CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Caleb was running at lightning speed along the street, gaining on the trundling van, and I crossed the fingers on both hands that he’d somehow be able to stop it without hurting himself.
Then something seemed to halt the van’s progress – a wheel bumping the kerb, maybe? – and that gave Caleb the opportunity he needed.
Catching it up, he flung the door open and jumped inside, and by some miracle, he managed to steer it, still moving, over the kerb and onto the green. I saw the van jerk as Caleb hit the brakes.
I stood where I was, my legs as weak as water, my hands clasped over my chest. I watched Caleb climb slowly out of the van and slam the door shut. His rescue had been quite heroic. Thank goodness he wasn’t injured...
Somehow, I managed to get my legs moving again and I walked over to join him as he made his way back to the site.
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ I told him. ‘That could have been disastrous.’
‘It could have been. But thankfully all’s well that ends well.’
‘I can’t believe I didn’t put the handbrake on,’ I wailed. ‘I’m such an idiot.’
He shook his head. ‘The handbrake’s rubbish. It probably wasn’t your fault.’
I gave him a grateful smile. I definitely didn’t remember applying the handbrake before I jumped out of the van in a panic. Caleb was just trying to make me feel better.
‘Ivan used to be a car mechanic. He could have a look at it if you like?’
‘Could he? Oh, that would be great. Thank you.’
‘No problem. Look, why don’t you come over to the portacabin and I’ll make you a cuppa? You look as white as a slab of concrete. Don’t they say you need plenty of sugar for shock?’
I nodded gratefully. ‘That sounds good.’
In the cabin, he made me sit down while he made the tea – a mug each. Then he gave me a used spoon and a bag of sugar with some orange bits in it (presumably from wet spoons being dunked straight into the bag) and I thought, what the hell , and I helped myself to three heaped teaspoons, even though I normally drank sugarless tea.
Caleb went off to find Ivan with the van keys and I sat there by the small portacabin window, drinking my very sweet but comforting tea and staring at a pile of rubble outside.
At last Caleb was back. But Ivan hadn’t been able to fix it, so the van was going to have to be towed to the nearest garage.
‘We can organise that, no problem. But what about you?’ Caleb asked. ‘You don’t want to be waiting around at the garage, hoping they’ll be able to fix it today, do you?’
I sighed, my mind in turmoil.
My automatic thought had been: Richard will come and pick me up.
But of course, I was on my own. I’d have to get a bus home and come back the next day.
‘I could run you over to my place, if you like,’ Caleb was saying. ‘Then at least you’d be somewhere comfortable until the van was ready.’
‘Really?’
‘It’s in the village here. Just a few minutes’ drive away.’
‘Right. Very handy for work, then.’
He nodded and ran a hand through his chestnut hair, which made it stand up rather adorably. ‘Do you... want to do that, then?’
‘Go to yours?’ I swallowed. This was a bit too close for comfort but what choice did I have? ‘Well, that would be great as long as you don’t mind.’
He shook his head. ‘Come on. I’ll drive you over there and I’ll get Ivan to speak to the garage, okay?’
‘Okay,’ I said faintly, feeling quite overcome with gratitude that Caleb was taking charge like this. I would have worked something out myself but right this moment, I was just grateful for the help.
It crossed my mind that Mo would be so disapproving of me for showing my weakness and allowing a man to take over.
But wasn’t it just one person being kind and using their knowledge to help another person who was in a fix?
I smiled sadly to myself as I followed Caleb over to his car. I doubted that Mo would see it like that, and it was such a shame. She was missing out on so much with her prickly attitude to men and her fear of being hurt...
*****
Caleb’s place turned out to be a charming, old-style, two-up-two-down terrace house a few streets back from the village green.
‘I’ve earmarked one of the new eco houses for me,’ he told me, as he ushered me through the gate and up the path in the tiny front garden. ‘But this has been my home for the last two years.’
‘Where did you live before that?’ I asked curiously. He obviously lived on his own now, but maybe he was once married or living with someone?
‘Erm... we had a house over in Henley Green.’
I nodded, taking in the ‘we’ – and also the fact that he was now walking straight into the kitchen ahead of me, clearly not wanting to give out any more information on the subject.
Of course an attractive man like Caleb would have had his share of romantic relationships. Perhaps the blonde woman he was with at the charity run was looking forward to sharing his new eco house with him once it was ready?
We drank coffee while waiting for Ivan to call about the garage, then Caleb went into the kitchen to make some business phone calls, leaving me watching an antiques programme on TV. Then an hour or so later, Ivan phoned about the van.
Hearing Caleb talking to him, I went through to the kitchen to find out what was happening. Caleb was still speaking, standing by the kitchen window, looking out over the back garden. At last, he turned. Apparently, the garage had located the problem with the van and it was an easy fix, but it would have to be done first thing in the morning as they were busy at the moment doing MOTs.
‘You’re welcome to stay over,’ Caleb said casually, pocketing his phone. He picked up a leaflet advertising a curtains and blinds sale that was lying on the table and started glancing through it as he spoke. ‘Then I could drive you over to pick the van up in the morning.’ He looked up. ‘Or I could just drive you home now.’ He shrugged as if he didn’t mind either way.
My mind was racing.
If I took him up on his kind offer to drive me back to Sunnybrook, how would I get back to Lockley Meadow to pick up the van the following day. I’d have to look at times of buses or get a taxi.
Seeing me hesitate, he said, ‘I’ve got a spare room. It’s no problem at all.’
‘Are you sure?’ It actually made much more sense to bed down here so I was handy in the morning to collect the van.
He dropped the pamphlet back on the table. ‘Of course. I’ll look out some clean bed linen and change it when I get back.’ He disappeared and I heard him opening drawers upstairs, then he came back into the living room where I’d gone to sit on the sofa. ‘Right, I’m heading back to work but just help yourself to anything you need. TV remote.’ He picked it up and set it on the arm of the sofa next to me. ‘Coffee, tea, food from the fridge. Wine?’
‘It’s a bit early for that.’
He chuckled. ‘It’s always six o’clock somewhere.’
‘True.’
‘I was going to make pasta carbonara for dinner. Is that all right?’
I nodded. ‘My favourite kind of pasta.’
‘Good. Right.’ He grabbed his car keys. ‘See you a bit later, then.’
I got up to see him to the door. But like a whirlwind, he was gone before I got there, zooming off in his car, back to the building site.
*****
He arrived back soon after seven, apologising for being later than he thought.
‘No problem. I got all the ingredients for the pasta ready so it shouldn’t take too long to whip it up.’
‘Great!’ He grinned. ‘So you’re a bit of a chef in the kitchen, then, as well as a baker?’
‘Not really. I do like cooking, though. And I’ve made pasta carbonara quite a few times.’ I smiled shyly. ‘Shall I make it while you... um... get yourself sorted.’ I indicated vaguely upstairs.
He nodded. ‘Sounds good. I’ll grab a shower if you don’t mind but I’ll be fifteen minutes tops.’
‘Perfect.’
‘There’s white wine in the fridge or red on that rack, if you prefer it.’ He threw his keys onto the table. ‘Right. Won’t be long.’ He disappeared upstairs, and I could hear him moving around... the shower being turned on.
I was testing the spaghetti when he came down again, about to drain it.
‘Smells great. Can I get you a glass of white?’
‘Please.’
His wet hair was combed back and he’d dressed in a pair of clean jeans and a pale blue sweatshirt that brought out the cornflower blue of his eyes. He was barefoot and I was trying not to look. They were nice feet. Sexy, even, if feet could actually be sexy.
I crossed to the sink as he went to the fridge and we collided laughing in the middle, me holding my pan of hot spaghetti aloft.
He smelled heavenly, of shower gel and shampoo, and when he steadied me, his hand rested briefly on my lower back. I held my breath as a surge of desire radiated out along my spine from where he’d touched me.
Grabbing socks from the drier nearby, he sat down at the table to pull them on. And as he did, he told me about the celebration ceremony he was planning for the first residents of his eco homes. Apparently, the first house was ready and people would be moving in the following week.
He set the table and I poured the spaghetti into the sauce and sizzled it a little over a low heat before serving it up into two bowls I’d found in the cupboard.
It felt quite natural to be there with Caleb in his kitchen – not awkward, as I’d imagined it might be. We were like any ordinary couple, making dinner and preparing to eat together, talking about our day over a glass of wine...
Except that we weren’t a couple, I reminded myself a moment later.
Caleb was just doing me a favour, that was all.
Probably tomorrow night, he’d be entertaining his gorgeous girlfriend with his story about my idiotic behaviour the day before when I forgot to put the handbrake on and almost crashed the van. And she’d laugh and think how wonderful he was to have saved the day like that.
Which he was . . .