Chapter 15
C lem was sitting in the back of the taxi.
She couldn’t help but wonder if they’d sent the smallest, stuffiest taxi in the universe on purpose – she would have taken another top-level ferry trip over this.
It was warm and claustrophobic, and she had the window fully wound down to let in the fresh air.
The taxi driver was extremely interested in what they’d been doing today and had asked them a dozen questions as soon as they’d clambered inside.
Clem would have paid him double to be quiet; her ears were already hurting from the wind on the top of the boat.
They’d already bypassed Windermere, Lucas insisting on making sure she got to her house in Oakside safely.
Lucas’s jacket was folded on the seat between them.
Lucas turned to her. His hair was fluttering in the wind whipping in through the window, and her stomach performed a jump. ‘Do you need to text anyone to tell them you’re on your way?’ he asked her.
‘Oh . . .’ She trailed off, fumbling for an answer.
Was he asking if she had a boyfriend? No, no, that was silly.
It was because he thought someone might be worried about her at home, if she was late.
That didn’t necessarily mean he was asking about a boyfriend; he could have meant a housemate or family.
She tucked her hair behind her ear. Should she tell him she lived at home with her mum?
Would he judge her, think she was immature?
‘No, it’s fine,’ she said carefully.
‘That’s fair. My folks are usually too wrapped up in themselves to notice me too,’ he said lightly, grinning at her.
Wait . . . He lived at home too? She blew out a breath and laughed.
‘Oh my God, really? Mum notices everything I do – our cottage is tiny . Baking at home is a bit of a nightmare so sometimes I visit the cat café to use the kitchen. Sylvie’s fine with it.
And it means me and Mum don’t get under each other’s feet. ’
Lucas nodded knowingly. ‘Ah, it was like that before I moved out too. Cramped.’
Before he moved out? Heat rushed up Clem’s neck – like the hot sun had emerged, though it was much cooler outside. She’d misunderstood. She wanted the sticky taxi seats to swallow her up.
‘You . . . so you don’t live with your parents now?’ she said.
He shook his head, apparently not noticing her embarrassment. ‘No, but . . .’ His gaze travelled to the window, to the stretched-out moors and the silhouettes of the mountains towering up and shielding the sky. ‘I’m working on it.’
‘Working on it? You mean you want to move home?’
Something passed across his face. He looked .
. . sorrowful? Clem wanted to reach out and take his hand, to unpack what was really going on in his head, to understand.
She’d been feeling like a failure for being at home, and here was someone who was working on going back?
He looked a couple of years older than her, at most, so wouldn’t he value his independence, his space, particularly if he’d become used to that? She waited for him to continue.
‘It’s why I entered the contest,’ he said eventually. ‘They need my help, and if I could get together a deposit, buy a place with my mum, we could all live there together. Me, her, and Dad. They wouldn’t have to worry so much anymore.’
He still wasn’t looking at her, as if he was determined not to, after revealing something so personal.
And she was glad, because she was sure her face had cycled through ten different emotions one after the other.
Why did he always take her completely by surprise, to the point she was breathless with it?
Clem’s own reasons for entering the contest now seemed muddy, a mess.
She’d thought she would move out, get her own place, start a business.
In truth, she had the means to move out into a rented house right now.
She gave her mum money towards bills, but the cottage’s mortgage had long since been paid off, and she’d been able to save up enough for a deposit on a rented property, plus a little extra and some emergency funds.
She’d been hesitating, telling herself it wasn’t enough, she needed to be sure she’d be secure.
That she needed more first, before she could be truly ready.
The truth was, she was afraid. She still remembered how hard she’d found everything after what Genie had done, and the anxiety attacks that punctuated her life like scars.
She couldn’t bear the thought of moving out, gaining her independence, having another massive setback and having it all crumble beneath her.
‘I hope you can help your parents,’ she said softly.
The vulnerability on his face was gone when he looked at her again, and a sly smirk spread over his features instead. ‘So that means you hope I win the contest?’
‘No!’ she said, laughing.
‘Well, I have to win for my wish to come true . . . So, if you could just lose, I’d appreciate that.’
She smiled, but it was slightly strained under the weight of her thoughts.
She wasn’t sure what Lucas would think if he knew the truth – that Sylvie had submitted the application, and it was all a big mix-up that Clem was part of Whisked Away at all.
And what did Clem really want from the contest, now she was in it? It wasn’t the money.
Lucas’s motivations had shone a light on her own reasoning for being in the contest, and now she was confused. After all, she’d doubted whether or not she should enter, and Sylvie had ended up taking the choice out of her hands. She shuffled uncomfortably in the leather seat.
‘I might lose anyway,’ he said. ‘Cakes aren’t my forte. And that’s the big finale.’
‘Well, I’m bad at bread, and that’s the next round,’ she told him, shrugging. ‘We have to do our best.’
He was silent for a while. ‘Why did you rush off back there?’ he asked her eventually. ‘Why avoid the audience?’
Clem glanced at the taxi driver to check he wasn’t listening, but music was playing from the speakers in front of him, and he was singing along, tapping his fingertips on the steering wheel and checking his satnav as it chattered directions.
‘I . . .’ He’d told her why he’d entered the contest, and his reason – so moral and full of principle – had softened her like sponge cake. ‘I saw someone I knew.’
‘I’m guessing it wasn’t a good someone, given how you reacted?’
Clem shook her head. ‘She did something to hurt me, years ago.’ A wry laugh escaped her. ‘Maybe that’s an understatement. It derailed me completely.’
Lucas frowned. To Clem’s utter gratitude, he didn’t ask her to elaborate. ‘Why did she show up at Wray Castle?’
‘I have no idea. We have a . . . difficult past.’
‘I know what that’s like,’ he said.
‘I panicked when I saw her. I thought she was there to mess things up for me again . . .’ Clem twisted her hands in her lap.
‘I couldn’t face talking to her. I still don’t really understand what happened between us.
One day we were close, best friends. And the next, she did something so cruel I never spoke to her again. ’
‘You never talked to her about it?’
‘Not exactly. Things felt clear enough in her actions.’
Lucas was silent, looking out of the window with a thoughtful expression on his face, the daylight casting shadows on his dark stubble.
Clem could almost read what he was thinking.
He was likely wondering why she didn’t talk to Genie, since she’d showed up in the audience.
She squirmed in the leather taxi seats, her clothes sticking to them and making her more uncomfortable.
Clem was wondering that herself. After all this time, why couldn’t she confront Genie?
Back then, she’d felt too broken with anxiety to face up to it all and challenge Genie. Shouldn’t she be able to now?
‘Did she say anything to you?’ asked Lucas.
‘Just hello. I couldn’t really figure her out. I rushed off before we could talk properly.’
‘I wouldn’t worry. Maybe she was there to make amends? If she shows up next time, I can always talk to her with you. Or . . . be nearby. In case you need support.’
Her mood lifted at his encouragement. ‘I . . . Thank you.’
The taxi was finally rolling into Oakside, and Clem directed the driver to the secluded road where their cottage was positioned, far across an open field. The rain was growing heavy now, where before it had been fine, with thick droplets splattering into the taxi. She wound the window up.
‘It’s not a proper road . . .’ she told the driver as he crawled forward. ‘We’re on a dirt track round there, so I’ll get out here.’
The driver pulled up to the closest brick wall, where the road made way for a dirt track on one side, and a fence and the field on the other. Ahead of the dirt track, in the distance, Clem could make out their cottage and the rows of plant pots outside.
‘Thanks, Lucas,’ she said, unclipping her seatbelt. ‘See you.’
‘Wait, you didn’t take my jacket – do you have an umbrella?’
‘It’s okay!’ She shoved open the taxi door and climbed out.
The rain was only getting fiercer, pounding down on the dirt and bouncing off the wooden fence at her side, and off the taxi’s windows and doors.
Raindrops pelted her skin and her clothes.
She shrieked, shoving her phone down into her bra to keep it dry and functional, and rushed forward to make a run for it, dashing alongside the hedge that lined the track.
Up ahead, the track weaved left, and she turned, the taxi shielded from view by trees now. But she could hear footsteps pounding behind her, and she paused. Already, her hair was stuck to the sides of her face, and her clothes were quickly getting wet, too.
Lucas rounded the corner, holding an umbrella.
His green eyes were blazing with something fierce – determination?
Concern? Her breath caught again as he hurried forward.
She laughed as he held the umbrella over her, but the sound faded when he gripped her hand, pushing the umbrella into her grasp.
He wasn’t smiling, and still held a serious aura, as if he were charging into a burning building to help her, rather than handing her an umbrella.
‘It’s a little late for that,’ she said, glancing up at the umbrella over their heads. ‘I’m already wet.’
His hand tightened around hers. ‘Could have been worse,’ he said softly.
Lucas wasn’t letting go of her hand, and she found she didn’t want him to.
The rain pattered furiously on the umbrella overhead, and the petrichor scent in the air filled Clem’s nose.
Why was it so soothing, standing here with his hand on hers, with his moss-green eyes locked on her own?
Had she ever met someone – outside of her cat, of course – who could calm her down like this, make her feel so at peace, so unbothered?
The taxi was waiting and the rain was pounding, but she didn’t feel worried at all.
‘The taxi . . .’ she said lamely.
‘He said he’d wait for me.’
He’d inched closer. She could trace the fine pinpricks of dark stubble where he’d shaved, skirting along his chin and jawline.
Tentatively, she reached up with damp fingers, not knowing where she found the courage; her anxieties had receded, like the raindrops snaking into the grasses.
His other hand met hers, guiding her, his fingers threading through hers.
The pads of her fingers touched his cheek, tracing the softness down to the scratchy stubble.
And he leaned over, pausing, as if to check this was okay.
The green in his eyes was bright, like summer foliage.
She couldn’t speak, let alone think, and let her body make the choice. He closed the distance and kissed her.
She melted into him, against the softness of him, his lips warm and inviting.
Her hand tracked down to his neck, pulling him closer, as if she wanted him as close as the droplets on her skin.
Her brain was buzzing with static – no worries, no fear or anxiety, just this delicious, pleasant blankness, like she’d sunk into a hot bath.
She could barely remember the last time her mind had been this quiet, this free.
His mouth moved against hers tentatively, gently, a question she kept answering with yes as she pressed her lips against his.
Inside, she was dizzy, wild, like she was spinning out of control.
When they finally parted, her mouth was tingling, as if missing him already.
There was still no room to question anything, nothing but yes echoing around her mind and her heart.