Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Clemmie slammed the wardrobe door shut. She was furious. It didn’t take her long to pack her suitcase. Royalwood Cottage suddenly felt stifling and alien. She wanted to be gone. Now.
Her phone buzzed. Another message from her granny, no doubt, asking how the garden party was going. She ignored it, zipping up her case, whilst the tears she had been holding back began to blur her vision. She swiped at them angrily.
She couldn’t stop replaying the day’s events in her mind.
It was all too much. She ripped off the dress Oliver had bought her, flinging it onto the bed.
One by one, she laid out the ensemble: the hat, the matching bag, the now-worn shoes.
‘I don’t want any of it,’ she muttered to no one in particular, her voice cracking. ‘I just want to go home.’
She grabbed her phone, her trembling fingers finding Amelia’s number. The phone barely rang before Amelia picked up.
‘Clemmie? How’s it going? Are you still at the palace?’
That simple question undid her. The tears came freely now, and she sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. ‘Amelia, it’s all a mess. I can’t … I can’t even think straight.’
‘What do you mean? What’s happened? Start from the beginning.’ Amelia’s voice was calm but concerned.
‘There’s going to be an investigation,’ Clemmie said, her words tumbling out. ‘The recipe … the one from Great-great-granny … they’re saying it was stolen. Apparently, the recipe has been used in the palace for decades. God, it’s just humiliating and Oliver… I never want to see him again. Ever.’
‘Wait, hold on,’ Amelia said. ‘What do you mean stolen? Are they saying Beatrice copied it? That’s ludicrous!’
‘That’s exactly what they’re saying,’ Clemmie replied. ‘But in my eyes, it’s impossible. The recipe has been baked in The Café on the Coast for decades. I have no idea how this could have happened, but I’ll have to talk with Granny when I get home. If anyone can make sense of this, it’s her.’
Amelia’s tone softened. ‘You’ll figure it out and as for Oliver … what exactly happened? Did he say something?’
Clemmie swallowed hard, fresh anger rising to the surface.
‘It’s what he did. He wrote that bloody review.
Remember, the one I mentioned in my winning speech?
The one that crucified me in my first week of becoming a partner in the café?
He didn’t even tell me. It was Fiona who had the great pleasure of revealing the truth. How could he do that?’
Amelia was silent for a moment. ‘That … doesn’t sound like the Oliver that you know. Are you sure there’s no misunderstanding?’
‘No, I obviously don’t know him at all,’ Clemmie said flatly.
A car horn bleeped outside, and Clemmie stood, peering out the window. A black taxi had just pulled up. ‘I’ve got to go, my taxi is here. I’m on my way to the train station.’ Clemmie hung up, then grabbed her case.
As she opened the front door, she noticed another taxi pulling up beside hers. Her stomach churned when she saw who stepped out. Oliver. He looked dishevelled and frantic, his tie askew and his hair windblown. His eyes locked onto hers the moment she stepped outside.
‘Clemmie,’ he called, hurrying towards her.
She didn’t slow her pace. ‘Don’t, Oliver. I have nothing to say to you.’
‘Please, just listen to me,’ he said, his tone pleading. ‘It’s not what you think.’
She whirled around, her suitcase wobbling on its wheels. ‘Not what I think? You wrote the review, didn’t you? Just answer me that.’
He hesitated, and that pause told her everything she needed to know. Still, he nodded. ‘Yes, I did. But—’
‘Then there’s nothing more to talk about,’ she said, her voice icy. ‘Do you have any idea what you did to me?
‘Clemmie, please listen,’ he said, stepping closer. ‘I didn’t know it would cause all this. I didn’t mean for… It was a long time ago.’
‘And that makes it okay, does it? And you didn’t mean for what?
’ she interrupted, her voice rising. ‘For it to blow up in your face? You should have thought about that before you put pen to paper. Cruel words affect people’s lives.
I bet you felt smug, and for what? A few paragraphs in a magazine?
A pat on the back from your editor? I hope it was worth it.
You are a coward. You didn’t even put your name to it. ’
‘Because the review was particularly harsh, the editors removed my name to protect me from potential fallout.’
‘Very convenient.’
‘Please, just give me a chance to explain.’
He reached for her arm, but she pulled away and stared at him, ‘That’s what Seraphina meant when she said, “Take note of what I said”, wasn’t it?
And that must have been Fiona on that call you took in the garden.
She threatened to tell me before the garden party and you discussed it with Seraphina whilst I was getting ready.
She told you to tell me, to let it come from you …
and you chose not to. I’m done giving you chances,’ she said firmly.
‘You’ve made your choices, Oliver. And now I’m making mine. ’
With that, she turned and climbed into the taxi. She slammed the door shut, avoiding Oliver’s gaze through the window. The driver, sensing the tension, quickly loaded her suitcase.
As the taxi pulled away, Clemmie felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. The tears threatened to return, but she blinked them back. She needed to stay strong, at least until she was home. Until she could see Granny and try to make sense of it all.
Oliver stood growing smaller in the rear-view mirror with every passing second. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Should she let him explain? But the anger and betrayal resurfaced, drowning out any lingering doubt.
There was no going back now.