Chapter 32
‘Well, you’ve changed.’
Alyssa looked up from her spot in the allotment, where she was on her knees, sowing seeds.
Beetroot, broad beans, Swiss chard – whatever that was.
Yes, it felt like a time for new beginnings – at least for her vegetables.
Even the spring air, laced as it was with the scent of sweet apple blossom from the nearby trees, held the promise of it.
Or perhaps someone was harbouring another stash of that upside-down apple cake.
‘Have I?’ Alyssa replied, shielding her eyes to see Mrs Halfpenny, who was sitting in her purple wingback chair, drinking from a chipped china cup.
She could feel her cheeks colouring slightly, which was all the more obvious when you didn’t bother with foundation.
She’d opted for minimal make-up, keen to feel the spring sun on her face, and not even paranoid that people might gasp at her lack of under-eye Touch éclat.
She was getting used to the fact no one around here much cared whether or not she’d faffed with false lashes, or if she wore a hoodie that was only from Primark, or even if her pink hair looked dishevelled in a ponytail that her choppy waves kept breaking free from. And she kind of liked that – for now.
‘Getting stuck in, even though that guy with the camera isn’t here.’ Mrs Halfpenny’s brow creased. ‘And something else. You’re smiling like a noodlehead. Have you been playing hide the sausage?’
Alyssa spluttered. Well, she hadn’t been expecting that. ‘No, you?’ she replied, unable to disguise the wry smirk on her face.
‘Not on your nellie. No one’s getting near my baps. Anyway, we might be improving a bit in the polls, but Hartglove still holds that most loveless award. Though something’s definitely cheering you up, and it’s not those knobbly artichokes.’
Alyssa gave her allotment friend a wink and carried on with her seed sowing.
She didn’t exactly know what she was doing, other than a few tips she’d gleaned from Horace, when he wasn’t busy with Anna Farina’s tiramisu.
But Mrs H’s words rang a bell in her head that had been sounding more since that first morning in Devan’s bed.
Hartglove did deserve more lovey-ness. Alyssa had spent the last week feeling like she was dancing on the ceiling in sequin hotpants.
She wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to concede love was a thing – but whatever the hell kind of magic this was, surely everyone deserved a sprinkle.
And she may have come to Hartglove with no intentions other than getting paid.
Though for the first time in a long while, she actually wanted to help people.
To discover their person or to find their way back to them, if life had thrown obstacles in their path.
And it wasn’t just for the social media esteem.
Dare she say it – she simply cared. Her hand fluttered to her chest.
‘Got into your heart as well as your bloomers,’ Mrs Halfpenny said knowingly. ‘He is a good sort, that Devan Shaw.’
Alyssa blushed again, remembering plenty of good and unashamedly bad fun she’d been having with Devan.
Although they’d spent a lot of time just chatting too, and watching romcoms like they used to, giving them a ‘cheese rating’ out of ten – even though she’d been sworn off love stories for years before she’d come back here.
They’d even been getting into quinoa cake.
‘I heard you spoke to Sylvie after our chat in the truth chair. You made peace with your dad yet?’
Was Mrs Halfpenny nodding towards her chair again? Well, Alyssa didn’t have time for that. And anyway, her parents were on their second honeymoon, which was a convenient reason not to have that heart-to-heart.
‘No,’ she said quietly.
She hadn’t been in touch with Sylvie again either – although Devan had told her she’d put her name down to try and find a match through ’Appy Together, which sounded positive.
A huge part of Alyssa wanted to fling her arms around her old best friend and get things back to the way they were.
But like she’d admitted to Devan – she couldn’t promise she was sticking around.
She certainly hadn’t planned to. As nice as this all felt in the short term, how long could she last here?
Right now, it was a town with no prospects.
It wasn’t close to London, where the bigger opportunities were.
And more than that, she just wasn’t accustomed to letting people into her business for any length of time.
What if she felt claustrophobic and wanted to run?
What if she was so unaccustomed to dealing with emotional stuff that she didn’t know how?
What if she was dreadful at being a good friend or a committed girlfriend or even a loving daughter?
Not to mention that staying here long term with Devan may involve whole new stepmum-type role-model responsibilities. What if she simply wasn’t enough?
She shook her head. Bloody hell, she should just get back to concentrating on the vegetables.
‘Talk of the devil,’ Mrs H declared.
Alyssa jumped and turned her head. Phew, it was Devan. She’d invited him to the Apple Blossom Lane gardens herself – and not just for the broad beans.
‘Cup of tea, lad?’ Mrs Halfpenny asked him. ‘And have you brought biscuits?’
‘Custard creams, at your service.’ Devan winked at the older lady and edged the packet out of his pocket. ‘Though I’m sure you have endless supplies of stored apples and cake in that shed of yours.’
Mrs Halfpenny tapped her nose like she wasn’t giving away any secrets.
Alyssa smiled, happy Devan wasn’t completely shaking off his good-boy side.
‘Can I interest Miss Heart in anything?’ he asked, stepping towards her.
She stood, giving his trouser pockets a discreet once-over, in case any more treats were about to emerge.
‘I’ll let you know,’ said Alyssa, her voice sounding huskier than she’d expected as Devan got so close she could feel his warm breath against her cheeks. Did he smell faintly of chocolate spread this morning? Now she was definitely blushing.
They’d agreed to keep their budding relationship to themselves for now, not wanting to put pressure on things nor to be hounded by Teijo for more details.
And Devan had Sylvie and Emmalina to think about, so they needed to deal with matters sensitively, and in the right order.
Though Alyssa was already enjoying the thrill of their covert operations.
And if she was honest, she wasn’t yet ready to publicly admit defeat on her mission to prove the love app couldn’t make her fall for anyone.
She’d spent more than a decade carefully constructing her persona and the fences around her heart.
She wasn’t about to let it all come crashing down because he served an exceptionally thorough breakfast. Not to mention that the last time she’d declared her feelings for him she’d been left looking like a noodlehead in turtle’s clothing.
‘You two aren’t fooling me,’ their friend in the purple chair chimed in. ‘You know, Mr Halfpenny used to enjoy his conjugals in the great outdoors, so don’t think I won’t know if you try nipping off. Just watch out for gooseberry bushes. Those thorns wreak havoc on your backside.’
Alyssa spluttered out a laugh. ‘She was not this cheeky in the days when she used to dish out fizzy sweets in the corner shop,’ she whispered to Devan.
‘We’ll watch out for those gooseberries,’ Devan called back, giving Alyssa’s bum a quick squeeze and making her jump.
When they’d grabbed tea from Mrs H and found themselves a quiet spot to sit under the apple trees, Alyssa talked Devan through her allotment plans and he offered to help, even though it wasn’t an official task day.
Alyssa had once thought it was sneaky of the app to throw them into an ongoing project, but much like they’d both enjoyed going back to check on Nicole Pigman and had agreed to help out more at the animal rescue centre, Alyssa was coming to embrace most of the app’s ideas.
Which brought her to another reason she wanted to talk to Devan.
‘Can we influence the love tasks ’Appy Together chooses for us?’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘No.’
Did he sound a little shifty?
She gave him a teasing nudge. ‘Go on. You fixed it for us to get stuck in that tiny tent, didn’t you?’
‘I did not! I would have arranged something swishier than a piece of two-man polyester. Thanks for your faith in my taste in romantic dates, but nope. You can’t beat the algorithm.’
‘But did you try?’
‘What do you take me for?’ He nudged her back. ‘I only use my powers for good.’
‘Would it count as good if I wanted to use our next task to bring more love to Hartglove? I know it’s a cause that’s important to you, what with Emmalina and your general adoration for this kooky place.
Not to mention that you and your T-shirt twin always like an excuse to get new tops printed.
’ She nodded to Mrs Halfpenny’s current ‘Save Hartglove – Lettuce Be Friends’ number.
‘I do love an ill-fitting, badly sloganed T-shirt,’ he admitted. ‘So what are you thinking?’
It didn’t take her long to reel off her idea, even if part of her was still petrified at the thought.
It would mean facing something she’d barely been able to think about since she’d come back here.
There would be a lot of cobwebs to dust off, both real and metaphorical.
But like Hedgehog from the animal centre had said – sometimes your mission had to be bigger than your own crap.
And now and again, your mission had to change its course – even if she wasn’t going to make a song and dance about it.
‘Miss Heart, are you starting to care about your little old hometown?’ Devan asked quietly, when she was finished.
‘Shh, we can’t have people saying that,’ she joked. ‘It would be bad for my high-flying, girl-about-London image.’
‘True,’ he said. Although she wasn’t sure his smile met his eyes.
Then he stood a little abruptly as though he was as spooked by the L-word ‘London’ as much as she was by ‘love’.
Perhaps he was stuck with the thought that she’d once chosen it above staying here and being with him, and she could again.
He brushed himself down and began to stroll, so she followed.
‘You’re not missing your yoga retreats and the glamorous London parties?’ he asked. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t blame you.’
She laughed, a touch sadly. ‘Some of it was just for the pics. Yoga gives me a crick in the neck, and don’t get me started on fake-smiling until your face cracks.’
‘Damn it. I quite enjoyed your Instagram snaps in those extremely figure-hugging yoga pants.’
‘How dare you!’ She gave him a play slap.
‘Though I prefer you in the flesh, wearing allotment-muddy joggers. Or anything.’
They’d reached a spot near some bushes, and he pulled her towards him by the waistband. She giggled, their faces coming close.
‘Apologies for my weird, jealous of London moment. And I’m sorry I can’t hack my own app to help with your idea. But I know you could make it happen without an algorithm fixing it. And I’m here for the donkey work. I know the community would be right behind you too, with their bunting and banners.’
‘And probably a lot of apple-themed cake,’ she added. Because thinking about sugary offerings detracted from the part of her brain that was screaming, What fresh hell are you getting yourself into?
‘You had me at cake,’ he whispered, his hands moving around her waist and settling gently on the small of her back, giving her happy shivers.
Their faces drew nearer, and she couldn’t resist pressing her lips to his, even if she wasn’t usually the sort for making out in the town centre’s foliage.
Pastel pink blossom petals wisped around them in the light breeze, one landing softly on her cheek but not distracting her. Her hands slid up to his hair, her fingers running through the back of it, tugging him down so they could kiss more deeply.
‘You are going to single-handedly ruin my good-guy image,’ he groaned, as she let her hands move down his back to that firm bum of his.
‘Who says I’ll only use one hand?’
When they finally pulled away from each other, Alyssa trying not to think about bare bottoms and gooseberry bushes, she thought she heard movement close by.
Did she just spot someone with a phone angled towards them, hiding in the next row of shrubbery?
But whoever it was ducked away quickly and disappeared.
Then Alyssa laughed. They’d probably just been waving their phone around to get a signal, because reception was pretty iffy. She wasn’t living in a spy movie, and nobody around here much cared what Alyssa Heart got up to. And she was learning she liked it that way.