Chapter 35 #2
Teddy’s family may have started out unorthodox—I’m still not sure how I feel about his father’s philandering past—but the love that binds them together hums in the air.
I’ve never had that. My mother and my brother sure—we’ll always be tight—but with my father’s dour presence hanging over us, it’s always tainted.
Still, this family seems to have become my family now, scooping me into their midst like I’ve always been part of it.
After turkey, and before plum pudding, River hammers out jazz-tinged carols on the upright piano. Teddy and I riff through ‘Little Drummer Boy’, then Briar’s haunting ‘O Holy Night’ has Gina dabbing her eyes.
By 3pm, adults sprawl in food comas while the kids race Ellie’s toy ponies across the sofa.
Teddy nudges my knee. “Fancy a quick drive?”
I groan, hand on my overfull belly. “Short one, please.”
“Twenty minutes. Coat and gloves.”
We leave town behind, zip along country lanes hemmed by towering hedgerows, thread through a postcard-perfect Cotswold village, and finally roll up to a pair of iron gates. Teddy fishes a grey fob from his pocket, aims, and the gates swing wide.
“Where is this place?”
“Just outside Ramsden.”
Trees stand like sentinels on either side of the driveway, spiky fingers clawing at the scrappy clouds.
Ahead sits a house the same soft gold stone as Juniper’s, only much grander, with a neat cottage tucked to one side; stone-tiled outbuildings peek from behind.
Tyres crunch over gravel as we draw up to the front door.
“Okay, different question. Whose place is this?”
He grins. “Mine.”
“Teddy Hargrove, have you gone and bought another house without telling me?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Please tell me a decent lawyer checked the contract.”
“Of course. Your man Oscar Cavendish went over everything before I signed.”
“Bloody Oscar—”
“Ah-ah, don’t blame Oscar. Lawyer-client privilege. Anyway, it would have spoiled the surprise.”
“It’s gorgeous.” My eyes skim across the honeyed stone walls rising three storeys high. Gabled dormers nestle beneath a steeply pitched roof. I count at least four chimneys with fancy decorative tops silhouetted against the fast-darkening sky.
“Wait till you see inside. Fully-furnished. Empty six months. Got a bargain.”
“And the cottage?” Warm light spills from the latticed windows as faint smoke curls across the slate roof.
“That’s the best bit. Husband and wife team—Tom and Cherie. Worked for the last owners forever and want to stay on. Perfect, right?”
Inside, a wave of heat greets us. He gives me the tour—six bedrooms, four bathrooms, two lounges and a library crammed with books. The kitchen oozes farmhouse charm: oiled timber work-tops and copper pans glowing above the Aga.
Through the French doors, darkness has crept up, yet I’m already picturing lazy breakfasts in the walled garden and summer barbecues on the stone patio. Teddy rests a hand on my shoulder, then slips something flat into my palm—a green envelope.
“One last present,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek.
“Teddy, you’ve spoiled me rotten today. What more could I want?”
“Not what you asked for—what I want to give you.”
A huge pink number 4 glitters in the centre of a haphazard ring of gold stars.
“Does Ellie know what’s inside this one?”
“Christ no. She’s too much of a blabbermouth to keep a secret this big.”
I frown, peel up the heart sticker, and slide out the card.
Remember the place we left a star?
Find it now—your gift’s not far.
“A star? Are there stables?”
He nods. “Out back.”
Our boots scrunch through fine gravel towards a low roof silhouetted against the sky. Beyond it, I pick out one solitary real star, peeking through a gap in the lowering clouds. When our footsteps trigger a motion light, the blaze extinguishes it.
There’s a soft whicker, another echoing it, a shuffling of feet. Teddy heaves the barn door aside with a groan of old iron and flips a switch. Warm light pours over fresh straw, sweet hay, and the grassy perfume of horses. The duet sounds again, unmistakable.
“Solly!” His brown eyes widen at the sound of my voice. He stretches as far as the door allows, and I scratch beneath the neatly groomed mane.
Bodie’s head pops over the next stall, giving us a look that says, Don’t forget me.
Teddy flips open a feed bin, grabs out a couple of carrots. Solly’s teeth graze my flattened palm as he plucks up his treat, chomping enthusiastically while crumbs tumble to the floor.
Bodie snatches hers up, and somehow Teddy keeps all his fingers.
“Thought we could slip away here at weekends,” he says. “Leave London and the paps behind.”
“And during the week?”
“Tom and Cherie will take good care of them. They’re thrilled to have horses around again.”
He drapes an arm across my shoulders. “Best present ever?”
“Best present ever.” I steal a quick kiss before four-legged stomachs demand seconds—more carrots, more crunching.
“You bought Bodie too? Behind all the complaining, I knew you were soft on her,” I tease.
“She’s still a stroppy wee thing,” he says, stroking her nose while she chews. “But they’re bonded. A pair. Couldn’t split them—no Punch without Judy.”
“Like us,” I say. “Wherever you go, I go.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Let’s start now, then.”
He brushes the last bits of carrot from his hands, flicks off the stable light and nudges the door with his boot. Night air rushes in, clean and cold. Behind us, a horse snorts, and the yard goes still.
“Home?” he asks.
“Home,” I say.
He bends, one arm under my knees, the other sure at my back, and scoops me up like it’s the easiest thing he’ll do all night. The world tilts. I laugh against his collar as he spins around, once, slow. I’m giddy, light and whirling, and still held safe in his arms.
The crunch of gravel under his boots keeps time as we cross the yard. Cradled against his chest, I hear the steady thud of his heart—my favourite rhythm—and think: this is the encore worth waiting for.
“No more surprises as big as a house,” I warn.
He grins. “Deal—though I can’t rule out the occasional pony.”
My protest dissolves as he sets me down on the porch. A single snowflake drifts through the light and melts on his sleeve. Another follows, and another, dusting his cheeks like icing sugar. I brush one from his skin with my fingertip, then chase it with a kiss.
“Looks like the sky’s sending down a little confetti,” he says.
I smile into the hush; it feels like the world is celebrating with us.
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