off him and running her hands over his bare flesh.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, concern evident in his voice as he’d clearly mistaken her quiver of delight at the thought of him naked, as a shiver. ‘You didn’t catch a chill yesterday did you?’
‘No. I feel great, thanks.’
She felt even better as the day progressed.
Folkestone was heaving with locals and tourists alike, and the market was full to bursting as everyone jostled against one another. She had never seen the place so crowded. Russell took her hand so that they wouldn’t get separated in the throng, and at one point, he even put his arm around her in a protective fashion.
‘This is crazy,’ he said. ‘Shall we get out of here?’
She hesitated for a moment. Would he let go of her if they did? An elbow in her back made her mind up.
‘Good idea. At this rate, we’ll be black and blue all over.’
Their eyes met briefly. Had he had the same thought as she had in that second?
She’d like to see every inch of him, black and blue, or tanned and white.
‘This way,’ he said, with a distinct catch in his voice.
The Harbour Arm was just as crowded and they decided to give The Lighthouse Champagne Bar a miss and head directly to the Italian restaurant.
‘There’s a garden at the rear,’ he said, ‘so we can sit out there instead. The view might not be quite as scenic, although as I’ll be sitting opposite you, it will be for me.’
She almost wished he wouldn’t say things like that. Unless he meant them. And he didn’t, of course. She knew that.
He had been honest about the food though. It was the best platter of antipasti she had ever tasted and the colourful, bite sized delicacies were displayed like a work of art. Fresh seasonal fruits and vegetables were sliced, diced, or left whole in the case of grapes. Fried courgette strips, sweet roasted and diced red peppers, marinated olives and artichoke hearts, plump little balls of mozzarella, slices of gorgonzola, creamy fontina, and a nutty and flavoursome Pecorino Romano, along with salami, prosciutto and capicola all vied for attention. Warm, toasted bruschetta with melting Gorgonzola, topped with Parma ham and honey, and sautéed prawns with garlic and chilli also tempted the taste buds. That first course alone was enough to fill Hanna up, but the main course she had chosen of baked salmon with a pistachio, honey, and herb crust served with artichokes braised in white wine, was to die for. She couldn’t manage dessert and neither could Russell, who had eaten the same main course as she had, but he had added Italian roast potatoes.
‘We’ll have to come back another time and have dessert,’ he said, when Hanna told him she was full. ‘Or stay here all day and wait until we’re hungry again.’
‘I don’t think I could eat another mouthful until tomorrow.’ She leant back in her chair and puffed out her cheeks, and then, realising that that wasn’t the most attractive pose to adopt, she sat upright.
‘Same here. I’d suggest we come back tomorrow but it’s the Summer Fayre this weekend so I need to be there.’
How had she forgotten about the Summer Fayre? Not only was it an annual event in Betancourt Bay, held in the grounds of Betancourt itself, there were posters and flyers plastered everywhere promoting it. Even here in Folkestone. Not only that, Russell had already told her he had come home especially for it. And Grace and Hope had told her weeks ago that Griff had employed Eversley Events to be in charge of the catering this year.
The annual Summer Fayre was for charity, and was paid for by the Betancourts. Colourful marquees and stalls were erected on the wide front lawns of Betancourt, either side of the long drive, and dotted around the sprawling grounds. One area of lawn was set aside for croquet; another for a friendly game of cricket; and yet another for various races or games, like an egg and spoon race, or a sack race, or a pass the balloon under your chin race, or even a tug of war.
And then there were the friendly competitions, like the best sponge cake, or the largest marrow, or the most amusingly misshapen vegetable. There was a Punch and Judy booth, a bouncy Castle, and a Fortune Teller’s tent. An ice cream van, a Candy Floss machine, and a hot Dog stand were hired in, but other than those, all the food was provided by caterers hired by the Betancourts, although this year, Eversley Events were handling that on the Betancourt’s behalf.
Most of the stalls were set up on the front lawns each year, along with all the games and other entertainments, but afternoon tea was taken in the beautiful gardens at the rear of the house which were always resplendent and brimming with colour.
A large, white Marquee was set up there, between the heavenly scented rose garden and the formal knot garden, and in addition to afternoon tea, champagne and canapes were on offer later in the day.
Tables and chairs for two, four, or six, were set up on the raised terrace running the width of the rear of the house, and beyond the York stone steps which led down to the rest of the garden, more tables and chairs could be found either side of a broad path that zig-zagged to the left and right at various intervals, down the centre of the garden, as far as the eye could see. There was additional seating available around the large lake, with its tall fountain almost as grand as the one on Lake Geneva.
The lawns to the rear weren’t as manicured as those to the front and were dotted here and there with more shrubs and trees, some of which provided shade for the tables and chairs.
On each side sat a copse of trees, and a mini treasure hunt was set up, with clues tied to the branches. The wildflower garden was a popular place for people to stroll through via the designated paths and the only area that was strictly out of bounds was the kitchen garden to the left of the house.
‘There’s going to be one small difference this year,’ Russell said. ‘Now that Dad’s acquired several chickens, and also recently added some Indian Runner ducks, he’s agreed that the kitchen garden won’t be off limits. At least, part of it won’t. The youngsters will no doubt enjoy cuddling a hen, and laughing as the ducks waddle around. I was watching them last night and they’re so funny.’
‘Yes,’ Hanna said. ‘I saw them a couple of weeks ago just after they arrived. They’re adorable. And I don’t think it’ll only be the youngsters who’ll want to cuddle the hens and watch the ducks. Will the gates at the top of the cliff be open this year? Didn’t someone try to climb over them last year?’
Russell rolled his eyes. ‘Yes. There’s always one idiot who drinks far too much and then thinks he’s invincible. But no. The gates will be locked as always. And this year Griff has organised a larger sign warning of the danger. The private steps down to the beach are safe, but if you don’t stick to the path, those cliffs can be lethal. It’s better to be safe than sorry, especially as dogs are welcomed to the Summer Fayre. The last thing we’d want is for a dog to go charging over the edge. Or for a person, obviously.’
‘You’re excited about it, aren’t you?’
‘The Summer Fayre? Yes. I am. Apart from earning quite a bit for charity, it’s a fun weekend. Everyone in the village loves it, and people come from miles away to attend. It wouldn’t be summer without the Betancourt Summer Fayre. Just like it wouldn’t be Christmas without The Mistletoe Dance. You will be coming, won’t you?’
‘To the Summer Fayre?’ Hanna shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’ She was loathe to bring the subject up but he would no doubt ask why she was unsure about it, and what else could she say? He beat her to it.
‘If it’s because of the gossip, I think you should ignore that and show your face.’
Their eyes met and she found it difficult to look away.
‘That’s easy for you to say. The gossip isn’t about you.’
‘It was at Christmas, and at the New Year, and on Valentine’s Day, and even at Easter, so I know exactly what it’s like. But I still showed my face, Hanna.’
She raised her brows at him. ‘You also spent as much time in London, or travelling for work, as you could. You weren’t here every day.’
‘That’s true. But that wasn’t because of the gossip. That was because I needed to get over Hope, and seeing her every day made that harder to do. Being away from her, and also, if I’m honest, not having to see my brother and Grace so madly in love each day, helped. When your heart is broken, the last thing you want to be around is couples who are deeply in love.’ He blanched and his brows knit together. ‘Oh God. Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned them.’
‘Why not? Oh! Yes. Erm. Because … because of the gossip about me.’ She had to think quickly. ‘But that’s why I think I should stay away from the Summer Fayre. To … to avoid seeing … them.’
‘So it is true then?’ He sounded annoyed and upset. ‘I didn’t think it was. Or maybe I just hoped it wasn’t. But you … you’re saying it is? You’re in love? With Griff?’
‘Erm. I’m in love.’
‘Excuse me,’ he said, getting up so fast it startled her. ‘I … I need to nip to the loo.’
Hanna wanted to burst into tears.