Chapter Nine #2
‘Walk, sleep, eat, read, see friends, make new ones. What else?’ He reached for the cool bag, and she let him take it. ‘Oh yeah, sleep and read and eat some more.’
‘Raf, I’m not ill. I’m fine.’
‘I know that, but you have just left your career, and then there’s…’
She nodded, they didn’t need the words. It was always present, their shared loss. ‘But I am getting better; I can feel it. More hopeful, happier.’
‘That’s great,’ he said softly. ‘So welcome to your new home for the summer.’
‘Thank you.’ She caught his eye and her stomach dropped.
Almost a month on from Glastonbury and this was the private Raf again, the man she knew best. Standing before her in a pair of cargo shorts and a green T-shirt, hair still damp from a shower.
His suntan had deepened since she’d seen him last, accentuating the grey in his hair, the gold rings in his ears sparkling against his skin.
Before Australia she hadn’t known what it was like to be held by him as he might a lover, to press herself against him and feel his immediate response as they’d kissed.
She steeled herself to greet a friend she cared about and not a man who felt like so much more, even though she saw the memory of that night so clearly in his gaze as it roamed over her face.
They were supposed to be moving forwards, and all she wanted was to drag them straight back to that night and feel his hands on her body once again.
‘So, er, are friends allowed to hug one another?’ He cleared his throat, the shutters dropping over those impassive brown eyes she knew so well.
‘I think they are, yes.’ She closed her own as she stepped into his embrace.
His hands went to her back, drawing her close.
Her face rested against his chest, and she was utterly aware of Raf’s heart beating rapidly beneath her cheek, his mouth against her temple.
Desire was a sharp kick in her stomach, her hands pressing him closer still.
‘Raf, which room am I sleeping in? This house is amazing, Mum! Wait until you see the TV, it’s massive!’
Cassie sprang back at Rory’s exclamation, plastering a hasty and distracted smile on her face. Was she imagining Raf’s reluctance as they eased apart, his hands sliding slowly down her arms before he squeezed her fingers?
‘How fab, you can show me when we’ve emptied the car.’
‘I thought you and Isla might like to choose your own rooms,’ Raf said to Rory, Flynn standing patiently between them.
‘The one next to the music studio is mine and I thought your mum would like the bedroom at the far end, with the big window. So you and Isla can pick from the other three, yeah? No falling out. Otherwise I’ll have to decide for you. ’
‘Got it.’ Rory turned his exuberant look on Cassie. ‘Mum, it’s so cool we’re going to be here for the whole summer. I think it’s going to be amazing.’
‘It really is, Rory. We’re so lucky, and it’s very kind of Raf to allow it.’
He was gone before she had time to remind him to thank his godfather, the back door rattling behind him.
‘Rory, the car!’
‘Let’s do it later,’ Raf suggested. He quirked a brow and she was reminded of how careful she needed to be around him; she needed no more playful or intense looks. ‘I can’t wait for you to see the house.’
He held the door open so Cassie could enter first, finding herself in a boot room, its walls lined with cupboards, and the waxed jacket he wore in Norfolk hanging from a hook, a pair of green wellies beneath.
Two dog leads were alongside it, a box of craft ale sitting on a worktop next to a white Belfast sink, and he dropped the cool bag beside it.
They continued through a cool pantry, thick wooden shelves laden with food, most of which she recognised from the village shop, and into the kitchen.
Oak cupboards sat beneath dark beams, and two windows offered a view of woodland and rough crags behind the house.
An Aga with six doors was set into a former fireplace, a thick mantel above it lined with miniature China teapots.
Creamy white walls made the best of light Raf explained was north-facing, and seating for six was comfortable around an oak table.
The décor was dated but pleasant, and it wasn’t difficult to picture a family in here, the life and laughter the house must have known.
A basket lined with a cosy mattress sat in front of the Aga and a warm glow followed as Cassie thought of Flynn sleeping there, snug and cared for in his new home.
She quashed a moment of worry. She mustn’t forget that she and the children would be leaving him at the end of the summer.
The kitchen led onto a passageway that ran the width of the house, separating the rooms facing the garden from those at the back.
Opposite was a door into Raf’s office, a staircase opening directly from there onto his music room above.
At the end of the passageway he showed her the dining room with its green carpet, grand oak table and burgundy-backed chairs.
They turned left, emerging in another hall with the staircase soaring above them.
White-panelled walls were blotchy with faded outlines where once paintings or pictures had hung, and he opened the door to her right.
‘This is the sitting room.’
She passed him to enter, glancing at an oak-beamed ceiling framing primrose panelling.
The carpet was burgundy, matching the armchairs clustered around a pair of cream sofas pale amongst cabinets and a coffee table in front of an empty fireplace, rose-coloured cushions in the window seat faded with age and sunlight.
The window framed a spectacular view, the garden an expanse of lawn enclosed by formal rectangular borders on either side, filled with mature shrubs underplanted with perennials, beneath a cornflower-blue sky uncluttered by clouds.
A gap in the border at the far end led to a narrow hump-backed bridge crossing a busy little beck, tugging her gaze to a wildflower meadow and a fell rising in the distance.
A stone terrace ran the width of the house, beyond a border beneath the windows stuffed with old roses and lilac geraniums, enclosed by evergreen box hedging.
Deep purple lavender in tall planters swarmed with bees below a long-established wisteria clambering out of sight towards the first floor, its thick stems heavy with green leaves and bright new shoots.
She assumed he must have some assistance to keep everything in order, and she was determined to get stuck in, to help wherever she could.
‘Raf, it’s stunning. Truly beautiful. I don’t know what else to say!’ Cassie couldn’t miss the pleasure in his gaze, the pull of his presence dragging her straight back into his orbit.
‘I’m happy you think so,’ he said softly, sliding one hand into a pocket. ‘I hoped you’d like it.’
‘I love it. The owner must have been so sad to leave,’ she murmured.
She thought of the family gathering in this room at Christmas, presents piled beneath a giant tree, the burgundy curtains open onto a starry and snowy night.
‘They’ve left so much behind. It feels as though they could walk back at any minute. ’
‘For sure, it’s been in the same family for thirty years.
I like that it’s not far from the village, but it’s quite private and the last property on the lane, which doesn’t lead anywhere except to a footpath onto the fell.
That sense of family is one of the things I like best, because it already feels like a home. It reminds me of yours.’
‘Mine!’ She laughed, thinking of her busy London street lined with cars, the narrow house wedged between their neighbours. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, it doesn’t look anything like this.’
‘It feels the same, though.’ He was doing it again, holding her still with just a look in a way she’d never noticed before Australia, and her pulse quickened. ‘Comfortable, welcoming. Like it’s loved.’
‘That’s very sweet, thank you,’ she muttered. ‘This is so grand, though. I’m not sure I ever imagined you living in a house with stairs made of stone. I love how they curve past the arched window. Not sure about the flowery pelmet, but it’s a gorgeous view of the wood at the back.’
‘It’s not that big,’ he said drily. ‘It’s just spacious.’
‘Says the rock star used to every luxury,’ she retorted.
It felt good to laugh together, to remember how precious their friendship was.
But grand wasn’t Raf, not really. He availed himself of drivers and the occasional lift in a mate’s helicopter from time to time, but for the most part he avoided that life.
‘At least I can rely on you to make sure I don’t get too big for my boots.’
‘Someone has to.’ She made herself turn away from that look. ‘Everyone else adores you.’
Across the hall the second reception room was more compact, the television Rory had admired on one wall, and Cassie was aware of thudding footsteps as Isla and Rory continued exploring.
A climbing rose peeked through a pair of windows edged with shutters, an enormous sofa and two wing-backed chairs forming a square with the fireplace.
Raf was alongside her as they climbed the staircase to the first floor, feet tapping on the stone.
On the landing, primrose wallpaper was cheerful above a gold carpet, and through doors open right and left, she spotted bedrooms and a large, old-fashioned bathroom.
Isla and Rory were sprawled across a double bed in one room, and they looked up from their phones with merry grins.
She smiled back as she spotted Rory’s rucksack in the room next door; it appeared they had chosen where they would sleep.
The landing followed the path of the passageway on the ground floor, and Raf pointed ahead.
‘My room’s down there.’ He nodded towards the far end before opening another door. ‘You’re in here.’