Chapter Eighteen
We arrived at Starlight Croft without any further traffic encounters. I silently thanked the universe, then immediately retracted the gratitude. What had the universe done for me? Diddlysquat. My polite request to live at Starlight Cottage had been totally bypassed.
We were now parked opposite the cottage. I glanced around the lane, half hoping to spot Hetty Cartwright and Shep the border collie. Hetty had fancied herself as an intuitive. She’d told me I would move to this village. What a shame she’d been wrong.
I looked at Cindy in the rearview mirror. She was sitting upright on the rear seat, ears pricked, head on a swivel. I wondered if she, too, was looking for Shep. However, Starlight Street remained quiet. There was no sign of anyone.
Can we get out, Mum?
‘In a sec,’ I said. ‘Let me just have a moment.’
I feasted my eyes on the cottage. The place that had once been all my hopes, all my dreams. Yes, there I was. Opening the front door. Taking a parcel from the postman. Exchanging pleasantries. Hetty walking by. Spotting me. Pausing to yoo-hoo .
‘Fancy joining Shep and me? We’re going to the woods. Be warned, it will be very muddy after last night’s rain.’
‘I’d love to! Let me fetch my wellies. Cindy and I adore mud and puddles.’
And then, as we set off, Hetty glancing at me. Her face almost messianic. Ice-blue eyes blazing. The bright white hair looking like a saint’s aura as she nudged me in the ribs.
‘I told you that you’d end up living here one day. You didn’t believe me, did you?’
Well, no, Hetty, I didn’t. And unfortunately, despite you claiming to be the village oracle, the fact remains that you aren’t, and your prediction was way off beam.
Someone is home , said Cindy, interrupting my thoughts .
I sat up straighter. Peered myopically at a ground floor window. Activity was going on within.
‘You’re right,’ I breathed.
It must be him. The new owner.
‘Milo Soren,’ I hissed, as if he were Severus Snape.
I narrowed my eyes to bring everything into sharper focus. A curtain had been lifted to one side. The outline of a man filled one window. I caught my breath as he paused, one arm still holding the curtain. The man’s back tensed. His shoulders stiffened. It wasn’t great body language.
He’s spotted you, said Cindy.
‘Yes,’ I whispered.
I’m not getting a good vibe. I think you should drive off.
‘Don’t be silly. I have as much right to park here as anyone else.’
Yes, but you look a bit obvious. I mean, you’re not a visitor, are you? What else could you possibly be doing, other than loitering?
The curtain dropped, and the man disappeared. I exhaled rather noisily, unaware that I’d been holding my breath.
‘It’s okay, he’s gone,’ I said.
I think you spoke too soon.
The front was opening. The man was pulling on a pair of shoes.
He’s coming over, squeaked Cindy.
‘It’s fine,’ I assured. ‘He’s probably popping to the corner shop to get some milk, or something.’
There isn’t a corner shop.
‘Well, okay, maybe the farm shop. The Strawberry Shed sells milk.’
He doesn’t look like he’s off to do shopping. More like emoting.
The man was now walking along the garden pathway. His eyes locked on mine. My heart did a few unexpected skippy beats. Milo Soren was extremely good looking. He also looked vaguely familiar. With those chiselled cheekbones and film star looks, he could have teleported straight in from Hollywood.
He was heading over, clearly intent on saying something. I automatically sucked in my stomach, even though he couldn’t see my muffin top. At least I’d put on some lippy and mascara this morning, so wasn’t looking like a complete has-been. Wow, he really was gorgeous.
I buzzed down the window and gave him a winning smile. Perhaps he was going to ask me if I was lost. I could say yes. Pretend that I’d taken a wrong turn off the A227. And he’d pull a handy map from his back pocket. Show me where I needed to go. Our hands would unexpectedly touch. And sparks would fly.
It’s amazing what the brain can imagine in two seconds, and right now mine was in overdrive. It continued to whip up something both flirtatious and romantic:
Milo: ‘Good morning, fair lady.’ (Yes, my brain had parachuted straight into an Edwardian soap drama.) ‘Can I help you?’
Me: ‘Greetings, sire.’ (Looks up shyly. Blushes prettily.) ‘ I appear to have incorrectly navigated these barren lands.’ (Delivers tiny swoon.) ‘And, stupidly, left home without my carafe of water .’ (No plastic bottles in this scene.)
Milo: ‘Why, beautiful maiden, you must be parched to pieces.’ (Did Edwardian men say parched to pieces ?) ‘ But do not be distressed. Let me be chivalrous. Come into my humble dwelling for refreshment. Indeed, only an hour ago, my manservant finished treading the grapes. A very robust red. It is incredibly full-bodied – much like you, if I might be so bold .’
Me: ‘Why, squire! Your words are like pretty musical notes to my delicate ears .’ (Waggles head to show off sexy hearing apparatus). ‘Lead me to your abode… and your boudoir… and your bed… ’ (Clutches heart and faints clean away from desire.)
I gazed adoringly at Milo Soren.
He didn’t gaze adoringly back. Instead, he hunkered down by Octavia’s open window and jabbed a forefinger at me.
‘I thought so,’ he said, eyes blazing. ‘I recognised the car. There aren’t too many bright orange Fiats about. You’re the woman who nearly flattened me in a Sevenoaks carpark.’