Chapter 39
The following week, I was wrapping up a pair of Christian’s wood-turned candlesticks when a man entered the shop and strode towards the counter.
Evidently noticing I was serving a customer, he moved off to one side and stood with his back to me, looking at Saffy’s pictures on the wall.
My candlesticks customer was about to pay when she spotted some cute wooden toadstool keyrings on a stand by the till.
‘I’ll have one of these, but which colour?
’ she murmured, clearly more to herself than to me.
While she was deciding, I glanced across at the man.
He had a large bag with him which he’d placed on the floor and his right hand crept up to his short dark hair, his index finger swirling in a small circle.
My breath caught and my heart leapt. Will?
It couldn’t be! I pictured him in the pub in Manchester, nervously twirling his hair exactly like that.
I gripped the counter, my legs feeling suddenly shaky, but there was no way it could be him.
Not now, not in my shop, not after all this time.
‘I’ll take this one,’ the customer said, yanking my attention back to her and the lilac toadstool she was dangling from her finger. ‘No! I’ll go traditional with red. But purple’s my favourite colour. Argh! I can’t decide. Which do you like best?’
My favourite was actually a turquoise one but I wasn’t going to confuse matters by throwing that into the mix. I was desperate for her to make a decision and go so the man could turn around and I could settle my now-pounding heart with confirmation that it wasn’t Will. I mean, why would it be?
‘If purple’s your favourite colour, I’d go for your first choice.’
‘Good idea. I’ll take this one, please. No! I’ll go for both.’
She then faffed about as to whether to pay cash or card, settled on card, then couldn’t decide which of several accounts to use.
Paulette didn’t have a lot of patience for ditherers but they’d never bothered me – until now!
She changed her mind back to cash and, while she made a rigmarole of counting out the exact money, I kept glancing across at the man.
He had his phone out and whatever he was reading on it sent his finger back to twirling his hair.
‘Thanks for your help,’ the woman finally said, picking up her purchases and heading out with a wave.
The man picked up his bag and sauntered over to the till, his head bowed over his phone, his shoulders hunched.
Look up! I need to see your face! He was the right height and build for Will – maybe a little more filled out across the stomach – but I couldn’t be sure until he raised his head.
Although if my pounding heart and swirling stomach were anything to go by, it was definitely him.
‘My sister asked me to drop these off.’ He placed the bag on the counter but still didn’t look up. ‘There’s an envelope in there with some money and instructions.’
That silky smooth voice was unmistakable. I’d heard it so many times in my dreams. His dark hair was now salt and pepper on the top, giving him a distinguished air.
‘Is there anything else you need?’ My words sounded distant and I was surprised I’d managed to form any at all. Why was he here? How was he here?
He finally looked up and I swear my heart stopped beating for a moment. It was him! Older but definitely him. Except Fen had said her brother’s name was James. Nothing was making sense.
‘You’re Fen’s brother?’ I asked, willing him to recognise me, but he only glanced at me briefly before a beep from his phone drew his attention downwards again and he released a heavy sigh.
‘Fen’s number’s in the bag if anything’s not clear,’ he said, staring at his phone.
Why didn’t he recognise me? Even a flicker of recognition would have been something.
I felt foolish for thinking about him for twenty years when he clearly hadn’t been thinking about me.
Then it struck me that I’d given him ample reason not to want to remember me.
I’d checked out of the hotel and abandoned him without any explanation.
If somebody had done that to me, I’d have done my hardest to remove all memory of them from my mind.
Will’s phone rang and he raised his eyes once more. My heart filled with hope. His glance had been far too fleeting before, but what about now? But he was clearly distracted by his phone ringing.
‘Is there anything else you need?’ he asked.
‘No. I’ve got everything, thanks.’ The words were laughable when the one thing I really wanted was standing right in front of me.
He nodded and left the shop, connecting the call before he reached the door.
I watched in disbelief as he paced up and down in front of the window.
Whatever the phone call was about, his stiff body language suggested it was an intense one.
The call must have ended as he clutched his head in both hands.
He looked to me like a man desperately in need of a hug but I could hardly dash out the shop and launch myself at him, no matter how much I ached to hold him in my arms again.
Next moment, Will lowered his hands and tilted his head to one side, something in the window evidently catching his eye. Veronica had been responsible for the most recent window change and I couldn’t remember what she’d put in there.
His phone rang again and he pressed it to his ear, returning to his pacing.
Then he stopped dead, staring into the window once more and, this time, I was in no doubt as to what he was looking at.
From the angle of his head, it had to be the posters Saffy had created of The Crafty Club.
My photograph and my interests were on the side of the window he was focused on.
The call ended and he stood there for several minutes, just staring.
I couldn’t bear it. There was no reason for him to be so gripped by that poster unless he’d recognised me from my photo and realised I was inside the shop, but what was he going to do about it?
Come in and politely ask if we used to know each other?
Come in and demand to know why I’d run out on him two decades ago? Or walk away?
He turned his head away from the poster, cupped his hands round his face and peered into the shop. Panicking, I plucked a shirt from the bag and pretended to be preoccupied with it. The door remained firmly closed and, when I looked up, there was no sign of Will.
‘Damn it!’ I stamped one of my feet in frustration.
What was wrong with me? I was a sixty-year-old woman who’d just behaved like a shy child.
Why hadn’t I spoken to him? Despite the name difference, there was no mistaking who he was.
I’d been thinking about and dreaming of this man for twenty years.
I recognised his stature, his face, his voice.
Fate had delivered him to my door in the year I’d decided to get a life and search for love.
Could the universe be any more obvious? And I’d let him slip through my fingers.
If I could turn back the clock ten minutes, I’d do it all so differently.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Will strode up to the counter and I stared at him, dumbstruck.
‘The picture of the music in the window – can I have a closer look?’
He held my gaze as he spoke this time but I still couldn’t tell whether he recognised me.
‘I’ll get it out for you.’ How I managed to keep my voice steady, I’ll never know.
It was easily retrieved and, as I glanced down at the music, my heart leapt. It was Debussy’s ‘Clair de Lune’ – the piece I’d played with my fingers outside Pianos of Distinction the evening we met.
‘I’ll take it, please. It reminds me of someone I met a long time ago.’ He looked up from the picture and fixed his gaze on mine. ‘She told me it made her mum think of floating on a lily pond, the sun on her cheeks, the breeze in her hair, at one with nature.’
He remembered! He recognised me after all! Tears pricked my eyes and my voice wobbled. ‘I’m so sorry, Will.’
‘I came back for you and you were gone.’
‘I know. I never intended to leave you but—’
‘You don’t have to explain. I know your situation was difficult and I do understand. You were such a kind person, Yvonne, and it sounded like your husband was too. Of course it was going to be hard for you to walk away, especially to take a chance on someone you’d only just met.’
‘It wasn’t like that. It—’
The door opened and a couple of young women entered and headed over to the scented candles. Talk about bad timing! I grabbed one of the shop’s business cards and scribbled my mobile number on the back.
‘I’m not making excuses…’ My eyes flicked towards the customers and Will nodded once more. ‘Something happened – something bad – and I had to leave. I wish I’d thought to leave you a message but…’ I shook my head. ‘Please give me a call so I can explain properly.’
He glanced across at the two women but they were sniffing the candles and deep in conversation.
‘Are you still married?’ he asked, his voice low.
I shook my head. ‘Widowed five years ago.’
His expression – which I hadn’t been able to read so far – turned soft. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’
I held the card out towards him, my heart racing, praying he wouldn’t reject me like he must have assumed I’d rejected him, but thankfully he reached for it. His fingers brushed mine, sending a fizz of electricity throughout my body.
‘I’d like to hear the explanation but things are complicated in my life at the moment and I’m not at my best. I don’t want what’s going on now to cloud our conversation so it might be some time before you hear from me, but I promise I will get in touch. There’s a lot to say.’
‘There is.’
He picked up the framed music. ‘I haven’t paid you for this yet. How much is it?’
‘No charge. I’d like you to have it. Small peace offering to remember a special weekend.’
‘Thank you. Do you still play?’
‘Only just started again. That weekend, you told me I’d helped you rediscover your love of music but what I did to you lost me mine.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I did that – not you.’
He gave me a weak smile then left. I watched the door close behind him, my heart pounding and I couldn’t leave it there. Locking the till, I ran down the shop and out the door.
‘Will!’ I called.
He halted and turned as I ran up to him, stopping about a foot away.
‘I can’t not tell you. The hospital rang.
Cliff had been in a serious car crash. I wasn’t thinking.
I packed my case and raced home, terrified I’d be too late.
After the crash, when I knew he was going to be all right, I didn’t know how to find you.
I should have tried harder, but I didn’t know how to leave him either. ’
The wind blew a strand of hair across my face and I imagined Will tucking it behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my skin, sparks of electricity zipping through us both as we united in a passionate clinch just as we’d done in a shop doorway that rainy night in Manchester.
But it was me who pushed my hair aside. No sparks, no clinches.
‘I will call,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
‘Okay.’
‘Goodbye, Yvonne. For now, anyway.’
‘Bye for now.’
As he disappeared round the corner, my heart sank.
I so badly wanted to chase him but I needed to let him go.
I was ready for this but he clearly wasn’t.
What was that saying about letting go of someone you loved?
Something about them coming back if they were yours but never being yours in the first place if they didn’t. Was Will mine? Only time would tell.